January 2025 – Page 2 – Alan E. Hunter

Parky’s Place.

January 25, 2025February 7, 2025 Alan E. Hunter- Irvington

Original publish date August 31, 2023. https://weeklyview.net/2023/08/31/parkys-place/

**Parky’s Place Harry Einstein (1904-1958)**

Recently I wrote an article about a couple of photos of Dick the Bruiser I found along the route of the World’s Longest Yardsale that stretches from Alabama to Michigan. I have an affinity for old photos (and old paper in general) and always linger a little bit longer when I see them for sale on a dealer’s table. This particular spot was inside a tent near the Alvin C. York General Store and Visitor’s Center in Pall Mall, Tennessee. I bought several old promo photos of Country Music Stars (termed “Hillbilly Music” back in the day) from the 1940-50s Era. Hank Williams, Sr., Roy Acuff, Red Foley, and a few more. Also among them was an old promo still dated 1947 from the Mutual Broadcasting System for a radio show called “Meet Me At Parky’s” that aired on Sunday nights from 9:00 to 9:30. Since I can remember trivial minutia better than I can family birthdays, I knew the backstory and bought the photo.

**CBS Radio comic personality Harry Einstein portrays his character Parkyakarkus on The Al Jolson Show. Image dated February 1, 1938. Hollywood, CA. (Photo by CBS via Getty Images)**

I seriously doubt anyone reading this column was around in 1947 to listen to this radio show, so, I’ll share what I know about it. The photo pictures comedian Harry Einstein posed leaning atop a kitchen counter with a cigar in his hand, a wink in his eye, and a chef’s hat with the name “Parky’s” on the front. Einstein, better known by the stage names Nick Parkyakarkus or Harry Parke, was an American comedian, writer, and character actor whose specialty was Greek dialect comedy. A natural humorist, Einstein came to comedy quite by accident. Born on May 6, 1904, in Boston, Mass., to a Jewish mother from Russia and a Jewish pawnbroker father from Austria, Einstein first worked as a newspaper reporter but eventually moved into advertising for Boston’s Hearst Newspapers.

On nights and weekends, Harry enjoyed performing comedy routines for friends at parties, in nightclubs, taverns, and Bar / Bat Mitzvahs. In 1924, he became a fan favorite on radio as “The Bad Boy from a Good Home”, doing comedy skits on Boston station WEEI (AM). He also worked in advertising for the Taylor Furniture Company, where he managed their radio department. He branched out in the advertising business and was soon doing the same for another larger Boston furniture store named Summerfield’s. Boston bandleader Joe Rines, a close friend at the station, tried to convince Harry to become a full-time comedian, but Harry was making a good living as advertising manager for three Boston Furniture stores. Einstein relented and began appearing on Rines’ radio program in his spare time. It was here that Harry created the Pigeon-English-speaking pseudo-Greek character of Nick Parkyakarkus for a skit on Rines’ radio show. At the time, no one blinked an eye at the “political correctness” of ethnic humor, and Harry always brought down the house.

Listeners loved the Parkyakarkus character and it didn’t take long for the national networks to take notice. Einstein got his big break nationally when he was hired as a performer on Eddie Cantor’s radio show in 1934. That led to a part-time gig on the Al Jolson show. Cantor and Jolson were big Hollywood names and soon Tinseltown came calling. In 1936 he appeared alongside Cantor in Strike Me Pink (co-starring Ethel Merman and William Frawley aka Fred Mertz from “I Love Lucy”), the next year he appeared in The Life of the Party and New Faces of 1937 (alongside Milton Berle). While filming the latter, he met his second wife, actress Thelma Leeds. From 1936 to 1945, Harry appeared as his Parkyakarkas character in eleven films. Einstein’s character name became so inextricably linked to him that, in the 1930s, Harry attempted to change his name legally to Parkyakarkus; the judge denied the request (although his star at 1708 Vine Street on the Hollywood Walk of Fame bears his character’s name instead of his own.)

**Einstein as Parky between Sheldon Leonard and Betty Rhodes in 1948.**

In June of 1945, Einstein began a radio show of his own called Meet Me at Parky’s, The show featured Einstein as Greek restaurant owner Nick Parkyakarkus. A typical show opened with a couple of short sketches, a short comic monologue by Parkyakarkus (sure to have the live audience rolling in the aisles), followed by the show’s singer (Betty Jane Rhodes) showing up to help Parkyakarkus with that week’s problem. Einstein wrote the scripts himself and the show co-starred Sheldon Leonard, fresh off his role as Nick the Bartender in It’s a Wonderful Life the year before. In the 1960s, Leonard would trade his actor’s chair for a producer’s megaphone creating shows like The Andy Griffith Show, Gomer Pyle U.S.M.C., The Dick Van Dyke Show, and I Spy. Parky’s Place ran for two seasons on NBC before moving to the Mutual Broadcasting System in 1947 for its third and final season, ending in November of 1948. After the show ended, Einstein became a highly sought-after guest and emcee on the Borscht Belt (or Yiddish Alps as some comics called it) in New York’s Catskill Mountains and the Friars’ Club of New York City.

On Sunday, November 23, 1958, almost exactly a decade after his radio show ended, Einstein was a featured performer on the dais as the Friars Club inducted two new members: Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz, the ultra-famous wife-and-husband team that created I Love Lucy. These events were traditional “Roasts” where comics, performers, friends, and fellow club members would tease and cajole the honorees, sometimes mercilessly. 1200 people packed the International Ballroom at the Beverly Hilton Hotel for the $200-a-plate testimonial dinner to Television’s original power couple. Art Linkletter was the emcee and alongside Einstein on the dais were Dean Martin, Sammy Davis, Jr., George Burns, Danny Thomas, George Murphy, and Milton Berle. Harry was the second to last speaker, and everyone agreed that his toast was the funniest of the night. Harry butchered the couple’s names, calling them Danny Arnaz and Lucille Bowles, while poking fun at Desi’s immigration status and the Friars’ Club’s “strict” rules of eligibility which included “many prominent businessmen, several fine judges, and quite a few defendants.” His routine lasted 10 minutes and, according to Milton Berle, “closed with a standing ovation.”

Einstein took his seat next to Milton Berle as Emcee Linkletter wiped tears of laughter from his eyes and exclaimed, “Every time he finishes, I ask myself, why isn’t he on the air in a prime time?” To which, Harry turned to Berle and said, “Yeah, how come?” According to Linkletter, those were Harry’s last words before he slumped over, put his head on Milton Berle’s lap, and shut his eyes. Everyone thought it was part of the routine. Berle shouted “Is there a doctor in the house?” but the crowd thought it was a humorous ad-lib; part of the show. Harry’s wife, Thelma, who was seated to the left of comic Ed Wynn, knew immediately what was wrong and rushed to the stage. She fumbled in her husband’s pocket for a bottle of nitroglycerin pills, designed to increase the blood flow through his coronary arteries. But Harry’s teeth were clenched tight and she could not get the pill into his mouth. Ed Wynn, whose distinctive high-pitched giggly voice created Walt Disney’s mad-hatter, created an unintentionally humorous aside by repeatedly calling out, “Is there a doctor in the house?” as Einstein lay helpless on the floor of the platform. Luckily, the event had been a charity benefit for local hospitals and several physicians were in attendance.

Berle and George Burns assisted others by carrying Einstein backstage, where five physicians worked to revive him. Amazingly, one of the physicians pulled a pocketknife out of his pocket, sterilized it quickly, then sliced open Einstein’s chest and within seconds was holding Harry’s heart in his hands, massaging it in an attempt to get it beating again. One report states that another doctor yanked an electrical cord from a nearby lamp and placed the live ends against the exposed heart as an improvised defibrillator. The combined effort of five doctors working tirelessly, literally taking turns massaging the heart, brought Einstein back to life, but only temporarily. It was later determined that Harry Einstein had literally died on stage. EMTs arrived and worked backstage to save Einstein’s life.

**Lucille Ball & Desi Arnaz at Einstein’s Funeral.**

On the other side of the curtain, the show was going on. Well, sort of anyway. George Burns sang a song from his Vaudeville days and assured the guests that “Parky will be alright.” But somehow, everyone on the dais knew better. Berle called to crooner Tony Martin, imploring him to sing a song. Martin began to sing the song There’s No Tomorrow. Obviously, that didn’t help. Desi and Lucy were to be the evening’s closing speakers. When Desi took the podium, his face was ashen and his countenance grim. Lucille Ball then came to the microphone and managed only, “I can say nothing,” through tears. Desi spoke into the microphone in almost a whisper, “This is one of the moments that Lucy and I have waited a lifetime for, but it’s meaningless. They say the show must go on. But why must it? Let’s close the show now by praying for this wonderful man backstage who made the world laugh.” Arnaz took the award from Linkletter and shoved it into his pocket. Sammy Davis, Jr. was supposed to sing a closing song, but he was so emotional that he could not do it.

**Harry Einstein’s Grave Home of Peace mausoleum L.A.**

Despite two hours of continuous resuscitation attempts, Harry Einstein was pronounced dead at 1:20 a.m. on November 24. He was 54 years old. Einstein’s funeral service was attended by 300 mourners. George Jessel delivered the eulogy. Einstein is buried not far from the Three Stooges Moe & Curly Howard, Louis B. Mayer, & the Warner Brothers in the Home of Peace mausoleum, the first and oldest Jewish cemetery in Los Angeles.

Harry Einstein was the father of four sons: Albert, Bob, Charles, and Clifford Einstein. That’s comedians Albert Brooks and Bob Einstein. Albert is best known as an Academy Award-nominated actor (Broadcast News-1987) but also for Taxi Driver (1976), Private Benjamin (1980), and Unfaithfully Yours (1984). He has written and directed several comedy films; Modern Romance (1981), Lost in America (1985), and Defending Your Life (1991). His voice acting credits include Marlin in Finding Nemo (2003) and Finding Dory (2016), Tiberius in The Secret Life of Pets (2016), and several one-time characters in The Simpsons.

Bob Einstein is best remembered for the character he created known as Super Dave Osborne, a satirical stuntman character who repeatedly survived deadly stunts. But he was also known for his roles as Marty Funkhouser in Curb Your Enthusiasm, and Larry Middleman on Arrested Development. Einstein got his start as a writer for several television variety shows, including The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour and The Sonny & Cher Comedy Hour for which he won two Emmy Awards (he was nominated four other times). He also won a CableACE Award for acting as Super Dave, along with five other nominations.

Albert Brooks, who was 11 years old when Einstein died, has addressed his father’s death briefly in his movie, Defending Your Life. In the film, Brooks’s recently deceased character, Daniel Miller, finds himself in an afterlife nightclub, watching a terrible comedian. “How’d you die?” the comic asks him; Albert replies, “Onstage, like you.” When Meryl Streep’s character invites Albert to leave with her. “I can’t,” he says, gesturing toward the stage. “That’s my father.” Bob (Super Dave) Osborne, really never got over his dad’s death. In an episode of Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee, Einstein, who was 16 years old when his father died, tells host Jerry Seinfeld that his father’s death turned him off from performing for many years. Specifically, he was highly offended by the fact that both Milton Berle and George Jessel performed their comedy routines as eulogies at Harry Einstein’s funeral, feeling it was insensitive, and this made him uncomfortable with comedy. Now you know the story behind that Highway 127 photograph. It just goes to show you, sometimes, a picture really is worth a thousand words.

Criminals, Health & Medicine, Indianapolis, Medicine

THE BREATHALYZER

January 24, 2025February 7, 2025 Alan E. Hunter- Irvington

Original publish date February 22, 2024. https://weeklyview.net/2024/02/22/the-breathalyzer/

Recently, I found myself at an antique show rummaging through a small box of paper, not unfamiliar territory for me. The usual: postcards, coupons, ads, snapshot photos. Then my fingers danced past a small greenish-colored slip of paper with a frozen gauge chart numbered .00 to .40 and a pair of machine-cut holes in the corners. Titled “Breathalyzer” it was identified as a “Test Meter” to measure “Per Cent Blood Alcohol” with an unused 3-line identifier at the bottom for the “Subject” name, “Date and Time”, and name of the person administering the test. Okay, we all know what it means (some more than others) and if we are smart (or lucky) we have managed to avoid these at all costs in our lifetimes.

But did you know that the “Breathalyzer” instrument, known around the world as the “Breath of Death”, the “Intoxalock”, or the “Booze Kazoo”, was invented in Indiana? In 1931, a 41-year-old toxicology professor at Indiana University named Rolla Harger invented the first practical roadside breath-testing device called the Drunkometer. He was awarded a patent for it in 1936. The Drunkometer collected a sample of the motorist’s breath when the driver blew directly into a balloon attached to the machine. The breath sample was then pumped through an acidified potassium permanganate solution and if there was alcohol in the sample, the solution changed color. The greater the color change, the more alcohol there was present in the breath.

*Rolla* Neil *Harger* (January 14, 1890 – August 8, 1983).

In 1922, Harger became an assistant professor at Indiana University School of Medicine in the newly formed Department of Biochemistry and Pharmacology. He served as the department chairman from 1933 to 1956 and worked continuously in the department until 1960. However, the bulky Drunkometer proved impractical and unportable. The test required the suspected impaired driver to effectively inflate a balloon (a challenging task for some drunk or sober), which was then taken to the machine at police headquarters. This time-consuming, awkward process depended on the visual skills of the technician analyzing the sample-an Achilles heel that defense lawyers were often successful contesting. The Drunkometer eventually fell out of favor with police officers who saw it as complicated and unreliable. Police instead preferred to administer roadside dexterity tests to determine intoxication.

Enter Robert Frank Borkenstein. Born August 31, 1912, in Fort Wayne, Borkenstein was a natural-born teacher, researcher, and inventor. Borkenstein was a product of the Great Depression, and like many young Hoosiers of that era, he was unable to attend college. His first job in Fort Wayne was as a photographic technician, where legend claims his expertise in color film led (at least in part) to the invention of the color camera. While that claim is hard to nail down, what we do know is that his skill and creativity were recognized by the Indiana State Police Criminology Laboratory which hired him in 1936. Borkenstein quickly rose through the ranks, he went from working as a clerk to Captain in charge of Laboratory Services to Director of the State Police Criminological Laboratory, one of the first state police laboratories in the US. During his time with the department, Borkenstein helped perfect the use of photography in law enforcement and worked extensively on developing the polygraph, or lie detector. He administered more than 15,000 tests before his retirement in the late 1980s.

**Indiana University School of Medicine Dept. of Biochemistry-Toxicology display.**

Also while with the department, Borkenstein developed a close professional relationship with IU Professor Rolla N. Harger who was still working to improve his Drunkometer. In the 1950s, Borkenstein attended Indiana University on a part-time basis, eventually earning his Bachelor of Arts in Forensic Science. In February of 1954, IPD Lieutenant Borkenstein, Director of the State police laboratory, developed his first working model of the Breathalyzer (an amalgam of “breath, alcohol and analyze”) in the partially dirt-floored basement of his small Indianapolis home at 6441 Broadway near Broad Ripple. His machine was more compact, easier to operate, and consistently produced reliable results when measuring blood alcohol content. The Breathalyzer substituted a rubber hose for the balloon and featured an automatic internal device to gauge the color changes previously determined by the naked eye. Borkenstein’s Breathalyzer was an inexpensive way to test intoxication and meant that BAC (blood alcohol content) could be quickly collected and analyzed for use as evidence. Upon graduation from IU, Borkenstein retired from the State Police and joined IU as Chairman of the newly-formed Department of Police Administration.

Robert Borkenstein, a convivial fellow known as “Bob” to friends, family, and colleagues, enjoyed listening to Gilbert and Sullivan, entertaining visitors, and serving drinks to his friends. According to one account, ironically Bob “exhibited a Catholic taste in wines and spirits”. But Bob insisted on one rule for himself and anyone consuming alcohol in his presence: No drinking and driving! This, even though he supervised a study, paid for by the liquor industry, that suggested that “the relaxing effect of having drunk less than two ounces of alcohol might produce a slightly better driver than one who had none”.

At I.U., Borkenstein was well-liked and known for his generosity to younger colleagues. He was also a Francophile who traveled extensively to Paris and other parts of France, incorporating the French language into much of his work. Another gadget Borkenstein invented was a coin-operated Breathalyser for use in bars. The idea is that when a customer drops a coin it causes a straw to pop up. When the straw is blown into, a reading of .04 or less would produce a message: “Be a safe driver.” Between .05 and .09, the machine blinked and advised: “Be a good walker.” At .10 or higher, it sounded a small alarm and warned: “You’re a passenger.”

He later became chairman of IU’s Forensic Studies Department and director of the university’s Centre for Studies of Law in Action. The class he established on alcohol and highway safety became a national standard in the United States for forensic science, law enforcement, and criminal justice professionals. Today, it is officially known as the “Robert F. Borkenstein Course on Alcohol and Highway Safety: Testing, Research, and Litigation”, more simply known as the “Borky”. In light of his achievements, Borkenstein was awarded an Honorary Doctor of Science by Wittenberg University in 1963 and an Honorary LL.D. from Indiana University in 1987. In March 1987 Borkenstein retired, though he continued to hold emeritus titles as both a professor and Director of the Center for Studies of Law in Action and was inducted into the Safety and Health Hall of Fame International in 1988. Borkenstein’s mentor Dr. Rolla Neil Harger died on August 8, 1983, in Indianapolis and is buried in Crown Hill Cemetery. Borkenstein’s papers are held at the Indiana University Archives in the Herman B Wells Library in Bloomington, IN.

Robert Borkenstein graveLindenwood Cemetery
Fort Wayne, Allen County, Indiana.

In 1938 Borkenstein married Marjorie K. Buchanan, a children’s book author who died in December 1998. The couple had no children. Robert Borkenstein died on August 10, 2002, at the age of 89. Borkenstein held the Breathalyzer patent for most of his life, finally selling it to the Colorado firm that markets it today. Although the Breathalyzer is no longer the dominant instrument used by police forces to determine alcohol intoxication, its name has entered the vernacular to the extent that it has become a generic name for any breath-testing instrument. Between 1955 and 1999, over 30,000 Breathalyzer units were sold. Without question, Bob Borkenstein’s invention has saved countless lives over the years and has become an irreplaceable tool of the police. And to think, it all started in Indiana.

Abe Lincoln, Art, Museums, Presidents

Abraham Lincoln’s Favorite Poem.

January 22, 2025February 7, 2025 Alan E. Hunter- Irvington

Original publish date October 19, 2023. https://weeklyview.net/2023/10/19/abraham-lincolns-favorite-poem/

This was once displayed in Osborn H. Oldroyd’s museum inside the Lincoln Home in Springfield, Illinois. The poem was read aloud on the 15th anniversary of the President’s death, April 15, 1880, at the first memorial service at Lincoln’s Tomb ceremony by Mrs. Edward S. Johnson (wife of Lincoln Guard of Honor member and second Lincoln Tomb custodian Major Edward S. Johnson). Undoubtedly this leaflet was handed out at that ceremony on that day as a souvenir. It is titled “President Lincoln’s Favorite Poem. Copied by F.B. Carpenter while our Lamented Chief was reciting it.”

During the month of October in Irvington, I am near-constantly surrounded by reminders of the dead. While Irvington celebrates Halloween with little door-knocking ghosties and goblins gliding from door to door in search of treats, it does nothing to dispel the fact that Halloween revolves around the spirits of the dearly departed. I write often about Abraham Lincoln, but seldom about Lincoln and Halloween. I thought it might be a good time to examine a mysterious poem that fits the season and has often been referred to as Lincoln’s favorite.

Lincoln developed his lifelong love of poetry while a boy in Southern Indiana. Although by his own admission, Lincoln got his education “by littles” and the total time spent in a classroom by the young rail-splitter amounted to less than a year, he devoured the poetry found in the four school readers historians attribute to his early years in the Hoosier state. Many of those poems were about death. John Goldsmith’s 1766 poem, An Elegy On The Death Of A Mad Dog, Edgar Allan Poe’s 1845 poem The Raven, Oliver Wendell Holmes’ 1831 poem The Last Leaf, and Thomas Gray’s 1751 poem Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard. And of course, Lincoln’s love of William Shakespeare is widely known.

These poets in particular capture the gloomy, melancholic poetry of which Lincoln was so fond of as a young man. Lincoln, a capable amateur poet himself, memorized the poems he cherished, reciting them to friends and inserting them in conversations and speeches throughout his life. His favorite poem, which he recited so often that people suspected he was its author, was William Knox’s “Mortality,” alternately known as “O, Why should the Spirit of Mortal be Proud!” Lincoln often opined to friends (and at least once in a letter) that he, “would give all I am worth, and go in debt, to be able to write so fine a piece as I think that is.”

The poem was cut from a newspaper and given to Lincoln by Dr. Jason Duncan in New Salem, Illinois. At the time, its author was anonymous, and attribution was unknown. On at least a few occasions, having committed it to memory, Lincoln wrote the Mortality poem out longhand and sent it to friends, always noting that “I am not the author.” He would spend twenty years searching for the poet. Aptly for the season, one stormy night in the White House, Lincoln recited the poem for a small group of friends including a congressman, an army chaplain, and an actor, noting that the “poem was his constant companion” and that it crossed his mind whenever he sought “relief from his almost constant anxiety.”

**General James Grant Wilson (1832-1914)**

When the group departed, Lincoln requested that his guests help to discover who had written it. “Its author has been greatly my benefactor, and I would be glad to name him when I speak of the poem…that I may treasure it as a memorial of a dear friend.” Union General James Grant Wilson (1832-1914) would ultimately inform the President that the poem was written by an obscure Scottish poet named William Knox (1789-1825). The poem was first published in his 1824 book Songs of Israel. After Lincoln’s death, the poem experienced a resurgence in popularity.

On April 15, 1880, on the 15th anniversary of the President’s death, the poem was read aloud by Mrs. Edward S. Johnson (wife of Lincoln Guard of Honor member and second Lincoln tomb custodian Major Edward S. Johnson) during a ceremony at the tomb in Springfield. A leaflet, handed out at that ceremony and found in my collection, was saved by Lincoln collector and personal muse Osborn H. Oldroyd and displayed in his collection in the Lincoln home for years. It remains important to the Oldroyd story as the impetus for his personal resolve to build a Lincoln Museum of his own.

**Lincoln Tomb Guard of Honor. John Carroll Power seated front row second from left.**

At that time the tomb’s Memorial Hall housed a small exhibit of Lincoln artifacts gathered by custodian John Carroll Power (a subject of my past columns). At that event, Oldroyd decided that his collection might be a bigger deal than he thought it was. “As I gazed on the…resting place of him whom I had learned to love in my boyhood years, I fell to wondering whether it might not be possible for me to contribute my might toward adding luster to the fame of this great product of American institutions,” wrote Oldroyd. It was after gazing upon those priceless Lincoln relics at the tomb that Oldroyd resolved to build a Memorial Hall in Springfield to display his own collection of Lincoln memorabilia. For a decade (1883 to 1893) that museum occupied the front parlors of the only home Abraham Lincoln ever owned at 8th and Jackson. The divider between those two rooms was adorned by a shield-shaped, flag-draped wooden motif adorned with the title “O, Why should the Spirit of Mortal be Proud!” Oldroyd made sure that every visitor to his museum was aware of the poem’s significance in the Lincoln chronology while surreptitiously causing each visitor to cast their eyes towards the heavens to receive the message.

**A stanza from the poem fashioned into a plaque hangs above the door in the above photo.**

The poem is written in Quatrain form with an A-A-B-B rhyme scheme, or clerihew, with all of the dominant words highlighted by the rhyme. The poem resounded in Lincoln’s mind like an echo, its pauses, and connotations framing the beat of the poem. The poem causes its reader to reflect on the inevitable continuity of life; Life is short so why sweat the small stuff? We are but insignificant players in a much grander scheme, so do all you can while you’re here. Here, submitted for your approval in the spirit of Halloween, is Abraham Lincoln’s favorite poem in its entirety.

“O why should the spirit of mortal be proud! Like a fast-flitting meteor, a fast-flying cloud, A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave-He passes from life to his rest in the grave. The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade, Be scattered around and together be laid; As the young and the old, and the low and the high, Shall moulder to dust, and together shall lie. The child that a mother attended and loved, The mother that infant’s affection that proved, The husband that mother and infant that blest, Each-all are away to their dwelling of rest. The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye, Shone beauty and pleasure-her triumphs are by: And the memory of those that beloved her and praised, And alike from the minds of the living erased. The hand of the king that the sceptre hath borne, The brow of the priest that the mitre hath worn, The eye of the sage, and the heart of the brave, Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave.”

“The peasant whose lot was to sow and to reap, The herdsman who climbed with his goats to the steep, The beggar that wandered in search of his bread, Have faded away like the grass that we tread. The saint that enjoyed the communion of Heaven, The sinner that dared to remain unforgiven, The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just, Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust. So the multitude goes-like the flower and the weed, That wither away to let others succeed; So the multitude comes-even those we behold, To repeat every tale that hath often been told. For we are the same things that our fathers have been, We see the same sights that our fathers have seen, We drink the same stream, and we feel the same sun, And we run the same course that our fathers have run.”

“The thoughts we are thinking our fathers would think, From the death we are shrinking from they too would shrink, To the life we are clinging to, they too would cling-But it speeds from the earth like a bird on the wing. They loved-but their story we cannot unfold; They scorned-but the heart of the haughty is cold; They grieved-but no wail from their slumbers may come; They joyed-but the voice of their gladness is dumb. They died-ay, they died! and we, things that are now, Who walk on the turf that lies over their brow, Who make in their dwellings a transient abode, Meet the changes they met on their pilgrimage road. Yea, hope and despondence, and pleasure and pain, Are mingled together like sunshine and rain: And the smile and the tear, and the song and the dirge, Still follow each other like surge upon surge. ‘Tis the twink of an eye, ’tis the draught of a breath, From the blossom of health to the paleness of death, From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud-O why should the spirit of mortal be proud!”

**Memento homo (remember you are only a man).**

So what is the takeaway? Why should you be so proud of what you have, when all you have is so little in the bigger picture? The theme is one of life and death. A bleak and somber contrast reminds us that life is short, and in Lincoln’s case, fame is fleeting. Auriga, the slave charged with accompanying Roman Generals and Emperors through the streets of Rome after triumph in battle, often whispered the phrase Memento homo (remember you are only a man) while holding the golden crown inches above their heads. From a young age, Lincoln was well acquainted with the idea of mortality. So it comes as no surprise that he adored that poem. But it isn’t all gloom and doom. Within its stanzas are found muted messages of hope and the promise that it is not too late for society to change its ways by following in the footsteps of our ancestors. Reading this poem, one experiences the same feeling of reflection as Lincoln did. It explains how, during his entire lifetime, The Great Emancipator remained penitent and humble by simply following the lessons of this poem.

Abe Lincoln

LincolnConspirators.com podcast.

January 21, 2025 Alan E. Hunter- Irvington

An Interview with Alan E. Hunter: Keeper of the Oldroyd Flame

Civil War, Uncategorized

Where did you go Ambrose Bierce?

January 21, 2025February 7, 2025 Alan E. Hunter- Irvington

Original publish date September 26, 2024. https://weeklyview.net/2024/09/26/where-did-you-go-ambrose-bierce/

110 years ago last week, one of the most famous journalists you’ve never heard of disappeared from the face of the earth. Sometime between September 18-24, 1914, Ambrose Gwinnett Bierce was reported missing. And of course, he had Hoosier ties. Less than two weeks after the start of the Civil War, Bierce enlisted with the 9th Indiana on April 24, 1861, in Elkhart, Indiana. Bierce was born in a log cabin at Horse Cave Creek in Meigs County, Ohio, on June 24, 1842. Horse Cave Creek, “a religious settlement” southeast of Columbus, Ohio, is long gone. Bierce was the tenth of thirteen children, all of whom were given names by their father beginning with the letter “A”. As a child, Bierce moved from the Appalachian foothills of southeastern Ohio to the lake country of northern Indiana. His parents were a poor but literary couple who instilled in him a deep love for books and writing. Bierce grew up in Kosciusko County, Indiana, attending high school at the county seat in Warsaw. He left home in 1857 at age 15 to become a “printer’s devil” at a small abolitionist newspaper in Warsaw: the Northern Indianan. A printer’s devil was an indentured servant who performed many thankless tasks, including mixing tubs of ink and fetching type. Bierce was in good company: Benjamin Franklin, Walt Whitman, Bret Harte, and Mark Twain were all printer’s devils.

While with the 9th Indiana, Bierce served in Western Virginia and was present at the Battle of Philippi (the first organized land action of the war in June of 1861). Bierce received his first media attention for his daring rescue, under fire, of a gravely wounded comrade at the Battle of Rich Mountain. Later, he fought at the Battle of Shiloh (April 1862), which he would write about in the memoir “What I Saw of Shiloh”. Within two years Bierce was serving on the staff of General Wm. Hazen. Here he became known to leading generals such as George H. Thomas and Oliver O. Howard, both of whom recommended him for admission to West Point in May 1864. General William T. Sherman also endorsed his application for admission. In June 1864, Bierce sustained a traumatic brain injury at the Battle of Kennesaw Mountain and spent the rest of the summer on furlough. By the end of the war, Bierce rejoined Gen. Hazen to inspect military outposts across the Great Plains, ending in San Francisco, where he was awarded the rank of brevet major before resigning from the Army.

Bierce remained in San Francisco for many years, becoming famous as a contributor or editor of newspapers and periodicals. He eventually graduated to the historical novels he is most remembered for today. His book The Devil’s Dictionary was named one of “The 100 Greatest Masterpieces of American Literature” by the American Revolution Bicentennial Administration. The book first took form as a serialized newspaper column before being published as a book. The book contains satirical definitions of English words that lampoon political double-talk. The book was volume seven of a twelve-volume set called “The Collected Works of Ambrose Bierce” published from 1909 to 1912. Bierce was a pioneer in realist fiction, his horror writing prowess rivaled Edgar Allan Poe, and his satire equals his peer, Mark Twain. Bierce’s sharp tongue and penchant for biting social criticism and satire often placed him at odds with his publisher William Randolph Hearst. His poetry could be equally caustic as when one of his poems about the assassination of William McKinley in 1901 sparked a national outcry.

Bierce’s most notable work came at the close of the Gilded Age. From 1888 to 1891 he wrote a rapid succession of short stories centering around the inscrutability of the universe and the absurdity of death. Many of those realistic themes came from the terrible things Bierce had seen on the battlefield. His collection of 25 war stories including “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge”, “A Horseman in the Sky”, “One of the Missing”, and “Chickamauga” has been called “the greatest anti-war document in American literature”. Nothing infuriated Bierce more than hearing grandiose accounts of honor and glory of war from people who’d never seen or experienced it personally. His psychological horror story “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge” has been described as “one of the most famous and frequently anthologized stories in American literature”, and his book “Tales of Soldiers and Civilians” was named by the Grolier Club one of the 100 most influential American books printed before 1900. Ernest Hemingway and Stephen King were among the many he influenced.

BIerce’s “Fantastic Fables” book and his many ghost stories were the precursors of the grotesquerie that became a more common genre in the 20th century. Bierce liked nothing better than to shock his audience by challenging their minds on the way to a surprise ending. No better example can be found than his “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge”. Written in 1890 and set during the Civil War, the short story climaxes when Peyton Farquhar, a wealthy Alabama planter and slave owner, is about to be executed by hanging from a railroad bridge as a company of Union infantrymen guards the bridge to carry out the sentence. In his final moments, Farquhar thinks of his wife and children but is suddenly distracted by an unbearably loud clanging. It is the ticking of his watch. He ponders the possibility of unfreeing his hands and jumping from the bridge to swim to safety, but the soldiers drop him off the bridge before he can act on the idea.

**A scene from “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge”**

Farquhar flashes back to a time when he and his wife are relaxing at home one evening as a Rebel soldier rides up to the gate and tells Farquhar that Union troops have seized the Owl Creek railroad bridge. The soldier suggests that Farquhar might be able to burn the bridge down if he can slip past its guards. The soldier is in reality a Union scout setting a trap for Farquhar knowing that any civilian caught committing such an act will be hanged as a spy. Farquhar snaps back to the present and falls into the creek after the rope around his neck breaks. He frees his hands, pulls the noose off, and rises to the surface to begin his escape. He dodges, dives, and swims downstream to avoid rifle and cannon fire. Once out of range, he begins the frantic 30-mile journey back home. While Farquhar walks through endless forests day and night, he begins to hallucinate, seeing strange constellations and hearing whispered voices in an unknown language. He trudges on, driven by the thought of his wife and children despite the pain of his ordeal. The next morning he arrives at the gate to his plantation and rushes forward to embrace his wife, but before he touches her, he feels a heavy blow upon the back of his neck. There is a loud noise and a flash of white and “then all is darkness and silence!” Bierce reveals that Farquhar never escaped at all. His escape was an imagination, his journey home a momentary ripple in time experienced during the moment between his drop from the bridge and the noose breaking his neck.

Bierce continued writing and pushing the outside of the envelope for the rest of his life. Since much of Bierce’s writing centered on the Civil War, about a decade ago I asked National Parks Historian Emeritus Ed Bearrs about Bierce. I was sharing a beer with Mr. Bearrs in a hotel bar just after touring the Stone’s River battlefield between Murfreesboro and Nashville, Tennessee. Mr. Bearrs, who passed in 2020, was a man of few words. In this instance, he paused before answering, taking a pull from his bottle of Budweiser beer, and said, “What do I think of Ambrose Bierce? I think he was a grade-A Bull-sh_ _ artist.” Which elicited laughter from me and the few others at the table.

In 1913, at age seventy-one, he left Washington, D.C. to tour his old familiar Civil War battlefields. Within a short time, Bierce changed his mind and decided to chase Pancho Villa’s army to gain first-hand experience of the Mexican Revolution. Bierce traveled to Mexico to witness (and some say become a part of) the revolution. By December he had passed through Louisiana and Texas, entering Mexico via El Paso. In Ciudad Juárez he joined Pancho Villa’s army as an observer, and in that role, he witnessed the Battle of Tierra Blanca. It was reported that Bierce accompanied Villa’s army as far as the city of Chihuahua. His last known communication with the world was a letter he wrote there to Blanche Partington, a close friend, dated December 26, 1913. After closing this letter by saying, “As to me, I leave here tomorrow for an unknown destination.” And that was the last anyone ever heard of Ambrose Bierce. He vanished without a trace, one of the most famous disappearances in American literary history. No one knows where, when, or under what circumstances he met his end.

The U.S. consular opened an official investigation into the disappearance of one of its citizens. Some of Villa’s men were questioned but they all gave contradictory accounts. Local legend, documented by priest James Lienert, states that Bierce was executed by firing squad in the cemetery of the town of Sierra Mojada, Coahuila. Bierce’s ultimate fate remains a mystery. He wrote in one of his final letters: “Good-bye. If you hear of my being stood up against a Mexican stone wall and shot to rags, please know that I think it is a pretty good way to depart this life. It beats old age, disease, or falling down the cellar stairs. To be a Gringo in Mexico–ah, that is euthanasia!” His body was never recovered.