tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69646399052633976322024-03-05T15:45:28.267-08:00the Stubborn FlameThis is a story about the Human Spirit, and specifically about that stubborn flame of creativity which separates Man from beasts...Russell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.comBlogger28125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964639905263397632.post-91332972115019049112022-10-03T14:46:00.030-07:002022-10-07T08:46:23.293-07:00Mistletoe, Art & the De Tavaras: Juicy Stuff of Scandal and Mystery<i>A fetching portrait of a pretty dancer led me on an epic Internet investigation of a pair of mysterious nobles- and then Art interfered and offered an intriguing solution.</i>
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There are people- you do not know any of them, people who prance across the backs of society from the day they are born- and do what they want, mostly undetected, and then dissolve into the mists of history. They do not answer to our rules or live within our paradigms. They are untouchable. They speak many languages, as they condescend to the rest of humanity. The ancient Druids were such persons, a ruling elite on the British Isles, whose symbol was the mistletoe.
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<p>Its berries white, shining like pearls, its roots penetrating into the flesh of its helpless host, mistletoe is perfectly camouflaged and out of reach, and in fact hardly ever noticed...</p>
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<p>Mistletoe is a parasite which travels from canopy to canopy, sucking the life out of its hosts. It lives in the highest reaches of the forest, but it is not the forest. It does not care about rain or sun or geographical boundaries, and is not bothered by storms that come and destroy. It can always find a new living host, which will feed and hide it, until it too is exhausted. And there are people who operate much the same, still remnants of the ancient mistletoe people, even today.</p>
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<p>In their youth they are the person who never has to study but makes A's. All while they tease and even torment the teachers. They are not learning what the rest of us are. We are worried about getting an education so we can be productive citizens in the forest of man. They are learning how to avoid that, and yet prevail. They are learning, while using charm and deception, about what they can get away with. And here is a slice of one of these mistletoe dynasties... found completely by accident... which is the only way anyone ever will...</p>
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<p>I can hear them laughing, all the way across the past century since they first pulled off their ruse. Two Spanish immigrants- maybe they were Spanish, maybe they were immigrants, analyzing the American scene and lying their way to the highest strata of American society. Purportedly, he was a “count,” she a “countess.” He was a foreign diplomat, she a Daughter of the American Revolution. Or maybe they were. Whoever, whatever they were, they knew just how to present themselves, how to earn confidence, and how to achieve their goals.</p>
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<p>Their last name was De Tavara. If you were nobility from Europe, you had to have a distinguishing “De” before your surname. De just means of. It usually came in front a place name. You were John Pardo of Toledo, not to be confused with John Pardo of Madrid. And there were De Tavaras and De Taveras spreading all over the globe at the time, from the Philippines to Peru to the United States. A study of this name will become significant as you read on.</p>
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<p>The Tavara are a tribe in Rhodesia, but we will skim over that and call it a linguistic coincidence. The word tavara is found today stretching from Hindi to Finnish, but seems to have come from ancient sources, traced through Russian back to Proto-Slavic, and Turkic origins. It meant merchandise... goods... so a person named Tavara might well have been a merchant along the Silk Road. The name had Jewish context in India, but today it is most prominent in Mexico, probably via Spanish immigrants. In the Finnish language, used in the plural, it can also connote stuff... and is used figuratively to mean meat. And it is used colloquially to suggest the female genitalia. Hold that thought... especially the idea of de (of) tavara (vagina); a crude way to suggest an illegitimate child with a mother and no father.</p>
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<p>But anciently, tavara signified the cream of civilization. Punjabi denotes tavara as their word for tower. In ancient times, it was towers which were built to please the Aryan Brahmans (ancestors of the Druids) and town builders of India, to symbolize Indian civilization and commerce and their authority over it. To the nearby Kannadans, it means tin or zinc or its alloys. These were precious and essential metals sought during the bronze age to make bronze, the first metal manufactured to make durable weapons and utensils. There is a town called Tavara in Bengaluru, Karnataka (south central India), which is known as a mining center. Anyone in ancient times or even today who had tavara was rich and powerful.</p>
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<p>Originally persons branded with this ancient name and all of its associations sound very much like the profile of an ancient Kushan family, a nomadic tribe most notorious as traders of silk, slaves, horses and precious metals along the Silk Road, which transected central Asia. The Kushans have been linked to the Yue Chi of China, the Turks, and certainly the ancient ruling Aryan class of India. When the native Indians finally threw off their yoke, the Kushans and their tavaras disappeared into history. I might add, not much good has developed there since. Over the next thousand years, the Tavaras probably forgot what their name originally meant... other than their new identity as merchants- traders and opportunists.</p>
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<p>More recently, “Tavara” was actually a place, and known in Spain as a prime olive oil producing region, and thus a springboard for prosperous Spanish nobles who owned the land there. But that did not matter, because King Carlos I had established the title of Marquis de Tavara in 1541. God only knows how many descendants had come down since then, associated with that title. So this Spanish couple, the De Tavaras might well have been some of these offspring. Maybe they were. But in the U.S., it was easy enough to claim such nobility. Most importantly, it was impossible to verify.</p>
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<p>Either way, this couple understood to some degree the advantages of claiming the name De Tavara. To Europeans it simply meant “old money.” But as this mistletoe couple crossed the Atlantic, the name meant nothing in the beginning, as it took awhile for the De Tavaras to find suitable hosts. But to these young parasites, making a name was not near as important as running the game.</p>
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<p>Anyway, the Count De Tavara first showed up in American Newspapers in 1909, working stateside for the Red Cross in Europe. Somehow he had been made the president of the American branch of the Italian Red Cross Society, and the press reported his exchanges with President Taft, thanking America for its generosity under Taft's leadership towards their earthquake relief efforts in Sicily and Italy. A Gold Medal had been presented to Taft, along with some kind of official diploma from the Italian Red Cross. Count De Tavara had already risen to an impressive sphere of influence.</p>
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<p>The next year the Countess De Tavara was reported to be sweeping the DAR by storm as an exciting new member, a real countess, and a beautiful representative of the best and brightest of America's elite young women. The De Tavaras were also reported to have attended a Womens Suffrage meeting, where they drew cheers for their intentions to soon take the noble cause of Womens Suffrage abroad. And their deep involvement with Red Cross fund-raising would continue. It is this focus which drew my first suspicions. They appeared to be wonderful International philanthropists. Or were they something else entirely?</p>
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Even before America had joined in the horrific conflict of WWI, in 1915 Countess Beatrice De Tavara led a crusade by the DAR to raise funds for the aid of innocent civilian victims in France. Her goal was to purchase an ambulance... in those days a horse-drawn wagon, to lend assistance to the French people in their plight while enduring the onslaught of the Kaiser. The beleaguered countess had only raised something over $600.00 among her DAR sisters when she made a second plea in their organization's magazine. She had donated rare gold buttons herself, with an estimated value of $400.00, purportedly once owned by no less than General Lafayette, ally of General George Washington and hero of the Revolution, (really?) which represented the greater part of her collected donations so far. Could DAR members please send clothes, money, even their<i> extra gold and silver</i>. The metals could be melted down and used to help pay for the ambulance. And no doubt her expenses as well in delivering it...
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<p>But something was awry. The countess had run into a wall of ambivalence. Her third plea in 1916 was more of a perfunctory report on her stagnant finances, which admitted that she had only raised $800.00 towards the purchase and transport of the vehicle. This after many months of gathering resources from all over the United States. Evidently, confidence in her campaign was waning. It was becoming an embarrassing dysfunction, which did not match the reports of staggering amounts raised by other American organizations.</p>
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<p>No doubt there may have already been suspicions within the DAR about the De Tavaras, since it would be difficult to hold the countess accountable for unknown pounds of precious metals sent to her in New York that were to be melted down and combined for the acquisition of her proposed ambulance. And curiously, there seems to be no further press coverage announcing the achievement of the goal, the purchase of the ambulance or its subsequent transport to France. Others must have taken over her lackluster DAR campaign, and probably combined the DAR funds with a larger program, because there were relief efforts which accomplished amazing things during that time. Notably future president Herbert Hoover and his wife, and the popular Broadway actress and theater owner Maxine Elliott were independently leading mammoth relief programs for France and Belgium. But as they did, the countess had been reassigned to a role more fitting her management skills, and by 1917 was giving tours of the White House, still shining as an angel of mercy and a DAR star.</p>
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<p>It was apparently a case of falling upward, that inevitable function of the “Peter Principle.” But for the Countess, at just 30 years of age, it was inexplicably the end of the line.</p>
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<p>Then... nothing. The Countess and her husband disappeared from the scene altogether. Nothing, not a whimper was reported of the De Tavaras for sixteen years. Had they gone home to Europe after the end of “the war to end all wars”? Had they spent all of their money and energy to help repair their homeland? Had they taken the money and run?</p>
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<p>When the De Tavaras finally reappeared, it was all bad news. The former DAR poster girl was now a middle aged, single mother, raising an incorrigible son. In 1933, the papers flagged a story of a little ten-year old boy who ran away from home, or as explained later, got away from his aged grandmother, and went fishing in Central Park in New York... and caused quite a stir over his disappearance. The paper said light-heartedly that his name was Francis Michael De Tavara, “scion of an Italian noble line,” and that he had been found after a two day adventure. But that was not the end of it.</p>
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<p>The boy's name was soon changed to Charles, and neighbors reported that he was abused. He had bruises, and there were reports that he was sometimes confined in a closet at home. He was taken into protective custody by New York child protection authorities, and explanations were demanded.</p>
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<p>That was when the countess began to drop names, and spill her transitory magic. The boy had been unruly, being raised without a father. The Count had passed away before he was born. Strangely, there had been nothing in the newspapers about Count De Tavara's passing. But so engrossed in the boy's cute outing, nobody asked, what happened to the count? There were more pertinent questions. Where had the boy been? What had he done while free?</p>
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<p>Meanwhile the countess explained that Charles was a good boy, made of good stuff, even the second cousin of the famous Civil War General, George B. McClellan. This would ring in the ears of New Yorkers, since General McClellan's son had once been the mayor of New York. Soon newspapers had it that the boy was the grandchild of the former mayor. Interestingly, the “Daughters” were now forgotten, and the countess was now claiming some kind of close kinship to the Union's prominent general. And it was a clever reset. She had done her homework, as both McClellans had been candidates for the U. S. Presidency. Of course, it was possible this woman was a relative of men who fought in both wars... that would not have been that unusual. But a countess from Spain? The story reeked of incredulity. Still the papers ate it up.
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<p>George B. McClellan Jr., son of the famous commanding general of the Grand Army of the Republic during the Civil War, and former mayor of New York (1905-1909)</p>
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<p>Known as the “Happy Valley Case,” eventually the court gave the countess her son back, with some warnings. A true noble in spirit, she ignored them however, and he was taken away again, the next time with a vengeance, along with much of her unpaid-for furniture. The countess made a near spectacle of her public campaigns to retrieve her son, often successfully embarrassing the authorities who had grown to despise her. Even the judge in the case smelled a strange prejudice from the New York child protection authorities. For some reason, they insisted on Charles's removal from the countess, but somehow avoided the ultimate investigation of her identity. Supposedly quite wealthy, perhaps she had purchased some measure of official restraint.</p>
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<p>Charles ran away again in 1935... and again in 1938 with broad national press coverage. Each time it was harder for the countess to win custody of him, as he turned to minor crimes and exaggerated claims about the countess's cruel behavior. All the while the newspapers were touting Charles De Tavara as the wayward young count, the grandson of former mayor George McClellan Jr., who complained that his mother beat him with a knotted rope, and tried to raise him like a girl... curling his hair a la Little Lord Fauntleroy... and he just wanted to be a normal American boy. It was a great story. The countess had achieved her fifteen minutes of fame, and stretched it out for several years.</p>
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<blockquote>
<p>During the boy's last disappearance, the Countess announced that she was calling in the FBI, as she suspected a kidnapping. She was apparently paranoid that someone was trying to take her son away, long before the reports of her abuse, hence the closet episodes. Perhaps she feared Spanish nobles who wanted him in Spain where he belonged? When he was finally found and held in a county juvenile facility, she captured him one last time and zoomed away in a car, never to be bothered by authorities again. But nearing 16 years of age, it would be impossible to keep the wayward youth under wraps much longer.</p>
</blockquote
<blockquote>
<p>Surely, by now some investigative reporter must have asked, who is this peculiar mother of this unhappy, unbridled youth anyway? But the world was full of such rebellion. It was not that much of a news story. And that was because they did not know what questions to ask.</p>
</blockquote
<blockquote>
<p>It's too bad nobody asked them. Any inquiry would have revealed that Countess Beatrice De Tavara had lied about her ancestors- from both wars. And there was no actual record of her birth, her lineage, her marriage, her husband's death, even her son's birth which according to various newspaper reports, must have been around 1922. Former Mayor McClellan had no children, and thus no grandchildren. Sadly the newspapers relished so much in embarrassing George McClellan Jr. that they never looked into her claims.</p>
</blockquote
<blockquote>
<p>The countess's supposed parents, whose ancestry qualified her for the Daughters of the American Revolution, the McClellands of Pennsylvania, had no daughter named Beatrice; The De Tavara nobles of Spain no longer even existed, their title having been abolished in the 1880's, then reassigned to a different lineage. And suspiciously, nobody named Count Julio Pedro Luis De Tavara showed up in any official records. In fact, no one by either name could be found in any official records, none except in the published genealogy of DAR descendants. The stupid Americans had been wonderfully scammed.</p>
</blockquote
<blockquote>
<p>All we can surmise and hope for is that poor tortured Charles De Tavara finally came of age and escaped the House of De Tavaras. Thankfully no more was heard about the countess for a few years. Then in 1941, the famous steel magnate, Charles Schwab, passed away. The countess was among several women who filed claims on his estate. Was her son Charles named for him, or even a supposed son? Had she been blackmailing him all those years, hiding him, and keeping the boy from him? We will never know, and unfortunately for her there were no funds, as Schwab had died deep in debt. The courts drug their feet, and eventually the countess found out that whatever her claim, it did not count.</p>
</blockquote
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYLhrM32bt-YLy60dS4gyd2Rm-zbc-xHsS4mti8pkqMcBuFV88FPo8oa-O12ixDRdp5rVK7-yX1ZbAFHStNRkhgMJ74XmX7SHabGI_yJfL4BEuS2hhxgmndfjKh1lK8IuDg_IFkVQbHeEQMXkAQY9sTyazjQhr4b4UPqHbkKyKBKJgQVEeHONlFm7v/s919/COUNTESS%20AGE%2050_HC.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="919" data-original-width="720" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYLhrM32bt-YLy60dS4gyd2Rm-zbc-xHsS4mti8pkqMcBuFV88FPo8oa-O12ixDRdp5rVK7-yX1ZbAFHStNRkhgMJ74XmX7SHabGI_yJfL4BEuS2hhxgmndfjKh1lK8IuDg_IFkVQbHeEQMXkAQY9sTyazjQhr4b4UPqHbkKyKBKJgQVEeHONlFm7v/s320/COUNTESS%20AGE%2050_HC.jpg"/></a></div>
<blockquote>
<p>This last public claim finally established Countess Beatrice De Tavara as a probable liar and possible gold digger. Or perhaps she was romantically involved with Charles Schwab, and even gave him a son, and was tragically spurned after his death. Maybe. But probably not. It must have been a con job, much like the rest of her life.</p>
</blockquote
<blockquote>
<p>Looking back on the Countess's claims over the years, you have to give her credit for cleverness and boldness- characteristics of a real countess. One wonders: had she made bogus claims about her ancestry in the States, trying to conjure an equivalent status similar to that which her heritage would have demanded in Europe? Or was she merely a cunning scoundrel, a talented con-artist who never got outed?</p>
</blockquote
<blockquote>
<p>Frustrated, the countess graduated from desperation to aggression. In early 1942, when a process server approached her to serve some legal documents, (probably to do with the Schwab suit) she and her body guard beat the daylights out of him. At age 60, “the widow of a Spanish count,” was arrested and convicted for assault. The aristocrat had suddenly devolved into an arrested crank. Why she was retaining a body guard is a question that will never be answered, unless she feared Mr. Schwab's stingy attorneys. Surely her son must have been gone by then, no longer a useful bargaining chit. And given the state of the world, engaged in another world war, maybe she feared being deported to whatever European country she might have actually come from, soon to be under Nazi occupation. Or worse, being placed in isolation like Japanese Americans.</p>
</blockquote
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<blockquote>
<p>And that was the last word ever heard from the De Tavaras. Until now. A few months ago I purchased a lovely old photograph from a dealer in Prescott, Arizona. It was of a beautiful woman from the early 1900's, dressed in what appeared to be a Spanish Flamenco dress. Actually it was quite arresting. On the back was a hand-written name, someone about whom I had no knowledge- “Countess Beatrice De Tavara.” A vintage photograph of a pretty lady, obviously an entertainer from the turn of the last century, fit my collection, so I got it... and began to try to understand who she was. And the countess was some piece of work!</p>
</blockquote
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYE8cLFcrIb42tYqSxH9DpUu65Qq37M2vJPakBlIH7bsUOslM76Md8DyNpwMW7oNCMkM237cF_BFNuJ2rgGqdsnPWl0PQk57Z-BrxFajR5IsMGQyNao1ZY7rWdP0APukZMTzUbZmgOuZrCax4zHoGClceTT0NIdsZ5ipgPGuHOtte8BX3GfkjHyjbE/s618/COUNTESS%20BEATRESS%20DE%20TAVARA_cab.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="618" data-original-width="431" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYE8cLFcrIb42tYqSxH9DpUu65Qq37M2vJPakBlIH7bsUOslM76Md8DyNpwMW7oNCMkM237cF_BFNuJ2rgGqdsnPWl0PQk57Z-BrxFajR5IsMGQyNao1ZY7rWdP0APukZMTzUbZmgOuZrCax4zHoGClceTT0NIdsZ5ipgPGuHOtte8BX3GfkjHyjbE/s600/COUNTESS%20BEATRESS%20DE%20TAVARA_cab.jpg"/></a></div>
Cabinet card made by Otto Sarony. He was New York's most famous and prestigious portrait photographer, representing two generations of expert artistry in capturing the stars of the Victorian and Edwardian eras. The expensive costume worn and the photography studio chosen suggest wealth and confidence.... and fame.
<blockquote>
<p>Only my photograph, the one shown above, a one-of-a-kind "cabinet card," connected Countess Beatrice De Tavara with the entertainment world. So I held a unique clue to her true identity. I still cannot be sure, but what I learned made this article worth writing.</p>
</blockquote
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglS4KrdFD2kcFnTmHhP3GsRFOWlbyT3GAuT4Sbny7EVc3DthT2Mpzu9nFSEOz-hFNz8yvYEiCKwosnPtm5AqjAQZZIHaJXh-ar3MH0MXMchAey6WAYH_22UCzw0DISPnbnpWCq3iZB-sUsip9CWVnovMAiJ-m79Cb238gt0xE5ym7Dk9anAxQySEXe/s1476/GUERRERO%20IN%20AMERICA.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="1476" data-original-width="1385" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglS4KrdFD2kcFnTmHhP3GsRFOWlbyT3GAuT4Sbny7EVc3DthT2Mpzu9nFSEOz-hFNz8yvYEiCKwosnPtm5AqjAQZZIHaJXh-ar3MH0MXMchAey6WAYH_22UCzw0DISPnbnpWCq3iZB-sUsip9CWVnovMAiJ-m79Cb238gt0xE5ym7Dk9anAxQySEXe/s600/GUERRERO%20IN%20AMERICA.jpg"/></a></div>
<blockquote>
<p>In 1903, a rollicking Spanish Flamenco dance company came to America, led by the notorious Rosario Guerrero. Guerrero was a European super star. She had danced all over Europe, posed for hundreds of photos, some in the nude, and flirted with European royalty. Then she brought her sexually charged show to the States, thus establishing herself as a worldwide phenomenon; a sex symbol on the level with Menken, or Madonna. And one of her associates was a petite young thing, first advertised as “Dolores Tavara,” and later as “Lolita Tavara,” after she went out on her own.</p>
</blockquote
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ3kfKM6Yjln5AFLftCc_8CW0gyLUHOjhfZVZe_YuEPzufjacpxkgVjr2lQTnc5pRmPXzIk-yMixeHHKyeF2ZRekFm_9tsLbwp9LrwQDXQvUsqSmka-nTquSNk4lePTze3sMRe-0xTNdfioIil0X0r4ACY-ErPItUYI14TKaQCg0QeRyUJ0Vq4oyT7/s732/GUERRERO%20CLIPPING.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="580" data-original-width="732" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ3kfKM6Yjln5AFLftCc_8CW0gyLUHOjhfZVZe_YuEPzufjacpxkgVjr2lQTnc5pRmPXzIk-yMixeHHKyeF2ZRekFm_9tsLbwp9LrwQDXQvUsqSmka-nTquSNk4lePTze3sMRe-0xTNdfioIil0X0r4ACY-ErPItUYI14TKaQCg0QeRyUJ0Vq4oyT7/s400/GUERRERO%20CLIPPING.jpg"/></a></div>
Lolita Tavara seemed to adapt well to the States, whereas Guerrero performed around the country for over a year and then left in a huff. At some point, pretty Lolita had broken away from Guerrero and was almost immediately offered important parts in prominent New York productions, such as The Yankee Consul. She accepted the gigs and toured with these shows throughout the Northeast and Mid-west. She got front and center billing in New York, Chicago, Boston and Philadelphia and received glowing reviews, and became the American spokesperson for her genre, which was growing in popularity. America was hers for the taking.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4FRUDiqUNNx3axl-O7P6h_PcVd6FGLaUjEF42CJ3erEH3jkPRSuF5WmxVxVho5kxA9mHbPBJQJt_E-qiNjJLtzw6-Wm94OeOE2X79iXsctyfDzNed7NrJLaBisWyriA8nwBrKpAPjJOh5aeASjHqah-yv7I5CO8h69X5EYoZ-JIKSNZTo-ZASzJ1B/s715/1905%20YANKEE%20CONSUL%20ADV_RDCD.bmp" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="400" data-original-height="715" data-original-width="653" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4FRUDiqUNNx3axl-O7P6h_PcVd6FGLaUjEF42CJ3erEH3jkPRSuF5WmxVxVho5kxA9mHbPBJQJt_E-qiNjJLtzw6-Wm94OeOE2X79iXsctyfDzNed7NrJLaBisWyriA8nwBrKpAPjJOh5aeASjHqah-yv7I5CO8h69X5EYoZ-JIKSNZTo-ZASzJ1B/s400/1905%20YANKEE%20CONSUL%20ADV_RDCD.bmp"/></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu1GEFV4rGvoFcy7aKO5CMhOb71hrvL2XIQhqSizh0NwPhZy-nuE2u8ipij1ERLYRM7xoTryA4CgQP8DlZoN9PQXAywdk1iHsZp21P8pQzswSupwwsPAY5KUN_xxjhNP6OArg7d_-8OTh58plqL60YwssGzRXWh3CpJpk_oKn8TluwUnfXHaV8d8uR/s1088/FINAL%20ACT%20YANKEE%20CONSUL.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="679" data-original-width="1088" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu1GEFV4rGvoFcy7aKO5CMhOb71hrvL2XIQhqSizh0NwPhZy-nuE2u8ipij1ERLYRM7xoTryA4CgQP8DlZoN9PQXAywdk1iHsZp21P8pQzswSupwwsPAY5KUN_xxjhNP6OArg7d_-8OTh58plqL60YwssGzRXWh3CpJpk_oKn8TluwUnfXHaV8d8uR/s320/FINAL%20ACT%20YANKEE%20CONSUL.jpg"/></a></div>
No doubt Lolita Tavara's success infuriated the Spanish star who had brought her to the states. But something stopped her cold in her tracks. Was it guilt? Perhaps threats from the jealous Guerrero? In 1905, not long after Guerrero's departure, she announced to her deflated fans that she would accept no more parts, and with her pockets full of American largess, she too was headed home to Spain- and apparent obscurity.
<blockquote>
<p>Lolita Tavara never returned to the American stage. She does not seem to have ever danced again on the European stage either, at least under that name. Was she a real De Tavara? Or had she married one? Was that even her real name? All we have is this photograph... which after my research, using my “Q-5” technique, has established that the dancer in the old photograph is at least mathematically the exact same person as those pictured in the 1930's newspapers as Countess Beatrice De Tavara. The writer of the label on the back of my photograph was not making some random, or ill-informed guess. They knew that Countess Beatrice De Tavara had once been a a very beautiful performer. The strange part is that she never performed under that name.</p>
</blockquote
<blockquote>
<p>This intrigued me even more. Somebody, whomever originally owned this cabinet card, knew of a connection never reported in any American newspaper. The countess had a secret. Perhaps many of them.</p>
</blockquote
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After a quick perusal of old post cards for sale on the Internet from the French Moulin Rouge era, this post card showed up from a dealer in Portugal. My Q-5 technique says it is the countess. Hand written on the back reads "Madame G. Vieux LCotaire," which translated into <i>Madam G. the old coster</i>. Coster being a word which has fallen into disuse in English, but which meant street seller... and which could have easily meant <i>street walker</i>. Looking more like a French corset advertisement (ugh!), Madam G. is ostensibly selling flowers... ridiculously dressed in form-fitting leotards, but has them draped all over bosom, and fondles her hair as if to offer her clientele a feel. This may have been the kind of lifestyle and reputation the countess was escaping when she came to America. What young woman would not cross the ocean and lie like a rug to break way from this and obtain a new lease on life?
<blockquote>
<p>But was this pretty Beatrice De Tavara the same person as Lolita Tavara who performed in the comic operas of 1903-1905? Probably, but we can never prove it. Still, that possibility certainly helps explain why the subterfuge around her identity. If she wanted to stay in America, Lolita had to reinvent herself. She had to separate herself from the bawdy dancing, the French sex trade, and the icky stain of the entertainment industry. She may have been a hit on stage, but what about when she grew tired of the highly physical demands of Flamenco? What if she wanted to settle down and live a respectable life? What if her husband, some kind of obscure count, or a noble wanna-be, did not want the life of a vagabond, or enjoy the social status of a pimp?</p>
</blockquote
<blockquote>
<p>Perhaps with some research, and the assistance of her lover, they became the count and countess, with all of the assumed pedigrees and their presumed privileges. Perhaps they never left for Spain, but went to work instead on their makeovers. All they had to do was to make claims which were nearly impossible to verify, then suggest themselves into the highest of American society, which was ready to accept them, largely because of their exotic titles. Even today, people with foreign accents are trusted more than any other on American television.</p>
</blockquote
<blockquote>
<p>And yet with those titles, today we cannot find the De Tavaras in the public record, other than the Red Cross campaigns, or those child custody scandals, and a lawsuit against a prominent captain of American industry- all events plagued with confused Media coverage, which never uncovered their deceptions.</p>
</blockquote
<blockquote>
<p>Was the DAR money raised during WWI ever used for its intended purpose? Why did Beatrice De Tavara abandon her DAR affiliation and ludicrously claim the kinships with New York mayor George B. McClellan Jr., and later Charles Schwab? What happened to the count, a dignitary who once had awarded the President of the United States? Who was this couple who seemed to mix effortlessly with the elites of the Gilded Age, weaving in and out of countries as naturally as migrating ducks? What was their key? What were they hiding? What were they after?</p>
</blockquote
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<blockquote>
<p>In all my searching I found a stunning coincidence... if that was what it was. There was a Portuguese branch of the De Taveras (with an E instead of an A in the middle) who ended up as aristocrats in the Philippines. They “mixed” with the natives, and their children were sent away to school in Paris in the 1880's. There the De Tavera's daughter was courted by a rising star in the French art scene, a native Filipino artist named Juan Luna, who had come to France to study and seek his fortune. Luna soon married her and took her back to the Philippines. Juan Luna was a very prolific man, in every way, and had several female interests in France. As to be expected, some were his female models, and even today art historians are still speculating on who the subjects of some of his most famous paintings were. And here is the coincidence: Our “Beatrice De Tavara” could easily have been the woman in several of his masterpieces. </p>
</blockquote
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji7d7TKQjSg0msv9NyG3cyuLZykv5c7OtMzCsEL0lD4z7QaMSpj-h-GYsitsiKtBxE9xqFsltbLWl4uI15tKui_NDCi8Wy8fBfIBykryYN5_ygggo43Ou9QR7tmkHbuPDrepzCXNfRaIHwTLKR5oDiQ8zZiCG1Hi88czHff1f9emSrXsNscJTqr_t4/s1355/PAZ%20VERSIONS%20PG_edited-1.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="878" data-original-width="1355" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji7d7TKQjSg0msv9NyG3cyuLZykv5c7OtMzCsEL0lD4z7QaMSpj-h-GYsitsiKtBxE9xqFsltbLWl4uI15tKui_NDCi8Wy8fBfIBykryYN5_ygggo43Ou9QR7tmkHbuPDrepzCXNfRaIHwTLKR5oDiQ8zZiCG1Hi88czHff1f9emSrXsNscJTqr_t4/s600/PAZ%20VERSIONS%20PG_edited-1.jpg"/></a></div>
First of all, I am not the least impressed with the assumptions or assertions of the art “experts” so far. For generations they accepted the popular lore that a lovely, sensual portrait known as “Paz” (Peace) was Juan Luna's ill-fated wife.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhasiungLgOlSKv42mow6umS2iYhmCrO0ggqQo30Tjt4iVqvddbBcTmxAbnTPPkhemVc7EDDa7S1yDiHQrsyZ0PkethFOalXFLHVdkV7FAluy7ovtvzuE0qbTZ8wylTGtBoV-Al3Bhiaz91yCyTarZlkohP9lr2zsqLvyJ9Y-HQVlwXNmRvickTancl/s510/LUNA%20CON%20PAZ.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="400" data-original-height="510" data-original-width="355" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhasiungLgOlSKv42mow6umS2iYhmCrO0ggqQo30Tjt4iVqvddbBcTmxAbnTPPkhemVc7EDDa7S1yDiHQrsyZ0PkethFOalXFLHVdkV7FAluy7ovtvzuE0qbTZ8wylTGtBoV-Al3Bhiaz91yCyTarZlkohP9lr2zsqLvyJ9Y-HQVlwXNmRvickTancl/s400/LUNA%20CON%20PAZ.jpg"/></a></div>
Besides the fact that it looked nothing like her, and Juan Luna murdered her and her mother one day while in a jealous rage, Filipinos have venerated the bedded, dreamy-eyed siren for over one hundred years.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3SI84BdKAesS_b5ttMPfIBtnAFKkfzkNIJWjZVx-CvkFky7-5qfEunYiyfUeHEAMbxuZQLm9FBfUTajJuClehGqj61mPtqL-vLX2QJEcD8GXjFM0yCsEmaNui8h20k9XgwYxu9d4yNM_oqFuWxLXFyOJ9uN3WD07wh_0fJU-3qf2q8XN8GFbwzbji/s797/LUNA%20KILLS%20HIS%20WIFE.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="400" data-original-height="797" data-original-width="556" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3SI84BdKAesS_b5ttMPfIBtnAFKkfzkNIJWjZVx-CvkFky7-5qfEunYiyfUeHEAMbxuZQLm9FBfUTajJuClehGqj61mPtqL-vLX2QJEcD8GXjFM0yCsEmaNui8h20k9XgwYxu9d4yNM_oqFuWxLXFyOJ9uN3WD07wh_0fJU-3qf2q8XN8GFbwzbji/s400/LUNA%20KILLS%20HIS%20WIFE.jpg"/></a></div>
The portrait supposedly had survived the De Tavera family art burning frenzy after the murder of the two beloved women of their family. The grieving aristocrats were almost driven mad when the Philippine court refused to hold Juan Luna responsible for his bloody deeds, because he was from a supposed lesser, “primitive race,” and could not be blamed for his actions. He was released to resume his profession and his status as a Philippine national hero. This is important, because it is easy with this kind of history to understand why someone related to Juan Luna, or this tragedy, might try to distance themselves. It is easy to imagine that, if you were the lover of such a man, and bore him a child, and you had a choice, you might not want to give your child the stained Luna brand.</p>
</blockquote
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From a prominent Madrid noble family, the Marquesa de Monte Olivar posed for this portrait by Juan Luna, and probably several more. No doubt Luna had a formula for drawing faces, which explains why they all might be proportioned the same... and exactly the same. But that cannot explain why they also match a probable stranger from America! A stranger who (perhaps) has been brought back into the family via the power of the Internet... and her use of an ancient name which had been tragically grafted into the mind-boggling Luna family story.
<blockquote>
<p>Studying the similarities of several Luna master works, I am quite confident that they were all done using the same woman for the model, and that would have been the Marquesa de Monte Olivar. Only one painting is known for sure to be her, but there are several which I have “Q-5'ed” and found to be mathematically the same. [ to understand "quintangulation" or the Q-5 digital imaging process, scroll down to the next article on this blog ] All of these paintings were done around 1884- about the same date that Beatrice was born. And dismissing the idea of a coincidence for just a moment, the acorn, as they say in Texas, did not fall far from the tree. Young Beatrice, as represented in my cabinet card, could be Paz. Of course that would be impossible, but it may be a clue as to her real family. If the Marquesa had borne a child of Luna's it might well have been sent to an orphanage, or some willing family... maybe a group of near relatives, who were willing to take responsibility; perhaps some the the noble De Tavera clan, who were well established in Parisian society. </p>
</blockquote
<blockquote>
<p>A young person like this might be raised in a bizarre netherworld, their true identity obscured for obvious reasons, (child of a murderer and an adulterer) yet schooled in privilege and elitism. Still, she would have no real claim on any dynasty... not the Lunas or the Monte Olivars, not even those kindly De Taveras (or whomever) who adopted her. She would have been groomed and skilled in the arts, and would have been familiar with the ins and outs of the nobles of Europe. And when she came of age, she might well have joined the Guerrero dance company and fled to a place where she might enjoy social freedom, and a fresh start, and the opportunity to reinvent herself.</p>
</blockquote
<blockquote>
<p>Or... it is all just another uncanny coincidence, which I seem to have a frustrating nose for! It could be. But when I look into the eyes of Paz, large and set unusually wide apart, Jackie Kennedy wide, her perfect mouth too small to utter anger or ugliness, I can imagine just how beautiful a daughter of hers might be... too beautiful to send to an orphanage. Perfect to adopt for some idyllic young couple.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvjM5VCVbss7sc7jqwyTCSGCo4k2QwNm8_7wov2Rsilq9fzz9n9FmvbM1_iePl9Ci1rmWDWM865MD05ZGRHEgJIOSjUy3RTyMs62xqnX29Q3y4K2kT6sZy9gXHmIhSPsFnrQLywX7ywnCEW40TC8k7ZDTUI6OzgKzpCKytQ4Ch4hE3W0md0Zx31rpM/s1500/BEAT%20ON%20JUAN.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="1070" data-original-width="1500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvjM5VCVbss7sc7jqwyTCSGCo4k2QwNm8_7wov2Rsilq9fzz9n9FmvbM1_iePl9Ci1rmWDWM865MD05ZGRHEgJIOSjUy3RTyMs62xqnX29Q3y4K2kT6sZy9gXHmIhSPsFnrQLywX7ywnCEW40TC8k7ZDTUI6OzgKzpCKytQ4Ch4hE3W0md0Zx31rpM/s400/BEAT%20ON%20JUAN.jpg"/></a></div>
And then when I “Q-5” Beatrice De Tavara with her possible Filipino father, one Juan Luna, their facial proportions line up perfectly. Another incredible coincidence I guess. My scenario may not be so, but it would sure explain the countess's paranoid jealousy which kept her son captive, and her violent temper when her world was threatened by a relatively harmless county employee. Beatrice De Tavara acted just like Juan Luna. Ruthlessly ambitious, insolent towards convention, violently jealous, and intolerant of opposition. And somehow ever capable of avoiding suffering the legal consequences of her wildest notions. And somehow knowing that, lifts this case out of the realm of coincidence, and places it squarely on the front burner of unraveling scandals.
<blockquote>
<p>Somehow, the American vanguard of the noble De Tavara family had completely vanished by the end of WWII. Only the photograph in my collection speaks of a beautiful dancer's past, which left it as a meager tangible record, and without any appearance on any American census, or even a grave; not enough data or proof of her existence to even require the space with essential dates (born/died) between parenthesis, so standard in genealogical records. But no matter, in America, the “benefit of the doubt” ruled the social hierarchy and covered the field. To some degree, it still does. And the “De Tavaras,” true adaptive mistletoe people, by all accounts and counts and no counts, had a field day.</p>
</blockquoteRussell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964639905263397632.post-30172342361542064322021-08-25T14:59:00.011-07:002022-10-07T08:39:21.994-07:00THE DIGITAL TRAIL OF A "HISTORYTECTIVE" : An Update On This Parallel Universe...<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6hijiBFul9V2Qkhu89zjIBBCEGUY-yea8S6oVxWC6egDGZr1BQuR-i__EYWDZeefIod1KWtZRmnfGPaYoGhznZNYjJu5kRee4ZgCatYrIM_DUBqgzT9vqZh9Ed6Pt1VQouL7N4RhWs1k/s1079/WM+PINKERTON+YOUNGISH+COMP+PG_REDCD.bmp" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="584" data-original-width="1079" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6hijiBFul9V2Qkhu89zjIBBCEGUY-yea8S6oVxWC6egDGZr1BQuR-i__EYWDZeefIod1KWtZRmnfGPaYoGhznZNYjJu5kRee4ZgCatYrIM_DUBqgzT9vqZh9Ed6Pt1VQouL7N4RhWs1k/s600/WM+PINKERTON+YOUNGISH+COMP+PG_REDCD.bmp"/></a></div>
<blockquote>
<p> So YEARS have rolled by as I have read and studied and struggled to understand what has become a canyon of digital dopplegangers. So far I have failed to impress any publishers or historians for that matter, with these incredible antique finds, but I have given myself a new title: The "Historytective." I have also learned how to digitally test my hunches, to eliminate as best as I can any mere dopplegangers, and isolate whatever tintypes in my collection may be significant.</p></blockquote
<blockquote>
<p> </p></blockquote
<blockquote>
<p> Via Photoshop, I can compare my images with known photographs of my subjects, using what I call "Quintangulation," or Q-5, where I can fairly exactly superimpose 5 to 10 unchangable features of one face over another, to see if they share the same proportions. It is a significant step up from the old methods used by law enforcement for a century, and I think as reliable as computer facial recognition. If my subjects line up with these five or more points, then I call them a match and an historically important discovery.</p></blockquote
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK7wikUGSD-wVaP5x8u0P643sBlZ07hXPVl1qnMP_cns7uhLYh_iUczQG3bBQYLgN506hW1a55oFCEMjxG8jYNw8zffyoaZn8SxkGZdp8pm0pCXw4p6FhfMvV3DLK8D_u3fpCdOsygA0k/s912/J+W+HARDIN+YOUTH_PG_edited-1.bmp" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="912" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK7wikUGSD-wVaP5x8u0P643sBlZ07hXPVl1qnMP_cns7uhLYh_iUczQG3bBQYLgN506hW1a55oFCEMjxG8jYNw8zffyoaZn8SxkGZdp8pm0pCXw4p6FhfMvV3DLK8D_u3fpCdOsygA0k/s600/J+W+HARDIN+YOUTH_PG_edited-1.bmp"/></a></div>"RCHIC" stands for the Russell Cushman Historical Image Collection."</i>
<blockquote>
<p> The blue-green marks are the digital quintangulation marks, lifted off of one face and then placed down on the face of the famous person from history. I line up the eyes, then the rest must fit... or the whole thing is scrapped. Here are some to consider... new, "fresh," never before published images of some of the most famous Americans of the Victorian era.</p></blockquote
<blockquote>
<p> The features of the human face which are decided by skull structure change very little, such as the distance between the irises of the eyes and from them to the eyebrows, or especially the distance between the nostrils and those irises, or the placement of the cheek bones in relation to these six "points"... and if the subject is fairly young, the bottom of the chin is also related to those other points. A close match of all of these proportions is highly unlikely, and certainly qualifies as a doppleganger. If the ears are the same shape... we have a winner. All of these mathematical relationships are only explored if the face in question is already a match as far as the correct time period, vintage clothing, and captured by the appropriate photographic technology. As best as can be deduced from black and white photography, hair and eye color are studied... although they can be misleading.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtOZHELUHI_DhS7u7OaPIvS7Way11QKzakbiCbmr1iPThs7k8NFUSh_TuRbFAOkk_7x-vITz2udgnPvf4_kGxHcs4XIOYEjL7YgYUEIts1surEqrbKexRJQ5PrVoABWKYc46uZtg0Gk_Q/s892/FOY+MAX+TIN+comp+pg_REDCD.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="485" data-original-width="892" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtOZHELUHI_DhS7u7OaPIvS7Way11QKzakbiCbmr1iPThs7k8NFUSh_TuRbFAOkk_7x-vITz2udgnPvf4_kGxHcs4XIOYEjL7YgYUEIts1surEqrbKexRJQ5PrVoABWKYc46uZtg0Gk_Q/s600/FOY+MAX+TIN+comp+pg_REDCD.jpg"/></a></div>
<blockquote>
<p> So far I have identified several hundred tintype images, many of which pass my Q-5 test. And amoung them are these... "Triple Headers," which, when multiplied into the odds against finding such a doppleganger, defy the greatest skeptic. To find an image which has three persons who look very much like three famous persons right out of history... the proper ages and body type, who happened to have had some relation to one another, and each of which can be verified through my "quintangulation," process, is exciting and I believe quite important to American History.</p></blockquote
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To have found a score of these rare photographic records of our past, is beyond even my own belief. But here some of them are. If you click on the images, they will come up larger.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh97DRRp2LSxrVLS1xOuNKftdYn9yz-uUHjyr3ZvTT3h2991kugJmDvEYAhc0l1sY8FbaLk4RaSC_-4bM40MmtBruds7rKEGZXpF0F7zA9Gx2ySVJ0vgRiGO3-Y4AMUVpMVlrHQorrXt_E/s914/MASTERSON+BOXER+MCCOY+TIN+COLO+ATH+CLUB_REDCD.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="497" data-original-width="914" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh97DRRp2LSxrVLS1xOuNKftdYn9yz-uUHjyr3ZvTT3h2991kugJmDvEYAhc0l1sY8FbaLk4RaSC_-4bM40MmtBruds7rKEGZXpF0F7zA9Gx2ySVJ0vgRiGO3-Y4AMUVpMVlrHQorrXt_E/s600/MASTERSON+BOXER+MCCOY+TIN+COLO+ATH+CLUB_REDCD.jpg"/></a></div>
Russell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964639905263397632.post-25614354398121157062020-06-25T16:43:00.002-07:002022-10-07T09:17:41.412-07:00aMUSEments<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKjrD6q6NoHjNIZlKrmj1YTdJ249kmpZc4KAPeQYRKxDzv8_pZTFXFJBjIQNd70OvTivOF8KWQAGNpcylH85CWpCvtcxvvXvg8Cfv435b83AzYZlliekLgPt_tavKCZC8_4vJ_FH6wgsM/s1600/20+BERTHE+AND+FANTIN+SCREEN+text.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="416" data-original-width="737" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKjrD6q6NoHjNIZlKrmj1YTdJ249kmpZc4KAPeQYRKxDzv8_pZTFXFJBjIQNd70OvTivOF8KWQAGNpcylH85CWpCvtcxvvXvg8Cfv435b83AzYZlliekLgPt_tavKCZC8_4vJ_FH6wgsM/s640/20+BERTHE+AND+FANTIN+SCREEN+text.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="color: #f6b26b; font-size: x-large;">The coupling</span><span style="color: #f6b26b; font-size: large;"> of the
legendary artistic genius and his brazen muse became a stereotype
long before art became a commodity among the bourgeoisie. Most
Renaissance artists were driven inventors and rarely had time for
conventional propriety. And in those days, there was no Media to tattle on a celebrity...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">Art in “Western”
culture has always been a pissing match, with each artist having to
outdo the other. The egos involved, the controversies, the gossip and
mischief of the competing collectors and institutions made an
intoxicating and sometimes toxic brew which somehow inspired
creativity and patronage, for whatever reasons. Whispers and public
assumptions and outright lies about artists and their private lives
fueled the fires of art commerce, and without them artists would have
starved even worse. <span style="color: #76a5af;">Art is just an expression of the Philosophy of the Age... or so I was taught in Art School. And so every artist's muse is just the embodiment of his philosophy... </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">There is no way to gauge the importance of the
artist's muse, but we can assume from the paintings and the histories
cherished in art schools that they became the soul of most galleries
and every art <i>museum</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">Every artist has to have a
passion for something which drives him... to create, to perfect his
craft, to endure the financial chuck holes in the art market, and for
many artists that essential quest was... women. Mary the Mother of
Jesus may have been the first muse, quickly followed by the Greek
goddesses. It went rogue from there, until prostitutes and courtesans
dominated the excitement in European studios. And that is where we
will start this snipit of art trivia.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIJdmchfFIwRjW2XfEotV8jPIYoSWpJAMFVghW63yYxbpDt4WaBzKCWueXf_o1Y6bW8DtJv0Zu_I_b10XiPih0BD9t4cdzQnJk8RUfNGqFdbHRwzv6JbbzEUDvQkd0wUEDA9ibNIDA6Rw/s1600/Rembrandt-BATHSHEEBA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><img border="0" data-original-height="616" data-original-width="614" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIJdmchfFIwRjW2XfEotV8jPIYoSWpJAMFVghW63yYxbpDt4WaBzKCWueXf_o1Y6bW8DtJv0Zu_I_b10XiPih0BD9t4cdzQnJk8RUfNGqFdbHRwzv6JbbzEUDvQkd0wUEDA9ibNIDA6Rw/s400/Rembrandt-BATHSHEEBA.jpg" width="397" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Rembrandt was perhaps the
most ribald </span><span style="font-size: medium;">of the Dutch painters, who took his cue from the
non-conformists like Rubens and the risque Dutch school. Rubens
painted the most fleshly of females in wild sexually-charged
situations. If Rembrandt was to compete, he had to eventually use
female models and paint them without shame. His wealthy blond muse
Saskia, introduced through his art dealer, modeled regularly for him
and then became his wife. This somewhat legitimized his untold hours
devoted to studying and illustrating her form. He painted her as a
man infatuated, if not madly in love with her countenance. Through
his paintings she became an infamous woman in Holland... for a time.
But Saskia became fatally ill after their fourth child was born, and
Rembrandt began to take unusual risks during her illness by painting
Geertje Dircx, his child's wet nurse, in the nude. After Saskia
passed away, and he refused to marry Geertje after an extended love
affair, she sued him for breach of promise- and won. The
court-mandated alimony he owed her was negated however when he proved
that she had stolen and hocked some of Saskia's jewelry. She was
committed to an asylum, for twelve years, ending his first scandalous
affair, and beginning the much celebrated ill-fated artist's muse
stereotype.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Not discouraged, Rembrandt
took another concubine, Hendrickje, who was a true “bohemian,”
satisfied to cohabitate with him without the benefits of marriage.
She became pregnant, and after she was interrogated by church
authorities in 1654, Rembrandt was banned from the sacraments of the
church for living in sin. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Later poor maligned
Geertje was released from the asylum and still determined, sued
Rembrandt for false imprisonment. It became obvious after Rembrandt
took in Hendrickje, that it was nothing personal, but he would not,
could not marry anyone under any circumstances. His first wife, now
deceased, had left him as trustee of her wealth, and well fixed, he was
able to support himself and his son nicely, but his financial support
was only made available to him as long as he remained single. To
avoid losing Saskia's inheritance, he could not marry again, but
after his son came of age, he still eventually went bankrupt. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">To protect Rembrandt from
his debtors, Hendrickje opened a gallery and managed his art career,
making him a sequestered laborer and his concubine his veritable
overseer... until she was killed by the plague in 1663. Scandalized,
sued and banished by society, Rembrandt spent his last days
impoverished and humiliated.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">This mess was a warning
for all artists of the future, and it was absolutely ignored. The
demand for nudes in art made models a necessity, and the temptations
and improprieties which came with them became an accepted part of the
business. By the time these next models came on the art scene, hardly
an eyebrow was raised...</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEGOyDXZ3sc-5lmoq8rGJhivUcSUYeCZcGAV7ip2m4h1L_NP7Duj_NxFK9HtuDn70o9boDFT-asIr4PsPj_SJAem6dc4KDLyZM1HBjtrsJZWss0JqvEhBV_oMw5mlA9JYThyb3KIkHiOU/s1600/MAZEPPA+ETCH_edited-1.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1116" data-original-width="850" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEGOyDXZ3sc-5lmoq8rGJhivUcSUYeCZcGAV7ip2m4h1L_NP7Duj_NxFK9HtuDn70o9boDFT-asIr4PsPj_SJAem6dc4KDLyZM1HBjtrsJZWss0JqvEhBV_oMw5mlA9JYThyb3KIkHiOU/s400/MAZEPPA+ETCH_edited-1.bmp" width="303" /></span></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>The star of the blockbuster play Mazeppa, Adah Menken, </b></span><span style="font-size: medium;">the
Victorian version of Madonna,</span><span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: medium;">had
joined an elite bohemian family of emerging artists and intellectuals
who networked between New York and London and Paris and became the
European's favorite American pet. In England she was escorted in the
markets by Dante Rossetti, </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>James McNeill
Whistler</b></span><span style="font-size: medium;"> and others who were soon to become
famous in their own right. Rossetti, a writer and painter, respected
her poetry, and along with his brother was somewhat responsible for
establishing its status and publishing her abroad.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #7f6000; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-weight: normal;">Rossetti
also endorsed and promoted the writings of her mentor, Walt Whitman.</span></span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">No doubt the fellow
American, James Whistler welcomed Adah as a ready associate, and it
would not have been absurd for him to have asked her to model for him
during that time. After all, she had no modesty... and she was
considered to be very attractive. </span>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiL5X83-vwyMbAuIczWTfSSqBhUiZrPUvTmS-WWfA3dtS9bSsjiRlxJHOxLKxTs-XLKKUwChT3AD9kdystWYRWj6LcrEikOPxwF-jzH2cZdLDG2bnogsOP84jfcU8CpQdDue8svqPW0W4/s1600/MENKEN+tinTYPE+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><img border="0" data-original-height="707" data-original-width="455" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiL5X83-vwyMbAuIczWTfSSqBhUiZrPUvTmS-WWfA3dtS9bSsjiRlxJHOxLKxTs-XLKKUwChT3AD9kdystWYRWj6LcrEikOPxwF-jzH2cZdLDG2bnogsOP84jfcU8CpQdDue8svqPW0W4/s400/MENKEN+tinTYPE+redcd.bmp" width="256" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>My tintype of Adah Menken</i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Charles Howell,</b></span><span style="font-size: medium;">
a friend of the artists and a natural-born huckster, connected Adah
with the rising star in British Literature, Algernon Swinburne. Soon
Adah saw in Swinburne the talent necessary to polish her poetry and
to complete her autobiography, something even Mark Twain had declined to do. What evolved was an amazing flow of
synergy, where each person freely and shamelessly used the other. The
greatest need for all of these creative types was inspiration. Each
gave what she or he had to enable the other. For artists, nothing
could be more inspiring than a beautiful model. A muse. Since many models
ended up being the artist's lovers... well you can imagine. And no
one gave more inspiration than Adah.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8gLa77IaPSRMbF-D1zQn2Rz9uLqKgcH6CD37Gq1IKVSHYDVL_dVA7_QarcGqewpzAiMdT55_9GAV_Z9Dt1VR4W4gC3pxGuHNYl7HX3nNEB3xeSFhmLmSfI0a5rvy461EaMwXZIIW4ZPU/s1600/menkenbroadside+PAGE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><img border="0" data-original-height="760" data-original-width="1005" height="481" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8gLa77IaPSRMbF-D1zQn2Rz9uLqKgcH6CD37Gq1IKVSHYDVL_dVA7_QarcGqewpzAiMdT55_9GAV_Z9Dt1VR4W4gC3pxGuHNYl7HX3nNEB3xeSFhmLmSfI0a5rvy461EaMwXZIIW4ZPU/s640/menkenbroadside+PAGE.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>For comparison... Mine (center) must have been made</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i> fairly early, when she was in Texas or Ohio</i></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Beautiful </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Rosa
Corder</b></span><span style="font-size: medium;">, a fledgling artist and Charles
Howell's girl friend, (and a prolific forger of Rossettis!) did a
little modeling as well. Later she would move back to the U.S. and
model for James Whistler after Howell was found murdered in a New
York gutter. This was a fast crowd... as in "two kinds... the quick and the dead."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimElTK2nwRzc1psJQr0GFaAABcOeK0h2IqHTI4lfwrcG_EJpqqVrDXMPYYL9_49ldtSZVWdyFMmSQOqyW3s7mueWo13d8n3ZO1twj-RirWyRNjs6b5mlVuHfmcJJMY1lbhAIGtd0fd0VI/s1600/ROSA+CORDER+page_redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="521" data-original-width="810" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimElTK2nwRzc1psJQr0GFaAABcOeK0h2IqHTI4lfwrcG_EJpqqVrDXMPYYL9_49ldtSZVWdyFMmSQOqyW3s7mueWo13d8n3ZO1twj-RirWyRNjs6b5mlVuHfmcJJMY1lbhAIGtd0fd0VI/s400/ROSA+CORDER+page_redcd.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">It
has never been suggested before... </span><span style="font-size: medium;">but I believe
Adah Menken not only ran with a the fast crowd, and thrilled the masses and stimulated British writers, but may well have
modeled for artists while in Europe. All while acting as
a Confederate agent. She had stormed European shores in 1864,
fleeing the devastating results of the South's War of Secession, and
any appearance of complicity she may have had in the Confederate
cause. She needed money and friends, and found a ready home with the
Pre-Rafaelites and other British liberals. There was a yet undefined
affinity between the Southern “Cause” and some British subjects.
Certainly Confederate ships were being built in British shipyards
when Adah arrived, and she would have known about them, through her Confederate spy network.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyoNGyr2xYmTIQua3wOi5pre1-Xv9fWRm7J8hRXHrCYlDSWiRxFo0gM_S9yZC9puktUaTew2npHc3yAQQB2n1g5utPYuLu5DvQarf4LjAeHi3gycz7wmxi24p6o_D1Neos5L6jtw5MLAw/s1600/Menken+uniform+sepia.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><img border="0" data-original-height="462" data-original-width="327" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyoNGyr2xYmTIQua3wOi5pre1-Xv9fWRm7J8hRXHrCYlDSWiRxFo0gM_S9yZC9puktUaTew2npHc3yAQQB2n1g5utPYuLu5DvQarf4LjAeHi3gycz7wmxi24p6o_D1Neos5L6jtw5MLAw/s320/Menken+uniform+sepia.bmp" width="226" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>A mischievous provocateur, Menken used her trade</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i> as a cover for her rebellious Southern leanings.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnjLsaJ1Z6a_qDJ_56mKIhEC_L_7k7AT1ljaow3UojOX0clyOvNOxbB24BTXXxUWkjXBhKRSzmV2j6uNt5Z3_Yk9vTkQ0ToeDGhkvNrvLM0IjlWbm4trz7MHoFET83rUtOU1sD4K_ujsA/s1600/WILLIAM+WHISTLER+SURGEON+CSA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="613" data-original-width="496" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnjLsaJ1Z6a_qDJ_56mKIhEC_L_7k7AT1ljaow3UojOX0clyOvNOxbB24BTXXxUWkjXBhKRSzmV2j6uNt5Z3_Yk9vTkQ0ToeDGhkvNrvLM0IjlWbm4trz7MHoFET83rUtOU1sD4K_ujsA/s320/WILLIAM+WHISTLER+SURGEON+CSA.jpg" width="258" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><i> Dr. William Whistler.</i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">In fact, James Whistler's brother was a trusted Confederate
</span><span style="font-size: medium;">officer, soon to be sent to England with cash to arrange financing for the ships
under construction. Adah's plan may well have been to supplement the
“Cause” with funds she raised in Europe, just like she had done with
her tour through California and the west. Meanwhile she had a wild
time. In fact it would be a surprise if she had not posed for some of
these lusty, counter-cultural creatives. It makes perfect sense, and I
believe my artist's eye has found perfect proof. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It is known that between
her flamboyant affairs with British men of literature, Adah frolicked
off to France with Gustave Courbet at one point. Perhaps one of the
British artists had been doing too much bragging about their secret mother lode of inspiration, the American sensation who appeared to ride a horse on
stage buck-naked... and Courbet in typical style seized that which
he- and Art- and all bohemian/socialist/humanist culture must have.
Whatever the case, there are several paintings done by Courbet which
suggest that Adah Menken left a silent yet groundbreaking visual
legacy in French art. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><b>Gustave Courbet</b></span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"> was a sort
of eccentric uncle to the Impressionists. He was undoubtedly the most
adventuresome of the French artists, unafraid of breaking conventions
or offending the masses, and even eager to do so. And who else to
recruit to pose in his daring compositions, than the most daring
entertainer of his time? Here is uncanny visual evidence that Menken
left a lasting legacy beyond her tacky skits in Europe. As many as FIVE paintings, all by Gustave Courbet, and one perhaps his most famous,
suggest that Adah Menken was front and center for at least a short
time in his Paris studio... a place fitting her reputation, where art featuring the most
unconventional and risque subjects was being created: The equivalent to, or even superseding her sensational displays on stage, in oils on
canvas... and even beyond, on the Internet today!</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9b9JPfX5nPorfJXaJUIveBlm4_987UMy9LehIXsFW2tZRbii2o8wWEODK-CaKFroDULwyINIpKEO2A_ucV0gdXpgc7d-NEV3v_cCXYMzLZFH4iNMWuAEUoIJfRQZJtOVEuULLZIl9IbU/s1600/1866_Gustave_Courbet_-_Woman_with_a_Parrot+FXD+COMP+PG+W+MENKEN_edited-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1025" data-original-width="1534" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9b9JPfX5nPorfJXaJUIveBlm4_987UMy9LehIXsFW2tZRbii2o8wWEODK-CaKFroDULwyINIpKEO2A_ucV0gdXpgc7d-NEV3v_cCXYMzLZFH4iNMWuAEUoIJfRQZJtOVEuULLZIl9IbU/s640/1866_Gustave_Courbet_-_Woman_with_a_Parrot+FXD+COMP+PG+W+MENKEN_edited-1.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Gustave
Courbet: Woman With A Parrot- 1866. Through the help of American artist Mary Cassatt, this painting ended up in Louisine Havemeyer's famous art collection, now housed at the MET.</span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Please forgive the intrusions on
Courbet's works... but this was the best way to show Adah Menken's
facial characteristics juxtaposed against Courbet's female figures. It has
always been suggested that these works were inspired by the model
Joanna Hiffernan. It had to be somebody, to feed the European rumor
mills... </span></span>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span>
</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1oJZE4-teebbMrSLeEv3vRgOpXifpdIHbrHc5DARVJrKpxlh23Vr5rdx46CdWPHBB0Nw8ZGRwjirPnKzCvrIe2hYNtbYaEzxBZF1bNBVKQXtFR3SynulaBnWvr4cGFu5SSJepO3mTO3o/s1600/JO+ADAH+COMP+PAGE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><img border="0" data-original-height="680" data-original-width="1254" height="345" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1oJZE4-teebbMrSLeEv3vRgOpXifpdIHbrHc5DARVJrKpxlh23Vr5rdx46CdWPHBB0Nw8ZGRwjirPnKzCvrIe2hYNtbYaEzxBZF1bNBVKQXtFR3SynulaBnWvr4cGFu5SSJepO3mTO3o/s640/JO+ADAH+COMP+PAGE.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>Joanna Hiffernan as Whistler saw her, on the left. </i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>As Courbet supposedly saw her, bottom center. </i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>Photos of Menken above and right.</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="color: black; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="color: #f6b26b; font-size: large;">Sorry,
but auburn-haired Joanna Hiffernan was slender and long faced, with a neck like a gazelle, and too petite and pretty to be the nude above: the
supposed portrait of her at the bottom (in pic above) by Courbet suggests that she had a shorter neck,
a small forehead, and sunken, down-slanted eyes. All physical contradictions to Whistler's Jo. Courbet's Jo has somewhat thin misfitting
lips, Whistler's has extremely full lips. All of these inconsistencies lead to my doubts, and then the face of Menken compared to several of Courbet's subjects truly rings a bell.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: medium;">I suggest
that Courbet's redhead above was at best an amalgamation... not completely a painting of Hiffernan,
who was a sort of scapegoat for Courbet's mixed bag of muses, and the painting was actually just a bad portrait
of... Adah Menken. Compare the same likeness below, with several Courbet studies.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVKCt99jdgETbS3uIMTCs3hlO_BGSBArlSy_VNFaZ0xH-ezUSeiTodXgfTMn1mFjcANKv09XkC4fuLMcaUYmJnQUn9WU-aBKjGnWVVy10tolqYX23OeliwlSOtGCgT8845atOJvJIixAs/s1600/Gustave_Courbet-+heffernan+or+Menken+pg+redcd_edited-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><img border="0" data-original-height="415" data-original-width="621" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVKCt99jdgETbS3uIMTCs3hlO_BGSBArlSy_VNFaZ0xH-ezUSeiTodXgfTMn1mFjcANKv09XkC4fuLMcaUYmJnQUn9WU-aBKjGnWVVy10tolqYX23OeliwlSOtGCgT8845atOJvJIixAs/s640/Gustave_Courbet-+heffernan+or+Menken+pg+redcd_edited-1.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">It seems what Jo Hiffernan contributed most to Courbet's female subjects was her hair! Being Whistler's former flame and model, she might well have known Adah, and no doubt did model for Courbet, perhaps in "Origin of the
World," where he cut off her head, showing only her torso... in the most "unlady-like" portrait done in French history. You will have to search that one on the Internet yourself... <i>And</i> she may have been
featured in “Sleep” (1866), a highly suggestive work that may
have been the first nude lesbian love scene, which featured her and
someone else...</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhugvt0RguZsFRLQ8G7MZgYIwE2py278n1GyKSqX46n2RFUrdsnwaIqkkrakRPtjgggc3ouYrJi5cc-dwhM0IwfSELh5ocLOrs-XchLBNSSJcQkVVEtvwyVH3DL-Dy9IQRcJv0fQzbiZbs/s1600/ADAH+SLAIN+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><img border="0" data-original-height="527" data-original-width="927" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhugvt0RguZsFRLQ8G7MZgYIwE2py278n1GyKSqX46n2RFUrdsnwaIqkkrakRPtjgggc3ouYrJi5cc-dwhM0IwfSELh5ocLOrs-XchLBNSSJcQkVVEtvwyVH3DL-Dy9IQRcJv0fQzbiZbs/s400/ADAH+SLAIN+redcd.bmp" width="400" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>Menken assumes a familiar pose.</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #f6b26b; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">A
black haired, shameless fleshpot</span><span style="font-size: x-large;">,</span><span style="font-size: large;"> famous for posing in dreamy,
horizontal ecstasy...</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #f6b26b; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large; font-weight: normal;">Adah
may have starred in Courbet's "Sleep" as well. Most researchers believe Adah was
at least bi-sexual, from the content of her private correspondence.
If Courbet was painting such subjects, were homosexuality and
bisexuality not becoming a hot topic among these European elites?
Is it possible that Adah Menken, the seemingly amoral entertainer,
was also at the vanguard of bohemian culture and its various
expressions?</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXYKHMlZeV-5DRN_jRfvzsKT3Glo55VkS8xjmN50T815ximzcpG_A4aBwrx0lqW5s_ZZdgVOOHuxYoO9D-Szaap2j-uNWsBx3p_w319prxN-icfLClzZx_DYAFx8xdCTLhyphenhyphenvndyCjTciA/s1600/Courbet_Sleep+FXD_ADA+ADAH+_REDuced.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><img border="0" data-original-height="689" data-original-width="1206" height="363" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXYKHMlZeV-5DRN_jRfvzsKT3Glo55VkS8xjmN50T815ximzcpG_A4aBwrx0lqW5s_ZZdgVOOHuxYoO9D-Szaap2j-uNWsBx3p_w319prxN-icfLClzZx_DYAFx8xdCTLhyphenhyphenvndyCjTciA/s640/Courbet_Sleep+FXD_ADA+ADAH+_REDuced.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #f6b26b; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;">This could inspire a new,</span><span style="color: #f6b26b; font-size: large; font-weight: normal;"> totally different interpretation of "Sleep," Courbet's historic flirtation with pornography. This will get deep, but it may be that this suggestive figural had less to do with lesbianism, and was more an edgy artistic exploration into the sub-conscious. My study of Menken and this painting have come together into one theory, that Adah Menken, artist, singer, equestrian, actress and poet, was on a bizarre crusade to define modern womanhood, and hopefully herself in the process. Only a few people close to her knew that she was not only bi-religious (Christian and Jewish) and bi-sexual, but bi-racial. A dark-eyed New Orleans "Quadroon," Adah had used toxic lead-based pigments to lighten her skin for years. Like the painting, there was a light Adah and a dark Adah... She always wore wigs to appear as a blond or brunette, but her hair was naturally almost black, and extremely curly. She had spread so many lies about her origins and her life story that nobody really knew her very well. She was, as I think this painting by Courbet so tenderly illustrated, living the lives of two distinct people.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #f6b26b; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;">Menken was the premier star of her day</span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: normal;">, and Courbet considered himself her equal in art. As they grew close, and talked, I have no doubt that at some point Courbet envisioned the impossible: A portrait of Menken's inner dilemma and the simple complexity of it; a woman playing many roles, who stepped off of the stage to be the International star, which was just a front for a woman of color, passing for white, whose mother had been a slave. It was only at night, IN HER SLEEP, that Adah Isaacs Menken met up with little Berthe Theodore, and they became one.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #f6b26b; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #7f6000; font-weight: normal;">It was the only time, in her sleep, that Adah felt complete, safe, and truly herself. The more famous she became, the more precious those hours became to her... until she finally succeeded in her desire to finally become one again, by committing suicide. She was never returned to the States, buried temporarily in a pauper's grave, but her split existence was beautifully captured forever in Courbet's masterpiece. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #7f6000; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">That is what I think "Sleep" is about. Courbet loved her, and loved the attention the painting got for him, and I think he loved the fact that nobody knew what it was all about! And they could never... In the free-thinking world, Adah's body was mere temporal flesh, something to be celebrated, but Adah's public personna, something she had shaped like a sculpture, was to be honored and protected. In a strange way, Coubet held to his own concept of ethics and morality, and it was not without a kind of integrity, albeit salvaged from pre-christian times. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #f6b26b; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">For the immediate years after her death, Courbet appears to have been obsessed with this great creative genius, and he devoted himself to several tributes to her... If I am right! </span></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7KpTZH1ZWlPCOaUOYN2xwg30inyXONn756P2rVNyqxBOlfAovYPV52_0y3x-43s1V8Mw66kheffpPN8Nw04CLmnMesgsVuizWSOYHnR33ALcwtUbSC7oh98sKLMbgYC1ZRIEbtuwjVrw/s1600/Femme_%25C3%25A0_la_vague-Courbet+comp+w+menken.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1082" data-original-width="1600" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7KpTZH1ZWlPCOaUOYN2xwg30inyXONn756P2rVNyqxBOlfAovYPV52_0y3x-43s1V8Mw66kheffpPN8Nw04CLmnMesgsVuizWSOYHnR33ALcwtUbSC7oh98sKLMbgYC1ZRIEbtuwjVrw/s640/Femme_%25C3%25A0_la_vague-Courbet+comp+w+menken.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Gustave
Courbet: La Femme A La Vague, </span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">aka "A Woman in the Waves," or</span></i><br />
<i style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">"The Bather"- painted in 1868- </span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><i style="font-size: large;">Featuring the profile </i><i style="font-size: large;">of Adah Menken. </i></span><br />
<i style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">The breasts were someone else's!</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Once
again, the near exact face</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> AND body type of Adah Menken in A Woman In The Waves. Once again, Hiffernan
may have modeled her hair. But the face could certainly have passed among her admirers as a final tribute to Adah Isaacs Menken. In the beginning, perhaps the
artist was infatuated, INSPIRED, and unafraid to paint her as she
was... after all, she planned to eventually go back to the States...
thus there was no local or regional reputation to protect. In fact
Menken, a Victorian “candle in the wind,” was already dead when
The Bather was debuted. </span></span></span>
</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqaZZoPP0rZRk-39g90uighDn8YBnQg4lH0XaB2pShN7mpixP1hlrY666XvbqYYYzFWrpeab6KJSKIDxIXFU2E68ibxQpN4TPwY9qzrpey9TQsASRxcmsf8lyJi2H-fAyefDcZjp3RqiE/s1600/Courbet_-_Nude_Woman_with_Dog+pg_edited-1.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1572" height="433" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqaZZoPP0rZRk-39g90uighDn8YBnQg4lH0XaB2pShN7mpixP1hlrY666XvbqYYYzFWrpeab6KJSKIDxIXFU2E68ibxQpN4TPwY9qzrpey9TQsASRxcmsf8lyJi2H-fAyefDcZjp3RqiE/s640/Courbet_-_Nude_Woman_with_Dog+pg_edited-1.bmp" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">If
you read the story of Menken, you understand how integrated she was
with the creative forces in England and France. It seems she was
striving for a sort of artistic triple crown, doing her necessary
melodramas to finance her writing, and desperate Confederate naval
plans which nnever materialized. While loving up Swinburne and Dumas and others to glean
whatever she could to establish her literary foundation, she may have been secretly
posing nude for the most prominent and scandalous artists of the day.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #fce5cd;">This
was where France was 140 years ago... and to some degree it was aided and
inspired by an American. And it was where America was eventually, if
not belatedly headed, almost one hundred years later.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: 20pt; text-align: left;">Perhaps
the most famous </span><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">of all the famous muses was </span><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><b>Jane
Burden Morris. </b></span><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Born poor and denied much
education, she was discovered at age 18 by Dante Gabrielle Rossetti
and the “Pre-Raphaelites” in England, and became a popular model
among them.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">Like most popular models,
youth was kind to Jane and essential to her exotic beauty. When
Rossetti first saw her, she looked like this. Unfortunately for her,
and art, he did not start painting her regularly for another fourteen
years.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">Jane Burden was a quick
study, reinvented herself, and soon carried herself like royalty, as
she acquired ability in music and learned several languages. William
Morris, a major influence in the Arts and Crafts movement, took her
as his wife and she contributed greatly to the success of his
company, especially in textile design. They had two daughters, and
rented a summer home along with the Rossettis for their
entertainment. But when Rossetti's wife and muse passed away, from a
laudanum addiction, and Morris naively traveled to Iceland, Jane and
Gabrielle discovered that they could not resist one another, and a
scandalous affair ensued. Some historians contend that they had been
in love from the very beginning, but Rossetti's marriage prevented
any public attachment.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">When Rossetti had buried
his wife he also buried his sexy love poems, written to her, or
someone, which were quite sexually indiscreet. Now he was to turn
exclusively to painting the majestic ideal Arthurian woman with a
vengeance. And Jane became one of his favorite models. He supposedly
painted a woman named Fanny Cornforth as well, but a careful
comparison of her and Jane suggests that most of the paintings, even
ones supposedly of Cornforth, were Jane. Fanny was more of a decoy
for an artsy-craftsy scandal that was just beginning. Jane was the
living, breathing, dark-haired, expressionless siren made famous by
his mysterious canvases.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Back from frozen Iceland,
William Morris, now a partner with Rossetti, and whom he admired as a
sort of mentor, found a sensible and creative solution to Jane's new
obsession. They would all live in one house together. Nobody would
know whose bed Jane was sleeping in. This arrangement did not last as
long as the scandal it inspired. Then after a few years, the
Pre-Raphaelite gang convinced Rossetti that he had buried his poetry
too hastily. His growing fame would make the love sonnets he composed
for his beloved lover a national hit. Everyone could wonder for
generations which woman he was talking about. So she and they were
exhumed. For this crowd, no impulse was denied. </span>
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">Her beauty somewhat fading, eventually Jane settled
down, charismatic Rossetti succumbed to alcohol and chloral hydrate
(used to treat insomnia!) ... and with Jane's talent and quiet help
William Morris fathered a movement in decorating and architecture
which still commands enthusiasts today...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"> </span><i style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The captivating features</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i> of Fanny Eaton</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Not to be outdone... the
other Pre-Raphaelites had their own muses. Simeon Solomon was the
first to recognize the noble visage of </span><b style="font-size: large;">Fanny Eaton</b><span style="font-size: medium;">, a
statuesque Jamaican immigrant and the wife of a London carriage
driver. Fanny's mother was probably born a slave, and yet her skin
color seems to have been considered part of her charm. She may have
been the first art subject to break the color barrier in
predominantly anglo Europe, being depicted with a certain objective
respect and even admiration for her appearance, regardless of race or
class. Fanny is not believed to have been romantically involved with
any of her admirers, which included Millais and Rossetti, but for a
season she was an exotic distraction from Jane Morris.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As women in France became
“liberated” in the 1870's and were allowed to get educations and
pursue careers, things got really complicated... at least
professional/sexual relationships. Suddenly women were invading a
man's world, stirring indignation and controversy, as former formalities were obsolete,
and minds and a few art careers were blown. Male artists were not
only painting women, nude and otherwise, they were painting alongside
them; Teaching them, organizing exhibits, and competing with them.
Natural elements and human chemistry had to collide as men moved over
and made room. And some like Manet and Renoir moved in...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">This of course did not in any way
interfere with the artist-model-muse-lover-wife-mistress complex.
French art had become a censor-free zone of Victorian public nudity,
and artists of all genres rose to the occasion. Gerome painted and
sculpted heroic woman, too strong and magnificent to be clothed,
Chaplin created angelic virgins, uncovered and innocent so as to be
immodest. Degas painted preoccupied ballerinas. Manet edified the
working girl. And his success meant he could afford excellent models;
<b>Victorine Meurent, Meri Laurent, Suzanne Valadon.</b> Monet
painted his wife <b>Camille,</b> prim but faceless. Renoir painted
his pretty young wife <b>Aline Charigot</b>, his children's pretty
young nanny <b>Gabrielle Renard</b>, and his friend's pretty young
daughters, in an avalanche of portly naked womanhood. And all that
restrained testosterone had to go somewhere...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">While Cezanne painted
fruit and some really bad nudes, and Pissarro painted trees, most of
the Impressionists and their entourage were interested in painting
people... people living their everyday lives. Courbet had started
the thing... painting outrageously erotic nudes, genre scenes, men
busting rocks on the side of the road, and the idea of real humans in
real-life situations. Suddenly the unemployed and untrained female
had a natural talent for a low-stress, relatively easy job. And as
art became more and more an attraction in French tourism, posing for
an artist was becoming almost the patriotic thing for a woman to do.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">Back in the day, poor
young French women had few alternatives. The constant wars and
depressions in France had left the country bankrupt in several ways.
Without educations or status, they had to be open-minded about
marriage prospects. And until they had a husband, they had to be
open-minded about paying gigs... such as modeling for a poor,
not-so-promising artist, just for food. <b>Aline Charigot Renoir</b>
was able to use her beauty to end up on Renoir's canvases, and
eventually in his bed... and to wear his name. It was messy and
tawdry and not to be recommended to anyone. The only problem was that
once she was pregnant and overweight, Renoir would find a new muse...
over and over again, as she gave him three sons. Still, Aline in her
prime was the probably one of the prettiest of the French models of
that day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>Young actress, Henriette Henriot, who</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i> posed for Renoir numerous times, and</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i> may have been his favorite "muse."</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Aline was pretty,</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> but
another class of models had arrived on the art scene, that would make
her pale in comparison. It was the wealthy French girl-artist
wanna-be. France was lousy with the type. In fact it attracted them
from all over the world. Wealthy girls had great clothes, and
handsome parents, nice teeth, and well, good genes. They had
educations. Many had art instruction. And as they slyly wormed and
levered their way into the art market, they immediately offered a new
and desirable subject for painting. </span>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">Fetching<b> Berthe and
Edma Morisot</b> led the way of this fresh echalon. Edma, an outstanding artist, married Manet's
best friend, and was soon out of the picture, but Berthe held on to
her dream of being a professional artist. She and Edma had studied
under several prominent French artists, such as Puvis Chavannes, and showed considerable
promise when they began to turn heads in Paris. “Too bad they are
women,” Manet had lamented. Being a woman was considered an
insurmountable handicap for even the most talented artist. </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Believed by this blogger to be young Berthe Morisot </span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><i>with her fiance.</i><i> and sporting an engagement band.</i></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">One of
Berthe's first instructors</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> was the sculptor Aime Millet. Soon the
mentor wanted to be the suitor, and they were even engaged. The young
female painter was about to become Millet's studio keeper when she
came to her senses.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">When Berthe was wisely
invited into the group of loosely organized “impressionists,”
nobody was sure whether it was because of her talent, or, you know,
the fact that she was drop-dead gorgeous. Ever the opportunist, Manet, who never actually
bonded with the “Impressionists,” did not care, and got her to
model for him often. In fact, no other artist was ever painted so
many times by a fellow artist. And probably no other artist was ever studied and depicted by fellow artists as much as Morisot. Besides Manet and her sister, and herself, and probably her instructors like Millet and Chavannes, she modeled for Desboutin, Bremen and Marcello.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">Manet was able to engage her nearly exclusively, within his sphere of influence, but he could not have her. But he could
enjoy her company and paint her and have that distinction... although
he never did her justice. Meanwhile Berthe went about smoothing over
squabbles and keeping the peace among the art beasts of France. Only
a classic beauty with brains could have kept them together and
actually established a true art movement out of such undisciplined
renegades. Like insecure little boys in a tree house, they
intentionally met at a bar where she could not go because of French
propriety, where they bitched and moaned about her constant interference and
ultimatums. But Morisot was one messenger they would not shoot, and she got them to do work together and to establish themselves, for posterity as it turned out. Meanwhile Berthe made brochures and posters, and used her social
connections to make headway in spite of them, a reactionary Salon and a hostile French culture.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Then she got married- to
Manet's brother Eugene, and the Impressionists lost their most
effective public relations agent. She would still paint, but becoming
a mother became a new creative challenge, and one she relished in.
Over the years, Berthe painted her sister, her mother, her nieces and
most often, her daughter <b>Julie</b>, as did insatiable Renoir. </span>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Men paint the objects of
their fascination and fulfillment- and so do women. For men that is
women. For women that is... or used to be, family, and especially children. </span>
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<i><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Julie</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">After Berthe Morisot's
death,</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> Renoir was Julie's surrogate father and she his muse. Julie
moved in with Berthe's closest friends, the home of France's popular
poet Stephane Mallarme. His daughters were like sisters to her.
Between the attentions of Morisot and Renoir, the daughter of one and
the muse of the other, Julie Manet replaced her mother as one of the most painted
persons of the French art scene.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>Julie Manet (center) poses with two American artists,</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i> Edward Darley Boit and Childe Hassam, </i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>and her close friend, Genevieve Mallarme.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">How much Julie posed is a topic for
inquiry. Many of Renoir's nudes sport the round pixie face of Julie
Manet, often attributed to Renoir's children's nanny, Gabrielle, or
Suzanne Valadon, whose bodies were those of more mature, rotund
females, and who made his nudes seem like raucous gatherings of
behemoth libertines. But they often had very small heads, out of
proportion with their bodies, which suggests he used someone else...
perhaps Julie to model for his faces, but not so much exposure of the
rest of her. Renoir was known to use <b>Lise Trehot</b> for his
early nudes, and no doubt recruited Mery Laurent and other models of
the day as well.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiADUrXilxbLIXNTJrzSlT_warUQ5lX7pvfKW0s9wL8CLpl8Ei9GXSiyQgmdlCBPRVOC_48Pp5CekPJy0izyAFVuwdwCEDOZZ5UiffejmNTBbvxfNiNa1uD_0W0ODzejwr3WxLE48EdSZA/s1600/FRENCH+MODELS+ENHANCED+CROPT+FXD+redcd+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="648" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiADUrXilxbLIXNTJrzSlT_warUQ5lX7pvfKW0s9wL8CLpl8Ei9GXSiyQgmdlCBPRVOC_48Pp5CekPJy0izyAFVuwdwCEDOZZ5UiffejmNTBbvxfNiNa1uD_0W0ODzejwr3WxLE48EdSZA/s640/FRENCH+MODELS+ENHANCED+CROPT+FXD+redcd+2.jpg" width="518" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Here is a rare, incredible photograph,
which I believe to be the gathering of four of France's most famous
artist's models. This was one of several “grand slams” as I
called them, which I have acquired, impossible groupings never seen
before but certainly possible, of persons from a particular place and
time, whose faces would be hard to confuse with any others. The odds against finding so many "lookalikes" together, from the same period, and the same country, are astronomical. All four of
these women were part of a network of French families involved in the
arts, and in particular the Impressionist school.<b> Lise Trehot </b>on the
far left was Renoir's favorite body model early on. Julie Manet on
the far right was Renoir's favorite head model beginning during her
childhood and for the next twenty years. Above center appears to be
</span><b style="font-size: large;">Mery Laurent,</b><span style="font-size: medium;"> who married Stephane Mallarme, a sort of adopted
step- mother to Julie Manet, and a favorite model for Edouard Manet,
Julie's uncle. She was often photographed in Moulin Rouge-styled
dancing garb, and had been a popular entertainer at one time. Mery
once played Venus on the half shell on stage, in the nude, and was
sponsored by a wealthy American in her own salon, where she became
the mistress of France's most admired cultural lights. She
entertained the legends of the times, such as Whistler, Zola and
Proust. Zola based one of his novels on her. The woman on the bottom
may be <b>Gabrielle Renard</b>, Renoir's faithful, convenient, most utilized
model, mistress and baby sitter.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">Beautiful <b>Camille
Claudel</b> followed the tragic path of the pretty art student turned
muse- turned lover- turned miserable and shamed. She studied under
Rodin and after an affair was then smothered by his ego and banished.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The other women artists
were not quite so attractive or willingly immortalized; Marcello. Eva
Gonzales. Her sister <b>Jeanne</b> modeled for her. Rosa Bonheur.
Marie Bracquemond. Mary Cassatt, who joined the Impressionists and
took up where Berthe left off. She also painted her sister. And
hundreds of other women. She rarely posed for herself, nor did many others ask her to pose for them. When Degas tried, she hated the results.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCzYOmle4BnL6BEXpXx5rwNwWjRVIaWSrRxN8EL0oazAmKEKSGEM0PvFdUMGeuae9ht5HGN5KtDiHPAxTJYZHV10q_COe9_UBChTNWf1ZoY53eL1Hlf7mblrFEmXcecaca9Dodby9sXfw/s1600/VICTORINE+Meurent+redccd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><img border="0" data-original-height="579" data-original-width="390" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCzYOmle4BnL6BEXpXx5rwNwWjRVIaWSrRxN8EL0oazAmKEKSGEM0PvFdUMGeuae9ht5HGN5KtDiHPAxTJYZHV10q_COe9_UBChTNWf1ZoY53eL1Hlf7mblrFEmXcecaca9Dodby9sXfw/s640/VICTORINE+Meurent+redccd.jpg" width="428" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Victorine Meurent</b>
was the top model </span><span style="font-size: medium;">of the day. An accomplished artist and musician as
well, the slender redhead regularly posed for the best artists in
France, including Manet, Degas, Toulouse Lautrec, Puvis de Chavanne
and Alfred Stevens. Victorine was believed to have been romantically
involved with Stevens, but she never married and never had children.
She made her living modeling and painting until, as legend suggests,
her hand was injured. Her art, now almost non-existent, was better
received in her own time, and certainly more than any of the
Impressionists, including Morisot, and she was juried in to the
annual Salon exhibit in 1876, her self-portrait beating Manet as she
was accepted and he was not. Only three or four of her paintings have
been preserved, including the self-portrait which established her
talent and made her the most essential and most adored woman in
French art history.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It is Victorine who is
believed to have modeled nude for Manet's scandalous blockbusters,
Dejeuner Sur de L'Herbe (The Bath) and Olympia. She was also supposed
to have been the boy in Manet's The Fifer. It has never seemed to
bother art historians that these people did not look like one another
and did not look like Victorine. But history said so. French art
history was written long ago, and that was the end of it. As a blogger, </span><span style="font-size: large;">I have the freedom to challenge some of these long held assumptions and offer a twist far
more interesting.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN03-TOWoV4_jmbi4OA-bzG50nuEvdQMhOQgvYwrZOsB-d1mcXxoAE9z_um-DVAogvmv7w5Kqr9BwBrLq8-neufbeNFvsDIkcU3csRFPA3UvlHPPBNyezIE3QePhmub0qB20GFOquUc8A/s1600/Study_of_olympia_manet+vic_NIC+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="461" data-original-width="871" height="337" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN03-TOWoV4_jmbi4OA-bzG50nuEvdQMhOQgvYwrZOsB-d1mcXxoAE9z_um-DVAogvmv7w5Kqr9BwBrLq8-neufbeNFvsDIkcU3csRFPA3UvlHPPBNyezIE3QePhmub0qB20GFOquUc8A/s640/Study_of_olympia_manet+vic_NIC+redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>First of all, when you imagine Victorine,</i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> think Nicole Kidman. Then as you scrutinize</i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> Manet's final version of Olympia, hold that</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> thought. You can </i></span></span><i style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">have only one conclusion: </i></div>
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<i style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">No way!</i></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: x-large;">Victorine grew up</span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"> in a
blue collar family. Both of her parents were industrious and even
creative. Her mother was a hat maker, her father a craftsman at a
foundry, and she was a budding artist. She started modeling for Thomas Couture in 1860, when just
sixteen years old. That is where she may have met one of Couture'</span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">s students, Edouard Manet, who would later draw her into the greatest controversy of her life. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">Somehow this girl from humble beginnings learned
respectable skills in music and painting, and had the good looks to
make money by just sitting still. Manet supposedly hired Victorine
to model for a battery of projects, including The Street Singer,
Mademoiselle V and The Bath around 1862, meaning this very beautiful
girl from self-respecting origins, with artistic skills of her own,
agreed to pose as herself, a bull fighter, and nude in the role of a
courtesan for a virtually unknown artist. And she was only eighteen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;">All of this is possible,
but at eighteen auburn-haired Victorine was lithe and sexy, unlike
most of the females Manet was to portray. She may have posed for The Singer, hiding her face, and some for Mademoiselle V, even though the
likeness is minimal, but the portly gal in The Bath is quite solid,
with enormous thighs, and brunette. A smaller exploratory version, which sports a
redhead, looks as if Manet may have stuck Victorine's head on a very
large-bottomed woman. This suggests that Manet used Victorine, not surprisingly, mostly as a head model. Early photographs of Victorine Meurent suggest
that she was lean and well proportioned, and classically long faced.
The somewhat hefty, but sexy woman in The Bath looks to be far older
than eighteen, and shamelessly flattered by any attentions, honorable or otherwise. </span>
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Manet came out the next
year with his most famous work, </span><span style="font-size: large;">Olympia</span><span style="font-size: medium;">: a bold prostitute spread out, looking the viewer
square in the eye, with nothing covering her nakedness but her sporty house shoes. The woman is obviously short and stout, and round
faced- a Mediterranean brunette, and actually looks a great deal like
Suzanne Valadon, but who was only three years old at the time. Art critics
have opined about the scandal of Manet painting Victorine, a nineteen-year old
art student in such an outrageous context. And how many people, as has been supposed, would
have recognized his model, and been all the more
excited or offended. Really? They never saw the earlier sketches... and Olympia had nothing in common with Victorine except that both were female. But Victorine had probably bragged that she had been modeling for the artist... and people did the math.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Yes reader, the <i>story</i> behind the
painting has always been as important as the art. </span>
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">Victorine Meurent has been recorded
by history to have posed for as many as nine of Manet's masterpieces,
over a twenty year period. And there were probably more. But five of
them were modeled before the end of 1863. Two more were modeled in
1866. Then there was a seven year lapse. It was during this time that
Victorine really honed her own painting skills, and posed regularly
for Alfred Stevens. Stevens' tasteful, precise style of art was more
to her liking than the crude swaths and risque subjects of Manet's
canvases. The last time she posed for Manet was in 1873 when
Victorine sat, still elegant and gorgeous, for The Railway,
completely clothed with a child at her side and a puppy in her lap.
It is important to note that she was rarely known to pose in the nude
for artists. When she did, she never the less covered herself
prudishly. Stevens once supposedly managed to expose one breast, but I think that painting has been mis-attributed. The model for that was probably Mery Laurent, someone far more likely to throw caution to the wind. And after
Olympia, no one was to ever see Victorine's naked waist or legs, or even her
feet again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">This is one reason that I
am suspicious of the use of Victorine as the primary model for any nudes at all. But yes,
I think artists used her face in a number of ways. Artists are
ruthless composers, in search of the elements of their inner visions.
They are body snatchers... body part snatchers... gesture and
expression snatchers... always on the hunt for a sly grin or the
gleam of the eye... a nicely defined muscle. The idea that they would do this seems to be lost
upon non-artists, who think in a linear way. A picture of a woman
must be a picture of <i>someone</i>- a presentation of a person in a
time and place- a sample of that moment, and an expression of...
truth.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">But to an artist, a
picture of a woman might be the culmination of everything he or she has
ever learned, or loved or experienced... and often the conflation of
a lifetime of observations and preferences and... the artist's </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>ideal</i></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">.
</span> In other words, a larger, all-encompassing truth. </span>
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Olympia was such a
composition. Every painting is. Who modeled for it? Maybe Victorine, at least for the thumbnails and preparatory studies. Or maybe an unknown prostitute. Or both. The earlier sketches of the
composition feature a slim redhead... but she quickly disappears. In the end a very different type emerges on the final work. Or
maybe Manet was dreaming the whole time about his wildest fantasy, or
his mother, or maybe someone whom will never be told, buried
underneath all of the stupid speculations and assumptions. But sadly,
for people to get interested in art, there must be a story,
preferably naughty, behind it. </span>
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">It was such fun for the
French, enjoying their sexual revolution, to imagine that the model
for Olympia was the sexy teen-aged redhead. And Manet was glad to a
point- for morons to make up stories and fuel the fires of
controversy. As one of my artist friends once discovered, and
explained pragmatically after being labeled in a negative way in the
Austin newspaper, “It does not matter what people are reading about
you, as long as they are talking about you.” For artists, scandal
is the equivalent of free publicity. My friend reasoned that a year
later they won't remember what they read or heard, only that you are "famous."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It was said that after the
wild, unexpectedly hostile public reaction to Olympia, Manet was
mortified and fled the country. He could not have been that
surprised, nor the French so outraged, and surely the French had seen
a nude before, many of them. What was the big deal? Manet was merely
following a natural progression, after being inspired by the works of
Spanish masters such as Velasquez and Goya. In fact his paintings
were direct answers to their greatest works. Still, there was wailing
and gnashing of teeth. And surely they were not so upset about the artist's choice of footwear...</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2E5a98ECUt4Liu2nawLoJVC-HwdMUNkyhA9ETuQx5OlP34_5fxJMKErzM5u21na8ToXNXa1RyWCgKLWMGJO5GClnTh2iHMWV9ZcvyJvDtTjiQIPFg2dGxhvVNkqx4fizUogHLP1u-404/s1600/nude+goddesses+of+art+redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><img border="0" data-original-height="584" data-original-width="797" height="467" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2E5a98ECUt4Liu2nawLoJVC-HwdMUNkyhA9ETuQx5OlP34_5fxJMKErzM5u21na8ToXNXa1RyWCgKLWMGJO5GClnTh2iHMWV9ZcvyJvDtTjiQIPFg2dGxhvVNkqx4fizUogHLP1u-404/s640/nude+goddesses+of+art+redcd.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>A brazen nude, staring at the onlooker, </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>had been done 300 years before, and </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>many times since... but always BAREFOOTED. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>Why the fuss?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">It boiled down to Manet's
attitude. </span><span style="font-size: medium;">He was not liked, and art critics were determined to be
less than charitable. His courageous canvases were attacked as much
for political purposes as any real concerns about art. As with any
controversy, the facts pertaining to the painting were thrown around
loosely to sell newspapers and... well, contribute to the fun. A
casual nude woman, simply resting as a servant presents a fabulous
spray of flowers... which I'm told would have been no big deal to
Europeans... presumably an honest depiction of a "working girl," who suddenly transformed into a brazen whore, unashamedly looking at
her onlookers, and an unacceptable breech of social interaction.
Naked ladies were not supposed to look at you. That was the advantage
of art: You were supposed to be able to goggle at a naked woman, and
not feel any discomfort. And in truth, it had been done before... by
Goya and others.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">One of Manet's associates, the ill-fated young French
master Bazille painted a similar painting just before the
Franco-Prussian debacle, when he was killed in action, his answer to Manet's answer to Goya's answer to Titian's... We will never know, but he seemed to be trying to meet with the critic's approval, as his nude's waist is covered, and she wears only one turquoise shoe...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDcmPCa8Q1bcF_Lir7oRZYcW22pVBQ7nP_6lwA1OxlxW3d9ObJgn8h3AfuAzyFmICvSXYnNwaNI9wex1T2UOC-Ww23oRbhIXY92B1b4jflwM3G6Y-bud7i8MtPqTG_Ujmjmto4xSjE7wo/s1600/Bazille%2527s+LaToilette%252C1869-70+Musee_Fabre%252C_Montpelier+redcd_edited-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="777" data-original-width="752" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDcmPCa8Q1bcF_Lir7oRZYcW22pVBQ7nP_6lwA1OxlxW3d9ObJgn8h3AfuAzyFmICvSXYnNwaNI9wex1T2UOC-Ww23oRbhIXY92B1b4jflwM3G6Y-bud7i8MtPqTG_Ujmjmto4xSjE7wo/s320/Bazille%2527s+LaToilette%252C1869-70+Musee_Fabre%252C_Montpelier+redcd_edited-1.jpg" width="309" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>La Toilette, by Frederic Bazille. 1869-70.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i> Bazille's alabaster, long-limbed beauty</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i> looks more like an Olympic </i></span><i style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: large;">swimming champion... </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>resting after a round in the boxing ring! </i> </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Chaplin's
maidens</span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"> were a little more shy, rarely looking towards their admirers when bare-chested. Clement and Courbet had already been cranking out brazen,
buxom, naked ladies for several years. Certainly Parisian art
enthusiasts were not looking upon anything they had not seen before.
The objections today seem shallow and infantile. But just as today,
it was not so much what Manet said... but <i>how</i> he said it.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">How Victorine might have
felt, we can guess by her choices from those days forward. She
modeled for Manet much less... finally breaking away and modeling
only for artists whom she could trust to protect her dignity. But at
the time, and ever since, she has been pigeon-holed as Manet's muse.
Wild speculations continue even today, as nude souvenir photographs
of a fully mature woman are brandished on the Internet as her, even
though she would have to have been only thirteen years old when they
were made. The art world wants its muses dark and nasty. Scandal has always been the selling point of art. Later European galleries would perfect this strategy marketing Cezanne, Van Gogh and Gauguin. Lunacy, self-mutilation and debauchery in exotic places superseded the mild glimpses of the world's oldest profession. But in the early days, artists fully expected to rise through artistic excellence and the recognition of it. If Manet left the country in humiliation, we can only imagine what
anguish and depression might have followed young Victorine, equated at twenty with the whore of Babylon.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">In 1866 Manet released his
Le Fifre, an adorable portrait of a young military musician... which
was supposedly based, again on Victorine. At twenty-two years, it is
safe to assume that she looked nothing like the young boy in the
painting. Not the height, nor the face, or the sex... That art
historians have accepted and believed and taught these
identifications for so long just proves how little most art critics and "experts" really
know about art or artists or human beings. I don't care who
originally made these claims. They were either ill-informed or lying.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">It seems that Victorine
Meurent became a catch-all for any mysteries in Manet's sources.
Someone in a moldy French gallery basement was trying to catalog his works and just made a stab at Manet's probable
models, and wrote it down, and Meurent was certainly a probable, and then somebody else repeated it... In fact they both probably
<i>wanted</i> to think that the paintings had been modeled by Victorine. It
was sexy to think of the beautiful redhead beneath the fifer's
uniform. And more importantly, it would help sell the most mundane of
portraits. I can hear the art dealer telling his sales staff,
“...Tell them it was Victorine... the Americans will snatch it up
immediately!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuRQJlJxXKt4NPZTm01NGhQGg7hNekZg3fbXafCKTo7wxSszWP3jaWjipIjKyfex5_YWY9IKxvR0p8STWJ5lMWb6kNP6nppA49C3tLV4HaOxnjWfZbdkXhLZjrpua9lKoey2Hs23TW8ys/s1600/VIC+PAGE+redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><img border="0" data-original-height="693" data-original-width="1001" height="441" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuRQJlJxXKt4NPZTm01NGhQGg7hNekZg3fbXafCKTo7wxSszWP3jaWjipIjKyfex5_YWY9IKxvR0p8STWJ5lMWb6kNP6nppA49C3tLV4HaOxnjWfZbdkXhLZjrpua9lKoey2Hs23TW8ys/s640/VIC+PAGE+redcd.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>The impossibly contradictory faces of </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>Victorine Meurent. The alleged nudes...</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>The green background on the Rt encompasses</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i> those </i></span><i style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: large;">captured </i><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>by Alfred Stevens... </i></span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>and perhaps</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i> </i></span><i style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: large;">the most accurate. Bottom left and center are Manet's round-faced subject, long considered to be Victorine. </i></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Let's compare! </span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">What could
be the reason for all of the inconsistencies? How could two artists see one woman so differently? I will strive here to
put all of the confusion to rest.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">First, let's look at this
lady, The one in Manet's paintings... and study how a better portrait painter depicted Victorine, a veritable Victorian template for Nicole Kidman- and how he
actually captured her face. <b>Alfred Stevens saw an entirely different
person than Manet</b> often did, and certainly one more consistently
beautiful. Victorine did burn off some “baby fat” in the early
years, and then added on some weight as she aged, but she was never
short, or pear-shaped, never full-lipped, never a changeling whose
skull stretched or condensed as Manet's “Victorines” seemed to
do.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTsxrCF8_xTlgyfWdHISlTEbsOQ7xbqV0Q4CDV6HH541DNP8vA2epXZM_34ObKcHwmQvNQolJiOdR-AUMsf8lK0vfuf_Tr3S-I6ynk8jgQFpRY_b1CVsyyp93-pMc6W2H3p55qmDkW9kc/s1600/Edouard_Manet_-_Olympia_PROGRESSION+redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><img border="0" data-original-height="602" data-original-width="894" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTsxrCF8_xTlgyfWdHISlTEbsOQ7xbqV0Q4CDV6HH541DNP8vA2epXZM_34ObKcHwmQvNQolJiOdR-AUMsf8lK0vfuf_Tr3S-I6ynk8jgQFpRY_b1CVsyyp93-pMc6W2H3p55qmDkW9kc/s640/Edouard_Manet_-_Olympia_PROGRESSION+redcd.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>The metamorphosis of Olympia along </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>the bottom... from redhead to brunette.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>The weathered face of Suzanne Valadon's</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i> mother, upper left. The various versions</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i> of Suzanne by several artists, top row.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">Morisot and Renoir got it right, showing </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">Valadon's oval face. </span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: x-large;">My observation </span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">about the
similarity of Manet's Olympia to </span><b style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Maria “Suzanne” Valadon,</b><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"> a
popular model, and mistress of Lautrec and Renoir, and an
accomplished artist in her own right, has brought me to my own, not
so baseless speculations. Born out of wedlock and never knowing who
her father was, she was too young to have been a part of the creation
of Manet's groundbreaking works. But her mother would have been, not
only similar in looks and stature, but the perfect age to have been a
model and lover of Manet's. And the striking similarity of Olympia to Valadon cannot be ignored.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiqrYAXirQ8ufr_RlqYov5Q4BOgFGaiEkBrM34ypymT8AE4m4UmJUVogQTdDuOANie7KkSJPxZKbF-ivCv-OT7J6mcyKREbUCYSRJ7FFYjaNr2UuzJVoL2C4mmdueDNPNx-FF5UNDh4KE/s1600/susn+and+mare.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="466" data-original-width="688" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiqrYAXirQ8ufr_RlqYov5Q4BOgFGaiEkBrM34ypymT8AE4m4UmJUVogQTdDuOANie7KkSJPxZKbF-ivCv-OT7J6mcyKREbUCYSRJ7FFYjaNr2UuzJVoL2C4mmdueDNPNx-FF5UNDh4KE/s400/susn+and+mare.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i> An older picture of Susanne Valadon (Rt) compared to </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>a portrait she did of her mother in her old age,</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>show several facial similarities, including wide</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i> cheek bones, arched eyebrows, an upside-down smile</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i> and a downward </i></span><i style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: large;">sloping nose. Might her mother looked </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: large;">as much like her daughter in her youth? </i></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> “Suzanne” Valadon was given her nickname by
Toulouse Lautrec; a biblical reference recalling an innocent young woman
hounded and blackmailed by would-be older lovers.</span></i></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">Another clue was Manet's "coincidental" depiction of the Susanna story in Dejeuner Sur de
L'Herbe, better known to the English speaking world as Luncheon on the Grass, Manet's modern reenactment of the
negotiations between two interested men and a young woman, supposedly
having just bathed. The Susanna in the painting is listening to their
overtures and looking at us, as if to say, “Here we go again!” </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh40lxby1uNHFaDtCBxmuV9mNYlaWPYnfi5qC4psJMr-VqeSm15x3_XNoXp19o_GNiXWZrRP-XLABVk4gmHNd5JP9YuGuRgs3VkBRgQ8ZDFG_XSSUS5zAXXKNqKrhnl1duwdzqobPVO-Aw/s1600/%25C3%2589douard_Manet_-_D%25C3%25A9jeuner_sur_l%2527herbe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><img border="0" data-original-height="532" data-original-width="700" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh40lxby1uNHFaDtCBxmuV9mNYlaWPYnfi5qC4psJMr-VqeSm15x3_XNoXp19o_GNiXWZrRP-XLABVk4gmHNd5JP9YuGuRgs3VkBRgQ8ZDFG_XSSUS5zAXXKNqKrhnl1duwdzqobPVO-Aw/s400/%25C3%2589douard_Manet_-_D%25C3%25A9jeuner_sur_l%2527herbe.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>A preliminary sketch of Dejourner does feature</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i> a redhead... her head very small in proportion to</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i> the rest of her body. But look at those massive arms!</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i>And that gut! The body of a mature woman.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg36_dBrUgPkGT70frhv-DK_QYAQeE_jovOfmKYFdxxRHQDWnCiGZVzO5v7d-iIo354dFCUB08_UEnKscdPVQ0bLxv4Pm82dPc1lRlgcgBBQyzQbE3ddQgjl4xOfS1LJp54aF5ARdKhoJc/s1600/The+Luncheon+on+the+Grass+1863+Museum+d%2527Orsay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="749" data-original-width="950" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg36_dBrUgPkGT70frhv-DK_QYAQeE_jovOfmKYFdxxRHQDWnCiGZVzO5v7d-iIo354dFCUB08_UEnKscdPVQ0bLxv4Pm82dPc1lRlgcgBBQyzQbE3ddQgjl4xOfS1LJp54aF5ARdKhoJc/s400/The+Luncheon+on+the+Grass+1863+Museum+d%2527Orsay.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">When we admit that the full</span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">, round face in the larger version of this composition barely resembles Victorine Meurent, and her muscular body in no way suggests the youth or slender attractiveness of the famous model, we can at least toy with the idea that someone else modeled for the final painting. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">Manet's theme not only perfectly parallels the Susanna legend, it may have been an unwitting clue, when Lautrec's conflation is added to the soup. Lautrec saw in Manet's painting the perfect illustration of a Bible story, the parallel of which he knew his lover was caught up in. She became "Suzanne," the French cognate for the ancient name Susannah.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The significance of this religious legend should not be overlooked. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lautrec, a struggling artist who loved Maria and knew her “intimately,” may have given her the name “Suzanne” for deeper reasons than the mere ogling of her grizzled old mentors and employers, artists like Renoir and Chavannes, as has </span></span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">often been repeated. In the apocryphal story of Susanna and the Elders, two lustful and powerful men conspire not only to have their way with a beautiful woman while she bathes, but threaten her if she tells anyone of their advances. </span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><b>They try to blackmail her,</b></span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"> saying they would use their considerable influence to have her arrested and stoned for adultery, and they were willing to bear false witness against her to do so. In other words, “Submit or we will make your life miserable.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><u>But Susanna is strong and
does not yield to them.</u></b> And her reaction not only drew attention to
the situation, but it put her in deadly jeopardy. She argued with the
blackmailers...</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large; font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><i><span style="color: #999999; font-size: large; font-weight: normal;">“I
am completely trapped. For if I do this, it will mean death for me;
if I do not, I cannot escape your hands. I choose not to do it; I
will fall into your hands, (suffer the consequences) rather than sin
in the sight of the Lord.” (Susanna 22–23; NRSV)</span></i></span><i style="font-size: large;">
</i></span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Suzanne
Valadon</span></span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">was</span></span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><b>
</b></span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">quite pretty and often modeled for Chavannes,
Manet and especially Renoir- and is believed to have bedded with some
or all of them... There is no doubt that she was embraced, groomed
and nurtured to become the first French woman accepted into the
prestigious </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #e69138; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-weight: normal;">Société
Nationale des Beaux-Arts.</span></span></span> <span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">
Yet, things were political then as they are today, and I believe she was also being compensated by the art community- for past
injustices.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">The missing piece,</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> a long
neglected person in this drama who brings my theory home, if it has a home, would have been Madeleine Valadon, Suzanne'</span></span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">s mother, the possible target of the blackmail, who arguably could have looked a great deal like Suzanne when
she was young. And a generation before was a single woman trying to make
a living in hard times... perhaps yielding to offers to pay her to
model in the nude... and horror of horrors, when Olympia created such a stink, then worrying about her
family and friends learning of her leanings towards what many Frenchmen considered prostitution; And then living with that threat all of her life. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">And her unwillingness to be exposed kept her from getting fair treatment from her artist/employer/lover... who possibly fathered her child... and never helped to support her... and the mother chose to raise the child without help, and <i>if the artist was Manet,</i> rather than take the risk of being embarrassed as a model and muse who inspired a national scandal.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">What if one of these
artists, so quick to nurture and edify Suzanne, was actually Suzanne's father, making things right with her? And all of this circle of artists knew it, and
eventually all of them later adopted her into their “family,” and
collectively oversaw her artistic success? She was accepted in time
into the status of recognized artist, and Degas assured her that “You
are one of us,” after purchasing one of her early works. Perhaps
she was one of them more than they would ever admit.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">And since she played nice,
they did as well, and the blackmail held over her mother was ended,
and she found her “family.” And then a young painter of
prostitutes (Lautrec) lived with her and dubbed her "Suzanne," reflecting the dark, complicated world in which she had endured and
prevailed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyBvp0EWxhk9waBNbMJJ4BmeOb0rq6JySs7TLIv3AZAFfrq-aNgH_QOp-iX9aWf1t-XbFbLSoZVpL-B-bSXZKivLMVXxSwppYoUijztBdJ4ZYjJ6x235XFIoLFvTTyWIibdbGxgeqmOH4/s1600/suzanne+valadon+art+page_redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="690" data-original-width="1286" height="340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyBvp0EWxhk9waBNbMJJ4BmeOb0rq6JySs7TLIv3AZAFfrq-aNgH_QOp-iX9aWf1t-XbFbLSoZVpL-B-bSXZKivLMVXxSwppYoUijztBdJ4ZYjJ6x235XFIoLFvTTyWIibdbGxgeqmOH4/s640/suzanne+valadon+art+page_redcd.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Surely no other artist</span></span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"> or model in France better embodied
Olympia, and no other spent such a great deal of their life identifying
with the painting. Suzanne seemed to say with many of her own nudes, often reminiscent of Olympia, “I know who Olympia is!” She was proud of her associations, and
yet (I suggest) bound to never tell... to protect all parties
involved. And Victorine had already been taking the heat for twenty
years. It was old news.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">Since Valadon admitted
that either Chavannes or Renoir were the father of her son, because
of social taboos on incest we can reduce the suspects of who was <i>her</i>
father. Then Manet emerges again to the forefront. The man who
painted the mysterious Olympia, who refused to ever publicly support
the Impressionists for fear of their negative association, or clear Victorine
Meurent of her undeserved social discomfort, the greedy artist who
always elbowed his way to the front to paint the most beautiful
French women, but who rarely did them justice. Did Manet paint
Dejeuner Sur de L'Herbe as a cunning warning of blackmail of an heretofore
unknown model, and mother of his unclaimed child, releasing his
masterpiece as a blockbuster and simultaneously as a looming threat to the modern day Susannah?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">We will never know. But it went down something just like this.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So mercifully, for noble
reasons, or perhaps not so noble, my theory proposes that Suzanne's
mother was cheated out of the fame in history for starring in the
most scandalous nude in France in her time. Or dodged a huge bullet... But she lived with a real
fear of wearing the public shame heaped on Victorine Meurent, if the
artist of Olympia ever set the record straight. Manet craved the
attention, the reputation, the glory. He would share with no one.
All while he took his long-suffering wife for granted (yes, he had a
common law wife- ironically also named Suzanne) and seized every
opportunity and slithered out of every encumbrance. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Ruthless, ambitious,
relishing in attention even if it was negative, it is easy to imagine
Manet as the blackmailer of Lautrec's Susannah; The manipulative
artist who got a poor model to give up her modesty or much more; the
wanna-be master held back by his poverty... and poverty of mind-
perhaps unable or unwilling to pay his first hapless models, or marry
those he impregnated, as he skirted responsibility... as he did in
every facet of his life. But in my imagined Lautrec scenario,
Susannah was the daughter of the wronged woman, bravely facing the
elders, and being lavishly compensated for her mother's lifelong
oppression. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">My proposed scenario</span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">
answers several long standing curiosities. It explains <u>why </u>young
Victorine Meurent was falsely saddled with a ludicrous rumor, the
chosen fallen woman, and while young Suzanne Valadon was escorted to
the height of French art achievement, her fallings were kept discreet. <u>Why
</u>the most prominent of the Impressionists embraced her, helped her,
taught her, and yes bedded her like “one of their own.” <u>Why
</u>sexuality, not family or children, was at the core of Valadon's art;
<u>Why </u>Suzanne spent most of her art career painting nudes, many with
the very same “in your eye” expression as Manet's masterpiece.
<u>Why</u> many of her paintings were of herself, at least nude to the waste, seen
from a mirror, looking at the world with a sneer, in the very spirit
of Olympia.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Without women, Manet's
portfolio would have been a few bad self-portraits and some luckless
elders sitting in the woods looking at one another. Suzanne was not
just a great model and artist, she may well have been “Olympia's”
revenge... and atonement. Long overdue acknowledgment- payment for
services long since rendered. Such a paradox, if so. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Because
it was Manet who breathed excitement </span>into the French art
scene, even when the judges refused to reward him. Manet who made
women of common origins the focus of society. It was Manet who
discovered and edified Morisot and Meurent, and introduced French
beauties such as Guillemet, and Demarcy. It is obvious that they were
his obsession. That he thought about nothing but women. That women
were his reason for painting if not for living. Yet he will always be
remembered as the exploiter, the user, the man too busy achieving to
be bothered with love or sentimentality. Women were the ultimate in
Creation. But women were also the earth under his feet... perhaps the
dirt between his toes.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So Manet, make up your
mind. Like Rembrandt and most artists since, Edouard Manet was a man
before he was an artist, and he thought and acted like the worst of
them, even while he worshiped the muses he exploited. The passion and
human contradictions have fascinated art lovers for generations. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In spite of his flaws,
Manet in many ways was the instigator of the Western vision of
women's liberation. His bathers, and especially Olympia, who became
the symbol of female charms, both wholesome and illicit, in a
controversial epiphany, were awarded a strange kind of dignity in
their brazen exposure. Olympia insolently stared back at a world
which had always condemned or denied her, and took the bouquet, and
whatever else due her, making sex a normal function, rather than the
habits of animal instincts. And Suzanne Valadon became the living
embodiment of his allegory. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The servant, the flowers, the luxurious
bedding, she had earned them. Olympia had taken her place as not only
the muse of a blunt painter, but of all humanity. The muse, the giver
and keeper of love, the confessed obsession of art and literature and
music, of most of mankind... and of most entertainment and
advertising today... Olympia became the true, irrefutable goddess of
mankind, just as Queen Victoria began her thorough campaign to
establish otherwise. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: medium;">Queen Victoria threw all
the influence of her empire at her impossible task, to make woman
submit to her vision of civilization, to hypnotize the Western world
into the subversion of sex, the forbidding of the very words used to
discuss it. And still Olympia glared back, until she eventually won.
Another epic example of the power of art.</span></div>
<br /></div>
Russell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964639905263397632.post-3846546003258694882019-03-16T22:04:00.000-07:002019-03-16T22:04:34.535-07:00My Gift of FINDING<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgygxzl8MP2Wx_xqHWNXZ8J52rVZKUIjU5M4Dp4d8q9o8aIVUegH6_lwJTvHceOsUyaMcnTmvWMX9rd06zxqwWOD1aCqZ8WHJYbN_KM5x2QHvWp-QV4asiVNg1P1OxaMuiFK9itGzbLKts/s1600/ROOSEVELT+YOUTHS+TIN+REDCD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="618" data-original-width="455" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgygxzl8MP2Wx_xqHWNXZ8J52rVZKUIjU5M4Dp4d8q9o8aIVUegH6_lwJTvHceOsUyaMcnTmvWMX9rd06zxqwWOD1aCqZ8WHJYbN_KM5x2QHvWp-QV4asiVNg1P1OxaMuiFK9itGzbLKts/s640/ROOSEVELT+YOUTHS+TIN+REDCD.jpg" width="470" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Some of you may wonder</span>, if this guy finds these rare photos all the time, why doesn't everybody do it? This guy just goes to Ebay, scrolls down, and buys scores of rare unidentified antique tintypes... every day it seems. How hard could it be?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, it's not... if you know how. And if you have a CLUE. I have purchased so many I am sick of it... There are probably more to come, so if you have a good mind and have already studied history to some degree... you might have some success. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Granted I am long in the tooth, and have been reading and staring at the faces of history as a pastime most of those years, and have been scrolling on Ebay about as long as it has been around...and I did not find most of these until the past few years, when a single seller began to divest himself of his lifelong collection. But there will always be another guy like that out there... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So to clue you in, get you jump-started so to speak... here is how it has been working, famously, for me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">First of all,</span> I had to discover a decent honey hole. A dealer who is selling semi-significant historic photographs. If you RECOGNIZE ANYONE, remember that if the seller has one, he may have more... even hundreds. Of course the ideal honey hole is one where somebody is selling a bunch of items and has no clue themselves what they have... and yes, that happens. Old museums, libraries, publishing houses, IGNORANT RELATIVES get rid of unwanted archives all the time.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwD54-pgGeBaKlvJ3cr-YeE9YI1-acI-CmYQgjdZRSGmhyphenhyphenMRAjOW_ViYb8viaUDdtihY1OwJkgXJ4owdN8SGbHtIXRIYNrjhlyzh5fhOegaVvhnOQurrfedrRZIJjySTaGXt0fZN1KwYg/s1600/MCCLAURY+CLANTON+CROPT+ENHNCD+RDCD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="507" data-original-width="380" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwD54-pgGeBaKlvJ3cr-YeE9YI1-acI-CmYQgjdZRSGmhyphenhyphenMRAjOW_ViYb8viaUDdtihY1OwJkgXJ4owdN8SGbHtIXRIYNrjhlyzh5fhOegaVvhnOQurrfedrRZIJjySTaGXt0fZN1KwYg/s400/MCCLAURY+CLANTON+CROPT+ENHNCD+RDCD.jpg" width="298" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> So for instance,</span> I recognized some disheveled cowboys whose faces seemed familiar. That means they were probably criminals, since I have always been fascinated with the Old West and the good guys and bad guys. One fellow looked particularly significant... and after the process of elimination, I narrowed his neighborhood to TOMBSTONE. Soon I had him tagged as<b> Ike Clanton.</b> Identifying him helped me identify <b>Tom McClaury</b>, the hunky thug sitting next to him. It helped a lot that soon another tintype came right after of <b>Curly Bill Brocius</b>. It also did not hurt my confidence in my finds that I had already purchased a number of tintypes of Old West characters from the same seller.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But this is just an example of how this all worked... so follow me on this... So now I am alerted, there may be more... well the way that I grew in confidence of my identifications was the incredible comparisons available on GOOGLE search. I gather those images for scrutiny and file them for future reference... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">BUT HERE IS WHAT IS IMPORTANT- it's not what I put in my files for reference that are so important. It's all the THOUSANDS of images I see while hunting the Internet. While I am searching Curly Bill, the Internet is showing me every person ever recorded that had ANYTHING TO DO WITH HIM. What I have learned is that I have to pay attention to those faces... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Images are going to often be sold in related batches. If it's a family album... and you have found Curly Bill, you may next be seeing (but not recognizing) images of his girl friend, or his brother, or his boss for sale... and if those faces have ever been recorded... as you seek verification about Bill on GOOGLE search, you are surfing right over them as you look for him. I have learned to look for clues and not to trust the first page of a search... I go three and four deep. Of course GOOGLE has one long page... so go to the bottom!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">About this same time I was reading a book by Albert Bigelow Paine... about Lillian Gish, a famous actress during the late 1800's/ early 1900's. Actually Paine is a key to all of these, and I will confess to having an advantage knowing that. No sooner had I begun to read about Gish, "my seller" began to list images of her. And not just Lillian Gish, but several very important early silent screen actresses. Because I had been brushing up on them, it did not take long to identify y them.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtI7ucsS7gT8PdafhdFsCn3YVWVKdbjlsjPjkKnMpGu79kSSaJDIRuA1bEDkSXqkdmAToJBsvppa6zdLBDxrBMQfLczFcIxWNusLTad2J0m-J6PxqjEDva0dbjI1Z2bbo2FkYRjMyZFHY/s1600/BERNHARDT+bara+GISH++PAGE_REDCD.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="623" data-original-width="939" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtI7ucsS7gT8PdafhdFsCn3YVWVKdbjlsjPjkKnMpGu79kSSaJDIRuA1bEDkSXqkdmAToJBsvppa6zdLBDxrBMQfLczFcIxWNusLTad2J0m-J6PxqjEDva0dbjI1Z2bbo2FkYRjMyZFHY/s640/BERNHARDT+bara+GISH++PAGE_REDCD.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>The numbered ones are my finds.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> Don't worry, if you have a memory, it will tell you.. "I think I just saw that face..."</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIZtL8RbEQ7AyRDtcjIy9kpvGsUR4djdLLW5_8M_q2TNiRjO63QMj1GkDNGQWUecwuXp1lYE_MJVXVHcYgu6TnoVO-_uVNcEdM9sKh3TgkuCrV8lLbrGp0Jhxa_p1Hof_raVSONWASqmw/s1600/theodore+as+a+boy_edited-1.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="408" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIZtL8RbEQ7AyRDtcjIy9kpvGsUR4djdLLW5_8M_q2TNiRjO63QMj1GkDNGQWUecwuXp1lYE_MJVXVHcYgu6TnoVO-_uVNcEdM9sKh3TgkuCrV8lLbrGp0Jhxa_p1Hof_raVSONWASqmw/s320/theodore+as+a+boy_edited-1.bmp" width="272" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> For instance, as I was wrapping up the Tombstone and early movie star finds, still searching the Ebay offerings for historic images I might have overlooked, and researching possible related faces on the Internet, and I had constantly surfed past various images of <b>Teddy Roosevelt</b>. Uncannily, he was linked to both previous groups. The movie stars were closely associated with Broadway, ran in prominent New York circles, as did the Roosevelts. Teddy may have also been the most famous Easterner who "went West," forever associating himself with cowboys and the Wild West. And so many times as I surfed on GOOGLE, I had imprinted on my sub-conscious his pretty little face as a youth. (above) It looks like a cute little kid, but nothing like Teddy Roosevelt.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-dxoHoMat-psvj2Z646AGskP114v6uZzGhnz0RUkcdzuLuduhIXF5P5s6-I_mrU8XHvZkV2-TtA3S7XLoggVvaTudWqzuJO6KJuVC9atGk96g6XXc2HgWpis9a0AMdt8T9K7auh18_TA/s1600/ROOSEVELT+YOUTHS+TIN+REDCD+ZERO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="618" data-original-width="455" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-dxoHoMat-psvj2Z646AGskP114v6uZzGhnz0RUkcdzuLuduhIXF5P5s6-I_mrU8XHvZkV2-TtA3S7XLoggVvaTudWqzuJO6KJuVC9atGk96g6XXc2HgWpis9a0AMdt8T9K7auh18_TA/s400/ROOSEVELT+YOUTHS+TIN+REDCD+ZERO.jpg" width="293" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>A rare tintype of the Roosevelt kids... Teddy in the middle about 14 years old... surrounded by his sisters Bamie (left) and Corrine (right). Not sure about the other young man... might be brother Elliott. The girl on far left is Anna Hall, Elliott's future wife. </i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Then when a tintype appeared with a young fellow who looked like that elfin Roosevelt visage, I was prepared to see its possibilities. I checked it out. Now the seller was unknowingly breaking into his Roosevelts. Big time. This was the largest related batch he ever sold. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWeKc-OrU9ToXA1zaxvvzbUujH_1EHRGkCBAFElE-I0m6SWD252QxqgRnrCeMm8fA16U3mbeqSg6g6EgWZpQrY5HWaGxKs4BrMg4zLV1x-48yTh8SVqcR3uQhiLZ35JXfa_IVHWsJ-7w/s1600/HALL+ROOSEVELT+GROUPING+REDCD.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="892" data-original-width="1600" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWeKc-OrU9ToXA1zaxvvzbUujH_1EHRGkCBAFElE-I0m6SWD252QxqgRnrCeMm8fA16U3mbeqSg6g6EgWZpQrY5HWaGxKs4BrMg4zLV1x-48yTh8SVqcR3uQhiLZ35JXfa_IVHWsJ-7w/s400/HALL+ROOSEVELT+GROUPING+REDCD.bmp" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> Teddy Roosevelt's family- a baby pic of him (bottom) and his brother's beautiful wife, Anna Rebecca Hall Roosevelt (center). That's his brother Elliott with the handlebar mustache... and their son Gracie Hall Roosevelt (bottom right).</i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> I had to do a TON of research to stay on top of these. There was a whole batch related to Teddy, and a whole batch related to his cousin <b>Franklin Delano Roosevelt</b>. Even a batch of FDR's <b>Delano</b> relatives. It kept me busy for weeks. All from one squirrely picture of Teddy Roosevelt. That I would never have recognized without that search for the McClaurys and Clantons.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR___yQUSb-9xI3SOQyurUh_vbsAPbTQJJueFx18Pz2tyvj_1rrwY30-odEWmu4HBnBkAc18n6l6COdNsRoQAKSSW_Dk1PUlP1_Ldiil5Rs2RpUOhQIed0COOaUbtoLtF_29V-Z4jrKbU/s1600/FD+ROOSEVELT+GROUPING+REDCD.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="626" data-original-width="1105" height="361" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR___yQUSb-9xI3SOQyurUh_vbsAPbTQJJueFx18Pz2tyvj_1rrwY30-odEWmu4HBnBkAc18n6l6COdNsRoQAKSSW_Dk1PUlP1_Ldiil5Rs2RpUOhQIed0COOaUbtoLtF_29V-Z4jrKbU/s640/FD+ROOSEVELT+GROUPING+REDCD.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> Members of the Roosevelt family, including young FDR in center with dog, and tintypes of his future wife, Eleanor (lower right).</i></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Gja6hKsBWUZ4OiGucpGg5bOiTCrkMBziA5kJ9IfAdT2mcmV2LNflLDIzrBg3NMDwlP63FPp0aQ2l1jOMihCveytOmI-IKHVur_jUZOZ4avYwKeY4r6pLqom5JLfiGyzOuqsud9bKq0w/s1600/DELANO+GROUPING+REDCD.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="584" data-original-width="1001" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Gja6hKsBWUZ4OiGucpGg5bOiTCrkMBziA5kJ9IfAdT2mcmV2LNflLDIzrBg3NMDwlP63FPp0aQ2l1jOMihCveytOmI-IKHVur_jUZOZ4avYwKeY4r6pLqom5JLfiGyzOuqsud9bKq0w/s400/DELANO+GROUPING+REDCD.bmp" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Delanos, including FDR's mother, top right.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">So about the time I was exhausted with Roosevelts, but before they were completely depleted, the seller broke into the next group of unnamed "famous" persons. One of the tintypes was of a very funny looking young woman... dressed so unbecomingly that I told myself, I'm NOT buying that one! But then while researching the Roosevelts, and by now I had learned after studying their genealogy ( absolutely necessary to ID all the images) that the Delano side were Cushman descendants... thus distantly related to me. I also found that FDR was a distant cousin of <b>Laura Ingalls Wilder.</b> And THAT was why the Internet kept throwing Wilder images up during my search for Roosevelts. BINGO- the goofy girl turned out to be Laura's little sister.</span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF7kky-FLQp1MLTSWMYv5HFDP2XeubN1I5r9TCKOYbW0zkvxhtVnuVafn-WtVouTEWPDtH3t1enwyV2CFoL2GC5zs6Efp9b7LcUJ92I9h8TlLNJBZf9jGhuWFPWM_n-DUvCDmmgNR6ah0/s1600/WILDER+GROUPING+REDCD.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="623" data-original-width="1079" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF7kky-FLQp1MLTSWMYv5HFDP2XeubN1I5r9TCKOYbW0zkvxhtVnuVafn-WtVouTEWPDtH3t1enwyV2CFoL2GC5zs6Efp9b7LcUJ92I9h8TlLNJBZf9jGhuWFPWM_n-DUvCDmmgNR6ah0/s400/WILDER+GROUPING+REDCD.bmp" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> Photos of the Ingalls and Wilder families, made famous by Little House on the Prairie.</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And suddenly there were Wilders popping up on this same auction site. That too was exhausting because <b>Charles Ingalls </b>had a bunch of brothers and sisters... and they all had a lot of children... making identification very tedious, since family resemblance made it necessary to note all birth dates... and who even lived to be old enough to be in the picture. I was able to ID most of them... eventually amassing ( I believe) the largest Wilder photo collection outside of a museum. One of the last was a more modern photo of <b>Rose Wilder</b> (1930's), Laura's daughter, who was also a writer and no doubt inherited the Wilder scrapbook...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">AND THEN... because I had been alerted, via my research that Rose Wilder had written a biography of <b>Herbert Hoover</b>... I was forewarned and ready when tintypes showed up next of Hoover and his siblings.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDq1fe4u-p-MVSgDrBLFhjjCHJFmJ4BCthKJoRqEs__4OBG3vC0jU0J96R-hoJvoCKkDdEmdfQuFXo2uad10pdbgfgarfBumjToKQzkErZ63n0gpzmd9zhuum8Mg9E42SOAbQypKmZ2b0/s1600/HERBERT+HOOVER+GROUPING+REDCD.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="641" data-original-width="1037" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDq1fe4u-p-MVSgDrBLFhjjCHJFmJ4BCthKJoRqEs__4OBG3vC0jU0J96R-hoJvoCKkDdEmdfQuFXo2uad10pdbgfgarfBumjToKQzkErZ63n0gpzmd9zhuum8Mg9E42SOAbQypKmZ2b0/s400/HERBERT+HOOVER+GROUPING+REDCD.bmp" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I hope by now you see how it works... it feeds itself. The research, if you are into a vein of related images, will clue you in, prepare you to find them. And the images and history you absorb just leads you to the next find... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Some folks would try to attribute all this to the power of suggestion. Neither of us can prove the other wrong.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The first tintype I found was after reading several books about Adah Isaacs Menken. Those books led me to HUNDREDS of finds, by just showing me famous people that most people are not thinking about. So start by just reading a lot about your favorite historical character, (within the history of photography!) and this system can work for you!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So, does anybody know the phone number of the Smithsonian? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>
Russell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964639905263397632.post-8330565029136990362019-01-11T14:16:00.000-08:002019-01-11T14:52:19.284-08:00Connecting The Dots: Isabel Lyon's Invisible Trail<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuvISppgJPZ-0xdIEJ2QV81Lq4jI8b2vKDf97zBrzL7EEfwYi12nYNRPGODaS6eX48cGgFC4HGEvYircLqZQNpQr5O6p1iVmnDMQM7oR4Ecoi82C3Gh76UQhayw9rUWWo3PRuePNcDYLc/s1600/ISABEL+LYON+CLOSE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="648" data-original-width="489" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuvISppgJPZ-0xdIEJ2QV81Lq4jI8b2vKDf97zBrzL7EEfwYi12nYNRPGODaS6eX48cGgFC4HGEvYircLqZQNpQr5O6p1iVmnDMQM7oR4Ecoi82C3Gh76UQhayw9rUWWo3PRuePNcDYLc/s400/ISABEL+LYON+CLOSE.jpg" width="301" /></a></i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i> Isabel Lyon</i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">“</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The
telephone was dead.”</span> </span>Those were the ominous words of Clara
Clemens in her nostalgic book about her father, Mark Twain. But these
words were about an emergency concerning her mother, a little
explored incident in 1904 during Olivia Clemens' dying days while
supposedly convalescing in Italy. And these words naively introduced
a mystery, that during Olivia Clemens' death throes, the family
discovered that their <b>telephone lines had been cut.</b> It could
have been the inspiration for any number of television murder
mysteries. But it was real. And as poor Olivia suffered another of
her deadly heart attacks, the family struggled through the Italian
village where they were staying to get word to a doctor to come
immediately.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-size: medium;">And still the doctor never
came.</span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Later they discovered that
someone had inexplainably locked the entry gate to their compound on
the outskirts of Florence. The doctor who finally answered their
desperate pleas could not enter their villa to give assistance and
after waiting some time he eventually gave up and left. Olivia barely
survived, and the incident led to her decline and death a few months
later. And the Clemens soon returned to America to bury her and
gladly forget the string of dysfunctions and tragedy they left
behind.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">But it seemed
to me,</span> as I read Clara's account, that someone wanted Olivia
to exit the stage, sooner than later, and did everything they could
to assist her demise. What followed after their return to America was
enough suspicious activity to launch a Hitchcock movie.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnSb72ufnXqeSPvnzTqcVoYVQzxbrAOc9NiV29cNoLMD0-l4XiPkHtTVMTohTsBqPMAdVmkKtvL2CRVaHiStyZIqgHJOjhzF0HYlyal7tk1XPhlRZ-hTZNC5JKo7xQySFPgYqIPamKZTA/s1600/CLARA+w+TEACHER+CROPT+redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="642" data-original-width="483" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnSb72ufnXqeSPvnzTqcVoYVQzxbrAOc9NiV29cNoLMD0-l4XiPkHtTVMTohTsBqPMAdVmkKtvL2CRVaHiStyZIqgHJOjhzF0HYlyal7tk1XPhlRZ-hTZNC5JKo7xQySFPgYqIPamKZTA/s400/CLARA+w+TEACHER+CROPT+redcd.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;"> Clara Clemens in Austria with her piano teacher, Leschetitzky. </span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><i>They found her hands were too small- she switched to Voice.</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Sweet, devoted Clara
mentioned this terrifying series of deadly coincidences as an aside
in her book, which was intended to add some color to their tragic
misadventure, but strangely, trustingly, she never really tried to
connect the dots of these and other Twain family mysteries. At least
not publicly. Caught up in the glow of Mark Twain's worldwide aura,
Clara had spent a lifetime alternately testing and adoring her
father, and was content now to launch his legacy higher onto the
Olympus of mankind's greatest achievers. And that would require more
than a little willful ignorance. Making sense of the “Twain
mysteries” as I call them, would have been counter-productive to
her grander purpose, and in fact no writers of Twainiana have ever
been so inclined. Nobody has ever wanted to connect those ominous
dots.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">So that is why you are
here now, as I propose to do just that. I have no claim to know what
happened... but I do know what was summarily ignored for over one
hundred years. And some useful facts have emerged since then which
make the Twain narrative twist and contort into a much darker saga,
punctuated with mismanagement, bankruptcy, premature deaths of two of
his children, sabotage of Olivia's health, a staff who surgically
embezzled him, and an unethical biographer who embalmed Twain's image
as he squeezed every drop of blood from it. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">And then there was the
great-granddaughter who was adopted out and almost never knew she was
a descended from “the Lincoln of American Literature.” The true
Clemens family legacy falls way below the majestic literary Olympus
which was constructed for posterity. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">These and other sad facts
are the “rest of the story” as Paul Harvey might have said, and
may be the very best example of how public images of prominent
figures have always been manufactured. And this is no great cultural
revelation. But MARK TWAIN? Really?</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Yes, and we have Albert
Bigelow Paine to thank for our delusions. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">This will be no short
essay. I have read dozens of books and studied this subject from the
viewpoints of several first hand witnesses. And I do not believe in
coincidences. At least not strands of them that light up like a
Christmas tree, with no apparent source. Everybody loves or at least
knows of Mark Twain. Or they think they do. But actually nobody does.
Maybe his family, and his biographer, but then the rest of us were
limited in understanding due to insufficient data.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Also to be considered,
when the general public has decided that it will worship, it
willfully, blindly ignores all distractions, including reality.
Modern politics proves that point. Mark Twain was a prophet of modern
Agnostic philosophy. His religion and vision of America became a
moral substitute among the learned, and he became the magnetic
demi-god of the New Age; The Everyman's conscience of Western
culture. He was and still is largely untouchable.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">So here I dare...</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibGs7tw9Dwc8rFO6L8q-6MqooqKyjfOSHd_nPbRtZxGYEuZwhut62eGL0NaUzWXNt_Oq4R1FUYk1rVJKYue-iChSkmDsiPxBvfl0-YIg-HgcPMzd08uBgrVECnleV9LVeSFuskWi5ydXY/s1600/MARK+TWAIN+FXD+CROPT+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="760" data-original-width="503" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibGs7tw9Dwc8rFO6L8q-6MqooqKyjfOSHd_nPbRtZxGYEuZwhut62eGL0NaUzWXNt_Oq4R1FUYk1rVJKYue-iChSkmDsiPxBvfl0-YIg-HgcPMzd08uBgrVECnleV9LVeSFuskWi5ydXY/s400/MARK+TWAIN+FXD+CROPT+%25282%2529.jpg" width="263" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;"> Sam without his hair. Below is a cartoon illustrating</span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><i> that he was known to cut it off when abroad.</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEignwlpDz3I75JSrm6ePAEONNsuZf_zB_doHbNU1yAYFv2aY5mZl_hkEzpO8RU_QetlgoKVE-CprhbA5yGLDNHLeP7NPlhyphenhyphenEOTjrpmgqSKMzRAu_EkQ1cIcMdBpIUqZ-fECM7O1ThxIbGw/s1600/TWAIN+CARTOON+TINTED.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="629" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEignwlpDz3I75JSrm6ePAEONNsuZf_zB_doHbNU1yAYFv2aY5mZl_hkEzpO8RU_QetlgoKVE-CprhbA5yGLDNHLeP7NPlhyphenhyphenEOTjrpmgqSKMzRAu_EkQ1cIcMdBpIUqZ-fECM7O1ThxIbGw/s400/TWAIN+CARTOON+TINTED.bmp" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">His actual name was Samuel
Langhorne Clemens</span>, and in many ways he paralleled another huge
historical figure who has also stood the test of time. Like Jesus, of
whom he was patently dubious, he is most-often remembered by a name
he was not born with. He was most famous for non-conformity and being
disrespectful of the status-quo and the authorities who imposed it.
His words upset as many people as he ingratiated, and yet he made a
worldwide impact with them. His real life story has several versions,
and has been obscured by well-meaning handlers, and he has been
elevated and argued over ever since. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">But Mark Twain was no
Jesus, perhaps his antithesis. Yes, he was a sort of “anti-Christ.”
He struggled with his Faith and sported many misgivings about God all
of his life, and wrote rather freely about them. His amazing,
wonderful wife protected him, by protecting the public from his most
heretical tirades. “Mark Twain” may have been his most prolific
and creative when launching his irreverent attacks, chapter and
verse, challenging religious convention, literally speaking for the
Devil in the first person, becoming... the Devil's advocate. Of
course, not believing in God, he did not believe in the devil either.
Religion and hyperbole were inseparable. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Letters from Earth, a
collection of his most daring blasphemies, was categorically censored
by everyone who consulted him, and probably exacerbated dear Olivia's
heart troubles. Scandal and controversy within the family over this
and other later writings led to more than a domestic dispute. So
upset had Livy become, with his very appearance, that towards the end
of her battle for life, Sam was forbidden by her doctor to even enter
her bedroom, and had to communicate through a medium. And that was
usually daughter Clara; the middle child, the trusted messenger
between her parents, and a resourceful liar when necessary. Clara
protected Olivia and probably extended her life by some months. And
Clara became our contact with the real Clemens behind the “Paine”
curtain. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Livy had been warned of
Sam's apostasy long before the children came, and had suspended her
qualms about them. In fact when he courted her, her parents had not
approved, and had turned down his proposals. Even Olivia was not
receptive at first, and yet Clemens would not give up and wore them
all down. The third time had been the charm, as Sam Clemens more
deftly camouflaged his unconventional theories, and learned to talk
about “God” in a more general sense. He was a master of
hyperbole. Like many women in love, no doubt Livy assumed he would
change with time. And Sam had no idea that he had met his match. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">Olivia
Langdon was the daughter of devout Quakers </span>who had been active
in the famous “Underground Railroad” before the Civil War. She
was courageous and knew what it was like to put her faith on the
line, even break the law for a higher Law... to obey God rather than
the traditions of men; to risk her own freedom as she helped others
to gain theirs. Sam and all of his friends and associates lifted
Olivia up as a near saint, a bastion of integrity, and Samuel
Clemens' most valuable friend and asset.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">In contrast to Livy's
strength of character, Sam had enlisted in the Confederate militia in
Missouri and then abandoned his company after the first skirmishes
with Grant's troops. (Later he found serendipity in this when he
spoke before then President Grant) He fled the war with his older
brother who had been appointed as secretary of the Nevada
Territory... by Abraham Lincoln. When North fought South, Sam went
West. Clearly Sam was conflicted by the war to his inner core... as
any thinking person would have been, and found refuge by exotic
travels. This would become a habit of a lifetime.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Accompanying his stalwart
brother Orion, he was to serve as the secretary to the secretary. But
soon he was camping in the mountains and panning for gold, between
writing scandalous editorials for local newspapers. That was when he
discovered his alter-ego and gave it a name; Mark Twain. Sam would
coin the words, Mark would suffer the consequences.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">By the time Livy met him,
he had been all over America, even to Hawaii, Europe and the Holy
Land. He had braved the seas and the Rocky Mountain wilderness, mined
for gold, written to entertain a national audience, learned how to
charm people and miraculously to make a living with his gift of
sarcasm and wit. And he was sure beautiful Olivia could not resist
him. Unfortunately for her inner peace, he was right. And noble, long
suffering Olivia took on a lifetime project which ended (for her) in
frustration and confusion in a foreign land. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">And perhaps
her end was assisted by an unseen hand</span>. The pure light of
Olivia Clemens- darkened by the cryptic mysteries within the family
have become an irresistible fascination for me.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
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<b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiK0jxozQ4ZWoa6llFbFuxspS8233LECG45M3UhXXPEfECWRJ5ndn8JWbHifsoJDhAyRqr6n569bOF8oRrBP_JqD_yVQxDJfviCB-ukpc2l5VH1IK1WUepIl5hRwl_4AYy1E58V6BZsXU/s1600/LIVY_FXD+cropt_edited-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="909" data-original-width="604" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiK0jxozQ4ZWoa6llFbFuxspS8233LECG45M3UhXXPEfECWRJ5ndn8JWbHifsoJDhAyRqr6n569bOF8oRrBP_JqD_yVQxDJfviCB-ukpc2l5VH1IK1WUepIl5hRwl_4AYy1E58V6BZsXU/s640/LIVY_FXD+cropt_edited-1.jpg" width="424" /></a></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Olivia Clemens, from a detail in a tintype of</span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><i> her with daughter Clara and her boyfriend.</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Sam had played along with
Olivia's unorthodox Christianity... and they coexisted amiably with
their irreconcilable opinions, and each was allowed his own
self-styled Faith. But as they raised their three daughters, the
differences eked out. Clara wrote of how she and her sisters, even as
children, spent long conversations reasoning with their father, who
argued freely with them... as an equal. You might say his was a
childlike disbelief. Everyone, his wife, his best friend, his
daughters, all eventually docked in his harbor of deep and
inconsolable doubts. Clemens shouldered psychological wounds from the
loss of his younger brother in a tragic steamboat accident. THAT was
when he knew “God” made mistakes. He had seen great poverty and
injustice in the world, and had no confidence in mankind and even
less in any god. He often castigated the “damned human race,” as
he claimed that he could do a better job running the Universe. “Free
Will” made absolutely no sense, if “God” was all powerful. Sam
created monuments in his mind to his colossal questions, and loved
dancing around them with his family and friends. In their darkest
moments, neither really knew what they believed. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">But as smart as he thought
he was, Clemens continuously made stupid, costly judgments.
Terminally hapless at business, most of his attempts at investment,
and there were many, had ended in failure and left him near
bankruptcy. He had been forced to drag his family all over the world,
partly on a laborious lecture circuit, partly running from mounting
debts back home, but mostly running from accountability as always
from publishers, and his adoring public. For a dozen years Livy held
their little band together in various refuges in Europe, while Sam
went back and forth, playing cat and mouse with his American
financial quagmire. Meanwhile the transplanted family was inevitably,
strongly influenced by the more liberal European style of
Christianity. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">At the same time, Sam
Clemens wove a roguish network of American artists and writers,
intellectuals and inventors, who followed the more bohemian
philosophies of Walt Whitman and company. Concepts of religion in
this free society were individualized and vastly subjective and
self-suiting. Sam's irreverence found fertile ground and his doubts
evolved into revolutionary spiritual assertions. And everything
became toxic with his family and his public once he put these ideas
down in a manuscript. The spiritual lines were drawn.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">As the Clemens daughters
grew up, they found compromise between their parents in a new
denomination, Christian Scientism... and similar attempts to
repackage religious faith. Mark Twain became more and more outspoken
in his unbelief, and even wrote scathing attacks on Christian
Science, after oldest daughter Susy embraced it. Thou shalt have no
other gods before me...</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">But for the girls these
unresolved questions only made Sam Clemens a more adorable project
for the entire family. And their efforts were not in vain. He always
seemed to find the most plausibility for hope in mankind and Eternal
things when around them. But when his oldest daughter Susy perished
prematurely in 1896, from spinal meningitis, at just twenty-four
years old, neither marrying nor bearing children, Sam abandoned any
pretense of faith with a vengeance.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;"> Albert Bigelow Paine traced Clemens' relentless</span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><i> cynicism back to the death of his beloved Susy.</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">The family was in transit
at the time, returning in groups after a world tour. They had left
Susy behind in the States, and learned while returning that she was
ill. Olivia and Clara were aboard ship and were too late, but on
their way. Sam had to console himself back in England, and did a poor
job of it... writing profusely of his regrets and failures as a
father. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-size: medium;">My remorse does not
deceive me. I know that if she were back I should soon be neglectful
of her as I was before- it is our way.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">I feel sure that he was
trying to comfort himself by the use of “our,” when the girls
would have said for him to speak for himself. The self-absorption was
HIS way. What had started with the cynicism of a world traveler,
became militant anger towards mankind and the god who made it, and
himself of course. And as his family fell apart, Sam Clemens' soul
was exposed, with no stable personalities to guide his drifting raft.
</span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">After realizing what a
soul-grinder he was putting his grieving wife through, Sam had a
temporary change of heart, as he often would do. Never quite positive
about his most outrageous postulates, Sam would often, if only
momentarily, reverse himself. He often spoke and wrote of
“Providence” and eternal damnation, and quoted the Bible. As much
as he tried, he could never successfully expunge his own personal
Judeo-Christian paradigm. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">While in Florence, one of
his love notes during the medical restraining order illustrates his
vacillations: “I do love you so my darling, and it grieves me so
to remember that I am the cause of your being where you are. I WISH-
I WISH- but it is too late. I drove you to sorrow and to heart-break
just to hear myself talk. If I ever do it again when you get well I
hope the punishment will fall upon me the guilty, not upon you the
innocent.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">One of Clemens' pet peeves
was how God allowed bad things to happen to good people. To Clemens,
the only kind of God worth believing in was one who gave you favor in
this life. Especially if you were anyone who actually tried to live a
good life. There should have been rewards for persons like Livy, for
good behavior. As he lived on, he became convinced that Earth was all
the hell this universe needed. Of course that is what every
unbeliever is counting on. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">But tormented with doubt
and grief, he capitulated and wrote Livy that he had been wrong, that
he would never question God or the concept of heaven again, that he
was grateful to know Susy's final destination, which they would all
someday share. Well, most of them. But then shortly he would revert
to that destination being mere dust, a mere wishful fantasy. A human
contrivance. Still the comfort of it was irresistible. Sam could
never resist any heart-warming pleasure. He loved to hate and punish
and he loved more to forgive and indulge. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">In the end, Clemens'
unresolved anger, depression, and written blasphemies pushed Olivia
away into a heartbreaking relational crisis. For her loving soul
there was the horrifying realization that Sam was probably never
going to share her eternal Heaven. Meanwhile they had raised their
precious, but fragile daughters in this sieve of religious confusion.
Conversely she must have been reminded of the mental security of the
Faith of her childhood, and the lifetime of refuge it had provided.
What slippery slope had she leaped down into? What had she done? It
was too much. Her heart began to fail. And her bedroom became her
only refuge from him and his relentless, godless rebellion. The
doctor had forbidden him to even talk through the door. This was no
way to sustain a marriage, or a life. I contend that she died of a
broken heart. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">And among them already
there may have been an “agent provocateur” who was planting seeds
of mayhem, and even gently manipulating events towards a tragic end.
Grief-stricken herself, Clara would not have imagined the complex
struggle going on in the household, but years later, if she had any
powers of analysis, with hindsight she would have seen it clearly.
But her own book never connected the dots. Why she never did is
another mystery. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;"> Isabel Lyon, Sam Clemens, and his daughter Jean.</span></i>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">The Clemens had hired a
new member for the Twain entourage around 1902, over a year before
they left for Italy. Clever and attractive, Isabel Lyon had been a
neighborhood friend who Sam had found to be an excellent game-partner
at parties. The picture above appears to have been taken early in
their friendship and probably before her employment, perhaps around
1900. When they realized that extra assistance would be necessary to
fulfill Olivia's routine roles in the function of their family, which
included serving as her and Sam's personal secretary, Isabel was
ready and available and a welcome addition. She came highly
recommended by friends. But later on Lyon was unveiled to be
cunningly manipulative, instinctively Machiavellian, ruthlessly
ambitious, and worshipful if not in love with Mark Twain.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Knowing that in Sam
Clemens' last days, Lyon would be sued as a conspirator in a stunning
embezzlement scheme, and that the Clemenses grew to believe she was
an evil influence on the Twain enterprise, all while she built
herself a lavish lifestyle at Clemens' expense, makes one think again
about those mysterious severed telephone lines. That inopportune
locked gate; Life-saving first aid blocked for Mark Twain's dying
wife.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">After Olivia's death,
Isabel's largely unseen hand relocated Clemens, created and furnished
a new mansion called Stormfield to her tastes, as well as a wonderful
smaller cottage for herself. Calling him “the King” she
surrounded him with parasites, took over his public image and most
importantly, created a joint bank account. And quietly, carefully she
conspired with a doctor to send Jean, Sam's youngest, away to an
institution because of her epilepsy, “for his protection.” </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">During Isabel Lyons' term
of service, Mark Twain's life became that of a glamorous yet
dependent puppet, where all of Clemens' self-indulgent tendencies
became his undoing. Looking back on this unfortunate time from our
perspective, it is hard not to condemn all of the people involved. In
fact they all did, at least blame one another, with Samuel Clemens
himself taking the blame and shame of it all in his old age.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Always given to fast
company, Clemens had taken on an unsavory professional clique and a
superficial social circle to fill his life. What followed should
have been a national scandal, except that Clemens had employed the
most able of publicists, his biographer and ultimate trustee, Albert
Bigelow Paine. Paine was cunningly able to seal the lid on all things
Twain, and protect that legacy to this very day. That is another
story of deception and intrigue.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Albert Bigelow Paine
entered Sam Clemens' life as if called by Providence. A talented man
himself, Paine was ambitious where Clemens was phlegmatic, cautious
where the great author was reckless, in effect the common sense and
business mind that the legendary bard had always lacked. Paine had
just successfully written and marketed the biography of Thomas Nast,
the most famous and influential political cartoonist in the world.
When Mark Twain sent his compliments, he moved in for the kill.
Charming and ambitious, he swiftly proposed and sealed a deal to
write Twain's biography. Partnering with Samuel Clemens was just the
beginning of a long series of beneficial encounters, and served to
attract similar publishing contracts with the creme of Clemens'
associates, the leaders of various high profile professions; the most
famous actress, the most famous Texas Ranger, even his own
award-winning version of Joan of Arc, all while tailoring, pressing
and riding Twain's coattails. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Albert Bigelow Paine is
really the central figure in this story, and was probably the
collector if not photographer of many of the images on this website.
Although he wrote volumes about others, and children's books and
novels and poetry, little was written about him. In fact there were
good reasons for this. A bigamist and forger, his personal life would
have inspired an American comedy scandal, but instead he has become a
forgotten phantom. Few Twain writers have ever really been curious
about him, and those who were chose to shrug him off as the black
sheep of an elite American cabal. But it was Paine who gave us the
Mark Twain we think we know. The Clemenses trusted him completely,
never aware of his character issues, and left him in custody of the
Twain legacy. Paine was the proverbial “fox in the hen house.” </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">And Albert Paine often
found himself in league with Isabel Lyons. But he played the field,
giving special attention to Clara and later to Jean Clemens, who came
to depend on him greatly. Eventually Lyon and Paine accused one
another of all kinds of mischief, their final assessment being of
mutual contempt and distrust. They were both right. But Paine played
his hand more effectively, and ended up not only the trustee of Mark
Twain's literary legacy, but he was given the highest tribute by
Clara Clemens in her book. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Clara dedicated her
insightful book titled My Father Mark Twain to him, and she wrote
“affectionately” that he “ ...understood my father and
faithfully demonstrated his love for him...” Paine's complete
hijacking of Twain thus became the sanctioned spin on Samuel Clemens
for way over one hundred years. It took that long for scholars to
detect what may have been the most successful and misleading handling
of a major literary force in American history.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Paine and Twain lived next
door to one another, traveled together. Entertained together...
Encouraged by Isabel Lyon, Mark Twain was going everywhere, winter
and summer, in his trademark whites, establishing the iconic Twain
image we all recognize. He often took along charming young girls,
adolescents, to ride in his buggy and add sweetness and innocence to
his personal and public space. His daughters had been his angels in
the flesh, and after they were grown he adopted new ones, called
“Angelfish,” to keep his breaking, lost soul refreshed. Sam
depended on the tangible innocence in these girls to represent true
goodness and purity, things he almost refused to believe in.
Strangely, little girls became his objects of worship, his gods. Just
like his idol, Joan of Arc, in Clemens' “Angelfish” he found
persons whom he could admire and trust, give the benefit of the
doubt, and place his faith in. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;"> Twain proudly escorted his "Angelfish" like</span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;"> they were his grandchildren. He never lived to</span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;"> enjoy any of his own.</span></i>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">Finally Clara
began to realize</span> that Isabel was evolving from Goldilocks into
the Big Bad Wolf. Over time she began to be suspicious of poor Jean's
three year banishment, her father's supposed detachment, and Isabel's
obvious control over the whole Clemens household. Twice she initiated
an investigation, and twice her father stopped it and protected his
trusted secretary. Meanwhile Lyon had attached herself to Ralph
Ashcroft, a much younger man who had recently taken the job as
Clemens' financial manger, but who had all the charm of a boa
constrictor. They were soon to be engaged, and in short order
Ashcroft had designed a three-way partnership between Clemens and
Isabel and himself. Amazingly, each shared an equal percentage of the
ownership, making Ashcroft and Lyon an overwhelming majority. Clemens
not only signed on to this egregious incorporation, but also gave
them complete power of attorney to all of his assets. Strangely, this
man of disbelief placed his complete faith and trust in these two
scoundrels. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">But Albert Paine was
watching the new partnership with sharp concern, and eventually Clara
also began to wonder, more forcefully, where all of her father's
money was going... And after a surprise audit it became clear that
Ashcroft and Lyons had routed an excessive amount of money into his
business interests and her own house and clothes and lifestyle. In
lieu of more accountable financial compensations, such as royalties
or commissions, they arranged a steady flow of cash “gifts,”
while sometimes refusing funds to Sam and the family. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Quickly the two were fired
and sued, and eventually publicly chastised for their malfeasance.
Clever as ever, they soon got married, so as to prevent either from
having to testify against the other.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Isabel Lyon had convinced
everyone interested that Jean's exile was absolutely necessary, due
to her dangerous epileptic fits, more for the peace and happiness of
Sam Clemens than for Jean. Letters to and from Jean had been
intercepted, removing her from the dialogue, while “Angelfish”
were recruited and used to fill his emotional void. Clemens was being
handled like a fragile emperor, and with Lyon's management, nothing
and no one would threaten his utopia. After a good deal of discussion
and consternation, the Clemenses finally decided that Jean should be
brought home. But her doctor was adamant to adhere to Lyon's program.
Finally Sam managed to wrestle her away and bring her home
“temporarily.” Jean quickly adjusted, working a garden, riding
her horse, thankful to have her life back and having a great time.
She was finally home and she never went back.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;"> Jean only enjoyed a few months of home with her </span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><i>family, after years of separation due to her epilepsy. </i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">But Lyon
became furious. </span>Her plan, her authority, her control was
suddenly in jeopardy. Even today, knowing what we know, we do not
know what it was that caused Isabel to persecute Jean so. But it was
obvious from her reaction that the two could not share Sam Clemens,
could not be in the same organization. What had transpired between
them? What did Jean know that made Isabel so uncomfortable? Surely
Jean's seizures would not have frightened her so much. Whatever it
was, it was not long before Isabel was packing her belongings,
filling suspicious trunks full of undocumented contents, as she spent
a mysterious time rummaging upstairs in the Clemens attic. At the
same time treasured Clemens heirlooms disappeared, including a string
of carnelian beads, confirming that she was indeed a thief. And since
she had her own cottage, why the upheaval? It appears that she had
been living in the Clemens home, and was moving out because Jean was
moving in...</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Watchful Clara got a key
to one of Isabel's trunks and was insisting that it be checked, and
once again Sam protected Lyon from embarrassment. The pattern of
outrage and then indulgence on Clemens' part must have been as
infuriating as Lyon's brazen predation. Perhaps Clemens had given
her things... family things, that he did not want Clara to see. It
was a mess, and it is possible that Clara wanted to wash her hands of
the whole thing then, understanding that her father's bark was much
more cutting than his bite, and detecting a basic lack of conviction
of his drastic accusations. By now he had characterized the duo as a
“criminal couple,” calling Lyon a “liar, a forger, a thief, a
hypocrite, a drunkard, a sneak, a humbug, a traitor, a conspirator, a
filthy-minded and salacious slut...” It was hard to tell whether
his name-calling was the reaction to a personal betrayal or the
rantings of an old man angry with himself. It was probably both. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Ashcroft soon married
Lyon, for reasons of convenience and legal protection, and they
planned to immediately leave for England on a honeymoon. They were
warned not to leave the country, but they could not be stopped and
sailed across the pond for refuge, where they found none. When they
arrived in London, they had to face Jean's publicized telephone
conversation, where she said flatly that Isabel Lyon had stolen money
from her father and diverted it into her own house. This
international humiliation had to sting, especially coming from
someone considered crazy by the indignant newlyweds. It had to be a
hollow vacation, with so much awaiting back home. So there was
nothing to do but return and face the consequences. The newspapers
followed every new development. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Then it got ugly, as only
wealthy and powerful and artistic persons can get. Sam sent his
lawyer Charles Lark and Jean, now a functioning adult and trusted
family member, to confront Isabel Lyon. One can only imagine the fire
in Jean's eye, as she was assigned to negotiate Lyon's eviction.
Clemens had decided that he would renege on his gift of the cottage,
and the attached acreage. He refused their request that he soften his
accusations of theft and deception. The Ashcrofts did not savor
becoming the goats of Mark Twain's pasture. There would be no place
to hide, no way to save their reputations. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Lark tried to handle the
conversation, and Jean was intended to serve only as a witness.
Clemens was offering a generous cash deal, $4000 to get rid of her
forever. Lyon fought to stay and keep her home. Lark threatened that
her obstinateness would only further anger Mr. Clemens and result in
criminal prosecution for her and her husband. She pleaded innocence,
but finally she apologized and committed to repay anything she owed
and even agreed to sign the deed of her cottage over.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">When they returned with
the paperwork, Lyon fell apart and became an emotional wreck. She
begged Lark for sufficient time to relocate... at least two months,
and he agreed. When Lark stepped outside and told Jean, she objected
and they reduced the time to just six weeks. This may have been
Jean's spitefulness taking over after all the misery Lyon had caused
her, but any satisfaction it gave her was short lived. Literally.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Jean had publicly accused
and humiliated the Ashcrofts, from America to England, and then
personally made the terms of Lyon's eviction as hard as possible. If
Isabel Lyon ever had a roaring nemesis, it was Jean Clemens. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Later it was the more
stable Clara who went with Lark to Lyon's home, to consummate a
six-week lease contract, to start the countdown for Lyon's imminent
expulsion. Lyon's mother handled the meeting, claiming Isabel was
ill. Armed with insufficient facts, she valiantly defended her
daughter, until Clara was forced to burst out that Isabel was guilty,
and there would be no grace given. Insults were exchanged, threats
flew, but little satisfaction was ever extracted from Isabel Lyon for
the years of sabotage she had waged on Sam Clemens and his family and
estate. The beads were mysteriously returned. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">What followed was a public
scandal which played out in the newspapers, where Ralph Ashcroft
wrote scathing public announcements smearing Clemens as incompetent
and his daughters as frivolous and neglectful. Ashcroft especially
attacked Clara Clemens as a free-spending, irresponsible, musical
farce. When he discovered that Twain would not respond to a public
format, he wrote and defended himself and his wife with abandon.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">All of this
unpleasantness, the emotional meltdowns, the breakdowns in trust and
friendship, the public humiliations, the disintegration of the Twain
reputation, the exposure of Sam Clemens as a fool and a narcissist,
must have been a terrible assault on Jean, who had gratefully
returned to the Clemens home with the highest of hopes, after years
of isolation. She distracted herself with decorating the house,
putting up a Christmas tree, buying gifts for the family. She must
have missed her mother very much. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Then, on Christmas Eve,
1909, the family's longtime servant Katy Leary found Jean dead in her
bath tub. The family supposed that she had died from a seizure,
perhaps drowning, perhaps a heart attack. Jean was only twenty-nine.
It could have been a routine head injury in the tub, a sip of eggnog,
or a mountain of stress which triggered another seizure. And it might
have been something much more evil. But she would never challenge or
frustrate or embarrass Lyon again. And Lyon's greatest threat and
possible adversary had been silenced. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6gDIvC7efuo_unxrXSrfjNdW1WqJWqQn8k-14UmvjnSrpTX_Vr0Yp18EUXrvgzJnKD4ESr2hsWjlN4KKJNvqq8AwQYS9oph5AJ1ryeQj3snWbynxe-ks5R4km9dd6XVbg73nD0n7nIyM/s1600/ISABEL+LYON+CLOSE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="648" data-original-width="489" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6gDIvC7efuo_unxrXSrfjNdW1WqJWqQn8k-14UmvjnSrpTX_Vr0Yp18EUXrvgzJnKD4ESr2hsWjlN4KKJNvqq8AwQYS9oph5AJ1ryeQj3snWbynxe-ks5R4km9dd6XVbg73nD0n7nIyM/s200/ISABEL+LYON+CLOSE.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">I cannot help
but “string the beads”...</span> the cut telephone wires, the
closed gate, the banishment of Jean, the embezzlement, the theft of
Clemens family treasures... and wonder if the death of Jean Clemens
was not an act of rage or revenge by someone who had almost pulled
off the commandeering of the Mark Twain household, and the
considerable wealth that went with it. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Strangely, everyone
accepted this sudden death as a blessing, since Sam had worried about
who might look after Jean after his passing. Everything in the
Clemens family orbited around Sam as the sun, so that it seemed
fitting if their deaths should happen according to his time-table. No
one ever connected the dots. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Within a short time, the
legal battles with the Ashcrofts were over, and they were already
separated, soon to be divorced. Clara was in Germany with the love of
her life, finally married to Ossip Gabrilowitsch, the famous Russian
pianist. They would move around the globe and eventually have a
daughter who could not cope with the swirling Clemens creativity and
rootlessness, and she died almost destitute in California, quite
young, probably of a drug overdose. And not before having a child
out of wedlock and giving her up for adoption. An innocent little
angelfish, perhaps saved from tragedy and godless searching. She
would be mature and distant from it all when she would discover that
she had been born into American royalty, albeit decadent. Grandmother
Clara might have done her a great favor, finding her a safe refuge
from the dark legacies of Stormfield.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"> </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Samuel Clemens was left
alone </span>with his thoughts. If there were dots to connect, Clara would
have been the only one to do it. And she was thousands of miles away.
Albert Bigelow Paine handled what little was left, to pal around with
the Lincoln of American Literature. To play pool all night, smoke
expensive cigars, and entertain the Who's Who of the world as they
worshiped an American legend too important to even get out of bed.
Paine did understand Samuel Clemens better than anyone, and perhaps
he really did love him. And maybe Clara had been right, saluting the
real “mysterious stranger” in their midst. Someone who was
satisfied to serve and protect the beloved old storyteller, to tidy
up his behemoth, garbled archive, and secure his legacy for
generations. Someone who dared not attract attention to himself, who
would subvert his own story as much as he would broadcast others.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpOIDBtRE_peuyvmf8uR42SaeCrfX91W6FFrtGGxyLTmlVUcLILjxpSAenWhsP2t_fT31nzkkLla5JovEdSB97wFkUctPKrCJQMvXXlGMBWTNbaq3H09GL2gmce0jItRvpg4NRkq7HWQU/s1600/MARK+TWAIN+FXD+CROPT+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="760" data-original-width="503" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpOIDBtRE_peuyvmf8uR42SaeCrfX91W6FFrtGGxyLTmlVUcLILjxpSAenWhsP2t_fT31nzkkLla5JovEdSB97wFkUctPKrCJQMvXXlGMBWTNbaq3H09GL2gmce0jItRvpg4NRkq7HWQU/s200/MARK+TWAIN+FXD+CROPT+%25282%2529.jpg" width="131" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;"> This likeness is sort of symbolic... an usual view of </span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;">a "no frills" Sam Clemens... shorn if you will and kind</span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><i>of naked to the world.</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Strangely, Albert Paine
was who and what Sam Clemens needed and deserved. After all the
mystery and intrigue, and story telling and story stifling, and
generations of enjoyment for millions... they served each other well. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOVOAu_qINbOy_KVQMuAs8_wXaJuILXWQBvHlErsvv5hfeyf3T-IrIl5q0u-oXPg-BOWdz-6j3hA_ON0IiLI05ffNpV3UgeUBnj6aB7hyDTr-LViPsMs5dXLrahk9ekYj_FjpotxLlYHU/s1600/MARK+TWAIN+AND+FAM_COMP+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="944" data-original-width="1110" height="544" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOVOAu_qINbOy_KVQMuAs8_wXaJuILXWQBvHlErsvv5hfeyf3T-IrIl5q0u-oXPg-BOWdz-6j3hA_ON0IiLI05ffNpV3UgeUBnj6aB7hyDTr-LViPsMs5dXLrahk9ekYj_FjpotxLlYHU/s640/MARK+TWAIN+AND+FAM_COMP+redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> <i>For doubters- a comparison graphic showing known images </i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;">of the individuals purported to be in this bizarre tintype.</span></i>
</div>
</div>
Russell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964639905263397632.post-53714465764920043012018-12-11T15:21:00.000-08:002018-12-12T10:59:33.131-08:00TRUE LOVE or killing time<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">One of the amazing</span>
resources we have today is the gift of the Internet. A person like
me, planted in the hills of Texas, can research the latest and best
information about anything, anywhere. And that resource just grows
and grows. The latest and best info today might seem mundane and
commonplace the next time you search the same subject... and sometimes you
just search better and find a new and valued source of information,
which can revolutionize everything.</i> </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">BUT you have to be aware
that some people are not careful with “facts” and make all kinds
of unsubstantiated claims... which can be absorbed, but with
skepticism. Still, sometimes they are merely the first to say the
unmitigated truth... and it just sounds strange. The longer you mull
over it, the more reasonable it sounds. My belief is that the Truth
always comes out. And, this is crazy, the truth never sounds like the
truth when you first hear it. Our lives are inundated with spin and
urban legend and plain lies... So I try to warn my readers when
something is merely unproven conjecture. I do not repeat things which
I believe are false... unless it is to debunk them. But I also fight
to keep an open mind... in case the truth is still trying to come
out. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">And sometimes, you step
into a quagmire of conflicting and mostly unproven conjecture... all
possible, none verified, and all irresistible. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Here is one such swamp...
and my mucky attempt to wade through it and share the stench of
history with you!</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvEbbhyaZ4t3_tsYQBAXjl-5rT4AaHwJexnEF8cpxuSu5KWlRnGEasobAx6lUpEcAHGWDJJcQEm1_VTxnOiyDYlUxPE0NGzLb0x1pZmQzPe1uPE6ZZyp_M3rDSogLwWbxxzUHRsupDR7w/s1600/EMMETT+DALTON+FXD+PAGE+redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="886" data-original-width="1288" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvEbbhyaZ4t3_tsYQBAXjl-5rT4AaHwJexnEF8cpxuSu5KWlRnGEasobAx6lUpEcAHGWDJJcQEm1_VTxnOiyDYlUxPE0NGzLb0x1pZmQzPe1uPE6ZZyp_M3rDSogLwWbxxzUHRsupDR7w/s640/EMMETT+DALTON+FXD+PAGE+redcd.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><i> THREE tintypes of Emmett Dalton... (numbered) certainly more than was known to exist!</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Emmett
Dalton </span>became a published if not celebrated writer - and a
construction contractor and even a western movie actor and producer
when he got out of prison. After misspending is youth following his
older brothers all over Oklahoma, robbing trains and banks and
establishing himself as a legendary western anti-hero, Emmett settled
down as a somewhat reliable citizen. He got married to an old outlaw
flame named Julia Johnson/Gilstrap/Lewis, who according to his books
had “waited” for him. His writings were a shameless effort to
capitalize on his criminal career, and to sanitize his dear Julia,
and to a greater degree, her sister Lucy, who, according to legend,
had courted his brother Bob, the leader of their outlaw gang.
Emmett's three outlaw brothers had all been killed, as well as all
the other gang members, supposedly leaving Emmett and his wife as the
<i><b>only living witnesses and last word</b></i> on things Dalton.
His books became the Dalton legacy, and a powerful spin on their
story.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">Emmett
wrote his self-serving version</span> of the Dalton boy's gradual
plunge into crime, one he blamed on a California express detective,
the railroads and corrupt lawmen and prosecutors, and he also
revealed how much the gang depended on intelligence provided by one
<b>“Eugenia Moore,”</b> who Emmett claimed to have been from their old
home place in Missouri (there were several), and whom he thought to
be beautiful, intelligent, brave, energetic and loyal to the gang.
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Eugenia's outlaw genius and activity would have rivaled any female
outlaw's in the Western Halls of Infamy. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Posing as a magazine
writer, Eugenia scoped out railroad installations from the top to the
bottom of Oklahoma, translated Morse Code transmitted over the
telegraphs, discovered major money shipments, and rode alone on
horseback over hundreds of miles to inform the gang wherever they
were hiding in the wilds of the Great Plains. Whatever her real name,
Moore's valued information led to several successful train robberies,
most of which were executed within a day's ride from the known home
of two sisters historically associated with the Daltons, <b>Julia (b.
1870) and Lucy Johnson (b. 1868- d.1892?).</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjexEOdQti0aW19azhv180bosdZEpP7DcZcBm0Xf13E6QIG0OyKLYg1qUV4Gsms6vmfXAevy0LaaIgin2uD9nSp2505rMcGiyi6LhBKrSverB5ItXdlg2G41mfl13m4ZcCW6EpMTrFzNpQ/s1600/lucy+FXD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="898" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjexEOdQti0aW19azhv180bosdZEpP7DcZcBm0Xf13E6QIG0OyKLYg1qUV4Gsms6vmfXAevy0LaaIgin2uD9nSp2505rMcGiyi6LhBKrSverB5ItXdlg2G41mfl13m4ZcCW6EpMTrFzNpQ/s320/lucy+FXD.jpg" width="280" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i>My tintype of Lucy Johnson.</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Eugenia was also instrumental in the Dalton's survival after each holdup. After providing the gang with essential reconnaissance, she then expedited their get-away, gathering ammunition and fresh horses at a pre-planned destination. Then after several successful operations, Bob Dalton unexplainably sent her back to Silver City where they had met. The legend Emmett birthed was that she had gone there originally for her health, and that after her fling with Bob it eventually became her last resting place. But when “Eugenia”
reportedly faded out and retired to New Mexico, supposedly to die, so
did the fortunes of the Dalton gang. Then fourteen years after the
gang was exterminated at Coffeyville, Julia Johnson, her sister was still holding
her gang membership card. She cleared all the clutter in her life and found Emmett, and they lived a life of celebrity and dark
glamour, seeing the gang immortalized more than once in the cinema, and reinforcing much that never happened. It was "happily NEVER after."</span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">Writers
and researchers</span> have since illuminated the lives of these<b> two
Texas girls</b> from Grayson County who had arrived in northeast Oklahoma
about the same time that the Daltons began their crime spree. Both of them had been born in Kentucky, but Emmett referred to the family as the "Texas Johnsons." Lucy
was the prettiest, and supposedly the wildest, and there has been
some speculation that it was she who had fallen in love with Bob
Dalton and served the gang so faithfully. In Harold Preece's book
called The Dalton Gang, Eugenia Moore is conflated with another
outlaw woman, a cross-dressing prostitute named Flora Quick, and known as “Tom King,” who made a name for herself
stealing horses and escaping several western jails, frustrating many of the lawmen in the Indian Territory. But the one known photograph of Flora Quick does not jive with images which have surfaced in recent years of the Johnson girls. But Preece also
noted that there was a Dalton “cousin” named <b>“Minnie” Johnson</b> who
lived with the Daltons after their relocation to Coffeyville, and in
fact, then Deputy U.S. Marshal Bob Dalton became jealous when she
began to date a local moonshiner- and killed him! With shallow
pretense. Supposedly acting on a warrant for his arrest, Bob tracked him down and shot him dead... and according to Emmett, even paid his funeral expenses. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: medium;">Emmett freely admitted his brother Bob's bad temper and capacity for murderous hate. But it was his other, true blue and loving side which won Emmett's allegiance, even to death, and perhaps "Eugenia's" as well.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Emmett said he met
black-eyed Julia in 1887 when they were both sixteen, near Vinita.
Although madly in love with her, he immediately left for
California... on a lark. But it seems this would have been about the
same time that Bob must have, if he ever did, fathered little Jenny
Mae. Passed around like an unwanted yard ornament, Jenny Mae lived
with several Oklahoma families who may not have had any blood
kinship, but rather severed marital ties which leaned heavily on
human decency.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>One little, Two little,
Three little Indians...</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">We KNOW that Emmett </span>later
married middle-aged Julia Johnson, who did not wait for him, not a
second, but had been married a number of times while “waiting”
for him to get out of prison. We know she had a sister named Lucy,
who either died or skipped out and left Julia to raise her child...
The child's name was Jenny Mae, (b. Nov, 1889) officially changed to
Jenny Mae Gilstrap, when Julia married a Cherokee outlaw named Robert
Gilstrap, some time (perhaps only eight months) after a Cherokee
marriage in 1886 with a fellow named Albert (or Simon) White Turkey,
who divorced her the Cherokee way when he became displeased with her.
(He left her) It has been supposed that these marriages were to
establish Julia's and Jenny's legal residency in the Indian Nations.
Like all of Julia's lovers, Gilstrap was an outlaw and was gunned
down on Christmas Eve, by another admirer of Julia's, a Delaware
Indian named Frank Leno in Bartlesville in 1889. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Young, dumb and surrounded
by bums, Emmett Dalton was hiding out at the Riley ranch in far west
Oklahoma at the time, and far from the marrying kind. He was
occasionally serving on his brother's posse, that of Deputy Marshal
Grat Dalton. Brothers Bob and Grat had organized a lucrative horse
stealing operation in the Osage Nation, where they were assigned as
deputy marshal and posse man, respectively. They had worn out their
luck and their reputations and were relieved of duty by 1890. Soon
they were united with Emmett and his cowboy buddies and headed to
Silver City, New Mexico, where they began their depredations. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqEKXkon6HNhBb4sS6weg57StYpluwOW_rwJhc5V_0V9fbpQyzEEY-7v53GMgDq1YBXtWVC7KWFV2YSzI7fBS82G8sZY6ulBBFIcx5mXLzDOcr9TfCeVCrqKIY_kxN-YZXH1wE8lLT1rU/s1600/LUCY+JOHNSON+PAGE_redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="594" data-original-width="762" height="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqEKXkon6HNhBb4sS6weg57StYpluwOW_rwJhc5V_0V9fbpQyzEEY-7v53GMgDq1YBXtWVC7KWFV2YSzI7fBS82G8sZY6ulBBFIcx5mXLzDOcr9TfCeVCrqKIY_kxN-YZXH1wE8lLT1rU/s640/LUCY+JOHNSON+PAGE_redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">This was where Bob
supposedly “met” “Eugenia Moore” and struck a romance...
Eugenia was supposedly just 22 years old (Lucy would have been only 18) and there in New Mexico for her “health.” It
was strictly a “chance” meeting. Supposedly she had no family.
And there was no baby in tow. Records show that the parents of Lucy
and Julia Johnson, freshly relocated from Texas, had indeed died in
Bartlesville, OK within seven months of each other in 1891. Emmett
seems never to have been aware that this old family friend “from
Missouri” might have been the mother of Bob's child and sister of
his sweetheart tucked away in Vinita... who by that time had been
married at least twice, and cavorting with Indian outlaws. Emmett was
either dumber than a dufflebag of hammers or a bold liar, or both.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: medium;">If Eugenia Moore was just a creation of Emmett's, then he obviously salted her background information with several lies to hide her true identity. And if so, this ruse worked for over one hundred years. No matter who she was, it would certainly follow a familiar pattern in Old West lore. <span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">Etta Place, "Rose of Cimarron," and other outlaw women, especially attractive ones, enjoyed fierce protection from both sides of the law, and permanent anonymity in the public record, for whatever roles they played in frontier crimes. This seems to have been considered the gentlemanly thing to do. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Julia Johnson Gilstrap, <span style="font-size: large;">still an outlaw,</span></span>
later married <b>Robert Ernest Lewis</b>, a saloon owner, who tried to
market near-beer in the Osage Territory when alcohol was illegal.
Once again one of her husbands gets shot to death, this time defying
U.S. Marshals who were enforcing the prohibition of alcohol just days
before Oklahoma is transformed from Indian land to the Indian
Territory, subject to U.S. law. Indignant and inconvenienced, he
killed one and one killed him. Julia continued to run the Saloon...
but when alcohol was legal. It would be safe to say that Julia
Johnson was attracted to danger and lawless types and that their
sorry lives were sold cheap. And this last killing was just in time,
because thanks to her efforts, Emmett was about to be released from
prison. It was all so convenient! </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Still, Emmett described
her as the sweet, faithful beauty who waited for him, when she could
have done so much better. Whether it was waiting or <i>killing time</i>,
Julia was there when Emmett was ready for her. Neither of them ever
admitted to who Eugenia Moore was... although it seems possible that
the name was borrowed from the wife of a fellow gang member...</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Richard L.“Dick”
Broadwell of Hutchinson, Kansas was one of the desperadoes killed at
the Coffeyville debacle. He met up with the Daltons while working on
the Bar X Bar Ranch, after a romance fiasco where his “fiance”
had absconded with all of his savings, a betrayal probably justified
because he was a two-bit outlaw. He was known variously as “Texas
Jack,” and John Moore. John Moore was to have met his new wife and
new life in Ft Worth, but ended up broke and destined for infamy. I
would bet his AWOL lover's name was Eugenia. That way every
mention of this woman only extended the smear of someone who had
betrayed the Dalton criminal network. The name was invented to tell
an incredible story, if not the heart of the Dalton story, without
casting any shadow on the real persons, now moved on, gone straight,
but never having answered for their crimes. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">One Internet writer
contends that Lucy Johnson did not die as suggested by the Dalton
legend, but found refuge in Canada until the coast was long
considered clear and then she moved back to die of old age in
Oklahoma. There are photographs to prove it, which have helped me
identify my tintype of one of the Johnson girls... I believe to be
Lucy, who took her wild story and dark secrets to the grave... and
oblivion.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSj8HzrLJ64x3bVozgh33FEtQNW1myDuiDgFj2MAH3c8iPIAc2Af3Ijq9nxzc-_VrWwhCJ_yWM38LtLiqUmuEwC2TNJ6fLsf0ZrGiwAtBPfgq4ELK1f_Tae9o6esEoRQsDWCDlJnUmxmE/s1600/BOB+AND+EUGENIA+MOORE+BEST_redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="588" data-original-width="401" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSj8HzrLJ64x3bVozgh33FEtQNW1myDuiDgFj2MAH3c8iPIAc2Af3Ijq9nxzc-_VrWwhCJ_yWM38LtLiqUmuEwC2TNJ6fLsf0ZrGiwAtBPfgq4ELK1f_Tae9o6esEoRQsDWCDlJnUmxmE/s640/BOB+AND+EUGENIA+MOORE+BEST_redcd.bmp" width="436" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><i> Bob Dalton and "Eugenia Moore." One of several </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><i>known photos of Bob...About 1889</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">It may have been shame.</span>
But it may have been an undying love. The kind of faithfulness that
Emmett could only pretend about. But the kind of devotion that, along
with the rest of his written adulation for his almost sister-in-law-
outlaw Lucy, he knew to be true in someone's life- someone very close
to him...</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">And no amount of money- or
curiosity- seems to be sufficient to loosen up Dalton descendant's
lips who might be able to verify ANY OF THIS!</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Russell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964639905263397632.post-18750078014768476082018-12-07T22:02:00.001-08:002018-12-07T22:37:58.839-08:00A Series of "Coincidences"?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">This is a website that
believes in miracles. If you read and explore it, you will quickly
see why. Over a year ago I began to acquire an extraordinary antique
image collection... from an Internet auction, one at a time, which
should wind up as a collection in the Smithsonian some day.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfZXg0BGWHmol6lYqEv4KnJx8519kVEGueLNntDtcdHbXUeAUMyLIehI0E58A2GvLP47nYJohtv5o64qZPlE1di7gWzXy2tmcNAU5oRy1GkHT-8_xjl-UzVzhanNI465RJRTvxYlHnQck/s1600/EMMETT+DALTON+straw+QUOTE_edited-1.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="872" data-original-width="1102" height="506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfZXg0BGWHmol6lYqEv4KnJx8519kVEGueLNntDtcdHbXUeAUMyLIehI0E58A2GvLP47nYJohtv5o64qZPlE1di7gWzXy2tmcNAU5oRy1GkHT-8_xjl-UzVzhanNI465RJRTvxYlHnQck/s640/EMMETT+DALTON+straw+QUOTE_edited-1.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">In the meantime, I am
trying to research the images and figure out what I have. I have read
scores of books... and sometimes they have explained what I have, as
illustrated in this blog. Seemingly ordinary things and events
described in biographies about the subjects have become historical
proof of the images themselves. With no provenance, these
“coincidences” have become the only evidence I have that this
whole incredible project is what I think it is. Many images are
explained in blog articles below... but for now here is the big
picture of what I think you are looking at.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv9YDwKFvfTqfCb7YP3Okh2CfjNyXrP4H2WS10NPQlbC5ffSUVDFy8SM3VwZwi_db-ICBvaG01vD6QyWRmDWRY6pt_3OvHZwrdIY3EvzysPpnvF07oJt9lZIYY4BIhGZi-ebj4yMQwAWU/s1600/my+father+MARK+TWAIN+page_redcd_edited-1.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="819" data-original-width="1322" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv9YDwKFvfTqfCb7YP3Okh2CfjNyXrP4H2WS10NPQlbC5ffSUVDFy8SM3VwZwi_db-ICBvaG01vD6QyWRmDWRY6pt_3OvHZwrdIY3EvzysPpnvF07oJt9lZIYY4BIhGZi-ebj4yMQwAWU/s640/my+father+MARK+TWAIN+page_redcd_edited-1.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"> </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I BELIEVE, these images</span>
were once resting in the archives of Mark Twain, and later his
biographer, Albert Bigelow Paine, who eventually had custody of all
things Twain. Sam Clemens was a naturally curious man, and had many
varied interests, and especially in human nature and current events,
and no less Paine, his personal biographer and confidant. He opened
doors for Paine, who wrote some very important biographies of the
most important creative personalities of their time. I think, I
THINK, that these two, separately and then collectively amassed a
vast photo archive which eventually fell into “temporary” storage
upon their deaths and sadly, into irrelevance and obscurity.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Authors are often sought
out and courted to write important and not-so important biographies
of the important and the self-important. They often consider these
projects, and during the earliest stages of developing these
biographies, many unrealistic ideas and goals are negotiated... and
often the authors themselves start out with grandiose schemes... and
probably the frills most often dreamed of- and just as often the most
often dashed are the ideas, pipe dreams, of profuse illustrations in
the proposed book. Everybody loves pictures.... except publishers,
who hate paying for them, and thin them out mercilessly. Thus every
manuscript for that matter, whether or not it ever gets published, is
often accompanied with scores of pictures for illustration that will
never be used; Pictures that have been promised by the authors to be
returned to their sentimental owners... some day.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">And that often never
happens... for many reasons. Mostly because books take a long time to
produce, and authors hold on to the loaned pictures hoping the
publishers will change their minds, realize the value of the
illustrations, and ask for them. By the time all hope for using the
images has been dashed, the authors are working on new books, the
image owners have gotten old and even died, and the images are
forgotten about and sit waiting to be returned- indefinitely. They
cannot be thrown away... or sold... and they sit in dark corners
until the authors get old or die, and then are sold off at some
estate sale, or hailed off, along with a mountain of unwanted books
and papers and artifacts that are common in an author's personal
archives. I am sure it is a story often repeated.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFLwKgE6qQRNahG8b-0V8oRrdaEs5EiADG8cWCas6blS5MKw1FybeVhBPA7Y3xEJoPdMqCFXIGjXmfOAnNfzG1qZlNAV_kxuSb33_hyphenhyphenlhw-JhHUW7ZwHitIRnMXpUwQD_PhFnx4JJmd-I/s1600/KATHERINE+KELSO+JOHNSTON+CASSATT+REDCD_edited-2.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="558" data-original-width="1000" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFLwKgE6qQRNahG8b-0V8oRrdaEs5EiADG8cWCas6blS5MKw1FybeVhBPA7Y3xEJoPdMqCFXIGjXmfOAnNfzG1qZlNAV_kxuSb33_hyphenhyphenlhw-JhHUW7ZwHitIRnMXpUwQD_PhFnx4JJmd-I/s640/KATHERINE+KELSO+JOHNSTON+CASSATT+REDCD_edited-2.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"> <span style="font-size: small;"><i>Deeply personal and rare tintypes of famous families... in this case neighbors of the Clemens... I thought these (1 & 2) were of Mary Cassatt's mother... and was not surprised by the name of the book in her lap when enlarged: <b>The Practical Painter</b>.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Now imagine </span>what kinds of
things MIGHT have been lurking in the neglected corners of the likes
of Mark Twain or Albert Bigelow Paine, his biographer. Both men were
world travelers, who were the first to be asked to consider the most
exciting and prestigious projects in the country. And for every
project they completed, scores went unfinished, saved for a “rainy
day.” Both men knew the “Who's Who” of upper society, and the
Counts and no counts... and either of them could easily have stashed
the stunningly important image collection seen here.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Here is the wonderful
part, for most of the people pictured in this Victorian image
collection, there is a direct link or at least a possible link, to
one or both of these men. I believe that the best intentions they had
about returning this mountain of borrowed images evolved over decades
into a truckload of dusty boxes which were disposed of, and
thankfully, somebody looked at them and saw their value... probably a
hundred years later. That is where I come in. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">A lifelong history lover,
I am an instinctive detective, and an artist with a brain for
recognizing likenesses. It has been an exciting year, and after many
hundreds of hours of research, this blog is finally starting to make
sense. These are important images, I believe from personal
collections of many famous people, once entrusted to two of the most
important writers of the Nineteenth Century. But they had never been
published. Not then, not until now, and right here. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">You are looking into the
secrets and riddles of our history, some deliberately, some by
happenstance, and all once intended to illustrate American and some
European biographies never written, or at least never published.
Lawmen, outlaws, entertainers, politicians, writers, artists, and
many more. There are many photographs, merely collected, for the
visual delight they inspired. AND, I BELIEVE, some of them may have
been the work of Albert Paine who was also a photographer. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Dive in!</span></div>
</div>
Russell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964639905263397632.post-26197819818682714732018-12-02T19:25:00.002-08:002018-12-02T19:34:09.833-08:00Welcome to Albert's Secret Legacy Chest<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>You have surfed into a deep stream of mystery and creativity that will take both of us years to understand.</i> </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsJnuvE5JsxFLK8-_ApdSDufBBiCdu9iwob261VNFdPz4kk6FuOX9rO2i7DtYv1q_WwOb4LQUUlzkiJBYcOsVOGzfqcM2Xu6c29i65jxC2PWGLGbbV2kaHerQWgxMq2OJFFtUkqRGWaME/s1600/PAINE+BOOKS_A.B+SUBJEX+FOG_REDCD.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="651" data-original-width="1012" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsJnuvE5JsxFLK8-_ApdSDufBBiCdu9iwob261VNFdPz4kk6FuOX9rO2i7DtYv1q_WwOb4LQUUlzkiJBYcOsVOGzfqcM2Xu6c29i65jxC2PWGLGbbV2kaHerQWgxMq2OJFFtUkqRGWaME/s640/PAINE+BOOKS_A.B+SUBJEX+FOG_REDCD.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> <i><span style="font-size: small;">You could be an English Lit. Major and still never have heard of this author, who wrote the first biographies of America's creative brain trust, and much more...</span></i></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">So welcome</span>- if you can take this first step into artistic and historical oblivion, I will take the lead the rest of the way. My mission is to bring obscure and yet important and fascinating objects to the surface, and perhaps add some nuances to history.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">This whole blog</span> is a wayward planet whose sun is a creative genius and mysterious player during the Victorian age... a man who for good reasons chose to live and die in relative secrecy, but who amassed a large legacy of American literature; Biographies of the premier creative giants of his age, Twain, Gish and Nast, scores of children's books, novels, and stories that could have inspired the Twilight Zone. And if I am correct in my theories... a mountain of photography of all the news makers of the day, some collected and some he photographed himself. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I stumbled onto the photographs, seen here for the first time, and they have led me to one of the greatest untold networks of creative minds ever formed. Artists, detectives, writers, models, prostitutes, outlaws, spies... all providing the critical mass of an unseen Rolodex of the right-brained talents and iconoclasts of the Industrial Revolution. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2wKKmdcSCg-214_85-WPPyJNMwR-sYrncj-BGld16K6YYsAm-sqJJNORoejdTPYQUG6n71oaxfcC1H1AJqmYinole0GoAKoubQmuol7XeZiW7DTV_ACbBj7P-D30nRG3xEI7pCHtSeBc/s1600/A+B+PAINE.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2wKKmdcSCg-214_85-WPPyJNMwR-sYrncj-BGld16K6YYsAm-sqJJNORoejdTPYQUG6n71oaxfcC1H1AJqmYinole0GoAKoubQmuol7XeZiW7DTV_ACbBj7P-D30nRG3xEI7pCHtSeBc/s1600/A+B+PAINE.bmp" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-size: x-large;">His name was Albert Bigelow Paine</span>, and after you get through with this blog you will never forget him. Because here we have thrown back the veil and uncovered his <b>monument</b>, which has been sleeping where he buried it, right under our deadened American noses.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Albert Bigelow Paine had many reasons for ducking behind his colossal literary monument, his unequaled diversity, his uncanny success, and instead trusting to time and saturation to place his flag at the peak of American cultural achievement. But his unexpected death and poor planning, and perhaps poorer politicking, left his flag stuck in a bottomless chasm instead. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Paine was at the very least a great talent,</span> a passionate writer, but also a ruthless literary appropriator... even a thief, and a bigamist and a con-man... and probably a forger and well, we still don't know what all. He was the perfect example of the fine line between crime and art, of the creativity within man that can be used for either good or evil, and especially a prime example of right-brained abilities and how they have always run amuck without much understanding or appreciation, and way too much trust in this left-brained world.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">His vapor trail left so much jealousy and resentment and suspicion that he had worn out any goodwill that might have preserved his legacy. A.B. Paine was the worst and the best of artistic genius, and after his star had fizzled, it had used up all the oxygen in its time slot. So you and I have never heard of this person.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And this is so strange, given that he was personally responsible for establishing the halls of fame for some of our greatest cultural icons... He may have been one of the first to understand fame and the art of managing it, of public relations, of creating and protecting a public image. But Paine had no one to do for him what he had done for others. <span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Thus he planted essential flags of immortality on the Olympus of Americana, and then perished, his own considerable contributions to be forgotten, no museums, no magazine articles, not even a biography.</span>.. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Nothing but the same superficial bio, a paragraph, barely modified, repeated in footnotes in scores of publications and websites, too uninterested to investigate further.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">We should have been asking</span> hundreds of good questions, when someone could have answered them. What happened to Paine's early career of photography? The photographs? How did he manage to skirt prosecution of all of his crimes? How did he, an unknown writer from the Midwest, manage to ingratiate himself with the most famous people in the United States, in order to write their biographies? Operating in New York under an assumed name, hiding from his wife, and hiding his second family from his first wife... yet writing cutting edge manuscripts which gained the confidence of America's most popular bard, Samuel Clemens, and through him attracting the most enviable commissions in the country. How? How did he maintain and profit from that relationship long after Clemens was dead, continuing his magic with Clemens's only surviving daughter, who was convinced that he was the only person who ever "understood her father."</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYpyz8J4rl2buQoYZJxRMgMRnjnxLonFeDQcgt0eTMeOmTOxRKDQXZ6u1AsrmUhBc71Ae5Hc7Pex0JxwUhA7Opk5C3jZVdYzBu6CuEo0Bjt2PFLKEYmRblJZD22520xsZJP8ubzJqlrVs/s1600/twain+paine+playing+pool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="524" data-original-width="700" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYpyz8J4rl2buQoYZJxRMgMRnjnxLonFeDQcgt0eTMeOmTOxRKDQXZ6u1AsrmUhBc71Ae5Hc7Pex0JxwUhA7Opk5C3jZVdYzBu6CuEo0Bjt2PFLKEYmRblJZD22520xsZJP8ubzJqlrVs/s640/twain+paine+playing+pool.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">How </span>did he continue to release previously unknown, unpublished works of Clemens, squeezing the last drop of blood from the dustbin of the Twain archive? Even finishing uncompleted works, combining, rearranging others... all while editing or writing sequel biographies of Twain, and award-winning books of his own? It was a magnificent whirlwind of commercial literary success not often experienced by any author of any age. And acknowledging all this, how could we then not know of him?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">THAT is what this blog seeks to answer... and it will take some doing. The answers will come, not by reading something on the Internet, but from research and a good deal of creative deduction. It will take a writer and and photographer and a right-brained person like Paine to unlock the mysteries... and that... </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">would be me.</span><br />
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Russell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964639905263397632.post-69742999313068602742018-11-27T22:58:00.003-08:002018-12-03T13:08:22.796-08:00Young People Those Days!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">Here is a bizarre story of "family values"... Sung about so ably, by no less than the <b>Eagles</b> on their second album, called <b>Desperado</b>... </span></i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqP61oKgQ6-e8oeJcgisewjnxvpPxGqsgSEWNSwgOgvNfUdJaZYLRfNwn9K6J3jUFA0Shu3nQ_8m8DTazxQQLmxc9LMvE5VDqrq8wdOSkON_-FTrxgfh_1EZB9KjvmTdh9Shdsn1cs1DY/s1600/OKLA+DALTON_redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="986" data-original-width="1254" height="502" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqP61oKgQ6-e8oeJcgisewjnxvpPxGqsgSEWNSwgOgvNfUdJaZYLRfNwn9K6J3jUFA0Shu3nQ_8m8DTazxQQLmxc9LMvE5VDqrq8wdOSkON_-FTrxgfh_1EZB9KjvmTdh9Shdsn1cs1DY/s640/OKLA+DALTON_redcd.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Perhaps the sorriest</span><span style="font-size: large;"> and most devoted criminal family in the "Old West" was the Dalton clan. FOUR out of ten brothers became legendary outlaws. One sister was believed to have harbored them between jobs. So 5 out of 15 children in one family were involved in a crime ring. All children of a vagabond horse trader, you have to wonder who shaped their family values, which were very strong...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>And who shaped their moral values, and sense of right and wrong?</i></span><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifEi3403m1wLTJ5042j4E8wDZlV3ZgkjV8j3N7R9F45bdc8Ue_9KYFW4D1kuVhFDOqPp5IplYep4Hc-Z5sHXpcSL1B_x5iKDiRuAqaiL9mhaMUkuGJT22bURpUWvG0y6NWwy_fPFX7LeI/s1600/1+DALTON+GANG+SCREEN+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="926" data-original-width="1600" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifEi3403m1wLTJ5042j4E8wDZlV3ZgkjV8j3N7R9F45bdc8Ue_9KYFW4D1kuVhFDOqPp5IplYep4Hc-Z5sHXpcSL1B_x5iKDiRuAqaiL9mhaMUkuGJT22bURpUWvG0y6NWwy_fPFX7LeI/s640/1+DALTON+GANG+SCREEN+redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></span></i></div>
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<i>Mine are the four larger images... others have been provided for comparison.</i><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Related to the Youngers</span> of the James-Younger gang, these fellows went bad after a bad family experience in law enforcement, when their older brother Frank was killed in a gun battle in the line of duty as a U.S. deputy marshal. Grat and Bob had tried to follow in Frank's footsteps, but some kind of resentment inspired them to blend law enforcement with whiskey smuggling and stealing horses. This evolved into a crime spree which stretched from Kansas to California. It has never been clear what triggered the reversal, and in fact their story has never really been well told. I believe the mastermind, if you could call him that, was the more genteel Bill Dalton, who always seemed to be around- but at an arms length to their crimes. As the map above illustrates, Bill was stationed in Bartlesville, which turned out to be in the very center of Dalton depredations. It is believed that he planned the robberies, and Flora Quick, aka "Tom King" was the messenger to his brothers.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUt2Zg-v1Slc6wOMhqBB5vsXBcTBURw-dpvPPd61yS6-INKhC5wE9t1EarcmtmoC7dbN3hzGJRhkRk2O5-h3409K4zPCqFGh_yUfJtjq8Iy1l6kaK5S28ObxhjLnqa8VOVMmObcAOAINo/s1600/3+BILL+DALTON+PAGE+redcd_edited-1.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="898" data-original-width="1211" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUt2Zg-v1Slc6wOMhqBB5vsXBcTBURw-dpvPPd61yS6-INKhC5wE9t1EarcmtmoC7dbN3hzGJRhkRk2O5-h3409K4zPCqFGh_yUfJtjq8Iy1l6kaK5S28ObxhjLnqa8VOVMmObcAOAINo/s640/3+BILL+DALTON+PAGE+redcd_edited-1.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> Note that top hat! And the postmortem photo... Often the outlaws sported facial hair when on the warpath... and this how they were often "captured" for posterity.</span></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">It was believed</span> but never proven that the Daltons sometimes found refuge at their sister Eva's home in Meade, Kansas, which was later discovered to be equipped with a secret passageway and an underground hide-out. Interestingly, one of these tintypes (above) features Eva Mae and Bill together... almost as if they were illustrating some kind of invisible alliance. Bill had presented a dignified profile while living in California... where the railroads had made themselves a popular target for social justice radicals. As their outspoken enemy, he had become a tempting political target. And all hell broke loose when his brothers came out to visit, and a train was robbed, thus drawing suspicions and ruining his image.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After the band was totally wiped out, and Eva was exposed, she moved away from Meade, and depleted of outlaw siblings, she moved to Kingfisher, Oklahoma and supposedly went straight.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYNIq2IlZ3_gnEpFv6e_xqGolVhTYO7nDbWAX-BfPOKyixP4hP0f_t8iuV5Ujjf3X7CIrxRDO3INUKwhcyyMya9SwZA5Vo3AKDDDH7hyphenhyphenb93vNA6XCEQOtHNSM3uBlkL4tcL2Ut7t9Np4o/s1600/7+GRAT+DALTON+page+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="635" data-original-width="895" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYNIq2IlZ3_gnEpFv6e_xqGolVhTYO7nDbWAX-BfPOKyixP4hP0f_t8iuV5Ujjf3X7CIrxRDO3INUKwhcyyMya9SwZA5Vo3AKDDDH7hyphenhyphenb93vNA6XCEQOtHNSM3uBlkL4tcL2Ut7t9Np4o/s640/7+GRAT+DALTON+page+redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Grat was the heavy lifter</span> in the gang, and the slowest. He was apprehended in California for a robbery attributed to the Daltons but managed to escape. One legend has him leaping out of a train window which was crossing a trellis... a la D. B. Cooper, never to be seen again... but his actual escape was not so dramatic. This left Bill, "the smart one" to face the law and the railroad, but in fact they had no evidence with which to prosecute him.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Eventually all of the outlaw Daltons moved back to familiar ground... The Oklahoma Territory, where they devoted themselves to making a name for themselves even bigger than the Younger gang- their cousins... and that led to the wildest scheme of all, of robbing TWO banks at once... in their old hometown, Coffeyville, Kansas. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZzOCsnUiGXEiuYxxIBcfPNXSlhzNKtuXOiCp_3akiRL6_cc4_ECx_iHDDsvbrVaYX4fhF0QdgzvfADhuHCwbHhI5nJrj6b93b9Yfz-iViw6VuUvfs7ssXP6xVg8cwRmq44awlgUS4MTo/s1600/5+BOB+DALTON+page+reecd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="702" data-original-width="1071" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZzOCsnUiGXEiuYxxIBcfPNXSlhzNKtuXOiCp_3akiRL6_cc4_ECx_iHDDsvbrVaYX4fhF0QdgzvfADhuHCwbHhI5nJrj6b93b9Yfz-iViw6VuUvfs7ssXP6xVg8cwRmq44awlgUS4MTo/s640/5+BOB+DALTON+page+reecd.bmp" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Their crimes were fairly well</span> coordinated and expedited, and included daring bank and train robberies, led by Bob Dalton, who depended a great deal on younger Emmett as a dependable man in a tight spot. Always posing as an innocent businessman, with firm alibis, Bill did not emerge as an outlaw until his brothers were either killed or captured. And that was the result at Coffeyville, which was a classic case of criminal over-confidence and the old saying "loose lips sink ships." Four of the gang were killed in a few minutes, and only Emmett survived, to face a lengthy prison sentence.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Coffeyville disaster seems to have brought out the hurt pride of Bill, who was seemingly determined to avenge his brothers, and the family outlaw reputation. When he did finally emerge, after the Dalton brain trust had led to death and disaster, he was allied with another infamous outlaw, who had been associated with the Daltons... Bill Doolin. Together they started an outlaw network famously known as the "Wild Bunch."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Yu2T-kdK4NCLki-8e59DGax_ekjB_4rkf3IiqBRM4JisxYLHTDlG5k6mhdX7chgIYPsdxR5mJQ31xyHEjCH2k__-lM1ktQ8uJk6gzISd3fWBdWAq8bVnitwtQfDlF1zTCVIdPyMCabo/s1600/16+BILL+DOOLIN+CROPT+ENHNCD_REDCD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="763" data-original-width="584" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Yu2T-kdK4NCLki-8e59DGax_ekjB_4rkf3IiqBRM4JisxYLHTDlG5k6mhdX7chgIYPsdxR5mJQ31xyHEjCH2k__-lM1ktQ8uJk6gzISd3fWBdWAq8bVnitwtQfDlF1zTCVIdPyMCabo/s320/16+BILL+DOOLIN+CROPT+ENHNCD_REDCD.jpg" width="244" /></a></span></div>
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<i>Bill Doolin</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdG2fVTJ8GcVnbOHa9QDXZCuuOb1iq78Q1MytiDcgEODuaeYRZRXivwOaaT2HMiPdgnM4aP0Rnt2DRLmgOti6d1EuN7oRliYxaxn_rIy36JWBg3JL9SqPyohKKjpebmke4QC7IHxt_PAs/s1600/19+BILL+DOOLIN+pAGE+REDCD.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="618" data-original-width="890" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdG2fVTJ8GcVnbOHa9QDXZCuuOb1iq78Q1MytiDcgEODuaeYRZRXivwOaaT2HMiPdgnM4aP0Rnt2DRLmgOti6d1EuN7oRliYxaxn_rIy36JWBg3JL9SqPyohKKjpebmke4QC7IHxt_PAs/s640/19+BILL+DOOLIN+pAGE+REDCD.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">For some reason,</span> in this collection there were three, very rare tintypes of Bill Doolin, who always considered himself a higher grade of highwayman. Pictured in two of them are an attractive brunette, perhaps his wife, Edith, and even one of their children. The photo of him without a hat may be with a different, prettier woman, who could certainly be a sister of the later one... who looks a little hardened. Another loving, family man.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBHzw6An7Oe5GrTEjBhAu7vuZMI_540F3TvlnB1DmHUACYjJIx9R0EkLVQCOYNrbmc27zLepjv0YN8GjUcFaFFDKe7efK8XghYXqeGN5Q2S37vmX9DV_Boh7Rp9quQoVlIslUk5NUPJD4/s1600/8+EMMETT+DALTON+CIGAR_CROPT+ENHNCD_FXD_REDCD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="368" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBHzw6An7Oe5GrTEjBhAu7vuZMI_540F3TvlnB1DmHUACYjJIx9R0EkLVQCOYNrbmc27zLepjv0YN8GjUcFaFFDKe7efK8XghYXqeGN5Q2S37vmX9DV_Boh7Rp9quQoVlIslUk5NUPJD4/s400/8+EMMETT+DALTON+CIGAR_CROPT+ENHNCD_FXD_REDCD.jpg" width="267" /> </a></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: small;">Emmett Dalton</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj415xqZknCjmrPpro2700jY-Fxa2VtSh1gGM8sdgUZeNHPCiyXNw7uS6wjtweRBDHcw5tIJAueD5q5nDXc_OKLvRBysLHEhRUiC2bSPT_AG8xpa_TCxdCGW_XH2r6GRfEDFQ8B8aAk-8/s1600/10+EMMETT+DALTON+PAGE_redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1129" data-original-width="1600" height="451" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj415xqZknCjmrPpro2700jY-Fxa2VtSh1gGM8sdgUZeNHPCiyXNw7uS6wjtweRBDHcw5tIJAueD5q5nDXc_OKLvRBysLHEhRUiC2bSPT_AG8xpa_TCxdCGW_XH2r6GRfEDFQ8B8aAk-8/s640/10+EMMETT+DALTON+PAGE_redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The only one</span> of the "bad" brothers to survive was Emmett, the youngest and perhaps the wildest, who got out of prison and like many rehabilitated outlaws, (Frank James, Bob Ford, Al Jennings) became something a celebrity. He married his old sweetheart, Julia Johnson, a veritable outlaw queen, and moved to Hollywood, where he played himself in an early Western movie.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">So comprehensive</span> was this collection, it even had tintypes of the women who followed the Dalton men. One, Flora Quick Mundis, was even thought by some to have continued to plan and execute train robberies after the Daltons had been wiped out. Jailed numerous times, and always "escaping," she dressed like a man and was known among outlaws at "Tom King." Researchers have connected her to both Bill and Bob Dalton. Legend has her dying from gunshot wounds in Arizona. Historians have conflated her with a prostitute called "China Dot," who was a favorite among Chinese railroad workers, and who was killed in a murder-suicide in Clifton Arizona. Her lover was the former mayor, who did not explain their unhappy demise, other than four well placed bullets in the aging courtesan. She was almost immediately identified as the legendary Tom King, once an Indian Territory terror, known to all the famous lawmen of that region.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcrqgLCp9VnkWBPq2ZAEAwND9mu1NP3Yt5dHhSngl7C2gA8sMjvZR3_W54R0Idm00SJFNB4H25fIRYihJmLnqIKGQccw0ium4TFHA_CqmgoOueuw-3sHablf92XfjCrBDOri8UVruVF90/s1600/14+FLORA+QUICK+CROPT+ENHNCD+REDCD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="448" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcrqgLCp9VnkWBPq2ZAEAwND9mu1NP3Yt5dHhSngl7C2gA8sMjvZR3_W54R0Idm00SJFNB4H25fIRYihJmLnqIKGQccw0ium4TFHA_CqmgoOueuw-3sHablf92XfjCrBDOri8UVruVF90/s400/14+FLORA+QUICK+CROPT+ENHNCD+REDCD.jpg" width="292" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">Flora Quick Mundis</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPeby0BVIEC2tjEBgv-OHHcCJsZ49_sH_mbjqEkyYCy2UBIWDXeuBmf81YHAL3rhRr3UwUBK1RGgQMqAgZP9jK3xo7wNmeLkxJtM7j4btYJKlMKwKe0wrBmjz_VbEFjuWyQHTCwg48pXQ/s1600/15+Flora+Quick+akaTOM+KING+page_redcd+2.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="565" data-original-width="843" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPeby0BVIEC2tjEBgv-OHHcCJsZ49_sH_mbjqEkyYCy2UBIWDXeuBmf81YHAL3rhRr3UwUBK1RGgQMqAgZP9jK3xo7wNmeLkxJtM7j4btYJKlMKwKe0wrBmjz_VbEFjuWyQHTCwg48pXQ/s640/15+Flora+Quick+akaTOM+KING+page_redcd+2.bmp" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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The photo on horseback is the only known photo of one of the Wild West's wildest women.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Said to have been </span>a spoiled brat from Missouri, she hated school and sought the company of the fast crowd, marrying a man twice her age and then squandering her inheritance. Teaming up with a local madam, she went into wholesale horse-stealing and eventually prostitution, and according to some western writers, hooked up with the Doolin-Dalton gang. These outlaw love relationships were hardly ever made official or known to the outside world. But given enough time, they sometimes revealed themselves..</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQikHersjqTGRWtMqHJr8M9A5nDr-rNOFXUOfUpYDrXGTyNkQyKMs4v4-yCibb73myF3K97Yu6wQyJXhoFpadDRgF922OUQpU7imtiTRJAG_wnplkEaUfVLgEQZzVXUk8jyYZDNiTGlcg/s1600/12+lucy+johnson-EUGENIA+MOORE+page+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="845" data-original-width="1286" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQikHersjqTGRWtMqHJr8M9A5nDr-rNOFXUOfUpYDrXGTyNkQyKMs4v4-yCibb73myF3K97Yu6wQyJXhoFpadDRgF922OUQpU7imtiTRJAG_wnplkEaUfVLgEQZzVXUk8jyYZDNiTGlcg/s640/12+lucy+johnson-EUGENIA+MOORE+page+redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Julia was Emmett's long lost & found love, Lucy may have been the mysterious Minnie, alias "Eugenia Moore" in the famous photo of Bob Dalton. (below)</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Ck7BFt-taeJgzt7zUEmgw1icxKAywJMYYDe-57y7iQQykrYNY3qOdSPnsmYaj5hxKVaQ8QhSRBArXmzPRAdKQValiUzbMjfKGk-a1AzynEhEa1JdBdT4QqQQkREY9bZ3ZdVsKFgOYbQ/s1600/bob+and+eugenia.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="707" data-original-width="518" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Ck7BFt-taeJgzt7zUEmgw1icxKAywJMYYDe-57y7iQQykrYNY3qOdSPnsmYaj5hxKVaQ8QhSRBArXmzPRAdKQValiUzbMjfKGk-a1AzynEhEa1JdBdT4QqQQkREY9bZ3ZdVsKFgOYbQ/s400/bob+and+eugenia.bmp" width="292" /></a></div>
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<i>Not from my collection, provided for illustration.</i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Semi-faithful Julia</span> Johnson went through a couple of relationships while she waited for Emmett to get out of prison. Then she goaded her second husband into a deadly gunfight which left her free and ready- conveniently when Emmett was released after 14 years. This was an early release she reportedly campaigned for. Her sister Lucy Johnson was supposedly one of Bob Dalton's main groupies, and may also have been known as "Eugenia Moore"... The woman on the far right (above) with Bob Dalton has never been identified... but I think she and my tintype (center) are probably Julia's sister Lucy, pictured on the left touching heads with Julia. (It is just as possible the unidentified young woman is Julia.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">There were many, many secrets... kept successfully till now. Many an outlaw romance went unannounced and forever undocumented. Rumors were the best leads that writers were going to get. But when Emmett came back for Julia, he verified the Dalton-Johnson connection... and bolstered the rumors of the Bob Dalton - Lucy Johnson (her sister) affair, which may well have been the epicenter of the Dalton crime wave. Bob had killed his law enforcement career when he abused his badge and killed a boy friend- of his female interest... who was probably Lucy, with whom he later fathered a child. She was actually his cousin, known to the family as "Minnie" and raised in his own home by his mother. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Minnie may
have used several aliases while she served as the Dalton advance team,
setting up food, transportation and shelter for them on their "jobs." </span>But not long afterward Lucy/"Minnie" died, and her sister Julia took custody of her child, and kept the familial fires burning. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And they will always burn with so many tragic mysteries obscuring this counter-cultural clan. Today the Internet is rich with wanna-be Dalton kin, arguing the validity of their various blood relationships... so many folks that find significance in familial attachment to these long dead robbers and killers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">One gentleman went to great lengths</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> and outrageous expense,</span> placing tombstones, publishing bogus histories, just to establish his own clan's claims of daring Dalton due, only to be smeared with even greater zeal by those determined to protect the sanctity of Daltondom. The arguments by Daltondom are that the old interviews and official records do not support the Phillips family claim of direct kinship. The question seems to rotate around a spurious daughter known as "Bea," or Elizabeth Dalton, who supposedly married into the Phillips and lost contact with her outlaw brothers. Well, you couldn't blame her for that!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was an outrageous invasion of Dalton family heritage... a crime against decency and American history, and in its own way, a fitting and criminal tribute to the greatest outlaw family in the Old West. But it is stunning what some people might do, to forever establish themselves as a wart on a bump on a footnote in history!</span><br />
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Russell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964639905263397632.post-49587074982095877342018-11-24T20:42:00.001-08:002018-11-25T07:33:15.257-08:00William Bonney or... BILLY the KID!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>No Old West picture collection could claim to be complete without these guys. If you are a lover of Western lore and legend, they need no introductions.</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD7kZ4r7wsf4MXeq_-03VA7pAkaCiewgANRVQ7FdAGXgrNZ2v_UCaCSKAwBCHUmsc7nJzZC_KdWrpijw34_Fq2ts6bN98PyqU5T8gEMqOvTZE8Tu8vCBG2REhUb5ZvwcWgcqQ4KZ0FVu8/s1600/3+BILLY+THE+KID_page+REDCD.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="804" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD7kZ4r7wsf4MXeq_-03VA7pAkaCiewgANRVQ7FdAGXgrNZ2v_UCaCSKAwBCHUmsc7nJzZC_KdWrpijw34_Fq2ts6bN98PyqU5T8gEMqOvTZE8Tu8vCBG2REhUb5ZvwcWgcqQ4KZ0FVu8/s640/3+BILLY+THE+KID_page+REDCD.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Billy Bonney was just</span><span style="font-size: large;"> a shrimpy dead-end kid raised on the streets and made mean by saloon bullies until he became a master at getting even. Many of his killings were nothing but the last say in a running battle with over-bearing drunks, pompous lawmen and ruthless range barons. Billy was a big believer in the Colt revolver as EQUALIZER. Known as likable and even lovable to New Mexicans, Billy had no trouble gathering a dangerous entourage which varied between a half dozen to dozens of rustlers and gunmen who raided and partied all over North Texas and New Mexico... leaving scores of angry victims, especially Panhandle cattlemen.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiErY9ZIWpAvDZJnm3L9nVFHOQkvJL4kLgERyYu1jl5QDGB2OGoHXY0fcNzqalkNTc_Tr3vouzoAhNEQ1-ng1N2UKXn7ts-47MsQRTgOeK2dc_HjzAKYjAn3lAAy890KvvJJBlpzO1_Yow/s1600/brown+wheeler+PAGE+REDCD.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1075" data-original-width="1550" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiErY9ZIWpAvDZJnm3L9nVFHOQkvJL4kLgERyYu1jl5QDGB2OGoHXY0fcNzqalkNTc_Tr3vouzoAhNEQ1-ng1N2UKXn7ts-47MsQRTgOeK2dc_HjzAKYjAn3lAAy890KvvJJBlpzO1_Yow/s640/brown+wheeler+PAGE+REDCD.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There were a score of lawmen tracking Billy when Pat Garrett and his posse finally caught up to him, and by that time, most of the fellows shown here were already dead. It is some kind of tribute to the Kid that so many misguided youths were willing to go down fighting with him, and so many senoritas risked their reputations to adore and comfort him. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvfHVVcQNpoYau97mLFgGJt0A7-pBzqIyYwn6PL84hYb95HaWcvPqWbb9T7c75dXo3EMIooPfTFsyJIgnQvDrO9GblijXYuxi3h0F-LMgdgPxLEUAdaZBsD_zTJCEjnAFk9pD7TxiWHc/s1600/BURT+ALVORD-+BILLY+THE+KID+PG_REDCD.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="614" data-original-width="908" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvfHVVcQNpoYau97mLFgGJt0A7-pBzqIyYwn6PL84hYb95HaWcvPqWbb9T7c75dXo3EMIooPfTFsyJIgnQvDrO9GblijXYuxi3h0F-LMgdgPxLEUAdaZBsD_zTJCEjnAFk9pD7TxiWHc/s640/BURT+ALVORD-+BILLY+THE+KID+PG_REDCD.bmp" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There was something strangely attractive about him, something mystical, which inspired some ranchers to help him, protect and expedite his gang, and feed his mischief until he was dead. And then they made a folk hero out of him.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtAHo6_0PbxwwWIrdalziVRig3QfF27_A0MHSIo2Y2T4x-mJSoWrPvXai3Hi7Lh8wlbAkeJOmvjuu-cfwoGewAHnHPXXLVjco56Ajep5C41zGWkUol7SQpY5Kmf7ZCB4X-avVm9FFh-8Q/s1600/CHARLIE+BOWDRE_FRED+WAITE+page_REDCD.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="816" data-original-width="1214" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtAHo6_0PbxwwWIrdalziVRig3QfF27_A0MHSIo2Y2T4x-mJSoWrPvXai3Hi7Lh8wlbAkeJOmvjuu-cfwoGewAHnHPXXLVjco56Ajep5C41zGWkUol7SQpY5Kmf7ZCB4X-avVm9FFh-8Q/s640/CHARLIE+BOWDRE_FRED+WAITE+page_REDCD.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">These images, mostly tintypes, all came down the pipeline just like the rest, one at a time, unnamed, but almost in a wave among thousands of images sold online by one dealer. The first face I recognized was Charley Bowdre's... when I ID'd the fellow next to him as Fred Waite, I sat up and took notice, because these images usually came in clusters of related individuals. What unfolded was next to extraordinary... all the main characters in the Saga of Billy the Kid.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgncAgVpUl4kw_9yF_9r-FC_cGuEaGvwYgJZ6SLk324PrSAnHCz2iDqmwrZAaH2_ncMESS_qPg5kYOV4gmUyNlIa6EzQIc_3HkuyTpop5Yj3BHv7Zda5VfID7kMfnEGek4VDPeWVHO2n6E/s1600/TOM+O%2527FOLLIARD_page_REDCD.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="651" data-original-width="959" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgncAgVpUl4kw_9yF_9r-FC_cGuEaGvwYgJZ6SLk324PrSAnHCz2iDqmwrZAaH2_ncMESS_qPg5kYOV4gmUyNlIa6EzQIc_3HkuyTpop5Yj3BHv7Zda5VfID7kMfnEGek4VDPeWVHO2n6E/s640/TOM+O%2527FOLLIARD_page_REDCD.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_oqEDoeRJQNxE06KTcTzGpzOslrBdzmSZshT30xN2DZStW6M4W1mNkZpvt95kSc8Tr-JXieIKTgcxOIZIr8JmJf9vxMvRBjcm4RCtMwcKmCt5KVf9llAn3-939DSfZn_tC0syf1_ZIng/s1600/TUNSTALL+YOUNG+page+REDCD.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="891" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_oqEDoeRJQNxE06KTcTzGpzOslrBdzmSZshT30xN2DZStW6M4W1mNkZpvt95kSc8Tr-JXieIKTgcxOIZIr8JmJf9vxMvRBjcm4RCtMwcKmCt5KVf9llAn3-939DSfZn_tC0syf1_ZIng/s640/TUNSTALL+YOUNG+page+REDCD.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Ranch owner Tunstall was the British reformer who almost rehabilitated Billy, and then his murder was the straw that broke the camel's back. But Billy got his revenge. If this is him, it was obviously when just arriving in America.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim-nYM30axIoKs74bYbVf0XDmCrz5b23wyQkXeB5TWO9LLgBVh8RvCgbmGYCqYZHl25YL6aYQDSvWuH9RDnSSpOjnJbEWkSpK4sTUqsmGzSbDoDAVNBcdf3G2wcCj7Zfh0EBfmGka7VB0/s1600/PAT+GARRETT+PAGE+REDCD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="760" data-original-width="1094" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim-nYM30axIoKs74bYbVf0XDmCrz5b23wyQkXeB5TWO9LLgBVh8RvCgbmGYCqYZHl25YL6aYQDSvWuH9RDnSSpOjnJbEWkSpK4sTUqsmGzSbDoDAVNBcdf3G2wcCj7Zfh0EBfmGka7VB0/s640/PAT+GARRETT+PAGE+REDCD.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>A young, dapper Pat Garrett, whose legendary career was rife with frustrations after he assassinated Bonney. He was murdered during a buggy ride by hired assassins, probably led by "Killin'" Jim Miller. </i></div>
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Russell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964639905263397632.post-73974056499942833302018-11-14T18:48:00.002-08:002018-11-25T07:30:20.186-08:00UNRESOLVED<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Sadly for me, a proud Texan, there were very few images in this project
representing Texans. But towards the end of the acquisition I finally
recognized a famous Texan, famous for being an Oklahoman!</i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV9GEeJRV9-cjGeoi0ryMFbyFeQsXVcQKwzeyCyNhLHWf0IPojbBoX2BNjRXJIfzZ12XYABJj9uLUWY0ajRtvAUhNOXtatOnrfW9wE12RPjHfa-8Keqw7LEJFw7K0gq8l0_zS49hFb6dk/s1600/temple+houston_cropt+enhnd+BRITE+redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="608" data-original-width="403" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV9GEeJRV9-cjGeoi0ryMFbyFeQsXVcQKwzeyCyNhLHWf0IPojbBoX2BNjRXJIfzZ12XYABJj9uLUWY0ajRtvAUhNOXtatOnrfW9wE12RPjHfa-8Keqw7LEJFw7K0gq8l0_zS49hFb6dk/s400/temple+houston_cropt+enhnd+BRITE+redcd.jpg" width="265" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> Finally! A Texan! Temple Houston was an Oklahoma</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">lawyer, gunslinger, and sometime po</span></i></span><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">litician.</span></i></span> He was</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> Sam Houston's youngest and most genetically similar </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">son... even though he never really knew his father. </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></i> </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-size: x-large;">Due to difficulty,</span> I waited as long as possible before unveiling this portion of the <b>Russell Cushman Historical Image Collection</b>. This was a challenging puzzle, with four brothers who shared a strong family resemblance. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">First the flamboyant and idiosyncratic <b>Temple Houston</b>, fourth son of Sam Houston, showed up on a CDV in one of the auctions where I had been snagging historical images for almost a year. As usual, the seller could not provide identification or provenance. Still, I knew it was him, and eventually found several more of his brothers...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">There are very few </span>images of the Houston children, which in itself is something of a mystery. Their father was an extroverted politician of great importance in American history, and certainly was painted, sculpted and photographed to the saturation level. But it is as if the children and Mrs. Houston were sequestered all of their lives, with scant and dimly lit peeks of them made available through limited family channels. Now my photographs prove that there were some... but perhaps they were loaned out for publishing purposes and never returned. Until NOW!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Considering the context of the rest of the collection, I believe that if I keep digging, will find somewhere that Albert Bigelow Paine, one of America's leading biographers, and the central culprit in this whole blog, at one time considered doing a biography of either Sam Houston or Temple Houston. And as I have displayed here, if my theories are correct, he was something of an image hoarder.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQmri7n8KAq0oNXcHyWoXPe-mHM_0Y8HdYbKyrC4nvVhCTScVqXdiUOA9JwmOhyCyj5STxnQIxlMBL3ItCYGlzfN-StQW9tVXGJPNmL5qPH8VlpuhhlBYJEsaP6OFbczlJKZzBMJMXpXE/s1600/A+J+HOUSTON_CROPT+ENHNCD+redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="618" data-original-width="416" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQmri7n8KAq0oNXcHyWoXPe-mHM_0Y8HdYbKyrC4nvVhCTScVqXdiUOA9JwmOhyCyj5STxnQIxlMBL3ItCYGlzfN-StQW9tVXGJPNmL5qPH8VlpuhhlBYJEsaP6OFbczlJKZzBMJMXpXE/s400/A+J+HOUSTON_CROPT+ENHNCD+redcd.jpg" width="268" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> #1, Andrew Jackson Houston, named after Sam Houston's</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> close friend and commander and President of the United States.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Andrew was the second oldest, but was not old enough to </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>serve in the Confederacy, but served later in the National Guard. </i></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpG3rv79Fr7Uat_ELQIeaQi5f0nNqMHbrotrQ-3URdSV769FiiE0USCM8tStXdzy4jgWoZM2PIxIHT94mUwrJCDJsY8AmPITgypLe1z94JAXMLftKIbSqjXH2d4xsfh2heaUOQRKcLr0Q/s1600/Houston+MEN+PAGE_REDCD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="665" data-original-width="922" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpG3rv79Fr7Uat_ELQIeaQi5f0nNqMHbrotrQ-3URdSV769FiiE0USCM8tStXdzy4jgWoZM2PIxIHT94mUwrJCDJsY8AmPITgypLe1z94JAXMLftKIbSqjXH2d4xsfh2heaUOQRKcLr0Q/s640/Houston+MEN+PAGE_REDCD.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> Just some of the photos, nicely arranged, which guided </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>my identifications of three of the Houston boys, numbered</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>1 - 4. Ironically, the larger portion of them was of Andrew, </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>a man my father knew well and interviewed for his book.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i></span> </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">First Temple</span> and then several tintypes emerged with boys that looked very Houstonesque. They looked very much akin, but it would take me a long time to make this final graphic, organizing them, and hopefully correctly identifying them, using every photograph I could find for comparison. I never did see a photograph of Sam Jr., who was the oldest and less likely to have been photographed as a child, since he was born before photography had even come to frontier Texas. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But certainly after the Civil War, photography had come of age, and was available to the upper middle class in the larger population centers. The problem was the younger children were usually kept at home, which was probably Independence, Texas for most of them, and rarely seen in the political circles where Sam spent most of his time. The CDV (#4) of Temple in a suit was probably made when he served as a page in Washington D.C. when he was 15 or 16. By then he had already driven cattle all the way to the Dakotas, worked as a night clerk on a riverboat on the Mississippi, learned the "ways of the world," and then negotiated an appointment as a Washington page by a U.S. Senator.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5jWFgORc8wmEcw1SEfeDJuuj-Sd7YxjePMNBrsKWuTsY3XPBB4c24tpldGUGHPLliW_vZCClkN3SgyAWTu2flxm48FvAqwB5XUBn5ZQjGLIcunpEdj2mICBr6rxxEswP5dAZTtBxUcgc/s1600/TEMPLE+HOUSTON+HAT++CROPT+ENHNCD+redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5jWFgORc8wmEcw1SEfeDJuuj-Sd7YxjePMNBrsKWuTsY3XPBB4c24tpldGUGHPLliW_vZCClkN3SgyAWTu2flxm48FvAqwB5XUBn5ZQjGLIcunpEdj2mICBr6rxxEswP5dAZTtBxUcgc/s400/TEMPLE+HOUSTON+HAT++CROPT+ENHNCD+redcd.jpg" width="303" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> #2, Andrew Jackson Houston in his late twenties. This one</span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> well illustrates the Houston ferocity. Andrew was not as </span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">handsome as the others, but was actually appointed to</span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> the U. S. Senate from Texas, right before he died.</span></i></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I will admit that the photos, numbering 1-4, are not the most flattering, but because they were grouped relatively close in an Internet auction march of thousands, I felt then and still feel strongly that they were related. And they certainly do look like Houstons. There is that intense scowl... with powerful lips, but basic good looks that ties them together. The toughest thing was to tell them apart, with no clues. The ears were the only way to differentiate one from another.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqnZgi8x4w9oJPcoGK8MiIR6yDMGiSTVzRbpodU_7g5ho36VBZ3U_bhCjI-u_TIBRe713DCJa09D_lTLnnEBVyiubFKYe9CpziVlCoON7jz-3HnM1gDmVg2Dd8ViTSc-DtS49aRi4SnS8/s1600/HOUSTON+BOYS_CROPT+ENHNCD+redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="530" data-original-width="371" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqnZgi8x4w9oJPcoGK8MiIR6yDMGiSTVzRbpodU_7g5ho36VBZ3U_bhCjI-u_TIBRe713DCJa09D_lTLnnEBVyiubFKYe9CpziVlCoON7jz-3HnM1gDmVg2Dd8ViTSc-DtS49aRi4SnS8/s640/HOUSTON+BOYS_CROPT+ENHNCD+redcd.jpg" width="448" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;">#3, Little William and Andrew Jackson Houston, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;">about 6 & 10, around the end of the Civil War-</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;">perhaps dressed for their father's untimely funeral.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here are some of the most acknowledged sons of Texas, </span></span><i><span style="font-size: small;"></span></i><span style="font-size: large;">all of which grew up in public shame after their father refused to lead Texas in Secession and joining the Confederacy, and was forced out of the Governor's office. They had to find their own way while time would eventually prove the Houstons were on the right side of history. All of them would have made Sam proud at one time or another, but some of them, especially Temple, would have frustrated the hell out of him. Sam Houston died during the Civil War, leaving the children to be raised without him. His devoted wife passed away soon after, and Temple and William were raised by their sister. The military and political legacy of his father, combined with the frustrations of defeat during the Civil War and the ostracism of his family because of his father's stance forged Temple Houston into a fierce young man with something to prove. And he soon chose someplace else to do it.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Temple Houston's life story</span> included a law degree, political appointments, and a scandalous legal career which included shooting his pistols during a trial in his adopted state, Oklahoma. It is too much to cover here, but he would have been an intriguing western character to inspire a popular biography, but if anything, even Albert Bigelow Paine, the original spin doctor, might have hesitated. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">There were at least two biographies written about him in the late Twentieth Century, the better one by Glenn Shirley; Temple Houston- Lawyer With A Gun. </span></span><i><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></i></div>
</div>
Russell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964639905263397632.post-27792019464078806432018-11-14T07:43:00.000-08:002018-11-14T12:25:37.136-08:00A Picture of Mother's Love... or something <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">Look past the softness. Ignore the beauty. Probably copied from an earlier ambrotype, this is the face that launched a thousand nightmares...</span></i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjflc2gHUwhlP_IlY6CfqY4UsiiKEOEOB0LN9tzEPPvqkLWaDM6fJFPQdFzqxCNZTYrHT-Gd1XUpXYJCV8RkSYMo835BbNHJOaJuCsSgKxFmriVLig6n04pbw-DaKVohJ_wTA7fBV6U2Ws/s1600/ZERELDA+COLE+JAMES++redcd_fxd_edited-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="816" data-original-width="583" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjflc2gHUwhlP_IlY6CfqY4UsiiKEOEOB0LN9tzEPPvqkLWaDM6fJFPQdFzqxCNZTYrHT-Gd1XUpXYJCV8RkSYMo835BbNHJOaJuCsSgKxFmriVLig6n04pbw-DaKVohJ_wTA7fBV6U2Ws/s400/ZERELDA+COLE+JAMES++redcd_fxd_edited-1.jpg" width="285" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></i></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> Mona Lisa had nothing on this portrait, which I believe</span></i></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> is the Mother of THE most famous Outlaws.</span></i></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></i>This old image could be controversial.</span> Only because of what <i>I think</i> and there is almost NOTHING TO COMPARE TO. Many of the other images here can be compared to historic images of similar age to derive how correct my guesses are. But not this one.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I believe this is <b>Zerelda James Samuel</b>, "Mother of Battles- </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">post-Civil War</span>," the infamous matriarch of the James clan, who provided the nurturing which shaped two killers, </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jesse and Frank</span> James, who invented bank robbing and perfected train robbing in Victorian America. She aided and abetted their campaigns, harbored them between crimes, and gave up at least two other children to their cause... if our theories are correct.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">According to history, Zerelda was as tall as most men, commanding, and defiant of most authority, and some accounts say that she was quite beautiful in her early life. An outlaw queen. But up until now, we could<i> only imagine</i>.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMBmANkAUJZ_OrSZnPWLGgVsU5eV0UkkTXNFoDFSh4z1AqSJxKjZfjJYAGfeuuL-gxC5NCdrUbKbIGNmT03KFH-g-WrqZZ193F-e0GwXa2-XAfy3uJHt9YrLz8CFXBg89GQQ575BbLZNo/s1600/ZERELDA+COLE+JAMES+_page_redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="579" data-original-width="894" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMBmANkAUJZ_OrSZnPWLGgVsU5eV0UkkTXNFoDFSh4z1AqSJxKjZfjJYAGfeuuL-gxC5NCdrUbKbIGNmT03KFH-g-WrqZZ193F-e0GwXa2-XAfy3uJHt9YrLz8CFXBg89GQQ575BbLZNo/s640/ZERELDA+COLE+JAMES+_page_redcd.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> Here brightened and reversed for comparison, showing the </span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">same open stare, and the exact triangulation between </span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">the eyes and nose, of a known likeness of </span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">Zerelda Samuel. The hand-colored image </span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">in the upper right is like mine, </span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">only a proposed image</span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> of Zerelda.</span></i></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">She is said to have had fiery relationships </span>with a stepfather she barely endured, and her first two husbands who died young... one (James) supposedly in the California gold fields, the other (Simms) was fortuitously killed by a horse- right after Zerelda decided that she wanted to divorce him. A tough survivor of frontier rural life, she owned and bossed slaves with imperial callousness, yet maintained their devotion. She managed the family farm and brought fives sons and three daughters into a harsh world, and raised most of them to maturity.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">During the Civil War,</span> her third husband,</span> <b>Dr. Reuben Samuel</b>, was repeatedly hung from a tree and dropped before asphyixiation, until he was permanently brain damaged, and left for dead by Union investigators. Still, they managed to produce one more child, Archie, in 1866. In the end, she had lost at least two of her children to violence, and her right arm in a law enforcement raid. She never seemed to react as others would expect. When the Pinkertons threw a flare into her home to illuminate the interior, she knocked it into the fireplace, causing it to explode and rip off her arm and kill little Archie, her youngest.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Needless to say, after showing so much pluck, many Southerners sympathized with her, and Missourians united to support the James Gang in their battle against a relentless foe; the North.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This half-plate tintype was acquired near the end of the gathering of this whole collection. As the collection increased, I noticed that the larger tintypes were almost always of supremely important people to American History. There were not that many, but among them were Winslow Homer and Libby Custer. They were either prestigious gifts or cherished loans by the subjects. Either way, when this tintype became available, I snatched it immediately and thought about it later. I was not sure who it was, only that the woman was pretty and had a disturbing deadpan stare.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Later it hit me, </span>and still it was such a long shot. It was not the first time I had purchased a tintype, only later to become convinced that it was perhaps the only image of a historic person <i>at a certain age</i> with nothing to compare to. Understand, that I would never have fancied such a possibility, had I not just purchased a dozen or so James-related images. In fact it took me awhile to believe all of this and imagine that the swelling collection was as historically significant and comprehensive as it was. Several times I thought to seek- and then found important tintypes, only after I had acquired images of their friends and children. I realized that if I had snagged all of these lesser characters, then perhaps I was overlooking the main ones! And often I was. My recognition skill was limited to images that I had <i>seen</i> and grown up with. People change so much from childhood to old age, nobody would recognize some of these people without help.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Sometimes, imagination is the best kind of help you can get. And I have spent a lifetime calling upon mine. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So after I imagined that this might be Zerelda, and made comparisons, only then it became very exciting that I had made a very important discovery in history. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But at first the only thing I focused on was her eyes. Zerelda's eyes were... blank, somewhat mismatched<i> like a doll's eyes</i>. Her perpetually raised eyebrows forbid interpretation. She looked almost stupid or ambivalent. Yet her reputation of personal prowess contradict her empty countenance. Zerelda had the lifeless eyes of someone who had endured so much that she was impervious to almost anything. Almost what you would imagine the eyes of a sociopath might look like. But that was just the beginning of my primitive facial recognition test.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI9Ng5lnvB2jS941nGg3dW2BBwg1AACfg5Mqfw7_zQO1-h7UNSnZsSzVaIp3Xfkfl9RynoY3URMl3jG-S7gnxCN1gMmDV9UQP2AqSphPcZu-y9MDn7EewjbxNA0bvakqpbswJ4Hnuo0MY/s1600/FRANK+-+ZERELDA+COMP+PAGE_RECD+90.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="996" data-original-width="1536" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI9Ng5lnvB2jS941nGg3dW2BBwg1AACfg5Mqfw7_zQO1-h7UNSnZsSzVaIp3Xfkfl9RynoY3URMl3jG-S7gnxCN1gMmDV9UQP2AqSphPcZu-y9MDn7EewjbxNA0bvakqpbswJ4Hnuo0MY/s640/FRANK+-+ZERELDA+COMP+PAGE_RECD+90.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Later I recognized</span> how much Zerelda and her oldest son <b>Frank James</b> favored one another, in their advanced years. I had always considered Frank the long-faced and unattractive child in her brood... almost appearing to be from a different father than handsome Jesse. But in old age, they grew to look more and more like one another; The flattened nose, long ears, empty eyes, and the apparent loss of teeth.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Take off Frank's mustache, and put a wig on him... and you pretty much have Zerelda. </b> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">No arguments there. So then it hit me... the large tintype that might be Zerelda, if she looked like Frank James in his <i>youth</i>... THAT would certainly be something. A familial similarity that defied coincidence. And she does... and in fact her resemblance to little Archie is absolutely stunning. Somehow it is coming through to me, as these faces stare back, the fierce mother's love which united all of them. But then I am an artist...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So here is a proposal of mine. Unlike others where there are similar photos to compare, this one requires some suspension of disbelief and some imagination... and an open mind. And a large dose of benefit of the doubt. But I think, given the strength of the others, it is a wonderful proposition.</span></div>
Russell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964639905263397632.post-29821150890851942562018-11-09T12:12:00.002-08:002019-04-07T21:55:48.354-07:00Mark Twain and JESSE JAMES! Do YOU believe?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">It
is a scientific truth</span> that things do not fall together. Nobody can
explain the Universe or a single atom, or how or why they came
together. Or how or why they <u>stay</u> together. Things never fall
together, and given any opportunity, they will always try to fall
apart. So when they do fall together, it is something like the
Creative Force of the universe willing it so... </i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhTsXfaNio62-EByCjL9GyWq2BoF3xyMd7dX_wwRHjQKEtGFj66DkWmePu_rx_ZXotvGjq0dX3eCkmN0Zb3RtfJEaiunKL8ohPHW13er_GeVq0hqIeYN0e3VwM4ZwY-o1KZl-xqSy9GFQ/s1600/greatest.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="435" data-original-width="649" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhTsXfaNio62-EByCjL9GyWq2BoF3xyMd7dX_wwRHjQKEtGFj66DkWmePu_rx_ZXotvGjq0dX3eCkmN0Zb3RtfJEaiunKL8ohPHW13er_GeVq0hqIeYN0e3VwM4ZwY-o1KZl-xqSy9GFQ/s1600/greatest.bmp" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i> Upon meeting, Jesse supposedly said to Mark Twain, " I suppose we are the greatest in our line." <span style="font-size: x-small;">[Image is totally photo-shopped.]</span></i></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">At
the heart of my theory</span> on this blog - is the shear number of images
which have an uncanny resemblance to famous people who were in some
way related to one another, all discovered from ONE SOURCE. HUNDREDS.
Over two hundred interrelated people who can be tied to Mark Twain or
his biographer, Albert Bigelow Paine. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">But
when I started this project, I had no idea just how related they
would turn out to be. <span style="font-size: x-large;">My first major clues were provided by GOOGLE
Search which effortlessly showed me who to look for.</span> After I
recognized someone pictured in an auction, GOOGLE would find me
pictures to compare to, and more importantly, would also
(unsolicited) show me the faces of persons which were associated with
the person I was researching. That is the mind of a search engine...
<i>ANYTHING</i> related. It would teach me and familiarize me as I dug
into a particular person's “image community.” That way when a
familiar face (because of my endless surfing on GOOGLE) popped up in
an auction, I may not have known who they were, but I recognized that
they were known historically as a family member or associate to
somebody I already researched.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">In some cases, the relationships suggested by GOOGLE were absolutely correct, although shocking to me. I had a lot of reading to do!</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">There
was a lot of back and forth. And this research has also led to many
dead-ends and false alarms and disappointments. There were seemingly
scores of certain individuals who had too many look-alikes. Sometimes I
wondered whether I was delving into a collection of carefully
assembled look-alikes. In fact Mark Twain and A. B. Paine were actually obsessed with the prospects of look-alikes, and used the concept in several books. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvYeF5zzEq0K7d1Wht7i7AZT3ZsNwXSHoTHK4sunb2BekHw0lOewUOAnktQ2_AL6Gf6bqPZjXPhA4hRg4M48uwf8uxvVNOdoJf_dl2T98qXAdcbw8EOuLY9gTeM2Y2qPVNSQmafdU3k2A/s1600/tumblr_lbqkgo4QSv1qabm59o1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="820" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvYeF5zzEq0K7d1Wht7i7AZT3ZsNwXSHoTHK4sunb2BekHw0lOewUOAnktQ2_AL6Gf6bqPZjXPhA4hRg4M48uwf8uxvVNOdoJf_dl2T98qXAdcbw8EOuLY9gTeM2Y2qPVNSQmafdU3k2A/s320/tumblr_lbqkgo4QSv1qabm59o1_1280.jpg" width="205" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> An example of the acceptable likenesses of outlaws of the time.</i></span></span><br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">And
then there were the unexpected historical inconsistencies. Before
1880, many famous people, especially those “out west,” were
poorly or rarely photographed, or in some cases popular,
historically accepted images of them <u>were not them at all.</u> For many
recognizable western personalities, the best image we have today is a
picture of a picture of a picture. So desperate were the early
writers to get published, they often used poor quality or bogus
photographs to strengthen their chances of publication and improve on
subsequent sales. Most people, including law enforcement, had never
seen a clear photo of the most famous outlaws until they were propped
up, stiff and grimacing, outside some frontier morgue <i>after</i>
they had been eliminated from the Most Wanted list. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">And
there was lots of monkey business with the criminal corpses as
frontier photographers seized the opportunity to make a buck off of
these grisly images of bullet-riddled badmen-made-good. But actually,
there were practical reasons for obtaining good photographs of the
most famous outlaws, even dead. Besides the fact that the public
wanted to see and the papers wanted to show them, law enforcement
agencies all over needed them to clear look-alikes, satisfy ID
confusion between outlaw siblings, and to be sure sought-after
criminals with large rewards were actually dead. The public release
of these photos also helped promote the idea that crime did not pay. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Still
every mother's son loved to read cheap western publications which
sported sensational images of American criminals, dead or alive.
Dead, wild-eyed outlaws with their guns laid artistically across
their perforated chests were a bonus!</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbLkdRMcCmaqMU1yo75_mm9ZKfFXpQRIdpbDewe16Gp4QRRO-A2odYvYFmtxjIMtAwQpmVdH9WUgWKGPW9RbuuhGdpVUPLpzxJXEIExTIVbgRoiFJTQA7-5iUlVY8SwOcYf_bD5ItoCaE/s1600/JESSE+JAMES+DEAD_drunk_redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="617" data-original-width="746" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbLkdRMcCmaqMU1yo75_mm9ZKfFXpQRIdpbDewe16Gp4QRRO-A2odYvYFmtxjIMtAwQpmVdH9WUgWKGPW9RbuuhGdpVUPLpzxJXEIExTIVbgRoiFJTQA7-5iUlVY8SwOcYf_bD5ItoCaE/s320/JESSE+JAMES+DEAD_drunk_redcd.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">In
this collection was only one</span> such photo which I acquired for
soon-to-be obvious reasons. Once again the seller had no idea what it
was, and to me it looked a lot like <b>Jesse James</b>. Since I had already
acquired around a dozen James family related tintypes, from the same
seller, I could not pass on it, even if there were some “problems”
with it.</span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">I
have thought about it a lot, even talked with an undertaker, trying
to satisfy myself about the anomalies. In the meantime it got a lot
more complicated with the reading of <span style="font-size: x-large;">JESSE: A Novel of the Outlaw
Jesse James, by Max McCoy.</span> I had missed it completely, when McCoy
released this captivating book in 1999, which did not make a huge
splash in history. And it's a good thing it didn't. Because McCoy made the whole thing up and led many of us, who trusted him astray.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBiIxncsd-aFeg4Vv7ITDyXFyloeuYrzF1HwdqV3Iz_SKXfwF5A4nNQmsOUhO5_5q4rpKpZWaWzgBawMwOGpT4fp8SK7as4Ax4-tXRgCWN7CY4pqPyTW-w99LoT1duWxwA4M1Mx6dVHvQ/s1600/mccoy+jesse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="356" data-original-width="433" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBiIxncsd-aFeg4Vv7ITDyXFyloeuYrzF1HwdqV3Iz_SKXfwF5A4nNQmsOUhO5_5q4rpKpZWaWzgBawMwOGpT4fp8SK7as4Ax4-tXRgCWN7CY4pqPyTW-w99LoT1duWxwA4M1Mx6dVHvQ/s1600/mccoy+jesse.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">IF
you are interested in <b>Jesse James,</b> or the supposed (original) author
of this book, <b>Mark Twain</b>, or just want to read the most convincing
guerrilla soldier's account of the Civil War (that I have
encountered) then this book is sure to grab you as it did me.</span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">In
a nutshell, according to McCoy's story, Jesse James
approached Mark Twain long after his supposed demise, and gave his
personal account of his life to be written and published by Mark
Twain... </span>“when the coast was clear,” we assume. It is a very convincing account, and given the shameless, well received lies Mark Twain published, McCoy should damned proud of himself.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">It was a killer. In every respect. The condition and the
circumstances surrounding McCoy's incredible "find" suggest a possible
legal entanglement, and even a fire, and a rescue from it, and
certainly damage and a loss of pages in the manuscript.But of course, much later he came out and admitted the whole thing was a hoax created when he was suffering from a a sort of writer's slump. In fact Max McCoy claims he doesn't even remember writing the story.</span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">You
will have to read the book</span> to answer your multiple questions about
how all this transpired, because I need to get to the meat of my part
of the story.
According to McCoy's tease, which he admits was a hoax, Jesse
James successfully faked his death with the help of his wife and the
Ford brothers, (James's cousins) who had been offered a generous reward to deliver him dead. Very handily, <span style="font-size: large;"><b>John Thomas Samuel</b></span>, a
younger half-brother of the most Wanted Man in America, just happened
to die from an old gunshot wound and was conveniently laid in his
place. The rest was fake history.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>John
Thomas Samuel</b> even favored Jesse in appearance and general
description, and since very few people had ever seen the outlaw, and
only one somewhat recent photo of him was in circulation, and (like
Jesse) the corpse sported a full beard which helped to disguise him
for any skeptics, it was a smooth deception. Never questioned, the
switch miraculously gave Jesse James a chance for a new start in
life. According to the story, it required Jesse's wife and family to
move away and start their own life without him- in Kansas City. This was an
acceptable option compared to the life they had.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">To
add to the illusion, </span>the book is damn well written, although
seemingly not Victorian enough to be from Twain's pen. Expletives and
other profane situations in JESSE seem to be major exceptions to
Twain's otherwise fairly Midwestern propriety. And up till now, nobody
knew what Jesse James might say if he had the chance. But I propose
that even Jesse would not have formed some of these thoughts and
words... in many ways he was more chivalrous than Mark Twain... and
it would take a day to make all those points, so I would rather make
my argument for what the wonderful manuscript that McCoy published
<i>was</i>. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Max
McCoy readily connected the manuscript with Twain's biographer <b>Albert
Bigelow Paine, </b>establishing what everyone now calls plausible deniability. In other words, Paine, the bad guy of Twain lore, wrote it. Kind of like the Devil made me do it. IF Twain had somehow met with Jesse James, he would
have <i>handwritten</i> the notes and even the final manuscript, to then be transcribed. The
fact that McCoy claimed that he worked from a badly damaged, <i>typed</i> manuscript
brings a third chef into the stew. (But there only ONE!) The book was written to make every
impression that it was a joint effort, if not somewhat contentious,
between Mark Twain and Jesse James, but that could have been only
part of the evolution of this manuscript. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Then it laid fallow for
almost one hundred years. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Many details are related by James (or
whomever) which are little known facts, and almost impossible to have
been recorded by any other than a James family member.</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> It
seems unlikely and almost impossible for this detailed, introspective
confessional to have been a product of some Twentieth Century
researcher. The age of the typed story, mildly edited by McCoy,
placed its origins long before this kind of exhaustive research had
become a standard in historical biography. <span style="font-size: x-large;">And frankly few writers
then (or now) could have conjured up the stink of war and the smell
of black powder which reeks from this unpretentious account. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Too bad it was all a lie. It
is a masterful work that reads believably as the forging of these two American
legends... “the greatest in their lines” as James
supposedly remarked at their first meeting. Since it is NOT them, and
not a legitimate collaboration, then the creator of this ruse is to
be adored and congratulated. One HELL of a storyteller. It is a work of genius on several
levels, and stands on its own.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSuS2sUDIIfE37l117s5gzOBRrEStG8jrHGyy3ci2YJbu_zetJMMR69q0lU9ZtFNMMnb-PZByWh4qB44LaNJCrpHZ9jcLv49anmBbIpxzZcRCHIBEnww18nwb7FhfQ3M5F8nZqkf2F-FI/s1600/front+page.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="333" data-original-width="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSuS2sUDIIfE37l117s5gzOBRrEStG8jrHGyy3ci2YJbu_zetJMMR69q0lU9ZtFNMMnb-PZByWh4qB44LaNJCrpHZ9jcLv49anmBbIpxzZcRCHIBEnww18nwb7FhfQ3M5F8nZqkf2F-FI/s1600/front+page.bmp" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Still, I am hard-headed, and McCoy turned me on to something valuable here, a very intriguing theory about Jesse James's faked death..
let's go back</span> to the last time we saw Jesse. In the coffin. There
must have been dozens of photographs made of Jesse during that famous session after his
assassination. Supposedly <b>Bob Ford</b> killed Jesse with a .44 caliber
pistol, sending a large projectile, at almost point blank. It is hard
to image the small amount of damage done to the forehead of the
deceased. The baby face of the bearded man looks to be in his
twenties. Jesse was a hardened 35. Think 50 in human terms. And
<b>Jesse had very high, very prominent cheekbones, totally missing after
death!</b> Jesse also had a long turned up nose, with a substantial bulb
on the end, totally <b>missing after death!</b> Jesse had thin hair, and a
receding hairline, conveniently covered by a beautiful head of hair,
after death.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg840aEvqF9-ZP8XtdBKC3vdRVfopl8Uvawr9oKEm68c_qJwZLVC62JkNKS8vcRncKexG6E4WuAF2dXTIl9Gk38AZeuVkuLdeegj7ta-8LopABKlg6sWx1fqOuI_JDFIjwe_uln6QT9BO0/s1600/-photo-of-Jesse-James.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="547" data-original-width="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg840aEvqF9-ZP8XtdBKC3vdRVfopl8Uvawr9oKEm68c_qJwZLVC62JkNKS8vcRncKexG6E4WuAF2dXTIl9Gk38AZeuVkuLdeegj7ta-8LopABKlg6sWx1fqOuI_JDFIjwe_uln6QT9BO0/s1600/-photo-of-Jesse-James.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"> An authentic photograph, known in antique circles as a "CDV" of Jesse James.</span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">But
that is not all.</span> Not only was his face either obscured by facial hair
or just not right, those who prepared his body for burial were
careful to arrange his hands in each photo so the missing digit on
his left hand could not be seen. Because it was not missing! They did however rip his shirt open
to display “old” Civil War wounds... which were right <b>where...
brother John Thomas had been shot as well. </b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXWZMEblLr_BxXTTTDIpYj0dyuJY1EK0pOIuu8cfQHxvDJFnhHEKkWdi8oenKmPRZun8mOoVknbad2OvCgAPMV3Ms6BulH7qQPb6cBWD4UJYnKR31Hdo5DbQNflY9PNQEQi7Sz7maejjk/s1600/JESSE+JAMES+DEAD+page_redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="715" data-original-width="1008" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXWZMEblLr_BxXTTTDIpYj0dyuJY1EK0pOIuu8cfQHxvDJFnhHEKkWdi8oenKmPRZun8mOoVknbad2OvCgAPMV3Ms6BulH7qQPb6cBWD4UJYnKR31Hdo5DbQNflY9PNQEQi7Sz7maejjk/s640/JESSE+JAMES+DEAD+page_redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i> All images of James are accepted as authentic, </i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>except mine in the middle, which is relatively unknown.</i></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">You
can't make this stuff up.</span> Look for yourself... And then there is my
photo. I bought this because it looked like a dead guy... who could
be mistaken for Jesse James. Propped up in his burial suit, hair
mashed from being crammed into a casket that was too short, (or later
into a body bag for transport) his ill fitting clothes look like
somebody struggled to dress him and then gave up... and took the photos in
a rush, but why? Better photos had been taken, when he had first been
brought in, his shirt “still bloody” from the shooting. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWip66qCnM_OhP-2qU2HK2NpGOdkbMD0WSBRXJd09GPvUcVpA06vxoSaDtlwhf4oSqlYQuQddrl2VQSMHp346brCg1zZWJPu1RtX0gf1yVd-UOG-dK3DUFwUwocNtCOY4hL6_3KG7T3Zw/s1600/fingerprints_edited-1.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="411" data-original-width="473" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWip66qCnM_OhP-2qU2HK2NpGOdkbMD0WSBRXJd09GPvUcVpA06vxoSaDtlwhf4oSqlYQuQddrl2VQSMHp346brCg1zZWJPu1RtX0gf1yVd-UOG-dK3DUFwUwocNtCOY4hL6_3KG7T3Zw/s1600/fingerprints_edited-1.bmp" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> It looks
like somebody wiped a bloody hand on his left shoulder, as if trying
to create the impression of violence. But the individual finger prints are easily
observed. Someone, probably a relative had cleaned him up and
prepared him to be photographed for posterity. But a large caliber
bullet from behind should have left considerable damage at the exit
hole. Pleasant faced “Jesse” sports a moderate gash above his
left eye. In more probability, it was a much smaller bullet, and
according to the book, applied after death. The whole family was in
it up to their lawless eyeballs, or at least up to their cunning
smirks. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">If
in fact </span>they were part of a body-switch plan to release Jesse from
his tortured life, they would have known how important it was to
deceive and not raise suspicions. And getting convincing photos was
important to satisfy the authorities. Many a Pinkerton man would want
to inspect them. They craftily provided a body with a bullet that
could pass for the Southern folk hero. It was every bit as outlandish
as attacking the Northfield bank.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizVQ99nPmYoRDpnfTHV3VhqlNZI42MVqSPyKAXSj03cegOre664FZBZYpgTlXBd45n2Qc0ta39xUF5iNAEdgS_KAjC_eCvUESKtXNMJPpqLRrItLWUR3POMeTw4-YbC3O1Kxmpq64WZXQ/s1600/jesse+prepd+cropt.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="859" data-original-width="1248" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizVQ99nPmYoRDpnfTHV3VhqlNZI42MVqSPyKAXSj03cegOre664FZBZYpgTlXBd45n2Qc0ta39xUF5iNAEdgS_KAjC_eCvUESKtXNMJPpqLRrItLWUR3POMeTw4-YbC3O1Kxmpq64WZXQ/s640/jesse+prepd+cropt.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>Notice how Jesse's head is bent slightly to make</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i> him fit into a casket which was almost too small.</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Meanwhile
the differences between my dead Jesse and theirs are explainable.
Only the <b>dead man's ears</b> keep the two likenesses from being the exact
same man. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">It
is apparent from the first and most famous postmortem photos and
illustrations of James that they had trouble getting John
Thomas/Jesse's eyes to stay closed. This was not unusual. After the
body was put on ice, to retard deterioration, the skin became even
less flexible and whatever expression was achieved would become fixed
until professional techniques could be applied (And probably never were).</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">In
other words, a dead body sometimes has a life of its own. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">"Jesse"
was taken by train</span> to his home church in Clay County to be viewed by friends and family before burial. I
propose that my photo was taken by law enforcement on the other end
of the train ride, not for posterity but to finally provide a face
for their files. They may have been unaware or distrustful of the
first series of photos. </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He had probably been shipped in
a bag and laid on his ear and so his ear appears to stick to his
head... </span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> rather than angle out like it should when thawed out. </span>They sat him up, now hunched over and stiff from being
shipped in a iced down box, and put on his burial clothes. He looked far from natural. A frontier photographer would not care whether his eyes were
closed or staring him in the face... as my Jesse sleepily tries to
do. They just wanted proof... that the most wanted outlaw in history
was permanently retired. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">I'm
sure some lawmen later studied the photographs and were still not
satisfied. Nor should they have been. But there was no way they were
going to pursue their suspicions. And how could they? The evidence was
buried, they still had no likeness of Jesse James to compare to, and
John Thomas Samuel was unavailable for comment. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Very
few people knew</span> about Jesse's half-brother who had been struggling for life at
home. He had been wounded at a party, almost died, went into a coma,
then recovered, then, according to the book, (and unknown to the
outside world) he suddenly died after some time passed. And here
opportunity presented itself, to a desperate and devious clan. The
Samuels had always been a very remote, private network of
counterculture. There was a network of deadly protection surrounding
the Samuel household. Several detectives had gone there never to be
seen alive again. When the body was interred on the property near the
house, that would have been the appropriate and least accessible
thing (for inquiry) they could have done. And if John Thomas got up and walked out, nobody
would know or care.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoNHADIHhEL2TxoCdQ4q9eKfe7SJSEC6bI6qEQXOAl7rWcJvs70rfZ8-JeFWmpVkHcr5a9V9y-tPU8R2BN_MlM0fvhRoTJ_YlU_PdTFS5g-Gz39yWZti_jOA3HCADauUL-SbwBR1KDuZM/s1600/JESSE+switched+PAGE_JT+SAMUEL+PIC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="814" data-original-width="1185" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoNHADIHhEL2TxoCdQ4q9eKfe7SJSEC6bI6qEQXOAl7rWcJvs70rfZ8-JeFWmpVkHcr5a9V9y-tPU8R2BN_MlM0fvhRoTJ_YlU_PdTFS5g-Gz39yWZti_jOA3HCADauUL-SbwBR1KDuZM/s640/JESSE+switched+PAGE_JT+SAMUEL+PIC.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> So far, I have found only one photo of "John Thomas Samuel" </span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">(upper right). </span></i></span><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">Compare! None of these faces look like</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> the authentic Jesse James (right-center & bottom right). If the</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> old man is Jesse, his nose grew some (plausible) but he</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> appears to have the expected triangular face and those</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> high cheek bones.</span></i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw36zf0L2iUlVdWtYxi-sxi92nAVjWzfHuOz0zVrVcOcLqKPobbMP2DHDxqyvTfZd4HNwICq53SsC804ANPI61rm6bw8nSGOd7d9RJFb5cMUrQYIxAj5R0Uup0JaHvYyPrvlMQydE42w8/s1600/JESSE+JR+AND+JOHN+THOMAS+SAMUEL_edited-1.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="685" data-original-width="460" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw36zf0L2iUlVdWtYxi-sxi92nAVjWzfHuOz0zVrVcOcLqKPobbMP2DHDxqyvTfZd4HNwICq53SsC804ANPI61rm6bw8nSGOd7d9RJFb5cMUrQYIxAj5R0Uup0JaHvYyPrvlMQydE42w8/s640/JESSE+JR+AND+JOHN+THOMAS+SAMUEL_edited-1.bmp" width="428" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></i></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">The only known photo of John Thomas was taken with</span></i></span></span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> Jesse's son (left), born in 1975,</span></i></span> who appears to be in his</span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> mid-forties. This would make John Thomas 59.</span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> Jesse James would be 73.</span></i></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">According
to McCoy's book, It is John Thomas Samuel buried in Jesse's grave...
or was, as he was exhumed and moved to be buried next to Zee, Jesse's
wife, after she passed away. Then exhumed again much later to compare
his DNA to descendants. The DNA tests were positive, only proving
that the remains were a match to the James family... but it could
have been Jesse or John Thomas, or any male offspring of Zerelda
Cole James Simms Samuel.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Could it be that even though McCoy told a whopper, part of his account about James is true? <span style="font-size: large;">Even</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span>the truth
about Jesse James? If not, whatever happened to John Thomas Samuel?
If he lived until 1932 as his family claimed, how is it that there
are so few photographs of him? </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEQrkrYpZ5Cum_QwihmZQ9O3_JtGwBiUv_7JMcibT3E4FEzSLWWVy-mcdBqkBxro8k_daN6XcF0JqEzBuoWviRwBcS3SNZPlnabzaTWcmkGtCxzpLlRsetg65kW6da8N2NxBv7YNSyJjo/s1600/Brothers+Jesse+and+John++PAGE_edited-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="713" data-original-width="988" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEQrkrYpZ5Cum_QwihmZQ9O3_JtGwBiUv_7JMcibT3E4FEzSLWWVy-mcdBqkBxro8k_daN6XcF0JqEzBuoWviRwBcS3SNZPlnabzaTWcmkGtCxzpLlRsetg65kW6da8N2NxBv7YNSyJjo/s640/Brothers+Jesse+and+John++PAGE_edited-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><i> You have to wonder, how these discrepancies have been ignored so long...</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLw833JPZ4rkzJnhMYMMpusc84iDtA559lOCT5B0YfYDDoLJUe5TPyBaZ0i2iSTVnNb1RK8ZdmLTb4B6ZDghEMCyEDT1TDcv82e77-mtGAgi7EgvZ8HjowjifvCikAJ9YPZQTnfth75cU/s1600/WM+PINKERTON+CAB++page+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="861" data-original-width="1256" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLw833JPZ4rkzJnhMYMMpusc84iDtA559lOCT5B0YfYDDoLJUe5TPyBaZ0i2iSTVnNb1RK8ZdmLTb4B6ZDghEMCyEDT1TDcv82e77-mtGAgi7EgvZ8HjowjifvCikAJ9YPZQTnfth75cU/s640/WM+PINKERTON+CAB++page+redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> William Pinkerton, the detective blamed for the tragic explosion at the James/Samuels home, where little Archie Samuels was killed. He later confided that he intended to burn the house down.</span></i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: medium;">McCoy's elaborate tale really hit the spot, for Twain and Jesse James enthusiasts. Although Samuel Clemens had spent most of his time in Missouri across the state in Marion County, he had a lot in common with the outlaw. They had both grown up in Missouri river towns, he on the Mississippi, James on the Missouri. Raised in a slave-holding state, they both enlisted in local Confederate militias during the Civil War. Both claimed the discomfort of having killed men during the war and had trouble with wartime atrocities they witnessed. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXBmVR_yjooUBgC8KSY7ileODNdHrYP9Oh75lyT1tH50mnmmg588pJ-MAjfO4e1yJdyPhy9yXcNJkygJGGQ6kjyI8E1VHhhDgm2TGOotsPVIGMB5JkG8A8xCfE6AevBZ92QiDjUiH9T8k/s1600/JAMES+TWAIN+PAINE+MAP_redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="710" data-original-width="1104" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXBmVR_yjooUBgC8KSY7ileODNdHrYP9Oh75lyT1tH50mnmmg588pJ-MAjfO4e1yJdyPhy9yXcNJkygJGGQ6kjyI8E1VHhhDgm2TGOotsPVIGMB5JkG8A8xCfE6AevBZ92QiDjUiH9T8k/s640/JAMES+TWAIN+PAINE+MAP_redcd.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> The X's are Confederate guerilla engagements by either Quantrill or Bloody Bill Anderson. The money signs represent bank or train robberies by the James-Younger Gang.</span></i></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Most of the engagements </span>and atrocities committed by Bloody Bill Anderson and his guerillas, which included Jesse, were right between the two men's hometowns. Half a dozen of the guerilla attacks were just a days ride from Hannibal, where Mark Twain based many of his writings. Twain openly described himself as a "border ruffian from the state of Missouri." Thus both men hated the Pinkertons, politicians, and neither had much use for preachers. All through JESSE, one can read Mark Twain's sentiments about war, slavery and the human race through Jesse's dialogue.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: medium;">IF Twain met Jesse James as an old
man and agreed to write his story, IF he wrote it or at least started
it, IF Paine finished and typed it, then what Max McCoy published as
a curiosity was in fact one of the most significant manuscripts of
the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries. But alas, it was just out of McCoy's devious mind. And as wonderful as it is, it is bound to generate a whole knew generation of Jesse James mythology. I totally enjoyed the novel and it drove me crazy about six months until learned the truth about it. McCoy really created a stinker. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">And
deep down, I think he knew it. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">By
the way, <b>Max McCoy</b> is the creator of <b>Indiana Jones</b> and the author of
several novels about him... and has written many books himself. After
that kind of success, he might understandably have let a dead dog lie. But it was too tempting... a story, that if it had been true, would have been the story of the 20th century.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: medium;">Later he has published groundbreaking information about Albert Bigelow Paine, and his astounding indiscretions, which you can read about below. </span>
</div>
</div>
Russell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964639905263397632.post-59855586732716851672018-11-03T19:28:00.003-07:002018-11-25T07:27:57.486-08:00Mark Twain's least known obsession<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Most lovers of things Twain</span> are aware of his love of Joan of Arc, her, her legend, the book he wrote about her. His love of women in general. He rarely missed an opportunity to edify women in society. Twain loved to tear down the mighty and encourage the less powerful; to balance the scales of social justice. He loved underdogs. Travel. Adventure, as long as he didn't have to sweat. Obviously, he loved to write. He loved making fun... of people, himself... but he is not famous for his most absurd satires about ... detectives. And there is a reason. It was not his best work.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Still, among this collection, which I believe came from the files of America's most beloved author, were a number of photographic images of the Pinkerton men. Allan Pinkerton founded the predecessor of the Secret Service when Abraham Lincoln was elected and spied for him during the Civil War, and eventually started an independent detective agency, which became famous the world over. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI_yutuQp9LaANu0YGgiYErblbRwpWAUJmfZfQsyMO1juUA4szaYCfDCr_GgBajCVzvVtmbnOojRAiRnwN_v9WqQDj1c7gPG3-39CiA1eKgA2Ys-XHLP5uKqI1QjgKh_614IOwWmvH2Bc/s1600/CIVIL+WAR+PINKERTONS_redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="799" data-original-width="999" height="510" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI_yutuQp9LaANu0YGgiYErblbRwpWAUJmfZfQsyMO1juUA4szaYCfDCr_GgBajCVzvVtmbnOojRAiRnwN_v9WqQDj1c7gPG3-39CiA1eKgA2Ys-XHLP5uKqI1QjgKh_614IOwWmvH2Bc/s640/CIVIL+WAR+PINKERTONS_redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-size: x-large;">Originally named Samuel Clemens,</span> Twain may have learned of them through his brother Orion Clemens, a Lincoln appointee who served as Secretary of the Nevada Territory. A Southerner at heart, Sam stayed aloof of the war, after serving shortly as an officer in the Confederacy when U. S. Grant invaded his station. He immediately sought safer climes when the shooting started.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">As a Missourian</span>, he would have followed the adventures of the Pinkertons during their most deadly and frustrating assignment; the pursuit of the Southern outlaw Jesse James and his gang. We have reason today to believe that Mark Twain not only met Jesse James but may have been entrusted to tell his life story. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So it would not have been strange to find photos of these two groups among this huge collection, even though Mark Twain was consistently sarcastic if not downright cynical about the Pinkertons and their kind. Several lesser known Twain novels made a public mockery of all detectivedom; The Stolen White Elephant; Simon Wheeler: Detective. He even made Tom Sawyer into a detective! He seemed to love heckling the legendary lawmen, even when they were probably tracking him during his bankrupt years- for his exasperated debtors. HOW he obtained such personal images.... of Pinkerton's sons as youths, even Pinkerton's daughter... is a mystery. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCi453kEpveEPTUdmasfHyLlJ8DRtZMK3YtoG73huI7Sub80p33980t6x43LSRTazQkhVxkblpybtglFdbHR7tb0fGA9Zuzfiowy2mVrIolJfEk-90NTD8wL_lwfksgjOWQEMobY66h6g/s1600/PINKERTON+BOYS+page_redecd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="1356" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCi453kEpveEPTUdmasfHyLlJ8DRtZMK3YtoG73huI7Sub80p33980t6x43LSRTazQkhVxkblpybtglFdbHR7tb0fGA9Zuzfiowy2mVrIolJfEk-90NTD8wL_lwfksgjOWQEMobY66h6g/s640/PINKERTON+BOYS+page_redecd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My guess is that if Mark Twain, one of the most famous writers in the world, contacted the Pinkertons, expressing his intention to write a detective novel, or perhaps a biography of the agency's founder, they would have seen the inquiry as a huge public relations opportunity. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Photographs of the Pinkertons were not available to the public, for obvious reasons. Photographs of their families even less. Only someone of impeccable reputation would have been made privy to such things... only someone like Mark Twain. Twain's closest friend and official handler, Albert Bigelow Paine, later specialized in biographies of the most important contemporary Americans... and even did a bio of the famous Texas Ranger Bill McDonald, and might easily have negotiated with the second or third generation of Pinkertons when the glory days were over, to do a biography of the world's most famous detective. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">However the images found their way to an Ebay auction, along with hundreds of other rare and important Victorian tintypes, we will never know. But the chance to look into a Pinkerton family photo album has never been seen before. Anywhere.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh00dmxG0-6kPXhfv9KpIbe0X8A5y6zNdc5CF-zgZEesdr8XondBpMlU0VVwCTwdxWGiSA368ZKRJKe6uYiXYlwnhugWRQEJ9q-3cghqfpSoA0Co59dge6jBPEGilMsS_xCmTVo-AedVCw/s1600/ALLAN+PINKERTON+Flame+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1001" data-original-width="1378" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh00dmxG0-6kPXhfv9KpIbe0X8A5y6zNdc5CF-zgZEesdr8XondBpMlU0VVwCTwdxWGiSA368ZKRJKe6uYiXYlwnhugWRQEJ9q-3cghqfpSoA0Co59dge6jBPEGilMsS_xCmTVo-AedVCw/s640/ALLAN+PINKERTON+Flame+redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Two tintypes</span> which feature the legendary detective, Allan Pinkerton. The one in the center is a rare image of Pinkerton, after his stroke, I believe because of the frailty in his normally menacing eyes and the unpretentious grimace. The other, what is sure to be a controversial pose with a young Charlie Siringo, maybe before they were even supposed to have met! I am proposing that Siringo sought out The Pinkerton agency, perhaps as an informant, even before he released his first book. In the book he claimed to have more than casual knowledge about Billy the Kid and his gang. He may have posed with the famous sleuth as a budding writer, never imagining that someday he would be working for him as a detective, in fact one of the agency's most trusted. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtT_YlW4RdUSezRRicaxj9XxiWqPiUZDn5L01B1BY9Y7XioIAoEDga8c_JWG4xBSXgi1HUWwKxALYpFCi_JbaXDsaQdwfP0b4RhRlo82X7vWUgJqlFHS4jGukhilPJkiZz7pAUOr-GTiU/s1600/SIRINGO+DUDE_PAGE+redcd_.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="738" data-original-width="1067" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtT_YlW4RdUSezRRicaxj9XxiWqPiUZDn5L01B1BY9Y7XioIAoEDga8c_JWG4xBSXgi1HUWwKxALYpFCi_JbaXDsaQdwfP0b4RhRlo82X7vWUgJqlFHS4jGukhilPJkiZz7pAUOr-GTiU/s640/SIRINGO+DUDE_PAGE+redcd_.bmp" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg79ucZ-ApmDTM2UKdTY3ndOVcx_tc6Bjp6-E_-V8e6CRtNJ-td3MOBzibDMO_efKEpKmeMYMyznsh8zFNZcldBhp5NAOeyDScduGNdAt7_9MOoDm9lGLoj8pVsVcd0YxvR7vAP_rfJLHY/s1600/ROBERT+PINKERTON+YOUTH+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="883" data-original-width="1272" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg79ucZ-ApmDTM2UKdTY3ndOVcx_tc6Bjp6-E_-V8e6CRtNJ-td3MOBzibDMO_efKEpKmeMYMyznsh8zFNZcldBhp5NAOeyDScduGNdAt7_9MOoDm9lGLoj8pVsVcd0YxvR7vAP_rfJLHY/s640/ROBERT+PINKERTON+YOUTH+redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPnZQtB5bX4-BByd_Z52Vs1L_rUMMsGS4EH1EkCEfoPkRaI2mvx_1jEPzX0S7m7Jljj20hNEUQNQ90AOvUcYuV-IPa3I19knkEUmAWqvA5PIzyb4ii06O8ogFjuZKGCdCL3wDOuAaYhv0/s1600/WM+PINKERTON+CAB++page+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="861" data-original-width="1256" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPnZQtB5bX4-BByd_Z52Vs1L_rUMMsGS4EH1EkCEfoPkRaI2mvx_1jEPzX0S7m7Jljj20hNEUQNQ90AOvUcYuV-IPa3I19knkEUmAWqvA5PIzyb4ii06O8ogFjuZKGCdCL3wDOuAaYhv0/s640/WM+PINKERTON+CAB++page+redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> One of the few large cabinet cards in the collection... in the middle and the face on left enlarged for comparison. William was the bad ass, Robert more the office type.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj666-7sDwTzG839-lF5czAZRCPJpUJoy6ojjZjJyVYbJxCnL1Noz6sE-NotadE36NGyK6Rg8uVpiH29tNWSxtUGd_XMGRjAhxIp0YWcI6AZganNTSzy9XE-mJhzOjXXRMEEu62Q3zJ7dk/s1600/scott+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="466" data-original-width="741" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj666-7sDwTzG839-lF5czAZRCPJpUJoy6ojjZjJyVYbJxCnL1Noz6sE-NotadE36NGyK6Rg8uVpiH29tNWSxtUGd_XMGRjAhxIp0YWcI6AZganNTSzy9XE-mJhzOjXXRMEEu62Q3zJ7dk/s640/scott+redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh60jtQJahHH-y_VeQgh5bEVG2L4ozJadPO9QUge9LuS7JSpdb554E1cp4AthtQhI8bDp5PYFk_6gBAfUrEjQkzC9f3TdrencFb2LrFoxXeS0Vv_giufSwsQ_stDWh-2_fiho6U_mpWp_0/s1600/1905+PINKERTONS+SIRINGO+SAYERS_redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="781" data-original-width="1085" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh60jtQJahHH-y_VeQgh5bEVG2L4ozJadPO9QUge9LuS7JSpdb554E1cp4AthtQhI8bDp5PYFk_6gBAfUrEjQkzC9f3TdrencFb2LrFoxXeS0Vv_giufSwsQ_stDWh-2_fiho6U_mpWp_0/s640/1905+PINKERTONS+SIRINGO+SAYERS_redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">This seems</span> to be a gathering of ex-Pinkertons. Charlie Siringo wrote a "tell all" after retiring, and then his detective books were systematically blocked by Pinkerton lawyers, who in one case had an entire publication burned, because of non-disclosure clauses in his contract. Siringo became a bit of a Pinkerton critic and skeptic himself. He was finally allowed to release his memoirs, but was forbidden to use real names or reveal real faces of his cohorts. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFXanRjlIIQBXn9T0Z9U1dj9jSBqyVDQ51gxBEpLftWNXKbQ03ZiLHJkRkQKSPzAn15f4bs1BEjHbP4WXIw9uSFU3tEwaRNoA7tu4rBX64s0nHRCa5TtPBjvuqLX-p9QB3sP_DUxUeyxM/s1600/JOAN+PINKERTON+page_redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="587" data-original-width="860" height="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFXanRjlIIQBXn9T0Z9U1dj9jSBqyVDQ51gxBEpLftWNXKbQ03ZiLHJkRkQKSPzAn15f4bs1BEjHbP4WXIw9uSFU3tEwaRNoA7tu4rBX64s0nHRCa5TtPBjvuqLX-p9QB3sP_DUxUeyxM/s640/JOAN+PINKERTON+page_redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> The girl in this center image looked very much like Allan Pinkerton's daughter Joan, who married well, and was protected from all the dangers the Pinkertons thrived on. Yes, she married into the Chalmers of Allis-Chalmers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The personal nature </span>of several of these tintypes suggests more of a familial relationship between the Pinkertons and the collector of these images. The range from the Civil War to the Turn of the Century, which suggests a longstanding, if not longsuffering connection is a rare glimpse into the first 40 years of the world's most famous detective agency, no matter who was at odds with them!</span></div>
Russell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964639905263397632.post-876887023400205242018-11-01T20:47:00.000-07:002018-11-29T06:24:55.853-08:00Mark Twain's Girls<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Perhaps the most precious</span> grouping in this extraordinary collection of Victorian images is this one... of the Clemens girls. To have stumbled upon these treasures has been a great thrill and privilege, and in the process has required that I research so much about them that I have begun to feel like a member of the family.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So let me introduce you.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNGugrtMN0TiSL-6eFJ2SNF_0Th-zOzxjgJt0vU8FlbT_0eOyWkv_4nKDvGeMOetIDSYUHmSQ6WTT4Fk_Rs6IcXj2-9ClVvbUFzsGwb45-7GUr2aK77GlT-eE2WOai9ZHaIUSLXBoz2RE/s1600/SUSY+CLARA++7-5+PAGE+REDCD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="586" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNGugrtMN0TiSL-6eFJ2SNF_0Th-zOzxjgJt0vU8FlbT_0eOyWkv_4nKDvGeMOetIDSYUHmSQ6WTT4Fk_Rs6IcXj2-9ClVvbUFzsGwb45-7GUr2aK77GlT-eE2WOai9ZHaIUSLXBoz2RE/s640/SUSY+CLARA++7-5+PAGE+REDCD.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> My tintype of the two is the one in the middle, and enlarged for comparison.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Susy was the second </span>born to the Clemens, after her brother Langdon, who died in infancy. She too was fragile, but her beauty and wisdom made her a favorite of Sam Clemens, who perceived that she had similar creative gifts to his. Clara was the high strung child, somewhat rebellious, who struggled for attention as the middle child. Susy would die as a young woman and never married, and Clara would fall in love with a young musician while studying music in Europe, and would eventually marry him. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVpRYWJlk99PGtmHBPfjuQaSuN0xCr8fKtbU3v7rIEHEVjD_BKVvVlVqC7VlDq2Ff-wJlPfW0iPBtCDwYbrMr5bRIiz8hpc9HyPsO-BUckK6A4AKHANkBNVfM_PXoVlwBr_S2gXrhbKGA/s1600/jean+%2526+susy+clemens+PAGE_REDCD_edited-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="626" data-original-width="866" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVpRYWJlk99PGtmHBPfjuQaSuN0xCr8fKtbU3v7rIEHEVjD_BKVvVlVqC7VlDq2Ff-wJlPfW0iPBtCDwYbrMr5bRIiz8hpc9HyPsO-BUckK6A4AKHANkBNVfM_PXoVlwBr_S2gXrhbKGA/s640/jean+%2526+susy+clemens+PAGE_REDCD_edited-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> The oldest and youngest Clemens girls.</i></span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Susy's sweetness is as obvious as Jean's robustness. Susy was the perfect big sister, a kind of little mother who ably led the other two. Tomboyish and hot- tempered, Jean developed epilepsy and spent a great deal of time in treatment at special facilities far from home.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDUyn9gJsvwB3cgRcw0Itkk5k3PpnoP3RnZpBhhVXesRozlhZIz64ivda8wouw0y71qET4Fu4I_LFLFFDkCOGfrmN9WNhoYU4r-ciZKG84BB1KRKQY5KA26kT2w-Loc205u0SG3i0n-3w/s1600/lil+CLARA_REDCD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="674" data-original-width="886" height="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDUyn9gJsvwB3cgRcw0Itkk5k3PpnoP3RnZpBhhVXesRozlhZIz64ivda8wouw0y71qET4Fu4I_LFLFFDkCOGfrmN9WNhoYU4r-ciZKG84BB1KRKQY5KA26kT2w-Loc205u0SG3i0n-3w/s640/lil+CLARA_REDCD.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> <i><span style="font-size: small;">I could not decide which of the Clemens daughters this was.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> One day I say Jean, the next day Clara. If it is Jean,</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> it is the prettiest picture of her ever.</span></i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1vDv6eXSNm9nldLyseLbI8jt4KHvuwzBJHpkFabTuIoEk6GQBZHPW8zvK42NL_lV_2m0l4JtjnqfqACnEBQJzLCd29bpRH5IMP9P1cN37mdVpJexRYIXnU9KCvh2w157mHyR-ly5IY5g/s1600/LIVY-+CLARA-+GABRILOWITSCH+PAGE+REDCD.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="706" data-original-width="984" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1vDv6eXSNm9nldLyseLbI8jt4KHvuwzBJHpkFabTuIoEk6GQBZHPW8zvK42NL_lV_2m0l4JtjnqfqACnEBQJzLCd29bpRH5IMP9P1cN37mdVpJexRYIXnU9KCvh2w157mHyR-ly5IY5g/s640/LIVY-+CLARA-+GABRILOWITSCH+PAGE+REDCD.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></i><span style="font-size: small;"><i> Strictly chaperoned, Clara met Ossip, a Russian piano student, </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>in music class while living in Europe. I think they were quite</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> fond of each other early on, but Sam was so busy with his </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>research and business problems that Olivia spared him the drama.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">Clara tended to add and slough off weight all through her life.</span><i> </i><span style="font-size: large;">She was very thin as a child but plumped up as a pre-teen.. then growth spurts thinned her down until her metabolism slowed down and like her mother, she put on weight again as a young adult. Below she is in super-model form as she poses with her beloved music teacher (and matchmaker!) the celebrated Leschetiskzy.</span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_SeRNmyI0O5aAN6z5Uv29yxn89wiauaI_NCkPhMec5fZmgD8Z0qTL2zTZ1mgQ4pwBuGFUWXFmCJ9dxih1K73a4w-ulKH5K4Fbv6M_AEGsrKx_surSGXsczKIh_dBSxWDsY_EseZ3nbRg/s1600/CLARA+PIANO+TEACHER+LESCHETKZY+page_REDCD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="778" data-original-width="1104" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_SeRNmyI0O5aAN6z5Uv29yxn89wiauaI_NCkPhMec5fZmgD8Z0qTL2zTZ1mgQ4pwBuGFUWXFmCJ9dxih1K73a4w-ulKH5K4Fbv6M_AEGsrKx_surSGXsczKIh_dBSxWDsY_EseZ3nbRg/s640/CLARA+PIANO+TEACHER+LESCHETKZY+page_REDCD.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-size: small;"><i>Clara was a gifted singer and musician, and made it</i></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> her life's passion. But when you marry a world famous pianist, </i></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>your own music goals take the back seat.</i></span></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDTfoq4U1O0fzOfqe_kdJn_O3SVFrVPWv8VhmnnrWKwov8ZsPeGear6cDeLRjXf2aP1GNWW-tltGIXXJoV_OefkQOLpyP-OCPZ4tSQqcXY1VNRitZr5FaLygj_nhD-ch5mmxAwHlN8mvA/s1600/CLARA+clemens+AND+bo+OSSIP+page_REDCD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="809" data-original-width="1097" height="470" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDTfoq4U1O0fzOfqe_kdJn_O3SVFrVPWv8VhmnnrWKwov8ZsPeGear6cDeLRjXf2aP1GNWW-tltGIXXJoV_OefkQOLpyP-OCPZ4tSQqcXY1VNRitZr5FaLygj_nhD-ch5mmxAwHlN8mvA/s640/CLARA+clemens+AND+bo+OSSIP+page_REDCD.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Clara and Ossip pose, in winter garb, with </i></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Ossip's sister, I think. Here Clara has gained a few</i></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> pounds, but wears them well. This photo was made long</i></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> before they were married, which was almost in middle age, </i></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>at the end of Twain's life.</i></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">I have to say, it was the appearance of these two Europeans, <b>Grabrilowitch</b> and <b>Leschetiskzy,</b> each with unique faces,</span><i> </i><span style="font-size: large;">pupil and teacher, which convinced me without any doubt about the identities of the young women in these tintypes. Nice looking people are harder to sift, but with these two men there were just too many coincidences necessary for these people to be any body else.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><i><br /></i></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>This was a tough one... (the oval in the middle) I thought this </i></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>was Olivia for along time. The similarity between Olivia and</i></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> her daughters was truly vexing. But the dress is more turn </i></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>of the Century... </i></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">Susy was a young adult on her own for the last chapter in her life, attending school while the Clemenses toured Europe. She became sick and died while they were away. Perhaps there was more to it, but the Clemens were very private and protective of the Twain image. Hers was the first death in a string of losses which left Mark Twain devastated.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">Not long after, Olivia passed away from heart disease, and then just as Jean took the reins as woman of the house, she drowned in the bath tub one Christmas Eve, supposedly from an untimely epileptic seizure.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">Clara was happily married to Ossip, and they spent a lot of time in Russia. They had one daughter, whose life would be more tragic than any of them. I have often wondered how these precious images got away, and were lost to history, and fear they were in her possession when she died of a drug overdose in California. There is a very strong presence of Clara, her mother, in the tintypes... But then she lived the longest, so that would make since. And this collection includes a great deal that would have been in the care of A.B. Paine... until his death.... and then... who knows</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">We will probably never know. </span><i> </i></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i></span></span></span> </span></div>
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Russell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964639905263397632.post-8838211621424503692018-10-31T15:47:00.003-07:002018-10-31T18:44:14.762-07:00The OTHER Women- in the Twain Legend<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) LOVED women. Old ones, young ones... When his daughters were gone he informally adopted many young girls to run around with him. He called them his "angelfish." Perhaps the most famous of these was a child actress named Elsie Leslie. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4SNOk0xA6oSjnUMGR3hEI0h24sQMgWd1iDstpxM3J1-pIs7LCKhHr0_AJFejwCP2QJL2EF_UPr4tqNlXpMlPokiqOjXTbVMe8yp04IFRihN1A5UF5085to0C9DKYl_94HUjZgFddfHdE/s1600/ELSIE+LESLIE+page_edited-1+%25282%2529+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="563" data-original-width="1312" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4SNOk0xA6oSjnUMGR3hEI0h24sQMgWd1iDstpxM3J1-pIs7LCKhHr0_AJFejwCP2QJL2EF_UPr4tqNlXpMlPokiqOjXTbVMe8yp04IFRihN1A5UF5085to0C9DKYl_94HUjZgFddfHdE/s640/ELSIE+LESLIE+page_edited-1+%25282%2529+redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> This collection</span> has numerous tintypes featuring the wonderful women in Mark Twain's life, and especially the other women... his childhood girl friend, cousins, female consorts while gallivanting out in California. It is an amazing selection of Victorian women, and leaves no doubt that Sam Clemens was a connoisseur of beauty.</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: small;"> Mark Twain's first crush, and inspiration for the </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: small;">legendary Becky Thatcher of Tom Sawyer's neighborhood.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: small;"> This is a rare image of her when she was near the</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: small;"> age described in Twain's iconic tale.</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeuaL7BV9a_g6pMMyCMl7TUYI5bmOwbb1_Gu6us_kWll0LQW4fbrn4ZhVti39xPFR1LvNdqaxUCoADBEUHzQLyyfEuFkIY1wsspmF6TB30-Afl57AG0hhe455AjCP1LkBoIYirNuDiuQ0/s1600/ELLLA+CREEL+PAGE+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="713" data-original-width="1056" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeuaL7BV9a_g6pMMyCMl7TUYI5bmOwbb1_Gu6us_kWll0LQW4fbrn4ZhVti39xPFR1LvNdqaxUCoADBEUHzQLyyfEuFkIY1wsspmF6TB30-Afl57AG0hhe455AjCP1LkBoIYirNuDiuQ0/s640/ELLLA+CREEL+PAGE+redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;"> Ella Creel was Sam Clemens's cousin, and no </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;">doubt his first experience of shock and awe </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;">and infatuation with the opposite sex. </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<i><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ4Dm4rhVA2l3AMbMXwrugO59G1r8fmsxeDdjXjqmeWBj2hxSpHdcCOvICstdQsmVyH5NrWKfrgGD4z9GJR3g7o2xPhpKHDDXNnlk4ypUVH4LEwprqZBYH97ZjQqIdb_tGfEILe9yv-OQ/s1600/julia+bulette+page+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="621" data-original-width="957" height="415" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ4Dm4rhVA2l3AMbMXwrugO59G1r8fmsxeDdjXjqmeWBj2hxSpHdcCOvICstdQsmVyH5NrWKfrgGD4z9GJR3g7o2xPhpKHDDXNnlk4ypUVH4LEwprqZBYH97ZjQqIdb_tGfEILe9yv-OQ/s640/julia+bulette+page+redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>Perhaps the most famous madam in the west, Mark Twain</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i> no doubt knew Julia very early in his career when they</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i> both were operating their trades in Virginia City, Nevada.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;">Mine is the portrait on the left.</span> </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYD3fZFaS0-KR4TdYtDg5wAP6sWto9Sh2AbtDrnBCdE5bXBJvQeTk82lMlzRcjBOO2veEQrHNE_f12YU04icIIbqp3hmTmCNXW1jMuK-AFe-RS02GMJ4nwqHWTKiZI5JTdjPuD5ANzyrc/s1600/MENKEN+tin+pag+redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="484" data-original-width="910" height="340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYD3fZFaS0-KR4TdYtDg5wAP6sWto9Sh2AbtDrnBCdE5bXBJvQeTk82lMlzRcjBOO2veEQrHNE_f12YU04icIIbqp3hmTmCNXW1jMuK-AFe-RS02GMJ4nwqHWTKiZI5JTdjPuD5ANzyrc/s640/MENKEN+tin+pag+redcd.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i> The tintype in the middle started this whole avalanche</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i> of Twain's world. Mark Twain's most scandalous female </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>associate was Adah Menken of New Orleans; actress,</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i> singer,equestrian performer and writer, and probably </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>Confederate spy who befriended him while he</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i> covered her sensational shows in California... </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>She wanted him to write her biography.</i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh33Hk98bEqeOHBfhFflMjiklfoNrAM3Ejw-j1evtNfTahHukRC4OrCRoThoC5PzA9qxVFCmWXjrZ3cxACHydtK_D8ob12zSfJn18kG0qZkHOlMyIhu-KSE2JOoSkibgGrCFWN3Dm256K0/s1600/LIBBY+CUSTER+page+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="745" data-original-width="888" height="536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh33Hk98bEqeOHBfhFflMjiklfoNrAM3Ejw-j1evtNfTahHukRC4OrCRoThoC5PzA9qxVFCmWXjrZ3cxACHydtK_D8ob12zSfJn18kG0qZkHOlMyIhu-KSE2JOoSkibgGrCFWN3Dm256K0/s640/LIBBY+CUSTER+page+redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i> One of the most beautiful women </i></span><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"><i>in Twain's s</i></span>ocial </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>circle was Libby Custer, widow of famed Indian fighter</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i> General George Armstrong Custer. After his untimely</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i> death at the Battle of the Little Bighorn, Twain encouraged</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>her to write her memoirs, which she did. She named it </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>Tenting on the Plains, and Twain's publishing </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>company published it. </i></span></div>
</div>
Russell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964639905263397632.post-6285968896243564442018-10-31T09:22:00.000-07:002018-11-25T07:35:29.093-08:00THE ART CONNECTION<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">As an artist,</span> the collecting of these wonderful, historic tintypes was made doubly satisfying by the emergence of scores of images to do with artists... and especially American artists who I had personally admired. But even more exciting was, as big a cynic as Mark Twain was, he knew and loved some of my personal favorites. I cannot rule out that the artists in the "Twain collection" may have been assembled by his wife Olivia, as she was an art enthusiast, and in fact helped to found an art school in Hartford Connecticut.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Some has been written already as to the cultural affinity between the writings of Mark Twain and the canvases of Winslow Homer. I cannot find where he ever owned a single work by Homer, but publishers have married the two by using Homer's Americana on the covers of many of Twain's books.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQb9AONyg8vB_ZeFwO1VZN41XFKWB4CXWrQtH-MsYi0_PRrZtOCC43MC5ot5aXaI51JlgKRuqe7p4bKZO2-TG0A2cJpbEac0Ipo1I21huc0Tpta0FITLCfWaXW-1zMc8I34wJz6s7XymM/s1600/WINSLOW+HOMER+page++REDCD.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="713" data-original-width="1094" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQb9AONyg8vB_ZeFwO1VZN41XFKWB4CXWrQtH-MsYi0_PRrZtOCC43MC5ot5aXaI51JlgKRuqe7p4bKZO2-TG0A2cJpbEac0Ipo1I21huc0Tpta0FITLCfWaXW-1zMc8I34wJz6s7XymM/s640/WINSLOW+HOMER+page++REDCD.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-size: small;"><i>A strange, "up the nostril" shaved head view of </i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Winslow Homer (center), perhaps a tintype"selfie"!</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Several tintypes in this collection surfaced that appeared to be Winslow Homer, which I initially had struggled to identify as Wyatt Earp instead. There were a few large, half-plate tintypes in the collection... more expensive, requiring some kind of frame, half-plate tintypes which suggest a greater status or personal importance to the owner... and this unusually large tintype of Homer may be an American treasure as well...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">One can never know,</span> given Twain's satirical mind, just what he loved and what he despised, as he loved most that which he could lampoon and get the most laughs. In spite of his inborn skepticism and incessant sarcasm, he loved, and even wrote his adoration for the work of Frederic Church.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUt_aVcWoeytxfAIIgbzHjOyarGrOxBZhLLgODsGNbqKfbM6-_PM3ulWXTjIp3v_d0BUhhAkuqryXGxO1aRYLoeRtEqMH9-vxnvQCqXFS5Ha8A5MGCCY2dayhXFzZHNDG0W6iu4Bt7Qwg/s1600/frederic+CHURCH_page_REDCD.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="987" data-original-width="1310" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUt_aVcWoeytxfAIIgbzHjOyarGrOxBZhLLgODsGNbqKfbM6-_PM3ulWXTjIp3v_d0BUhhAkuqryXGxO1aRYLoeRtEqMH9-vxnvQCqXFS5Ha8A5MGCCY2dayhXFzZHNDG0W6iu4Bt7Qwg/s640/frederic+CHURCH_page_REDCD.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">One of the premier American</span></i></span> landscapists, Twain actually </span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">visited his studio and corresponded with him. Twain's taste </span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> in art was right in sinc with his readership. Mine is the</span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> larger one in the middle.</span></i></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The Twain archives also reveal at least <i>correspondence</i> with one of my personal idols, western artist Frederic Remington. Remington was an avid outdoorsman and sportsman, and is caught here wearing a baseball uniform.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYoFrfIiqnePZhE5XD7v7CydSkY6_ieDvcq9cJldyT680pYhq-ku48627DZF9GitHFi1rvEmFq0m3CefZiwN9cCw5kvKRt1kCFrxz40gFXupf8Suxk09WRU3CKNkT3pP-y0rASoi0L3vU/s1600/remington_bustREDCD.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="941" data-original-width="1381" height="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYoFrfIiqnePZhE5XD7v7CydSkY6_ieDvcq9cJldyT680pYhq-ku48627DZF9GitHFi1rvEmFq0m3CefZiwN9cCw5kvKRt1kCFrxz40gFXupf8Suxk09WRU3CKNkT3pP-y0rASoi0L3vU/s640/remington_bustREDCD.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">Remington (mine enlarged in the center, and far right)</span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> when still nimble enough to play. He was the father</span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> of the Western or "cowboy" artists. </span></i></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Remington and Twain were peers.</span> Both wrote for the leading publication in the country, Harper's Monthly. I have not found an instance where Remington might have illustrated one of Twain's articles, but it surely came up. What little I know about each man, each was too egotistical to reach out to the other. But the mere presence of this photo suggests a quiet if not friendly competition between these two giants in American culture.</span><i><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></i></span></div>
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</div>
Russell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964639905263397632.post-70111978683833017182018-10-30T11:50:00.001-07:002018-11-11T18:24:58.921-08:00Connecting the Monolithic Dots- with no help!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgC559LpkWfvmQn-Tow3oqzH5YlbtmpdKX9aFWLAlh71n89WH_tyDqHDSDg7XKsN0KOcV2YGQvs_yhIFHKoSxxJfMhDC65VPbGrZotkro_DJZztrezeWaKB_q7aGwXo0-yvkfHzctdngQ/s1600/WM+PINKERTON+CAB++page+REDCD.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="861" data-original-width="1256" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgC559LpkWfvmQn-Tow3oqzH5YlbtmpdKX9aFWLAlh71n89WH_tyDqHDSDg7XKsN0KOcV2YGQvs_yhIFHKoSxxJfMhDC65VPbGrZotkro_DJZztrezeWaKB_q7aGwXo0-yvkfHzctdngQ/s640/WM+PINKERTON+CAB++page+REDCD.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> Son of the legendary Allan Pinkerton, it was William who relentlessly pursued Jesse James, and was blamed for the explosion which blew off the arm of the outlaw's mother. My photo of him is a full length portrait on a cabinet card, in the center, closer detail of his face on the left.</span></i></span></span><br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">It was about a year ago</span> when I became
engrossed in the purchase of a lifetime... actually <i>purchases</i> of a
lifetime, what you now peruse as “The Stubborn Flame,” which took
almost a year to complete. During that time I became so excited and
confident about my acquisitions that I began to reach out to some of
those whom I presumed were the acknowledged “experts” in the
field of American history, some local and some regional, to try to
get some verification.
</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I soon found out how hard it was to get
anyone to even <b><i>look</i></b> at my finds, much less agree about their
importance. So many frauds were floating around in the stream of
historical imagery that everyone I contacted reacted with ambivalence
or skepticism. I have to add, that my earliest guess was that these
tintypes were the remnants of some kind of law enforcement rogues
gallery, probably of the <b>Pinkerton Detective Agency</b>. Over time I
learned that the images were formal portraits, and thus not the
correct type to be “rogues.” Sadly, this incorrect assumption
alone was enough of a red flag to distance my skeptics.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTP6MQ49eLa83MmS3mS0nBsj2G7JwhehztCCY8HeRIF2FvprJYUQJiGCJ5jWOt2_oXUZ9N8wmoojAS12YS8j9bzME32b-tdCjA3Vdv9vB_z4MNDgxydwI1aKG5QaXd8D8orhxmKYMjyd0/s1600/robt+McParland+PAGE+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="681" data-original-width="1197" height="363" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTP6MQ49eLa83MmS3mS0nBsj2G7JwhehztCCY8HeRIF2FvprJYUQJiGCJ5jWOt2_oXUZ9N8wmoojAS12YS8j9bzME32b-tdCjA3Vdv9vB_z4MNDgxydwI1aKG5QaXd8D8orhxmKYMjyd0/s640/robt+McParland+PAGE+redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> Courageous and cunning Robert McParland, the undercover Pinkerton detective who ensnared a whole gang of terrorists in Pennsylvania. Mine is the tintype in the center.</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I contacted some of the history authors whom I
had met during my career as an artist, those whom I knew at least
respected me as competent in my chosen field of historical illustration. Surely one of them
could use some the images in their various projects... but again,
aloofness and disbelief. I would have become discouraged, except the
images just kept coming. There was no time to let my feelings
interfere with the amazing collection gathering on my living room
table. Soon I transported them to a safety deposit box, so sure was I
about their value.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">One of the authors </span>I contacted was <b>Max
McCoy</b>, by email. Mr. McCoy's name may not ring a bell, but his most
famous creation will: Indiana Jones. I was not acquainted enough with
him at the time to even know that! I approached him because he had
published an article about Albert Bigelow Paine </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">(Mark Twain's
biographer)</span> in The New Territory magazine, perhaps the first of its kind, which shed light into
Paine's darker personal and literary secrets. Through the historical
persons appearing in my collection, I had begun to deduct that my
collection was possibly the combination of Paine's and Twain's life
stories. It seemed unlikely at the time that either of the men might
have known all of the famous individuals whose images were piling up
each week. And I suspected that McCoy could help orient me to what I had discovered so far.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWAJgn_FsiHNrGWyvf7UtpKpulMKs7CgcaloqZPq1wNKZx3K7ks6N_H41FDPB_H2Ylw_Q-nhWVrBy1ZHjEdVudKK_YAZi7U0cXKEO3ilqIJUUhM7jlCVWMQaNp3GCmYgc4qKGjWuIkzD0/s1600/ZERELDA+COLE+JAMES+_page_redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="694" data-original-width="1072" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWAJgn_FsiHNrGWyvf7UtpKpulMKs7CgcaloqZPq1wNKZx3K7ks6N_H41FDPB_H2Ylw_Q-nhWVrBy1ZHjEdVudKK_YAZi7U0cXKEO3ilqIJUUhM7jlCVWMQaNp3GCmYgc4qKGjWuIkzD0/s640/ZERELDA+COLE+JAMES+_page_redcd.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>IF</b> I am right, a very rare tintype, (center) probably made from</span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"> an earlier Ambrotype, of the beautiful mother of outlaws</span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"> Jesse and Frank James.</span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">McCoy was fairly underwhelmed with my
project, did not see what I saw, and our correspondence went no
further. It kind of disappointed me, because Max McCoy was a treasure
trove of knowledge about the pond I was wading in, and could have
saved me a lot of time...and since his recusal I have learned just
how much. There were several families or groups which the tintypes
seemed to be representing, the Samuel Clemenses, the Pinkerton
Detectives, and bizarrely, the Jesse Jameses... whom McCoy would have
recognized immediately- what I have just recently figured out, that
<span style="font-size: x-large;">they were all ASSOCIATED in someway.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGzI_NhZ1QlxqaTBvU9cxlY1cHSOPZllnbXW8-wQhA25_1tknE9THsFldmibpVh-9eKUdAvXvaIBjyegN6ucufp4nRcTviidVHbhnvYVDCPoiFc97Fcr2v18QCUg814cbCuuzyGo2ukFA/s1600/19+boy+jesse++JAMES+PAGE_edited-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="882" data-original-width="1243" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGzI_NhZ1QlxqaTBvU9cxlY1cHSOPZllnbXW8-wQhA25_1tknE9THsFldmibpVh-9eKUdAvXvaIBjyegN6ucufp4nRcTviidVHbhnvYVDCPoiFc97Fcr2v18QCUg814cbCuuzyGo2ukFA/s640/19+boy+jesse++JAMES+PAGE_edited-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
A tintype and a carte de visit of Jesse James<br />
(numbered) as a boy and as an adolescent.<br />
His ears made his visage unique.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">It turns out Max McCoy had also written
a book based on papers probably typed by Albert Bigelow Paine, which
suggested that <span style="font-size: x-large;">Mark Twain and Jesse James were actually known to one
another, </span>and Twain had considered writing the life story of the
famous outlaw. This was not known to me until recently. McCoy took a charred and tattered old manuscript and
finished what Twain or Paine had started. According to his account,
rumors of Jesse James's death had also been greatly exaggerated, and
he tracked down Mark Twain as an old man... long after he was
supposedly dead, and proposed that the beloved folklorist interview
him and tell the true story of his life and crimes.</span><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwZNrtyfnls5LmQMfVZuTp5nccC_RKKRaHC4cjjv76_gErq-zOASPzEqSzGdIytTzDOjdcqMiZeo1b3bDgg2gd03GMR7Nr1FPkWH7InBm4taUoaq5y6TvuEVItd9t74F6lfTJSZa5iCQA/s1600/3+FRANK+JAMES+and+sisters+PAGE_edited-1+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="635" data-original-width="911" height="446" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwZNrtyfnls5LmQMfVZuTp5nccC_RKKRaHC4cjjv76_gErq-zOASPzEqSzGdIytTzDOjdcqMiZeo1b3bDgg2gd03GMR7Nr1FPkWH7InBm4taUoaq5y6TvuEVItd9t74F6lfTJSZa5iCQA/s640/3+FRANK+JAMES+and+sisters+PAGE_edited-1+redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Frank James and (Half) Sisters </b></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;">The tintype on the far right (enlarged in the middle) is mine, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;">now digitally restored- as are most of the images you see.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;"> They were so dingy that it took some enhancement for the </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;">average viewer to even consider the similarities that I saw. </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;">Three of the four individuals in the photo are very </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;">believably members of the James family. These were such </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;">rare and personal photos, it means whoever was given </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;">custody had paramount access to the Jameses. They are </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;">evidence of a more than casual acquaintance with the </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;">most clandestine of clans. </span></i></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Knowing this fact, that even Max McCoy thought that Twain and James were solidly connected, sure would have lit a fire</b>
under my dampened ashes... but I had to relocate to Bell County and other
more urgent distractions, and the find of the century and the facts to substantiate it would have
to wait for almost a year. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Not only could McCoy have told me that
Mark Twain was very interested in Jesse James, even invested in him, and might easily have
compiled a stash of James family photographs, but that he also was a
huge fan of detective stories, and wrote at least two lampoons of the
Pinkerton Detective Agency. The dots were begging to be connected.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It is also easy to imagine that the
Pinkertons gladly submitted materials for Twain's books, after their patriarch Allan Pinkerton had passed away and no longer published his detective mysteries... at least until
they saw with great angst that he had aimed his merciless sword of
satire at them and their reputation. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyc3HkCBFeBc8-VyZl6Iyev2L03IPxnD3Bqr3Jf3IRC2GPyHf7elyilm1cnuZTEDNi1TF7qmXJtCU61LdxmdvxhVTQcdngZW9SyAUTZKX8vrcNo6AHN0bs9ZneY_scacwPiS4eT3tco9k/s1600/15+JIM+YOUNGER_page_edited-1+redcd.bmp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="593" data-original-width="854" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyc3HkCBFeBc8-VyZl6Iyev2L03IPxnD3Bqr3Jf3IRC2GPyHf7elyilm1cnuZTEDNi1TF7qmXJtCU61LdxmdvxhVTQcdngZW9SyAUTZKX8vrcNo6AHN0bs9ZneY_scacwPiS4eT3tco9k/s640/15+JIM+YOUNGER_page_edited-1+redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Jim Younger, the bruiser of the James-Younger gang. He was wounded but survived the "Great Northfield Raid" and was captured.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Now, after all of this time, </span>I am
connecting the dots. The major groups I had randomly purchased were
all legitimately associated through Mark Twain! The rare if not
impossible discovery that McCoy and others would not, could not
believe, has grown geometrically, in size and importance. And even
they would have to wonder, if I was going to imagine or fabricate a
find of antique tintypes, that I would find, little by little, images
of individuals who were not only related, but groups of people which
were amazingly associated with one another... so much so that history
has provided me the unmistakable provenance of the whole collection.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjAe03Hv9NPhnu3uCDeK4lg8VTUgZifI7NBAkFvIc-yWvgvQm2T0_xqbNGrzskRKQuvO5Cnw3hWirjHMrqO7LkHtHl8RkV5etmIlQWm25dUZfWtEgE0OEcVU13lsdL3BEqoUfVAWPn25Q/s1600/STANLEY+PAGE+_edited-1+redcd.bmp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="535" data-original-width="749" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjAe03Hv9NPhnu3uCDeK4lg8VTUgZifI7NBAkFvIc-yWvgvQm2T0_xqbNGrzskRKQuvO5Cnw3hWirjHMrqO7LkHtHl8RkV5etmIlQWm25dUZfWtEgE0OEcVU13lsdL3BEqoUfVAWPn25Q/s640/STANLEY+PAGE+_edited-1+redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> Of "Dr. Livingston, I presume" fame, Sir Henry Stanley</span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> and his wife were often guests at the Clemens home.</span></i></span></div>
<br /></div>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The odds of finding so many related
people, most of which I had never seen or heard of before, is
actually less than the minute odds of finding hundreds of amazing and
convincing look-alikes of the same people, all from one source, and
all in a fairly short period of time. The odds of reality are slim,
the odds of a parallel universe are much less.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Y1gmuIfhr4nrS4aVwAMozn8zFTUck7xw9OHccdb1Rb6j8ienuNZrAsnDneAiFZvpq5QbgtzjxxehtJRFHART3yqcSA5vR5q73xRi204XPVVpPHAdO-rvH8Ctz7zDTjSfUKkRJqtTHt4/s1600/albert+EINSTEIN_CROPT+FXD+redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="438" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Y1gmuIfhr4nrS4aVwAMozn8zFTUck7xw9OHccdb1Rb6j8ienuNZrAsnDneAiFZvpq5QbgtzjxxehtJRFHART3yqcSA5vR5q73xRi204XPVVpPHAdO-rvH8Ctz7zDTjSfUKkRJqtTHt4/s640/albert+EINSTEIN_CROPT+FXD+redcd.jpg" width="410" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> A very young Albert Einstein.</span></i></span></div>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAAN4jO3_EsF3rEFvWu9049FHnFW1xVi-bNrBZY-iukJa7lx8mIyzHyn5MQDYO3aQZ5JtCdacU5AI3mHSq_P5LmxzEBKJzq-VqxUZ_uS4vZZXROMi8SFBTLXwixNeN4Xdecr7SZ9fCty8/s1600/ALBERT+EINSTEIN+PAGE+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1106" data-original-width="1577" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAAN4jO3_EsF3rEFvWu9049FHnFW1xVi-bNrBZY-iukJa7lx8mIyzHyn5MQDYO3aQZ5JtCdacU5AI3mHSq_P5LmxzEBKJzq-VqxUZ_uS4vZZXROMi8SFBTLXwixNeN4Xdecr7SZ9fCty8/s400/ALBERT+EINSTEIN+PAGE+redcd.bmp" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">So I concede, this is a mountain of
suggestive material... so I will no doubt be wrong about some of my
identifications. But I will be right about hundreds of them... and so
I propose to you that<span style="font-size: x-large;"> this collection is the most exciting, the most
rare and probably the most revealing Victorian image gallery offered
in modern times. </span>Many of the persons you will see here, as famous as
they are, may have never been photographed but a few times... In
some case the photos here of them are better than any extant. I know
that is a mouthful, and it sounds arrogant to me.. but after checking
and re-checking, (because I hate rejection and I hate embarrassment
even worse), I am sure they are what they are. I welcome your
assessments and reactions. Just be courteous in your observations!
</span></div>
</div>
Russell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964639905263397632.post-74117125842911348942018-10-26T10:40:00.001-07:002018-10-30T14:50:25.793-07:00Jean D'Arc: Open and Closed- and opened again<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Maybe
today the world</span> needs reminding of otherwise average people who make
history- too often in a negative way, causing unnecessary tragedy- all because
of extraordinary skepticism, intolerance, demonization, and hatred...
and the only reliable redemption possible from these things. </span></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnLko1XbUsiBlWrMUrVyLBXRh52HLLYgj9s1-lJONL53YdVTxHic3KtBA5WHfS1W8nDlXhukhgXFWFGv6Y_XNMuDOsgc4T1SwMa8W6QqQ42ZYNpGEqn1iVZhChQs7APXVbP2JIolOYcYk/s1600/Jehanne+d+Arc+SCREEN+poster+RECD.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="557" data-original-width="973" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnLko1XbUsiBlWrMUrVyLBXRh52HLLYgj9s1-lJONL53YdVTxHic3KtBA5WHfS1W8nDlXhukhgXFWFGv6Y_XNMuDOsgc4T1SwMa8W6QqQ42ZYNpGEqn1iVZhChQs7APXVbP2JIolOYcYk/s640/Jehanne+d+Arc+SCREEN+poster+RECD.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></i>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;">“<span style="font-size: medium;">It's
a small, small world...” We all used to enjoy that happy little
song made famous at Disneyland. But the past few years it has become
my theme song. This story inadvertently began with my research for a
major painting, which ended up instead as a small book in one of my
blogs, called Who In The Blazes Was Joan Of Arc? The painting was
postponed indefinitely. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After
reading 20 or so books about her, I came to the disappointing and
painful conclusion that I did not want to make the same mistake that
Mark Twain and others had made, that of lionizing an enigmatic and
confused young farm girl who had gotten involved in
political tectonics that were way out of her league. And then because
of superstition and treachery, she was burned at the
stake, satisfying British revenge and Roman Catholic intolerance.
After that in-depth, 8-month rabbit trail, I was done with Joan, and a
bit psychologically charred from all those various graphic accounts
of her immolation. Joan and I gladly parted ways.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Or
so I hoped. Not too long afterwards I suffered my second heart
attack, which really put me down. Afterwards I was weak and depressed
and needed something fairly effortless to occupy my mind, so I began
to spend many hours surfing for images on Ebay. </span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjFW8ugLdazY6NUi_lAMiU0b1CBREuIEdFaB_0gAoNOleOZ1H8D_3zNl6JveoRbiMxmK_togv3p84KcvaAk2B_q9AhToWx9ZatOZqRvIiWtK8J7BkCJIQO8VH06Xru4oKv8zURdbAazHo/s1600/C.+LANGDON-+LIVY-+SAM+CLEMENS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="555" data-original-width="348" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjFW8ugLdazY6NUi_lAMiU0b1CBREuIEdFaB_0gAoNOleOZ1H8D_3zNl6JveoRbiMxmK_togv3p84KcvaAk2B_q9AhToWx9ZatOZqRvIiWtK8J7BkCJIQO8VH06Xru4oKv8zURdbAazHo/s640/C.+LANGDON-+LIVY-+SAM+CLEMENS.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> (Left -Rt) Charlie Langdon, his sister Olivia, and his new friend Sam Clemens.</span></i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> I love old
photographs... especially the really old ones called Daguerreotypes,
and their offspring known as Ambrotypes and tintypes, which are
fairly cheap. The first forms of photography, all of these were made
as direct mirror images on a prepared surface; copper, glass, tin,
whatever, with no negatives for reproduction. Sometimes they were
made in multiples, but they were usually very limited in number,
often one of a kind. And backwards.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">It's
a long story, which unfolds here,</span> but the gist of it is that after
purchasing a couple of hundred tintypes, a handful at a time, from a
guy in Florida, thinking that they may have been a collection of
famous people, I eventually became convinced that the images, at
least a large portion of them, <b>had once belonged to Mark Twain.</b> The
reason being that around a dozen or more of these tintypes were of
Samuel Clemens and his family and their associates. Also famous
writers, actresses, artists, spies, the most famous and creative
people in America at the time. But that was not all.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This
collection then led across the sea, as many of the images were of the
French artists and their families and associates, where <span style="font-size: x-large;">Mark
Twain had spent 13 years researching, among other things, his book on
</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>Joan of Arc</i></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">.</span>
Europe had become such a refuge for the Clemens that he took his wife
Olivia back there when she became terminally ill. And that was where
she died. The images of the French artists are very rare and if I am
right about their identities, they belong in the Louvre.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4YVq1CQPJKrKBQ2GbaVA0ONgvDQejykIxPDTOrLgwEr7z570n7r9nO2qbE5FU0fN3HHUWruudvb7FX8mhYfMQDMJs5xi-jXaMWGZ7VET2embIW0jsAz2uNniMynbw2xloYqoj1lpDUd4/s1600/IMPS+5+PAGE+BEST+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="670" data-original-width="490" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4YVq1CQPJKrKBQ2GbaVA0ONgvDQejykIxPDTOrLgwEr7z570n7r9nO2qbE5FU0fN3HHUWruudvb7FX8mhYfMQDMJs5xi-jXaMWGZ7VET2embIW0jsAz2uNniMynbw2xloYqoj1lpDUd4/s1600/IMPS+5+PAGE+BEST+redcd.bmp" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">As
I researched</span> this growing image collection, it became clear it must
be an amalgamation of several photograph collections, compiled for
almost 40 years. Amazingly, I was able to construct a story which
would explain it all.</span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPnDQfWxexYqe1uhdfZNHJmrDIMsMvF0P67fQY6dS4rV2HCrh749T03jnQBcr2H8SVeceldNgGxvLlC1BEbnY5Zbjrf6s1h4OcsuHvoboiJlZ-KuiUVs_y6qFOSZ172He41QLUSakqFa8/s1600/ALBERT+BIGELOW+PAINE+CROPT+ENHCD_FXD+cropped+redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="345" data-original-width="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPnDQfWxexYqe1uhdfZNHJmrDIMsMvF0P67fQY6dS4rV2HCrh749T03jnQBcr2H8SVeceldNgGxvLlC1BEbnY5Zbjrf6s1h4OcsuHvoboiJlZ-KuiUVs_y6qFOSZ172He41QLUSakqFa8/s1600/ALBERT+BIGELOW+PAINE+CROPT+ENHCD_FXD+cropped+redcd.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Another
famous American writer had become the trustee of all things Twain,
and he was also a career photographer. Early in his life, Albert
Bigelow Paine was an itinerant photographer, and later a very
successful writer of high-profile biographies and children's books.
He not only wrote Mark Twain's biography, <b>he also wrote his own
version of <i>Joan of Arc</i>!</b></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;">All
through the exciting acquisition of this collection, <span style="font-size: large;">Joan kept
reappearing, as I assembled an All-Star Victorian photo album and
researched the possible former owners, two of the most important Joan
biographers.</span> Suddenly I had to read everything written by or about
them... to uncover clues about possible connections of these photos
to them.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Somehow
I felt that this saga was going in circles, but not wanting to ignore
the road signs, I finally picked up Paine's book about Joan, which I had wrongly
assumed was just a paraphrase of Twain's affectionate ode to her.
This morning I finished my 21<sup>st</sup> book on Joan, A. B.
Paine's The Girl In White Armor. And I have to say, it was the best.
And this admission does not come easy, as I have become somewhat of
an expert about Joan. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Having
already made numerous negative deductions about Paine, I did not want
to like his book. You see, time and scholarship have not been kind to
Albert Bigelow Paine, who successfully hid his darker side from an
adoring public, all while leaving almost indiscernible traces of his
deceptions, lies, Bigamy, and probable literary fraud. Scholars today
have suggested that after the death of Samuel Clemens, Paine released
unpublished Twain materials which were severely doctored by himself,
calling much of his management of the Twain legacy into question. It
was a case of one scamp scamming off of his mentor scamp. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But
the two were peas in a pod, Twain the master of Americana who
questioned Divine Intelligence, and Paine the master of intrigue who
doubted men's intelligence. They were the voice of America and its
eternal echo. They may have masterminded one of the greatest snow jobs ever perpetrated on the world. Their friendship was based on passion for the story,
cynicism and billiards. Upon meeting they immediately and completely
understood and appreciated one another. And strangely, counter-intuitively, they both loved Joan.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1XIaMaI5_Z_yqkPvksF85jHfhpadzof9iDfycaxEF7KTM1yyQR3HwuYi8uvLlXSSPI0eTazrbOwTpZWaQpO_NSJ49QOUjCGWcIwu0t1FUvFA7h67wYQF5CeI2V517av7QpmHovVzaiCQ/s1600/jehanne+d+arc+wild+eyed_SCREEN_BEST+redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="574" data-original-width="1001" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1XIaMaI5_Z_yqkPvksF85jHfhpadzof9iDfycaxEF7KTM1yyQR3HwuYi8uvLlXSSPI0eTazrbOwTpZWaQpO_NSJ49QOUjCGWcIwu0t1FUvFA7h67wYQF5CeI2V517av7QpmHovVzaiCQ/s640/jehanne+d+arc+wild+eyed_SCREEN_BEST+redcd.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">It
seems both Twain and Paine</span> found some wonderful authenticity in the
“Maid of Orleans,” that they could not perceive in Matthew, Mark,
Luke or John. Both men struggled with issues of Faith and integrity,
and plain old American idealism. But they fell wistfully into line
as Joan of Arc fans, solidifying her legend and gathering many
friends in France in the process.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Yes,
I love Joan too, but my affection is tempered with pity and some firm
caveats. With my Fundamentalist Christian background, I am less
forgiving of Joan's doctrinal and supernatural confusions. Joan
messed up, and even her “Voices” would have said so. True, she
went when God sent her, but she also went when God did not. The
latter proved disastrous for her. Joan violated too many taboos for a
prophetess and had no New Testament prototype as a warrior liberator.
She was “out there.” But I suppose my two senior Joan experts had
no problem with her mistakes as they had made so many.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE84_qExtm4aTPIy1O2XtODejThNxBxI6VZlfRjdOcQPuoaIDlZo9TQbrrpLOy4LabYwBA94kAjEOe0VQWB191jpUxy6v69Iew5Zcup30BjhLAuHePun0G24WEFwsxWZA5DH-eMtVfOvQ/s1600/joan+WINDOWFRESCO_recd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="762" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE84_qExtm4aTPIy1O2XtODejThNxBxI6VZlfRjdOcQPuoaIDlZo9TQbrrpLOy4LabYwBA94kAjEOe0VQWB191jpUxy6v69Iew5Zcup30BjhLAuHePun0G24WEFwsxWZA5DH-eMtVfOvQ/s400/joan+WINDOWFRESCO_recd.jpg" width="396" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <i>Captured and desperate to continue the</i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i> liberation of France, Joan leaped from</i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i> a tower, which almost killed her.</i></span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">So
here is my point. </span>God, the designer of all things, led me, I believe,
to a difficult conclusion about Joan which caused me to
intellectually recoil from immortalizing her, or do anything to point
to her as any kind of role model. In fact I was led to reject Twain's
sappy book on her, a subjective whitewash, just as his fans and the
critics had done when it was released. Believe me, I WANTED to paint
that epic scene, especially after spending so much time preparing to
do it. The digital sketch at the top was my first confident step in creating the ultimate Joan of Arc. But I would not give in to sentimental tradition or
heartwarming myth. Or to Joan's desperate cries, SIX times she cried
out the Lord's name, as she was burned alive. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;">That
sounds hard-hearted even to me. And now, through these wonderful
tintypes, and the absolutely scandalous men they probably belonged
to, and their affectionate accounts about Joan, I have been strangely
dragged back to consider her cause.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This
blog is a kind of technological prayer. A stream of conscious
revelation of my more interesting struggles. I have shared in other
blogs about my art- that recently, after considerable hesitation, I
completed a commissioned portrait of Stonewall Jackson. Here was
another legendary military personality I did not want to unduly
edify. Yet as I looked into Jackson's life, I found a dear Human
Being. An amazing talent, a devoted patriot, (to his understanding),
and yet hated and demonized in many circles during his life and ever
since. </span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjylSVD67inzCjFoHxGoffg7ryKzHOTaNsw8Ep788UQ2Sab58N6X_fIxgu44nzWtOBx6coUndFAJs_dihodTG_v8ywLgFJjWB9gT2T2r8vCF5BtwBoHYXsZRI18OliEITlvxmfgBeBstzM/s1600/1A+STONEWALL+TO+PRINT_LITE_redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="823" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjylSVD67inzCjFoHxGoffg7ryKzHOTaNsw8Ep788UQ2Sab58N6X_fIxgu44nzWtOBx6coUndFAJs_dihodTG_v8ywLgFJjWB9gT2T2r8vCF5BtwBoHYXsZRI18OliEITlvxmfgBeBstzM/s400/1A+STONEWALL+TO+PRINT_LITE_redcd.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> Stonewall Jackson: His Legacy and His Destiny</span></span></i>
</div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In
finding the painting that I could do of him, in good conscience, I
learned that maybe it is as much my job to recognize that which is
redeemable, as it is to avoid that which is abhorrent. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;">What
was <i>done</i> to Joan was abhorrent. She was after all, only
nineteen years old. A naive, idealistic child. I have to believe that
God easily forgave her missteps and delusions. So I must too.
Whether I paint her or not.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Obviously,
I am hard headed. </span>Thank you Lord for not giving up. It has been epic
fun getting here. A magic carpet ride. In this small, small world
where legendary infidels can hassle my convictions and stir my soul
from beyond the grave. Where books and photography and the Internet
can all gang up on me and we can all have a teachable moment. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I
had almost allowed my art to become judgment with a capital J, a
bastion of Godly perfection, in a world that has not known perfection
since Eden. Perhaps like many Americans, I have grown unrealistic and
expect too much. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We
live in a critical and perfectionist age with 24 hour cameras and
instant exposure, giant eyes and black hearts, where no person can
stand the light of inspection. We expect so much and suffer so
little. Christianity teaches that we all fall short of the Glory of
God. On that this generation is quick to agree. But Christ also
teaches Grace, something in short supply in our culture.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Grace
means unmerited favor</span>... undeserved blessings. And top of the list,
FORGIVENESS is and has always been the key to Grace. God Loves and
forgives us, and we receive His Grace. We cannot continuously enjoy
or receive His Grace if we will not readily give it ourselves. So
peace in our country requires a culture of habitual forgiveness. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Of
course, what condemned Joan was her unforgiveness of the English, her
skepticism of their spiritual paradigm, her preference to death over
submission in any way to them. They did not take her loathing and
threats very well, and well, reacted even worse. It was an earthly
battle of wills, and theirs was bigger and stronger.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Many
if not most of the folks pictured on this site were caught up in like
tragedies in some way or another. Artists and writers are passionate
and often get carried away with emotions and causes. Sometimes even
farm girls get caught up in social hysteria. Sweet Joan got involved
in her country's emergency and actually led armies to embarrass and
vanquish the British, just waving a banner. She confessed at her
trial that she had never killed even one man. But pure as she was,
she was completely devoted to a corrupt king... a spineless, jealous
king who refused to negotiate her ransom... she was a national
treasure wounded twice in battle to save a country which would turn
its back on her.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;">What
a terrible calling if in fact God did send her!</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_hs0RBKcQ7mLq5W-vY18ObubrFun-OorTU438JDqkmp0DslJI4ME2rxawSXwXRWUyWJSpqbtejIJWSMFELIoc5Fh_hGF-WrCykBIKZkKQyv6ohZM292RpIj_CceWK1q5NDng-IXNCQSk/s1600/BATTLE+BLUE+A+ART_SCREEN+redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="1133" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_hs0RBKcQ7mLq5W-vY18ObubrFun-OorTU438JDqkmp0DslJI4ME2rxawSXwXRWUyWJSpqbtejIJWSMFELIoc5Fh_hGF-WrCykBIKZkKQyv6ohZM292RpIj_CceWK1q5NDng-IXNCQSk/s640/BATTLE+BLUE+A+ART_SCREEN+redcd.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Protestants
have believed</span> for at least 500 years that God sent His Son as the <b>one and
only</b>, and the last sacrifice for our redemption. Absolutely nothing
additional is required from us. And God has rarely if ever required
of us to sacrifice our children. His calling to His service has
rarely required submission of teenagers to death in a hopeless cause.
A veritable casting of pearls before swine. There have never been
battles required to be fought where many thousands would perish, to
embolden a corrupt government, and place a veil upon the whole
country for half a millennium. Protestants perceive a progressive
God, where in most cases His plan makes sense, if not in the
conception, as time unveils His Will and the genius of it. Sure God
calls all of his children to some form of personal sacrifice. But it
is always for the enlargement and glory of His Kingdom. And when He has... He has never sent them with swords or guns. </span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkh6WRa6MqIRAB4Om3FW94QP0qQIWYOppyGuLHoUpPaaV2pv2oF80QgPjNKMRuvwlbI1hSKFz4KBvNwsRf1-01B_-g8qRYVxSve1WxyLFUEE-yLd6gA-chVwl2eRrwGgKblmjAxmZ5Mbs/s1600/JOAN+WONDERFUL+redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="706" data-original-width="880" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkh6WRa6MqIRAB4Om3FW94QP0qQIWYOppyGuLHoUpPaaV2pv2oF80QgPjNKMRuvwlbI1hSKFz4KBvNwsRf1-01B_-g8qRYVxSve1WxyLFUEE-yLd6gA-chVwl2eRrwGgKblmjAxmZ5Mbs/s640/JOAN+WONDERFUL+redcd.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">And
such is the real tragedy</span> that Joan or her king or the French people
never realized. In Joan's zeal and military success, she fortified
the French Catholic Church, the only authority besides God whom she
ever yielded to, which mostly doubted and second-guessed her. After
her martyrdom in English hands, they did not bother to reverse her
sentence and restore her reputation until 20 years later. Joan was a
mere pawn in a game among ruthless royalty and elites.<span style="font-size: x-large;"> If</span> God sent
her into that, knowing her fate... knowing that a French victory over
Britain was sealing her and France's spiritual potential... to effectively place a lid on His Kingdom, that
would have been unlike the God I know.</span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">MOREOVER, Eventually
<b>France became an apostate nation</b></span>, and partly because Joan's victories<b> which prevented the spread of the English and German Enlightenment</b>. She
could never have suspected as much, but Joan had repelled the one
hope of future spiritual reformation for her people. It was a
religious movement soon to sweep eastern Europe and the British
Isles. <span style="font-size: x-large;">A movement which would
forever brand the progressive, prosperous countries of Europe which
were able to spread the Gospel, establish democracy and defend both. And feed the world.
Till this day.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Whatever
Joan's patriotic assumptions, France missed the boat, missed the mercies of Grace, and her legacy
did not serve the long term progress of the Kingdom Of God well.
Later the French Revolution annihilated whatever was left of her
influence with class warfare that nearly exterminated men of means,
or education, or spirituality. It was what revolution looks like when
executed by godless anarchists. It was passionate and bloody and
lawless. It was as unjust and tragic as any wrongs which inspired it.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">Still,
our popular writers </span>found in Joan a charming narrative which inspired
them. Dozens of books and movies have made Joan a household icon. She
became a Saint early in the Twentieth Century... but she was already
the patron saint of women's suffrage. As her legend morphed,
generations added their own useful interpretation of her courage and
sacrifice. But under it all, Joan was... a dear young woman... </span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoL4HsyI5_xj4odpGEyYJ3JlqonkCIaNSxwgQRD5XvHzbQHa9WoFLNXXlFs1zX6w792PtYP0sgrPw6UhAS4w3s2ZJcKEQrEkJvu4_rSfK79Z8umjNuFltsUQQR_sLI0NCvEiG-wuxZUN0/s1600/celestial+worship+bublz_edited-1+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="578" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoL4HsyI5_xj4odpGEyYJ3JlqonkCIaNSxwgQRD5XvHzbQHa9WoFLNXXlFs1zX6w792PtYP0sgrPw6UhAS4w3s2ZJcKEQrEkJvu4_rSfK79Z8umjNuFltsUQQR_sLI0NCvEiG-wuxZUN0/s640/celestial+worship+bublz_edited-1+redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">... A precious soul who had to face God like
all of us will, and answer for her life, and her motives, and she
will do it someday under the protective Grace of God.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Joan
may also be the patron saint</span> of flawed visionaries, unqualified
leaders who step into the fray of public struggles, because no one
else would. They sometimes, often times make mistakes. And they are
often as surprised as the rest of us at the unintended consequences
of their actions. But where would we be without them?</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Yes,
someday Joan will face God. Someday when they separate the good from
the bad, the doers from the naysayers. The soldiers from the whiners.
The courageous and willing from the ambivalent and useless. And
whatever her Eternal fate, Joan will stand tall among all men and
women. She will have no regrets. Very little shame. And most of her
enemies will not be there... because few of them would have made the
cut.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAqYLtE5ZD2PrhUz8w-Fju9HUkwXlc3GZeSkMs5M9fXHB5v8svyB0et1sShk8X2O9AFYL8EILVM6SEp-lpqnx7ziEG-6jpvXEprzObmXJhh8WicHjnGJXdlawvdxgYWQ474YWM4AOZdUk/s1600/windowisp+copy+ascencion_edited-1+redcd.bmp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="626" data-original-width="876" height="457" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAqYLtE5ZD2PrhUz8w-Fju9HUkwXlc3GZeSkMs5M9fXHB5v8svyB0et1sShk8X2O9AFYL8EILVM6SEp-lpqnx7ziEG-6jpvXEprzObmXJhh8WicHjnGJXdlawvdxgYWQ474YWM4AOZdUk/s640/windowisp+copy+ascencion_edited-1+redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Joan
will be standing</span> almost alone in her class, whatever it may be
called. She might be one of the few mortals worthy to kneel at the
front of the line, in spite of her blemishes, and greet the King of
Kings, who will judge all mankind. I can see her with her white
banner, bowing in her armor on her black steed, as he kneels, his
mane touching the ground... of celestial clouds, the glory of the
King of Kings blinding everyone as it reflects off of her steel
breastplate.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Now
THAT would be a painting!</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Now,
back to the tintypes.</span></span></div>
</div>
Russell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964639905263397632.post-61961823839743412942018-10-24T13:28:00.002-07:002018-11-25T07:36:52.984-08:00The Proof! A Random Identification<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.2in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">Perhaps
a year</span> after this incredible tintype cascade began, I finally got a
tangible clue, a fact which could prove everything. A tintype was
offered for sale which actually had an I.D.... and a whopper of one.</span></span></span></i></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheTVLkTX-4IN8i5Nt1jRr9iT_xbXMYcT2H7PLEmMaIGptFpwR6pa_g8W4VFkiA3Fxxa9dncrpnlJZFVfErX-KYQAnHY4lJeZ3cB6r2Apj7_zzAVkvtmnP14Yr1h6akBgcQuKto9dUq-J8/s1600/LINDEN+AND+BOY_reducd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="627" data-original-width="500" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheTVLkTX-4IN8i5Nt1jRr9iT_xbXMYcT2H7PLEmMaIGptFpwR6pa_g8W4VFkiA3Fxxa9dncrpnlJZFVfErX-KYQAnHY4lJeZ3cB6r2Apj7_zzAVkvtmnP14Yr1h6akBgcQuKto9dUq-J8/s640/LINDEN+AND+BOY_reducd.bmp" width="510" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> Master James G. Blaine Jr. and Pinkerton Supervisor Robert Linden.</span></span></span></i></span></div>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.2in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Offered
on ebay,</span> by the same seller from whom I had purchased hundreds of
images, was an intriguing photo of a bearded man and a little boy. I
had already been studying the Pinkerton detectives because of a
number of old photographs already acquired from this person, so I
immediately recognized Robert J. Linden, Pinkerton Supervisor who was
based in Philadelphia. It was Linden who was in charge of the the
famous investigation of the “Molly Maguires,” an Irish terrorist
group who had made life hard for the Pennsylvanian “Captains of
Industry” in the 1870's. Linden and his men brought the terrorists
to Justice. It was his face, but unfortunately he was not the person
identified on the back of the photo. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.2in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Written
on the photo was the name of James G. Blaine Jr.. He was the namesake
of “Blaine of Maine,” U.S. Congressman, Speaker of the House,
and Secretary of State and even 1884 Presidential candidate James G.
Blaine. Junior was born in 1868 and appears in this photo to be around
eight or nine years of age... placing the time of the pose sometime
around 1877. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.2in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This
was when the Molly Maguires were captured and prosecuted under
Robert Linden's leadership around 1877 and 1878. The connection here
is that the crimes perpetrated by the Irish- American miners were
done against two companies, the Philadelphia & Reading Railroad
and the Philadelphia & Reading Coal and Mining Company, in which
James G. Blaine possibly had interests, if only political. Blaine had
invested in Railroad stocks and was so compromised in these
activities that he was even accused of taking bribes from the Union
Pacific Railroad. These accusations and their veracity nearly cost
him the Republican nomination for the presidency, and probably cost
him the election. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.2in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But
before all of that happening, It would have been considered a great
honor for Linden and this little boy, the son of the congressman and
railroad advocate and investor to be allowed to pose with the famous
Pinkerton man, and especially after twenty men were hung for murders
and terrorism against the mines and railroads of Pennsylvania.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.2in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Of
course, I knew little of this when I purchased the image, only that
James G. Blaine was someone concrete whose life paths might then
prove my identification of Linden, a truly famous lawman. That Blaine
and Linden might have known each other is a safe presumption, and
given the name of Blaine Jr. on a tintype which very likely includes
Robert J. Linden, this was the first assurance that I had been
correct in the other Pinkerton identifications of previous purchases.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeOu6UZ-mUMQOUbzH5wiRXQdlMAO0sKpTTmmhJW-ofQYMMMY-zmjIEp7mk57U4CtYH_elwaCri_GnTrjnLW-ylqUJUVEAYoxTk5KESxrJxAmQd11pWUnlAWP_SQiLR6T5V1-CPhVILDys/s1600/LINDEN+and+blaine+page+REDCD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="891" data-original-width="1264" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeOu6UZ-mUMQOUbzH5wiRXQdlMAO0sKpTTmmhJW-ofQYMMMY-zmjIEp7mk57U4CtYH_elwaCri_GnTrjnLW-ylqUJUVEAYoxTk5KESxrJxAmQd11pWUnlAWP_SQiLR6T5V1-CPhVILDys/s640/LINDEN+and+blaine+page+REDCD.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.2in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">This
one tintype</span> suggested many things. If it were related to the others,
and from the same collection, it suggested that I had stumbled into a
photograph collection which very possibly belonged to an influential
person, or at least someone akin to one. Someone who at the very
least knew the Blaines and perhaps this famous Pinkerton man. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.2in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">My
own experience and reasoning told me that people are more likely to
label a photo with the name of someone less familiar, someone who
might be significant, but not a name common among them. Someone they
or others might be less likely to recognize. People notoriously
failed to label individuals everyone in their immediate circle were
assumed to recognize.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.2in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So
then I launched my theory forward... that this was just one of a
batch of photos related to other Pinkerton men, collected by a
Pinkerton man or Pinkerton staff person or someone interested in or
associated with Pinkerton men. Posing with the Blaine boy was a minor
honor for the Pinkerton men, who protected and prosecuted the most
famous people in the Country. The photo fit well with a dozen or so
others I had purchased which featured various famous Pinkerton
detectives, and in fact many members of the Pinkerton family.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.2in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Comparing
the others, which featured the most noted Pinkerton operatives known
to the public, I concluded that it might have been a collection made
by one of their fans, a person influential enough to ask for and
attain these rare tintypes. It was a clever strategy, as tintypes had
fallen out of favor, were considered to be of inferior quality, and
anyone who had been photographed would part with them, having had
better photographs made. These images might easily have been
requested by someone like Speaker Blaine, or Linden, but also someone
like Mark Twain, of whom I had also acquired images as well of his
family and friends. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.2in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The
circle of possibilities was tightening. Almost all of the images
could have been of persons known to Mark Twain, if not people he had
actually met, and perhaps even traded photos with him. Mark Twain
lived conveniently in New York, and regularly entertained the most
famous, most influential persons of the Victorian age, right in his
living room. Once he combined his legacy with his biographer, Albert
Bigelow Paine, that circle widened to encompass the most important
personalities known to Western Culture. Paine wrote biographies of
the most prominent people Twain knew, including Thomas Nast, a
political cartoonist who had his own private and public war with...
James G. Blaine. In fact it was Nast's cartoons which were credited
to have destroyed Blaine's candidacy. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.2in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Now
it was about this time that I had to really ask myself some hard
questions. I was either having some incredible luck, or this tintype
“treasure trove” was unfolding like a bizarre delusion in some
kind of parallel universe. What were the chances of my identifying
scores of photographs, without any ID's, which were believable
look-alikes of very famous people, who, and this was important, knew
or were in some way related to one another?</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.2in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This
became a maddening investigation of those popular “degrees of
separation.” Truly the Victorian era was a “small world.” And
now it was swallowing me.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.2in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The
odds were almost impossible. It became hard to believe that these
images were NOT what they appeared to be! I had spent most of my
adulthood scanning Ebay for rare images. You find a rare image of a
historical person about one in 5000. In the meantime, there are
hundreds of look-alikes. Old photographs which look like somebody you
recognize, but which do not stand the test of close scrutiny. I had
found that first one, totally by accident while killing time, and
since then had become addicted to daily scanning the auctions with
the hunch that there were probably more. And I was right. Eventually
it became almost commonplace to discover the uncommon.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.2in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Finally,
after so many purchases and educated guesses, all without any
authentication, I had an image that claimed, somewhat obscurely, to
be of someone plucked from the ashes of history. James G. Baine Jr..
A young solemn-faced lad who grew up under the shadow of one the most
powerful men in the United States; Who as the son of such would have
grown up around the most important and recognizable individuals to
ever be captured on a tintype... the persons staring up at me from
hundreds of tintypes...and little James G. Blaine was telling me that
he and many of the others were unknown visages lost to history, and
that I was not in some kind of self-delusional odyssey. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.2in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Little
James G. Blaine Jr. had become my historical link to a fabulous find,
of epic importance, and the doorkeeper to obscure or unknown
histories and mysteries. They would emerge as I researched the
images, and at least for me, would not just bring history alive, but
would fill my life as if I had stepped into Alice's Wonderland of
oddball historical oddities. The faces were familiar, but the stories
they told were as original as the tintypes they slept in. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.2in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It
was huge and yet it was a microcosm of extraneous history, which
nobody would care to exhume after all these years. Little details
about giants in our American story, details that only their children
would remember or cherish... now resurrected for my- and your
edification.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.2in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Somehow
I think, or at least I fantasize that these images were entrusted to
me because I could see them, enter into them, and ultimately glean
one last morsel of wisdom from each them. And primarily because I was
able and willing to share them with you.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.2in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #ffcc99;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So
here you are.</span></span></span></div>
</div>
Russell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964639905263397632.post-30802734065277126832018-10-22T13:17:00.001-07:002018-10-22T13:18:48.131-07:00THE CLAIM<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">Without a doubt, this blog makes a remarkable claim, and one hard to believe, even for the blogger.</span></i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTOOLxqqkEmecc-4OvlHAxBl5-piTP2EhGpIF6HgaT5zgpo626Rjv56gMe1bzhCcZ3BnzMB-Lv89sWK5CTDKDOpaQlAQlsZtFaZzWyB3VnpP4I0G17UFP-mi-qqGhAM4Fkrbl_g_VtH1w/s1600/C+SIRINGO+PAGE_redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="564" data-original-width="922" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTOOLxqqkEmecc-4OvlHAxBl5-piTP2EhGpIF6HgaT5zgpo626Rjv56gMe1bzhCcZ3BnzMB-Lv89sWK5CTDKDOpaQlAQlsZtFaZzWyB3VnpP4I0G17UFP-mi-qqGhAM4Fkrbl_g_VtH1w/s640/C+SIRINGO+PAGE_redcd.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> TWO images among several I found, </span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">(1 & 2 on the left) of Charlie Siringo, </span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Pinkerton detective and western writer. </span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">The rest are provided for comparison.</span></span></i></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I ran across a rare and important </span>cache of tintypes, featuring some of the most important personalities of the Victorian era; Mark Twain, Allan Pinkerton, many American and French artists, even Albert Einstein.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">They were for sale, unidentified, but I thought they were fairly easily recognized, with a little research. I have posted this blog in hopes that others who acquired images from the same person would find this and join me in the quest to understand the history behind these wonderful images</span>.</div>
Russell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964639905263397632.post-55923254944866452492018-10-15T20:22:00.000-07:002018-11-29T06:23:21.498-08:00For Open Minds Only!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">It
has been years</span> now since I stumbled upon the “Stubborn Flame.”
Recovering from a heart attack, I had been killing time surfing on
ebay for antique photographic images. One day I recognized a face on
an old tintype offered by an image dealer and the saga began. After
weeks of pondering, I finally gave in and purchased the image and the
rest is the unknown and perhaps controversial history which unfolds
here. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrg5tcmB95xsKfrwshxpHN3KdDxszIEcrsh6NTNeJSgTvCOOtHB103RFf7MrfGBvTOgTL5xnImrbwQRw1gfgP5ILC_ekwCNA4KY4_bNdVGhv5JVIy4DF-0flahbCkcE2UofyAMEpFfdtI/s1600/MENKEN+tinTYPE+FXD+CROPT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="593" data-original-width="401" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrg5tcmB95xsKfrwshxpHN3KdDxszIEcrsh6NTNeJSgTvCOOtHB103RFf7MrfGBvTOgTL5xnImrbwQRw1gfgP5ILC_ekwCNA4KY4_bNdVGhv5JVIy4DF-0flahbCkcE2UofyAMEpFfdtI/s400/MENKEN+tinTYPE+FXD+CROPT.jpg" width="270" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;"> I came across this tintype of Ada Menken, </span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;">the Victorian version of Madonna, and </span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;">I was hooked.</span></i>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">What
started as a chance</span> recognition ended up growing into a 200+ image
collection, all purchased from one image dealer, who hadn't the
slightest idea about the identities of his images. Once I recognized
one, another related image would surface in an adjacent auction, and
gradually I began to detect some related themes and circles of famous
people. Then the circles began to intersect. The first image was an
actress, and most were elites, artists and writers and women
suffragists. That was when I named this project the Stubborn Flame.
You see I connected all these individuals with the burning seed of
creativity, the universe of human genius, the one which at times is
barely recognizable from the pit of insanity. The one which at times
spawns criminal masterminds and their able nemesis and equal, the
intrepid lawman. These too showed up in the collection. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKzlV9nPajuxPDpcI3r9ZfjwjQmYXsUyXG8dR9ACroGKWlT5vQ2vGlpv2d0CextOMMnWE6fD0a0dapBo1zoEeplAUwa2Z5br6wTMih_K1vUnxbOJgjRE5paFaBfarh5XrW4gOvbNV-D5U/s1600/EARPS+PAGE_redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="716" data-original-width="1062" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKzlV9nPajuxPDpcI3r9ZfjwjQmYXsUyXG8dR9ACroGKWlT5vQ2vGlpv2d0CextOMMnWE6fD0a0dapBo1zoEeplAUwa2Z5br6wTMih_K1vUnxbOJgjRE5paFaBfarh5XrW4gOvbNV-D5U/s640/EARPS+PAGE_redcd.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;"> Old dingy tintypes yes... but of Old West legends!</span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;">Hopefully facial recognition technology can be </span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><i>used to satisfy skeptics. </i> </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">My
benefactor eventually auctioned tens of thousands of items, and
probably over 5000 historic images over a years' time. I suppose in a
collection that large, there were bound to be a few famous people.
But these were not just famous people, they were the most important
people to Western Culture in the Nineteenth Century. After a year
amassing the Stubborn Flame, I finally began to understand what it
was. The person who sold the individual images to me a few at a
time could not help at all with any background or origin for any of
them. He claimed to have gathered this staggering collection over the
years, and offered no geographic affinity or provenance. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">A
few images</span> among his auctions the seller suspected were famous outlaws, but
no one would pay his asking price. He claimed there were old tags
attached to some of these images which gave him clues to their
identity. But eventually I became convinced that the tags he had did
not go with the images he was offering as six-figure historic outlaw
tintypes. Meanwhile I was gathering truly historic and significant
images from him. Some in my newly acquired collection fit his tags.
And I had the eye for familiar faces, and their identities could be
somewhat deduced and even proven in time. And if I was right, he had
sold me many authentic, one-off tintypes of famous western outlaws
and lawmen and other high-profile Americans.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKl9YIL7cOWdw6q7kOf4-0ZXkSKO_NcAdPBRgWuECB3ELNd7-wt1FiODKU1PVxgGLErHTNj_JCViWl4KI3y9pQHXxhIp7Qf-xDSl0FNP8Ovc20BcIZDCs0-JoO1rEYKXqMw-gHmO6Yx5I/s1600/JESSE+JAMES+PAGE_redcd_edited-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="717" data-original-width="1014" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKl9YIL7cOWdw6q7kOf4-0ZXkSKO_NcAdPBRgWuECB3ELNd7-wt1FiODKU1PVxgGLErHTNj_JCViWl4KI3y9pQHXxhIp7Qf-xDSl0FNP8Ovc20BcIZDCs0-JoO1rEYKXqMw-gHmO6Yx5I/s640/JESSE+JAMES+PAGE_redcd_edited-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: medium;"> SEVERAL possible tintypes (numbered) of Jesse James. </span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><i>I know... what are the odds???</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">So
I want to share</span> this thrilling process with you. It was absolutely the most
exciting thing I was ever a part of. Every day for about a year I
scoured over the hundreds of auctions offered by this one person,
looking for new listings, waiting to snag them by being the high
bidder. Researching most of them before I even bid on them, I knew
exactly who they were long before they showed up in my mailbox.</span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">And
eventually I discovered an intriguing story behind them. It is not a
commonly known story. In fact, I think very few people know what I
will reveal on this website. If you are interested in Mark Twain,
Civil War spies, Pinkerton detectives, the French Impressionists, or
the Old West, you will find this epic stumble of mine fascinating.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Towards
the end of the purchases, which came to an abrupt end, I had
identified not only the owner of this collection but one of the
photographers... if I am right. And they were one and the same. There
was only one person it could be. The geographic associations of the
famous people in the tintypes gave me a roadmap of one very famous
Victorian photographer and writer. And strangely, intriguingly,
perhaps intentionally, a man almost totally ignored by literary
scholars. </span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Only
one man</span> had traveled extensively throughout the South after the Civil
War, as an itinerant photographer, operated a photographic studio in
the Midwest, moved to New York and became Mark Twain's biographer,
and traveled to France researching Joan of Arc. I believe
this is, in part the photographic journal of Albert Bigelow Paine, a
collection he amassed while writing some of the most important
biographies of the cultural iconclasts of his era, and many made by
himself. Many were no doubt loaned for publication purposes and never
returned. Some were personal family photographs of the Clemens
family, made before Paine was born, or had learned to use a camera.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">Albert
Bigelow Paine,</span> henceforth named just A.B., was the most secretive,
the most versatile, the most cunning, and perhaps the most scandalous
character in American literature. Sure others did more sensational
things, wrote more outrageous books, but none could equal A.B., who
managed to (I believe) photograph the Most Wanted outlaws of the time
(probably for law enforcement), build a thriving photograph supply in
Kansas, then suddenly switch to writing biographies and immediately
cast a spell on Mark Twain and his whole family, then parley
his New York associations into coveted assignments putting the
permanent spin on Lillian Gish, Thomas Nast and other Nineteenth
Century icons, whose legacies sometimes required a bit of spit and polish for
posterity. All while becoming the foremost children's writer of his
day, and in spite of the fact that he had abandoned his wife and family and business in Kansas and remarried his second wife without the trouble
of divorce. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">A.B.
Was the first PR man</span>, the vanguard of spin doctors. And as spin
doctor he first operated on himself. Like Twain, A.B. found a ready
following in France, where he seems to have shadowed everything Mark
Twain did, even, according to the French, besting him in his own
rendition of Joan of Arc. Twain's Joan was a bust, Paine's a triumph.
It was at this time that one or both of them made or collected a
stunning and extremely personal photographic record of the French
Impressionists and their families. They are here too. Monet, Manet,
Degas, Cassatt, even Van Gogh. Even Monet's wives and children. Even
beautiful Berthe Morisot- even her first lover, sculptor Aime Millet. Paine must have bummed that photo, made before he owned a camera. A.B. was the
ingratiater extraordinaire.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhCiJ44INOzKwvhigJjRvv3pqNHn00tXJ6S_UoN33UjmSvHPSlASLvxmSFNiRPoDu05DWvskeoZ-QKDJyKyIN6_zpKHOWYUwn0Sl817itwuhX7RXY06OdrVNdP7Mrkf-3IcMSCQzr0kAo/s1600/MORISOT+AIME_CROPT+ENHNCD+FXD_redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="824" data-original-width="722" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhCiJ44INOzKwvhigJjRvv3pqNHn00tXJ6S_UoN33UjmSvHPSlASLvxmSFNiRPoDu05DWvskeoZ-QKDJyKyIN6_zpKHOWYUwn0Sl817itwuhX7RXY06OdrVNdP7Mrkf-3IcMSCQzr0kAo/s640/MORISOT+AIME_CROPT+ENHNCD+FXD_redcd.jpg" width="560" /></a> </div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Berthe and Aime</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirqv0O6UtG3d-rL3Kz3BlVRjLDbHIkwr0Z_UDBrBT8y90h4UN2YMLlyUatQvfCyrKFL8mQgd9Q2Ubo4tYDo-81EeDbkRbtJWR5dgOOq4oeAdl9yCryyVCblTQIZwJe6NdkoG4du0R3yTw/s1600/BERTHE+AND+AIME+MILLET+PAGE+redcd.bmp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="536" data-original-width="782" height="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirqv0O6UtG3d-rL3Kz3BlVRjLDbHIkwr0Z_UDBrBT8y90h4UN2YMLlyUatQvfCyrKFL8mQgd9Q2Ubo4tYDo-81EeDbkRbtJWR5dgOOq4oeAdl9yCryyVCblTQIZwJe6NdkoG4du0R3yTw/s640/BERTHE+AND+AIME+MILLET+PAGE+redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;"> Each photograph has been painstakingly researched, </span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;">in an effort to make sure of the identities and weed out </span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><i>mere look-alikes. </i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">We
have almost no written record of any of Paine's adventures. Only his
published manuscripts. We know he was in these places. We know he
wrote those books... scores of them. Yet nobody ever wrote the
biography of the biographer. A.B. avoided interviews, gave one-paragraph biographical sketches. Nobody ever unearthed his secrets or
improprieties. Not until history had long shed her dust on his
sizable legacy. Nobody saved or protected his photographs either.
Otherwise I would not have some of them.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Or
at least I think do. You be the judge.</span></div>
</div>
Russell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964639905263397632.post-35347520055344780262017-07-05T05:54:00.000-07:002018-10-15T19:25:39.624-07:00THE Key Figure To My Mystery Identified!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;"> WAY over a year into this amazing find, I have come to a deeper appreciation of it, and yet different conclusions about its origins.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">If you have followed this saga, you know I originally imagined these tintypes were the personal collection of the infamous actress Adah Menken, until I discovered so many antique images specific to the personal life of Mark Twain, and long after her demise. And soon so many Pinkerton detectives and outlaws emerged that I concluded it must have been remnants of some old law enforcement rogue's gallery, even that of the famous Pinkerton's National Detective Agency.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7KzhPXHNX9vcShXhPufWVIeIWQecMJZHhyfWkbRu3W2wP9RxQyua25z2ljI2Etp5zYySBbPxm06AKNO3Qyg5JAEtuwZyABEP_X_PvT_yoOO7Yy61mTWaPiqC-RFmoTCVUgv1vEMBbJQE/s1600/PINKERTON+AGENCY+RCHIC+PAGE+REDCD.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="522" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7KzhPXHNX9vcShXhPufWVIeIWQecMJZHhyfWkbRu3W2wP9RxQyua25z2ljI2Etp5zYySBbPxm06AKNO3Qyg5JAEtuwZyABEP_X_PvT_yoOO7Yy61mTWaPiqC-RFmoTCVUgv1vEMBbJQE/s640/PINKERTON+AGENCY+RCHIC+PAGE+REDCD.bmp" width="464" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">These were all decent guesses, but lately after a few more important clues, I believe I have narrowed the field of possible owners/creators of what is now a collection of way over two hundred images, (selected out of thousands!) all obtained from one source in Florida. Constant study and comparison and have brought me to a very exciting theory, and that is all it is, that many of these images may have been taken by one early photographer, someone who traveled quite a bit, especially through the middle of America and also all over Europe, and by the 1890's had access to the most important and interesting people in Western culture, and someone who might have known Mark Twain and his family and friends intimately.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">This person's life and career would exactly explain this collection, and suddenly the chances of it being made by anyone else become slim. And as it turns out, there was such a person.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd-fTwTU21AUJdN1NUfRv4PbGPjlU3_pk_JMuU9r1pip22jgh44aAB6N0CPdKeVg_q17rD5Sodhnj03QnFbbHwhVulGwO0e_RE5ChccAmqmJkqMJXnIoOf0yHBjm2n9TSbwoR3sbJiFUE/s1600/ALBERT+BIGELOW+PAINE+CROPT+ENHCD_FXD+redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="619" data-original-width="494" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd-fTwTU21AUJdN1NUfRv4PbGPjlU3_pk_JMuU9r1pip22jgh44aAB6N0CPdKeVg_q17rD5Sodhnj03QnFbbHwhVulGwO0e_RE5ChccAmqmJkqMJXnIoOf0yHBjm2n9TSbwoR3sbJiFUE/s320/ALBERT+BIGELOW+PAINE+CROPT+ENHCD_FXD+redcd.jpg" width="255" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Albert Bigelow Paine</b> </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Outdoorsman, children's book writer, photographer, world traveler,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> and most importantly, personal friend and biographer </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>of Mark Twain, Lillian Gish, Thomas Nast, and </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Texas Ranger Captain Bill McDonald, among others.</i><br />
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie-i6_0uZ8h_X7J-tMWK1b8CSqGxREuiSPPRnuBgd8IOp4KuddQhxVYEIK1CYXxoDDhfWmf5cCRn0z6IQ_CxxeN0_T_N1AHIvjnBkzRntjiL4a8U2J7pgSGD9MInlIoSVdEZ7udTMNwgU/s1600/ALBERT+BIGELOW+PAINE+PAGE_edited-+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="563" data-original-width="821" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie-i6_0uZ8h_X7J-tMWK1b8CSqGxREuiSPPRnuBgd8IOp4KuddQhxVYEIK1CYXxoDDhfWmf5cCRn0z6IQ_CxxeN0_T_N1AHIvjnBkzRntjiL4a8U2J7pgSGD9MInlIoSVdEZ7udTMNwgU/s640/ALBERT+BIGELOW+PAINE+PAGE_edited-+redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I had long suspected that Paine was the key to this whole mystery, when the image (center and upper right) popped up in the "stubborn flame" collection. </i></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Albert Bigelow Paine</b>, Mark Twain's closest confidant, biographer and the official Clemens family historian, started his career as an itinerant photographer, wandering all over the South and later settling in Ft. Scott, Kansas, where he operated a photography studio and photographic supply shop. After a fortuitous break in his budding writing career, he abandoned everything and relocated in New York, which began a virtual fairy tale saga for this forgotten American icon.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3FvH7NgxFnfopx-NgQ1Z4RfLWeybyXa_lBQ5czsbI-sm4zyovWumCSNd5UR_JPfXgcB9U7hq18TV-oJUN1xt055h5ZxJCVrW9wMwsm9YPQl0llJ-aKv4invXa7DZCFEPPpZVypS5rNwg/s1600/7d0cab8857d9f30024a3d2457054e01d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="441" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3FvH7NgxFnfopx-NgQ1Z4RfLWeybyXa_lBQ5czsbI-sm4zyovWumCSNd5UR_JPfXgcB9U7hq18TV-oJUN1xt055h5ZxJCVrW9wMwsm9YPQl0llJ-aKv4invXa7DZCFEPPpZVypS5rNwg/s320/7d0cab8857d9f30024a3d2457054e01d.jpg" width="220" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Paine ultimately wrote numerous popular children's books, ingratiated himself to the iconoclasts and who's who of the East Coast, traveled with Samuel Clemens extensively in Europe for over a decade, and became the gatekeeper for all things Twain after his death.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Strangely, even though Albert Bigelow Paine made his living from photography for many years, there are few known photographs attributed to him. Perhaps this collection will change that. My assessment is that Paine was a poor photographer, his crude craftsmanship only acceptable in impoverished and remote spots where there was no competition; That he stayed on the move, and was a sort of chameleon, befriending all walks of life and photographing them. This gave him access to Counts and no-counts. After his writing career was sufficiently launched, he made few photographs, although experimenting some with later processes.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I am convinced that the photographs featured on this website were made by him for these reasons:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">1) Using Google search techniques, I have identified the persons in the photographs with no particular bias, yet have amassed several stunningly <u>inter-related Victorian groups</u>... The Twain group, the Civil War spy group, the law enforcement group, the American outlaw group, the French Impressionist group... and many could have been in Paine's studio at one time or another during his photography career. The odds would be astronomical against finding at random so many related images, and inter-related groups, all from a fairly narrow window of time, without there being a deliberate collection. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">2) The diversity of the photographs demands a lot of travel or serious collecting for a lifetime. Few photographers have made Paine's trail in history. Few had his social skills or have covered so much ground. The unique combination of his talents and travels fit the photographs here like a glove. Again, sheer odds demand that Albert Bigelow Paine either made or collected the photographs himself.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">3) The person from whom I have collected these images lives less than a hundred miles from where Albert Bigelow Paine drew his last breath. Paine's descendants, clueless about most of this enormous tintype legacy, might easily have discarded or sold them after his death in Florida, where they have sat unidentified for almost one hundred years. <i>Without the assistance of Google search, identification of so many obscure people would have been nearly impossible without a legion of experts.</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">There are very good reasons why this collection was never displayed or recorded. Facts which emerge from them sometimes conflict with accepted versions of history... in some cases written by Paine himself. Among other things, Paine had a talent for "whitewashing," perhaps perfecting the art of spin-doctoring. Almost all of his biographies have been artful re-inventions of their subjects, where there would be no trace of scandal or impropriety. Paine was the prototype of the American public relations industry.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">With these things in mind... enjoy the images which virtually retrace his steps, as he followed his idol and mentor, Mark Twain, and together they fabricated an enduring American myth.</span><br />
<br /></div>
Russell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964639905263397632.post-77685296517298697542017-01-29T19:59:00.000-08:002017-01-29T20:07:53.937-08:00A message to Lefties...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoiKMZyLuSfPi_jzBvCsI6RBv8MLxP-3oZWEzx-3Krq4BUhpegreB_Q65MHQ8pt97QwDkbbVcnJmtfZjWCwhLWQ2RuNzDTuZHI7mOk3prZ6m7zj8Xt5Q9JPY_pb7i-8J6CZ8YmZoWUZmM/s1600/lefthanded+world+redcd.bmp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoiKMZyLuSfPi_jzBvCsI6RBv8MLxP-3oZWEzx-3Krq4BUhpegreB_Q65MHQ8pt97QwDkbbVcnJmtfZjWCwhLWQ2RuNzDTuZHI7mOk3prZ6m7zj8Xt5Q9JPY_pb7i-8J6CZ8YmZoWUZmM/s640/lefthanded+world+redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a> </span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"> "Wrong-handers" have always ruled the world...</span></i></span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">This blog is aimed
especially at left-handed people</span>. Only around 12% of the population,
lefties occupy a disproportionate segment of our society's
entertainers, artists, politicians and learning disabled and criminal
element. Leftys are the misbehaving elephant in the room. Yet they
are the one minority most valuable to humanity, that nobody has
cared to address in public education or social awareness. This blog
makes an attempt to bring their staggering contribution to you in a
careful, methodical way, without actually telling you what idiots you
all are, for not knowing this in the first place... ;) </span>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">If you are left handed,
this blog will be an inspiration to give yourself more credit, to
ignore the obstacles you have encountered, to press on! You are part
of a powerful, elite, universally envied group. So when you get out
of prison, you should make something of yourself... LEGALLY!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you are not left
handed... you still have a right brain, although recessive, which
you can and should make more use of... and change your life for the
better. I have had two artist friends who had strokes. Each was
right-handed. The strokes they had paralyzed their right arms and in
both cases they were forced to paint with their left hands. After
they got the courage to try, they found a wonderful surprise. They
not only were able to continue painting, but their work improved. The
force is with you!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I call that “force”
the STUBBORN FLAME.</span> It is the flame which in ancient days smeared red
ocher on cave walls to tell of great hunts and ascending spiritual
beings... and carved tales of massacres and warlords in stone. The
flame inspired the Indo-Aryans to invent the written word, the
Hurrians to develop the wheel and iron and archery. The flame fired
the Greeks, who established ways so remarkable it has taken a long
time to ever improve on their concepts of philosophy, government or
art. And that flame exploded through left-handed iconoclasts in our
history (Western Culture) such as Joan of Arc, DaVinci, Michelangelo,
Newton, Napoleon, Benjamin Franklin, Beethoven, Queen Victoria, Mark
Twain, Nietzsche, Henry Ford, Marie Curie, Gandhi, Charlie Chaplin,
Alan Turing, Tesla, Jimi Hendrix, Paul McCartney, Bill Gates, and
most of the Presidents in your lifetime. </span>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It seems the only response
to this brilliance offered from the 88% majority is ambivalence or
ignorance. So this blog is a warning to the righted-handed; you have
been had, you have been conned, herded and sucked dry by a cunning group that has miraculously laid low while
quietly governing every step of your life...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you are right-handed, you
would do well to understand your plight, because it is you who must
tend the fires.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">[ keep scrolling below to read more about this amazing collection debut ]</span></i></b> </span></div>
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Russell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964639905263397632.post-75642746465704423492016-09-12T15:41:00.000-07:002017-02-20T18:01:44.337-08:00The REST of the Story!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">When I started this blog</span> (actually a book! See the chapters over on the right) four months ago, I had waited until I had scrounged up a little perspective on the photographs featured here. Some chance purchases evolved into an adventure, and I was sharing it play-by-play with my readers. I had no idea it was only just beginning. I thought I understood what was unfolding in front of me... if you read the entries below you will see that a zillion things were swimming in my head...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMOz03X49ZtXCbmlYMK59BuP6-w5WGq5FqG1ETu_0CeNZ_C4YumssIlPZyV4uLwLCFuWtNCb6dli5A1Hr6BGH7ae2OgSM8zQELYqQL9UMEt_GmrL4Y0oUe7QL1q87UIzBZ6u023wtgkrE/s1600/PINKERTON+GROUP_CROPT+ENHNCD_FXD+REDCD+copy.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMOz03X49ZtXCbmlYMK59BuP6-w5WGq5FqG1ETu_0CeNZ_C4YumssIlPZyV4uLwLCFuWtNCb6dli5A1Hr6BGH7ae2OgSM8zQELYqQL9UMEt_GmrL4Y0oUe7QL1q87UIzBZ6u023wtgkrE/s320/PINKERTON+GROUP_CROPT+ENHNCD_FXD+REDCD+copy.bmp" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> <i><span style="font-size: small;">This RARE antique image kept showing up in a collection where I had been purchasing tintypes... I wondered if they might be Pinkerton Detectives, as the elderly man in the middle on the front row looked hauntingly like an elderly Charlie Siringo, the famous "Cowboy Detective." </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">About the time that I was kicking back and getting mentally (and financially!) fatigued with this whole saga, hoping it was winding down... I turned another page into THE REAL STORY. A single tintype was SCREAMING, trying to tell me what it was all about... and I was dubious... but I am now convinced that this entire collection of extraordinary antique images was originally in the files of the <b>Pinkerton Detective Agency</b>. What I have here, now over a hundred tintypes, are the remnants of their HUGE, famous rogues gallery. And that explains why I had found so many images of Civil War spies early on ...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc8xawv_BN1pVscBy10q-4sP_zRsHCu2JAhwpmCxgFLrktFXKOo4HspBlFcA6t-nZkkVndjprt1htjKqL_kc4a4idZbntRc96Eh6LhrYVbN9-dm7OPE8mnDGT73L2h4KEVFyzohHScTo4/s1600/PINKERTON+GROUP_+REDCD+.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc8xawv_BN1pVscBy10q-4sP_zRsHCu2JAhwpmCxgFLrktFXKOo4HspBlFcA6t-nZkkVndjprt1htjKqL_kc4a4idZbntRc96Eh6LhrYVbN9-dm7OPE8mnDGT73L2h4KEVFyzohHScTo4/s400/PINKERTON+GROUP_+REDCD+.bmp" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> I have managed to identify, to my satisfaction, four of the six Pinkerton men in the photo.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Perhaps the most famous </span>of all Pinkerton detectives, <b>Charlie Siringo</b> was ready to leap out of the pile and ride right into my collection! Back in the day, the obsolete Pinkerton photo-files were occasionally cleared out to make room, and they disposed of many decades of images, unscrupulously collected in the worlds largest criminal file... No doubt somebody made a haul around a half-century ago, when
such things were only dark curiosities... and acquired this huge image file, or at least part of it, and then they failed to
provide an index to the present owner... </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I had been pondering one tintype of a group of derby'd men- and thought one was very possibly a famous Pinkerton agent from Texas. I did not buy it, as I could not identify any of the others, and it would have been hard to authenticate... The Pinkertons were not that high-profile, in fact they forbade any literary profiteering by agents, (except by the owners) retired or otherwise, from writing their memoirs. Few photographs of their active agents were ever put into circulation, for obvious reasons. The tintype above of Charlie Siringo (known well only because he disregarded the Pinkerton's rule!) and his associates, was quite possibly the rarest of them all, but there was no way to compare it to try and <i>validate </i>it. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC1ho9wdjOsMpMDiqqKPPfE-0R6iyDZTVemh4PNoz2iev6zCHUev_9LJmgJHeiZ6_1ifWq9SZmHmzOlCHVKBwyO8WTPugHl3JJ2-jczjYZCM_1QHFzeq8WjF-Db4Rn2liSavwrQ6EtzSM/s1600/PINKERTON+MEN_edited-1+REDCD.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="433" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC1ho9wdjOsMpMDiqqKPPfE-0R6iyDZTVemh4PNoz2iev6zCHUev_9LJmgJHeiZ6_1ifWq9SZmHmzOlCHVKBwyO8WTPugHl3JJ2-jczjYZCM_1QHFzeq8WjF-Db4Rn2liSavwrQ6EtzSM/s640/PINKERTON+MEN_edited-1+REDCD.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">THEN</span>, I encountered another intriguing tintype in this same collection, this time with Siringo and one of his bosses, probably Robert Pinkerton, and then another, and another... I have since acquired perhaps a dozen Pinkerton images, including one of Allan Pinkerton, William Pinkerton, James McParland, "the Great Detective," and Robert Linden.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX0sBzqP57vx-cYv7H2-ufuNmeSF3oYnpH2Yzy41sl0z0k71qlOzTIwpUxSy0ygRmEBW-M9AVTMqB5C_YQqb0kk8xaN_HjuM7yzgrnoEbpVULzB5MDbPWxv9smq1V1dh6u0jZsAv1Gjk0/s1600/MCPARLAND_page+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX0sBzqP57vx-cYv7H2-ufuNmeSF3oYnpH2Yzy41sl0z0k71qlOzTIwpUxSy0ygRmEBW-M9AVTMqB5C_YQqb0kk8xaN_HjuM7yzgrnoEbpVULzB5MDbPWxv9smq1V1dh6u0jZsAv1Gjk0/s400/MCPARLAND_page+redcd.bmp" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> James McParland, "the Great Detective" who exposed the "Mollie Maguires."</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i></span> </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0_vce8vz8zCpvQf7mayIn9qlInMpqo5RUIIO_l6LVUvbnM143g4OZlmfrguKsfogy_Q9mD-QdesHl4ACjC0htpBWbf9FOcZE3EIgrbWrkD4U4ATSMcpQsnxM84P9xqUS3hkvj__C9Owo/s1600/CHARLIE+SIRINGO+pg++reducd_edited-1.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0_vce8vz8zCpvQf7mayIn9qlInMpqo5RUIIO_l6LVUvbnM143g4OZlmfrguKsfogy_Q9mD-QdesHl4ACjC0htpBWbf9FOcZE3EIgrbWrkD4U4ATSMcpQsnxM84P9xqUS3hkvj__C9Owo/s400/CHARLIE+SIRINGO+pg++reducd_edited-1.bmp" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> Three of my Pinkerton images...</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then came a shower of images of the true <i>rogues</i>, outlaws and gunslingers and a few more lawmen came marching by, and THIS was my favorite subject... and I just quit blogging for awhile and concentrated on the find of lifetime! </span><br />
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<i>My image of "Black Bart" (on the left) is perhaps the only known image of him as a </i></div>
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<i>mid-aged man when he committed his robberies. Before now we have only seen him after his prison term.</i> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyGHSnZNHlUF3JQj-hjV4OQqz-khApcpQodbRJhpURtQm-MsAd4s1_AvcPUuydbHlpGNRWpLQID38hzaBRddxLjNcbVnQi95kCWjj5jV7RFK15LEKCv53zty2KBh7JplX-yw3U2SmcD8M/s1600/BLACK+BART_redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyGHSnZNHlUF3JQj-hjV4OQqz-khApcpQodbRJhpURtQm-MsAd4s1_AvcPUuydbHlpGNRWpLQID38hzaBRddxLjNcbVnQi95kCWjj5jV7RFK15LEKCv53zty2KBh7JplX-yw3U2SmcD8M/s320/BLACK+BART_redcd.bmp" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr8fCIRVvunshqoyHN8EbsqCliW4BvlRzN_ioMjVUTHiYvlYitAdK_FmJVNx5v-lVL91ICpVw0IDwGhPJFckeUXneh69ybnaUqwe6cQ_nS_WLAmINF-jG7q-d5DgDb5XsadNieJGUhvv4/s1600/JESSE+J+page+redcd.bmp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="387" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr8fCIRVvunshqoyHN8EbsqCliW4BvlRzN_ioMjVUTHiYvlYitAdK_FmJVNx5v-lVL91ICpVw0IDwGhPJFckeUXneh69ybnaUqwe6cQ_nS_WLAmINF-jG7q-d5DgDb5XsadNieJGUhvv4/s640/JESSE+J+page+redcd.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
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Nuff said... mine is the large sepia-toned one in the middle... incredible find.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyvkvK_dJ6Jkp0OhCWwL9koy81qKUDyO7x6cABvjgOL-czN8oHW0d3BFeG-NmTiWfonHxkQN8oMkwb3vO0JTkbHUn5RA11iUP-qhqt7ni7C5RhvmaczKK3PWY5XTDgVo3neDBWCdJ7gU4/s1600/HENRY+STAAR_edited-1++redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyvkvK_dJ6Jkp0OhCWwL9koy81qKUDyO7x6cABvjgOL-czN8oHW0d3BFeG-NmTiWfonHxkQN8oMkwb3vO0JTkbHUn5RA11iUP-qhqt7ni7C5RhvmaczKK3PWY5XTDgVo3neDBWCdJ7gU4/s400/HENRY+STAAR_edited-1++redcd.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> <i><span style="font-size: small;">Actually Henry Starr was far more successful than most other train robbers...</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">What I have acquired, among all the various suspicious and nefarious characters, is an astonishing collection, unpublished, never-before seen images of the men and some women who were the most wanted criminals in the world... and a few "lawmen" who may have worked on both sides of the law... Here are just a smattering of my purchases with comparisons offered of known likenesses of them. OMG!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeu5UW-zpSqGUEuDsespDlcJVEwGOSEjxsxORPSpZW3MisEnM42Nt8lMD9PqvXmwaLt0qmlaZdD-Hl5GeBCM4s0qW1u79EIVr3k8rcjLG5Ng4lVaalfMLqm-3kUdMy1qd20LGMBo_NvtI/s1600/wild+bill+hickok+page+redcd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeu5UW-zpSqGUEuDsespDlcJVEwGOSEjxsxORPSpZW3MisEnM42Nt8lMD9PqvXmwaLt0qmlaZdD-Hl5GeBCM4s0qW1u79EIVr3k8rcjLG5Ng4lVaalfMLqm-3kUdMy1qd20LGMBo_NvtI/s400/wild+bill+hickok+page+redcd.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> Before "Wild Bill" went Hollywood...</i></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz0Jw71VKLOTfP2JB1_ASedvbQO0Wc5MkYlqBxDAQNBz0UsAQjfgoHE4j1Zv5XTy_kLliXyMX8dt1CFk_qVAHUJ088P0tJlJWJNnNxqqgwsT_bCUcneZ54e-uR5qdWZ5XPzQsZbcZ326k/s1600/FRANK+JAMES+page+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz0Jw71VKLOTfP2JB1_ASedvbQO0Wc5MkYlqBxDAQNBz0UsAQjfgoHE4j1Zv5XTy_kLliXyMX8dt1CFk_qVAHUJ088P0tJlJWJNnNxqqgwsT_bCUcneZ54e-uR5qdWZ5XPzQsZbcZ326k/s400/FRANK+JAMES+page+redcd.bmp" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdH5eSXL5X9ShfdjrnzYYLbgONwBnPeC8SzbBL0Ul8WZd_379JHuEvFIaBoZqj-GRNDj28TuBTaSpve5RptoAb0w-zsm9TaiEl_gvG_W7d3LlgpoFH6KylPiloTz93AcrqePg4qQLIypQ/s1600/RENO_CROPT+ENHNCD_FXD_edited-1+REDCD.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdH5eSXL5X9ShfdjrnzYYLbgONwBnPeC8SzbBL0Ul8WZd_379JHuEvFIaBoZqj-GRNDj28TuBTaSpve5RptoAb0w-zsm9TaiEl_gvG_W7d3LlgpoFH6KylPiloTz93AcrqePg4qQLIypQ/s320/RENO_CROPT+ENHNCD_FXD_edited-1+REDCD.bmp" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>One of the very first Train robbers</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHhZB8VopPTdDbze3e-CBfJ0horqMylJamZUR1q2XFAT57FEd2CukM5MdeO58vokR0DimU0Ne83FDWKe8WtpyhlLahwwbX1fkodgXrpJ7QpjGXq0-AMO4tenVv1CEb6cRUQDpVkditMR8/s1600/Flora+Quick+akaTOM+KING+page+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHhZB8VopPTdDbze3e-CBfJ0horqMylJamZUR1q2XFAT57FEd2CukM5MdeO58vokR0DimU0Ne83FDWKe8WtpyhlLahwwbX1fkodgXrpJ7QpjGXq0-AMO4tenVv1CEb6cRUQDpVkditMR8/s400/Flora+Quick+akaTOM+KING+page+redcd.bmp" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>VERY RARE! Bob Dalton's paramour and accomplice...</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS56EkcGEwalawSCpaNYkBwvDHBq15T5trxqwaj9UbTRtOeofdJqYVfCUXGKyrjbMG_LAmYHbXbtvWurCAjsCT2O3ubx9WkdAQoZ6jjmITZEMx76kIsMYKsp4kwa5b-9PVpL9g0cPZiI4/s1600/O+HENRY+PAGE_redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS56EkcGEwalawSCpaNYkBwvDHBq15T5trxqwaj9UbTRtOeofdJqYVfCUXGKyrjbMG_LAmYHbXbtvWurCAjsCT2O3ubx9WkdAQoZ6jjmITZEMx76kIsMYKsp4kwa5b-9PVpL9g0cPZiI4/s400/O+HENRY+PAGE_redcd.bmp" width="400" /></a></div>
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O. Henry- My favorite short story writer... started out as a convicted embezzler... Three images!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJXtGv4vgkA8eYHyIXhEA1gX8igFSmlaqixT5lH2G_1IO5EhbES0arERwjFgQhBCENBgCDXdliURm-ryjakwRh_PZhD4CgbpR_PERdj1HIBUChrwzt4JDQTIHgIxZ-kqbxvZthoYJlULw/s1600/MOLLYMAGUIRES+CAMPBELL+N+KELLY+PAGE+redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJXtGv4vgkA8eYHyIXhEA1gX8igFSmlaqixT5lH2G_1IO5EhbES0arERwjFgQhBCENBgCDXdliURm-ryjakwRh_PZhD4CgbpR_PERdj1HIBUChrwzt4JDQTIHgIxZ-kqbxvZthoYJlULw/s400/MOLLYMAGUIRES+CAMPBELL+N+KELLY+PAGE+redcd.bmp" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Just two of twenty Irishmen hung for a rash murders in the Pennsylvania coal region.</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpyf7WpIhiRRSG6LSuiX4eRNN1cBPtonah4mJysECepWRQzwPKLwC2fhrQJbnQeXJUZjlXetuNpFKPRf_wUrZQ0bfLoYA15Jlm45khoHEkykTG1ZD1z5X2ApZ88m9cvW6sUEl8NUHRSg0/s1600/AL+JENNINGS+page_redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpyf7WpIhiRRSG6LSuiX4eRNN1cBPtonah4mJysECepWRQzwPKLwC2fhrQJbnQeXJUZjlXetuNpFKPRf_wUrZQ0bfLoYA15Jlm45khoHEkykTG1ZD1z5X2ApZ88m9cvW6sUEl8NUHRSg0/s400/AL+JENNINGS+page_redcd.bmp" width="400" /></a></div>
<i> Once a lawyer, Jennings turned to a life of crime and after being paroled from prison by President Roosevelt, tried preaching and acting in western movies...</i><br />
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<i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_R0eg_q0OsAMVYLDnMGeyZ8QbKbshG9znMvist0bztS7FDVq8tAGLY7WWtk4hzk-c6InSfg9_9TRWbzLv-cYqrxfmIh91Z4P02rBYjlAGhOwXp5sWqlbGJ5FQyOEIplxkilW3lLuCtoc/s1600/OLIVER+CURTIS+PERRY+PAGE_redcd.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_R0eg_q0OsAMVYLDnMGeyZ8QbKbshG9znMvist0bztS7FDVq8tAGLY7WWtk4hzk-c6InSfg9_9TRWbzLv-cYqrxfmIh91Z4P02rBYjlAGhOwXp5sWqlbGJ5FQyOEIplxkilW3lLuCtoc/s400/OLIVER+CURTIS+PERRY+PAGE_redcd.bmp" width="400" /></a></i></div>
<i>Oliver Perry was a cunning and daring train robber... His mistake was committing his crimes in the east... so he never got much attention and died in prison...</i><br />
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<i>There are a bunch more... </i></div>
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Russell Cushmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12125943782255815588noreply@blogger.com0