Whiskers of horror

In the recent resurgence of whiskery wonderment that has overswept the Maine hipster crowd, here is a piece of Maine's less kind whisker history, found in the November 5, 1874 issues of the Daily Kennebec Journal:

An aggravated case of hazing occurred at Bates College Friday night, when a party of sophomores broke into the room of C. E. Hussey, a freshman from Farmington, their purpose being to cut off his whiskers. He screamed for help and to smother his cries they held the bed clothes about his head.

Having accomplished their object and fearing discovery by reason of his outcries, they struck and beat him in a cowardly manner, cutting several deep gashes in his head and maltreating him to such an extent that a physician had to be summoned, and Hussey is now confined to his bed. The faculty have instituted a searching examination.

Even with this inauspicious start to his college career, Charles Edwin Hussey went on to graduate from Bates College in 1878. The May 1879 issue of Bates' Scarab newsletter had this to say about the recent graduate's upswing in career: "'78. — C. E. Hussey, who has during the past year been teaching the High School at Milton Mills, N. H., has been appointed Principal of the High School at Rochester, N. H." In 1881 he received an MA degree, and expanded his career into Massachusetts.

Seen here in a portrait circa 1896, Hussey seems to have toned down his whiskers as a professional adult. I would love to see what they looked like before the attack -- how epic had they become? This photo is from a page-long entry in a town history of Redding, MA.

According to a Hussey genealogy site at http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~gowenrf/husseyms_102.html, here is a capsule history of his life:

Charles Edwin Hussey (H3/2.2), son of Charles William Hussey (H4/4.2) and Nancy Bickford Davis Hussey (D4/1.1), was born June 16, 1856 in Rochester. He was graduated from Bates College in 1878 with an AB degree and received an MA degree in 1881. He was employed as a school superintendent in New Hampshire and also in Newton, Natick, Wakefield and Reading, Massachusetts. He was married December 25, 1884 to Carrie H. Wallace (W3/1.1), daughter of E. G. Wallace (W4/1.1) of Rochester. She was born February 26, 1862. Charles Edwin Hussey (H3/2.2) became an officer in the U. S. Army during the Spanish-American War. He died October 17, 1915 at Rochester.

So hey -- even if you experience whisker-oriented assault, you can still go on to live a productive life. C.E. Hussey is proof of that!

Clownbox disappears in Lewiston

A guest post from Loren Coleman:

The ringmaster, Peter Sturgis, of the Kora Shriners Circus called the International Cryptozoology Museum today to follow up on some books he was obtaining from our giftshop. During out conversation, he mentioned that the circus's visit to Maine this year was one of the strangest they have experienced in years, due to the fact someone stole their "shrinker" from the parking lot of the Temple in Lewiston.

I looked up the news account via Bangor Daily News, and thought Strange Maine readers might be interested.

Clown prop stolen from truck in Lewiston
By Mark LaFlamme, Sun Journal
Posted April 22, 2011, at 9:36 a.m.

Sun Journal photo courtesy of the Lewiston Police Department
The Kora Clowns Weight Loss Machine in action at the Androscoggin Bank Colisee.
LEWISTON, Maine — The tension is thick.

A large clown named Kracker has crawled into a bright yellow box. Bulbs are flashing, blue, green, red. A buzzer sounds. Smoke pours from the magical box. Confetti flies into the air and moments later, the clown emerges, half the size he was moments before.

It’s called Kora Clowns Weight Loss Machine and it dazzles audiences wherever it goes. Only now, the machine is missing, the target of thieves who swiped it from the back of Kracker’s truck.

The theft was a trick in itself — at 400 pounds, the bulky box could not have been an easy thing to carry away.

“The machine is very large and heavy,” Lewiston police Lt. Michael McGonagle said, “and would need more than one person to move.”

Detectives are on the case. Real police, not the Krazy Kops. And they are not clowning around. Leads have already been developed. Police and the Shriners who use the box to entertain crowds at the circus are hoping the thieves will bring it back.

“It’s not a high-value item,” Shriner Michael Morin said. “But it means a lot to us and to the kids.”

On Thursday afternoon, there was a report that the Weight Loss Machine fell off the back of a truck on Interstate 295 in Freeport. Police were checking into that report while chasing local leads.

“If anyone has information,” McGonagle said, “or knows of someone who has lost a lot of weight in the past day, have them contact Detective Roland Godbout.”

Cue rim shot.

It’s hard not to joke about a device used by a bunch of clowns. But the Shriners are serious about getting it back.

The prop was taken from the back of a pickup parked on South Lisbon Road the night of April 12-13. Its absence leaves Shriners without one of their more popular gags with which to wow audiences.

“The guys are scrambling now to put something together for the Augusta circus shows on Friday and Saturday,” said Jim Bennett, also known as Ginjo the clown. The box was constructed by — no, really — the Shriners Klown Unit. It’s a simple box with attachments for the bulbs, smoke and confetti. It’s Kracker who goes into the machine but a slimmer clown named Stumpy who comes out.

Which Rob Farrington, of the Klown Unit, feels is fairly important to note. Who knows if the thieves are crawling in and out of the box, waiting for the pounds to magically disappear?

“It’s a pretty cool little skit,” Farrington said. “But it doesn’t really work.”

Source: http://new.bangordailynews.com/2011/04/22/news/clown-prop-stolen-from-truck-in-lewiston/

UPDATE:
Thanks to Brian for pointing out a follow-up article in the Sun Journal, in which it was determined that the box fell out of Krackers' truck, and was not in fact stolen.

Clown prop recovered. Sort of.
By Mark LaFlamme, Staff Writer
Apr 23, 2011 12:00 am

LEWISTON — The Kora Clowns Weight Loss Machine, reported stolen earlier in the week, more likely fell off a clown's truck in Freeport, police said Friday.

Police said it appears the 400-pound wooden box was not stolen after all. Indications are that the gizmo may have fallen off of a pickup driven Richard Nadeau, aka Kracker the clown, after the Shrine Circus show in Portland on Tuesday night.

Highway officials apparently found the box along Interstate 295 in Freeport late Tuesday or early Wednesday. It was in less than prime condition, police said, and the Weight Loss Machine was disposed of.

Nadeau had been hauling the box and told police he did not notice the item missing from his truck parked on South Lisbon Road until Wednesday morning. When he discovered it was gone, he told police he assumed it had been stolen, police said.

It was not reported to police until Thursday. They began looking into the matter and by the end of the day, they discovered that the box had been found on the interstate in Freeport.

The Weight Loss Machine featured flashing bulbs, ominous smoke and a buzzer that heralded the seeming transformation of a big clown into a little one.

"It was a pretty popular skit," Shriner Mike Morin said.

It had been constructed by the Shriners and was valued at about $500. With more circus appearances on the schedule, Morin expects the Shriners will waste little time in constructing a new and improved Weight Loss Machine to continue the business of shrinking clowns and wowing crowds.

"I'd be really surprised," he said, "if they don't build another one right away."

Source: http://www.sunjournal.com/city/story/1019444

The mad moose of Lewiston

Here's another piece of urban legend or folklore, depending on your preference for terminology.

Back in the mid-1980s, a friend of mine grew up in Lewiston, Maine. Her family lived on a sideroad off of Grove Street. Not too far away was a sandpit which was accessed via trails that ran past a marshy wildland that ran in back of the neighborhood.

Among the local kids who used to hang out in the sandpit, riding their bikes and so on, there was a story that circulated -- the Legend of the Brainless Moose!

Legend had it that the moose had a parasitic worm that entered its head through its ear and ate away at its brains over the years. The result was a crazed, rampaging moose with only half a brain left! If you heard rustling in the undergrowth, you knew the moose was coming, and you got out of there fast!

Lewiston is no stranger to rampaging and roaming moose, with or without brainworms, according to other friends who grew up in the area. I'm sure other groups of kids in the area had their own tales, but it'll be hard to top this one!

Maine's cloaked crusaders

Back in June, Kathryn Skelton of the Lewiston Sun Journal caught up with two members of the Real Life Superhero Project (http://www.reallifesuperheroes.org/) that live and patrol in Lewiston. The full-length interview is extensive and well worth reading, especially in light of the current Guardian Angel recruiting efforts in Portland:

Weird, Wicked Weird: Maine's Real Life Superheroes. Yup, for real.
By Kathryn Skelton, Staff Writer
Published Jun 05, 2010 12:00 am | Last updated Jun 04, 2010 11:10 pm

Her mom thought she was doing drugs, slipping out at night, wandering the streets.

Mom didn’t realize her little girl was actually busy atoning and avenging.

As the self-styled superhero "Dreizehn" (that’s the number 13 in German), she’d slip out and look for trouble, interrupting drug deals and vehicle break-ins. Think “Kick-Ass,” but in real life. Sometimes it worked, sometimes the teenager got beaten up, badly.

Dreizehn moved to Maine from a big city outside New England a few months ago to join her similarly self-styled superhero boyfriend, "Slapjack." Several nights a week they walk Lewiston-Auburn for hours on end as roving Good Samaritans, looking for trouble.

The streets here? Much less mean, in her limited experience.

Most nights their foot patrol means giving bottled water and granola bars to the homeless and maybe yelling at a graffiti artist, all the while costumed and armed with batons, knife-proof protective wear and brass knuckles electrified with Tasers.

Dreizehn and Slapjack are in their 20s. Their parents? They still have no clue.

“You kind of have to be a little unstable to do it,” Dreizehn said. “Going out at 2 a.m. with a mask on and thinking you’re going to save the world, it says a lot about you.”
[...]

Read full article with photos here:
http://www.sunjournal.com/city/story/844777

Haunting Attack in Lewiston Cemetery

Photo of Riverside Cemetery by Dan Bernard, used by permission of the artist.

This article originally appeared in the October 2008 issue of the Strange Maine Gazette.

-----------------------
It’s not uncommon for me to collect new and interesting stories from friends and strangers as I make my rounds with fresh issues of the Gazette. Earlier this year, Matt told me of his terrifying experience in one of his hometown’s cemeteries. He was deadly serious when he told me this story, which is one of the reasons why, come Halloween time, it came to mind again. He was kind enough to take the time to sit down and record his account for me.

About a year ago (Saturday, October 20th, 2007, I believe), my brother Mike, his now ex-fiance, and I decided to take a walk in the Riverside cemetery near my old apartment in Lewiston. It was a crisp Autumn afternoon, sunny with a slight nip in the air -- nice walking weather.

We entered the cemetery at the Summer Street entrance and took the first right, down past the winter storage sheds, then took a left along the edge of the hill, toward the river. We stopped at a nice, quiet plot with a small stone bench. I picked up an empty 24-pack of Natural Ice beer that some bozo had no doubt dumped the night before, and put it in the trash.

After a minute or two, we continued on our way and turned right along the side of the river. A leashless dog came running toward us, followed a moment later by its owner. The owner caught up to her dog just as it started to squat down and relieve itself in front of someone’s tombstone.

As soon as the owner was out of earshot, I commented to Mike and Nikki about how disrespectful it was to let one’s dog defecate on a burial plot, and not even have the decency to clean it up. They agreed. This led me to mention the kicked-in stained glass windows on the doors to the Libby Mausoleum.

Neither Mike nor Nikki had ever seen the Mausoleum, so I decided to lead them up to the secluded glen where it lies. Almost immediately after we got there, I started to get the feeling that we weren’t welcome.

There was a tension building in the air, and I felt like someone was glaring at me. Nikki was picking up on it too, and decided to attempt to communicate with the presence. I started to get really cold, and told Mike and Nikki that I was getting some really bad vibes off the place. When Nikki lit up a cigarette, I felt a shift come over the air, like it had become charged, and I felt my stomach bottom out.

I had turned around and was actually walking away from the crypt when I heard Nikki yelp, followed by a loud cracking noise. I turned just in time to see Nikki running towards me as the top half of a birch tree snapped off and came crashing down where we had been standing. As the shock of what had just happened started to sink in, I became acutely aware that the presence I had felt at the mausoleum was now bearing down on the three of us.

I started to run as hard as I could, occasionally looking over my shoulder to see if Mike and Nikki were okay. I never actually saw anything tangible, but still got the sense that, whoever or whatever it was, was not very far behind me until I had passed the winter storage shed.

The chill I felt while at the crypt lingered with me for the next day or so. I couldn’t stay warm. Nikki also could not keep warm, and she claimed that she could still feel the presence lingering about her for a few hours after the encounter.

Ironically, when I went online to see if I could come up with any imagery of the Libby Mausoleum, the only thing I found was a photo on Flickr.com by an acquaintance of mine, which was accompanied by the tale of an injury she incurred while trying to take a photo of the mausoleum. Uncanny, you say to yourself, as did I.

She pulled something in her leg while climbing the short slope to the tomb’s entryway, and the self-timer on the camera snapped its shot as she grabbed at her leg in pain. She comments, “I heard, did not feel, heard, a huge crack and then snap. For a fraction of a second I though my calf had cramped up. Then the pain came!”

So is the Libby Mausoleum cursed? It seems more likely that perhaps it harbors a jealous and protective guardian spirit that is sick of vandals and even the most innocent gawkers intruding upon the peace of the mausoleum’s location.

The disrespect shown to Riverside Cemetery’s “guests” (as their website refers to the buried dead, see http://riverside.marshallsonline.org) is not uncommon in Maine’s graveyards, but to those who find solace in these quiet places, and to those like myself who use them as a source in field research, this behavior is effectively destroying connections with our history. Riverside’s caretakers have openly announced a $500 reward for information leading to the apprehension of the culprits of the latest wave of Riverside Cemetery vandalism.

The Phantoms of Lewiston

Over at the Lewiston Sun Journal, intrepid reporter Mark LaFlamme spent some time this past December musing on the whereabouts of the well-known people of the Lewiston streets. Portland has many of its own, definitely room for another article there!

Wither the phantoms?
By Mark LaFlamme
Wednesday, December 17, 2008 05:00 am

Nameless friends, where art thou? For so many years, you were ubiquitous and you fascinated me, but now you have vanished like migratory birds flown off to some unknown land.
[...]
I haven't seen the Flag Man in months, maybe a year. I wonder where he has gone and whether he is properly equipped with the American flag that so comforts him.

I don't see the Twirling Lady so much, either. Since 1994, I watched her floating along the sidewalks, moving with a concept of time that is wholly apart from what the rest of us know. Every 20 feet or so, she would pause and consider the ground beneath her. She would spin in a lazy circle there on the sidewalk, her quiet charm to ward away whatever evil she had spotted.

I know her name is Nancy and I know she likes grilled cheese sandwiches. But I don't know where she goes for long stretches anymore than I know where butterflies go when it rains. She is there one day and gone the next, another phantom with a back story I might never hear.
[...]
Read the full article here: [Source]

Strange UFO lights result of dancing?

Two weeks ago a Florida doctor in Lewiston saw something strange in the night sky... article from the Lewiston Sun Journal.

Doctor says he saw odd lights over Lewiston

By Kathryn Skelton , Staff Writer
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
LEWISTON - Dr. Barry Chandler has seen the space shuttle in the sky at night, and plenty of meteor showers, and this, he says, was definitely nothing like those.

The Florida man looked up in the sky Friday night at 10:05 p.m., from his mother-in-law's lawn on Marble Street and saw a rough string of 10 to 15 lights traveling together in clusters.
...
He, his wife and mother-in-law watched them move from the southern corner of the sky to the north, finally fading from view, after about four minutes.

"They were fairly pulsing. It was like a flame but it wasn't; I can't describe it," Chandler said. The lights reminded him of the flames inside hot air balloons when they take off. They seemed to pulse.
...
Chandler called the National UFO Reporting Center. It hadn't received any other reports. Neither had the National Weather Service in Gray.

Meteorologist Michael Cempa said Friday night was clear. The recent meteor shower, which peaked Sunday, would look like bright streaks across the sky, not steady lights, he said.

The German Web site Heavens Above noted that iridium flares - sun reflecting off satellites - could be seen from Lewiston at 6:14 and 6:23 that night, but nothing later.

A spokesman at Brunswick Naval Air Station said it wasn't anything of theirs. A Hanscom Air Force Base spokeswoman didn't have any information.

Androscoggin County dispatch didn't take any calls reporting strange lights Friday night.

"It sounds strange," said Sheriff Guy Desjardins. "But strange things happen."
[Read full article here: Source

The most interesting of comments following up the article is this one, from Bub: "At just after 10:00, for the finale of a performance at the Bates Dance Festival at Lake Andrews (on campus) -- just south of the good doctor's position -- about a dozen or so medium-sized balloons were sent aloft by performers. These balloons were about 3 feet tall, and indeed looked like miniature hot-air balloons. The flames in the balloons lasted about 5 minutes or so before fading out. End of story."

100 Years Ago in the Devil's Half-Acre

The Lewiston Sun Journal has a daily feature which looks back 100 years ago, 50 years ago, and 25 years ago. Today's was pretty interesting, and gave a name to a part of Lewiston that I hadn't heard of before.

In a Lewiston special to the Boston Herald on the local rum situation, it is stated that letters have been sent from Androscoggin County to Gov. Cobb asking him to send the Sturgis deputies here. The special concluded with this paragraph: "It is asserted that the liquor deputies pass the well-known places on the principal streets to make searches for liquor in the shops of the French quarter of this city, and the dives and kitchen bar-rooms in Hines alley and on 'The Devil's Half-Acre.'"
[Source]

Little did I know, Lewiston wasn't alone in claiming this moniker. According to Wikipedia, Bangor was know as the Devil's Half Acre too: "Sailors and loggers gave the city a different and more widespread reputation - their stamping grounds were known as the 'Devil's Half Acre.'" [Source] Their information comes from "Maine League of Historical Societies and Museums (1970)" in Doris A. Isaacson: Maine: A Guide 'Down East'. Rockland, Me: Courier-Gazette, Inc., pages 163-172. The Bangor Daily News published an article about the events of 1906 that led to a wider recognition of this nickname:

'Crime wave' entertained Bangor
By Wayne Reilly
Monday, July 24, 2006 - Bangor Daily News

During the long, hot summer of 1906, Bangor became the crime center of the nation, perhaps of the world, at least in the fevered imaginations of reporters and editors at the Bangor Daily Commercial, the city's afternoon newspaper. "MANY CROOKS HERE ... Bangor is Pretty Nearly as Badly Off as Chicago Now ... HOBOES ARE INSOLENT," announced a multidecker headline on July 17. Hoboes, yeggmen, pickpockets, muggers, con artists, robbers and a host of other bad guys had been gathering in the Queen City since sometime in the spring.
...
The reporter advised, "One only has to take a walk through the section of the city known as the 'Devil's Half-Acre,' through the railroad yards and up along the river front from Washington Street to Foley shore below the Eastern Maine General hospital to satisfy himself of the number of these tough characters in the city."

Yet after setting the stage so well, the reporter admitted there had not been a single murder or bank robbery or something else really serious. The author seemed mostly concerned with the hoboes, that mysterious infestation of rootless men that bloomed like algae along the riverfront on the borders of the city's most exclusive neighborhoods each summer. Housewives had been scared out of their wits by villainous-looking individuals knocking at their kitchen doors looking for handouts.

And just the other night two young men "well known in society" had to employ a horse whip both on the horses and on intruding thugs to prevent being held up as they traveled by carriage with their wives just below the Tin Bridge in Hampden.
...
One of the benefits of living in a city with two newspapers is that there are often two sides to a controversial story. The Bangor Daily News was always ready to correct the Commercial's tendency to overdramatize the facts, and vice versa.
...
The city was safe. People "may visit the 'Devil's Half-Acre' or even the water front without being sandbagged or robbed or shot or stabbed or poisoned." The Commercial was confusing begging and drunkenness with real crimes, scoffed the BDN.
...
One of the most interesting crime stories of the summer, however, was more appropriate to a Norman Rockwell painting than to the lurid pulp magazines that documented heinous acts in Chicago. "THOSE HORRID BOYS ... They Go Swimming Without Bathing Trunks Again ... POLICE ARE SHOCKED," declared a playful headline on July 20 in the Commercial.
...
Bangor has recorded some ghastly crimes in its history, but not that summer. And soon the hoboes would be disappearing down the tracks like the autumn leaves.
[Please click here for full article: Source]