22-year-old Kentucky native Jim Owen really went the distance for love. He met 21-year-old Ximena Villareal while she was an exchange student at the University of Kentucky. They dated for a few months before she returned home to Santiago, Chile. The two continued corresponding by mail and she asked him to come visit her.
Most people would hop on a plane. But not Jim Owen. He came up with a crazy idea to ride the 8000 mile (12,800 km) distance on a motorscooter. Jim convince a US distributor that will be a great sales promotion if they donated the bike to his cause. He also secured a $500 (approximately $4000 today) letter of credit and he was on his way.
“I’m not the type of person to jump on a motorscooter and ride thousands of miles to see a girl. We are not engaged or anything like that, but I like her a lot.” He continued, “I’m not adventurous by nature, and I’m certainly not athletic.”
He embarked in early May 1962 and his goal was to get to Santiago on December 31st so they could ring in the New Year together. The press never did a follow-up on the story, but it’s probably safe to assume that he made it there and the two were reunited.
Jim Owen on his motor scooter. Image from the December, 29, 1962 issue of the Independent Journal (page 5). I
Here’s an odd one that took place on May 3, 1952 in Ramsgate, England.
21-year-old Mrs. June Rivers was awoken that evening as her husband came in drunk from a wedding reception that he attended with his friend 23-year-old William Roland Williams.
Image of Mrs. June Rivers that appeared on page 89 of the June 10, 1952 issue of the NY Daily News.
The two had the typical marital relations before husband got up and said he would go downstairs and get her some tea. When he returned a short time later, she questioned where the cup of tea was, to which he responded, “What tea?”
He told her that she must have been dreaming, since he never said that he would get her a cup of tea. But she was adamant that he had promised and clearly remember the smell of beer and mustard pickles on his breath.
Image of William Roland Williams that appeared on page 89 of the June 10, 1952 issue of the NY Daily News.
It turns out that she had slept with the wrong man. Her husband’s friend William had come back to their house after the wedding to get his bicycle and drunkenly stumbled upstairs to their bedroom and climbed into the bed with her. Williams admitted, “I started kissing her and she responded.” He added, “I don’t know what made me do such a thing. I am sure that if I had not had so much to drink that I would not have done it.”
Williams was charged with “having carnal knowledge of June Pauline Rivers without her consent by impersonating her husband.”
They were all in court on July 9 when Williams claimed that Mrs. Rivers knew that he was in the bedroom with her and that she was an old flame of his. He added that he had kissed her several times since her marriage and that she had told him multiple times that she hated her husband.
It took the jury 20 minutes to find Mr. Williams innocent of the charges.
A bonus episode of the Useless Information Podcast in which Chatham High School student Van Oles interviews his grandfather, retired pharmacist Ronald McLean. It’s the wonderful story of a man who started his career as a soda jerk in a pharmacy and ultimately made his way to be appointed as the Interim Dean at the Albany College of Pharmacy.
Robert C. Buttolph and Leona Benell were scheduled to be married on March 8 of 1911 at 4 PM at St. Matthews Episcopal Church in Manhattan.
After a great evening with family, Robert agreed to meet Leona the next day, the morning of their wedding, at 10 AM. Robert didn’t show up and the family began a search for him. They were unable to locate him, so the police were called in.
Did he get cold feet and run away? Was Robert mugged or murdered? Did he jump off the nearby arch of the Riverside Drive viaduct?
It was none of these. At 2 PM that afternoon, Robert walked right into his parents’ apartment. It turns out that he had stopped off to visit a friend the previous night and fell asleep there. He was such an abnormally sound sleeper that he slept right through to that afternoon.
The couple was married at the church at 4 PM that day, just as scheduled.
Back in 1952, a man named Jesse L. Garrett of Scott Depot, West Virginia, was watching Groucho Marx on television. The comedian was interviewing a woman who had previously appeared on his show and later married one of the men who had seen her on the air at the time. Garrett said, “I thought if a woman could do it, so could a man.”
So, in June of 1952 he wrote to the editor of the Rockport Democrat in Indiana and expressed his interest in advertising in the newspaper for a wife. He was very particular in what he was looking for: he expressed a preference for a Midwestern woman, and one who would make for “an intellectual wife, companion and mother of my two sons.” He felt that “A woman from a rural community would be more like my way of thinking.”
Jesse preferred “a farm woman of good standing… A woman with some financial backing so that life would not be uneven and our social standings would be about the same.”
He added, “I prefer a woman about 135 pounds, a little more or less, and between the ages of 35 and 45.” He also insisted that she be a good cook. “No others need apply.”
Garrett explained that he picked the Rockport newspaper for the advertisement because he had once lived there. He was a thin, balding, 49-year-old man who stood 6-feet, 2-inches tall (188 cm) and described himself as “not bad to look at, love any kind of fun, have a fair education and am at home in hogpen or in a mansion’s drawing room.”
He had left Indiana years earlier. “I hitchhiked out of there one winter day with only 49-cents in my pocket, vowing that I might starve to death, but I wasn’t going to freeze. I headed south, and when I got to Belle and saw the DuPont plant there, I went in, told them I was broke, and they gave me a job.”
He saved up his money and eventually had enough to open a grocery store on US Route 60 near St. Albans, West Virginia. The store was named after his ex-wife Georgie, who he had recently divorced on March 14, 1951 after 14-years of marriage. Shortly after the divorce, the store was sold and Jesse Garrett officially became a retired man.
But he was not without an income or assets. Rentals of houses that he owned provided Jesse with a steady income and he claimed to be worth in excess of $28,000, which would be more than a quarter of a million dollars today when adjusted for inflation.
As he embarked on this journey to find Ms. Right, Jesse was certain to carry his divorce papers with him to prove to his prospective bride that he wasn’t to blame for the breakup of his first marriage. He insisted that his next wife would need the approval of his two sons, 10-year-old Jimmy and 11-year old Jesse, Jr., for whom he had been granted full custody. They were quoted in the press as stating, “We don’t want a fat mama.”
Jessie Garrett looking at one his many replies with his sons James, Jr. (left) and Jimmie (right). Image appeared on page 7 of the June 18, 1952 publication of the Salisbury Daily Times.
This story of a hometown boy who made it good was soon making headlines from coast-to-coast. Responses began to pour in. “I received between 3,100 and 3,300 letters, phone calls, and telegrams. A few were from men who wanted me to help them find a wife, but all the rest were from women. I got letters from women in London, Mexico, Guadalcanal, Canada, and about every state in this country.”
Jesse was shocked by how many lonely women there were. “I had no expectation I would get the response I did. I was dumbfounded and mortified to learn that there were so many women who want husbands.”
The press caught up with the ex-Mrs. Garrett and she made it clear that Jesse was no bargain, even with all the money that he claimed to have. Georgie didn’t elaborate, but her warning message to all of the women out there was perfectly clear. She did state, “I’m not sure about his exact age.” Noting that he lacked a birth certificate, she added, “I know he was 49 for a year or two while he and I were married.” My calculations indicate that he was really a couple of months shy of his 54th birthday at the time.
Just for the record, the former Georgie Garrett was 32-years-old, weighed 100 pounds (45 kg) and stood 59-1/2” (151 cm) tall. In other words, the boys didn’t have a fat mama.
With thousands of women expressing interest in a possible marriage, Jesse began the process of selecting the bride-to-be. He did express disappointment that only one woman from Rockport had contacted him, but she was quickly knocked out of the running.
“About 65 per cent of them are sincere and the rest are mercenary. I found six of them interesting and am arranging to interview them. I would like to be married in the next three or four days, and I see no reason why I won’t.”
Many women went out of their way to catch Jesse’s interest. Some sent photographs of themselves in bathing suits, of their children, their homes, their cars, and more. He said that he wasn’t interested in women who sexually teased him or those from Canada who wrote in French. Even a woman worth $2,500,000 didn’t make the cut.
Here is a sampling of some of the correspondence that he received:
A woman in Indiana wrote, “I’m babbling like a little, old West Virginia Brook at the thought of marrying you.” Jesse’s sarcastic response was, “I bet she is – what does she know about a West Virginia Brook anyway?”
“How about letting a Texas gal enter the competition? I assure you that I am no unattractive old hag. I weigh 130 but could reduce some, of course.”
Another from Indianapolis said, “I was reared on a farm but am citified now. I am a good-looker and I don’t pat myself on the back either.”
A telegram from Lubbock, Texas was short and to the point. “If decision not made, contact 128-pound vision of loveliness.”
Then there was a 29-year-old Wisconsin woman who penned, “I know you want a woman who would be responsive to you, gentle yet warm and exciting. Someone who would welcome you with warm lips and arms. You sound like quite a man – six foot two – just right for me as I’m five foot eight. If you’re interested, I’ll come see you on my vacation, the first two weeks in July.”
Clearly unhappy with some of Jesse’s female specifications, a lady from Minnesota wrote, “Don’t forget, you’re not buying a horse or cow. And listen, boy, you’re no spring chicken yourself.
Dozens of others who were anxious to meet Jesse called a nearby store, one of the few places with a telephone. About one dozen showed up at the local post office, one woman said that she would be there soon. “I will look for you Saturday, June 28, at 8 p.m. at the O. Henry Inn on Triplett Street. I will be wearing a green dress. You wear a brown suit so I’ll know you.”
Not all were serious inquiries. For example, here is one from Cleveland that was “writ by hand” on a paper bag. “I love children if you keep them away from me. I just lost four teeth in front and one of my eyes is crossed, but I can hoe taters, man.”
Jesse interviewed twenty-six applicants and decided that Mrs. Maxine Berry, a 30-year-old redhead, would make the perfect wife and mother to his children. Unfortunately, she got cold feet and removed her name from his list of possibilities.
On June 23rd, twelve days after Jesse’s story broke in the national news, date #25 announced that she had accepted Jesse’s proposal of marriage. She was 33-year-old Mrs. Etta R. Crosbie, who worked in the classified ad department of the Elkhart Truth newspaper. Mrs. Crosbie said that she had answered Garrett on a dare.
Mrs. Etta R. Crosbie of Elkhart, Indiana with her daughter Karin on the left and son Quin on the right. Image appeared on page 12 of the June 26, 1952 issue of the Mount Vernon Register News.
Mrs. Crosbie said, “I know how to write a letter. I work on a newspaper and I know you’ve got to sell yourself. I even tore my picture in two. Anything to arouse interest.” She mentioned in the letter that this “is one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever done.”
Jesse told the press that prettier women were willing to marry him, “However, she is one of the sweetest and most sincere ladies I’ve ever met. She’ll be a real mother, and that’s what counts.”
A brunette with hazel eyes, Mrs. Crosbie described herself as “thin, a sort of athletic build, 5 feet 7-½ inches tall, a 27-inch waist, quite good size bust, and small hips.”
Etta had married her first husband, Rollo M. Crosbie in 1938. Sadly, he passed away on October 6, 1947 at the young age of 33. She was alone to raise her two children, Quin and Karin, who were aged ten and five, respectively, at the time that she accepted Jesse Garrett’s proposal.
She said, “The children think it’s fun and trust their mother’s judgment. Those who know me as a serious person cannot understand how I could do a thing like this, but I know it’s right.”
And, yes, the two Garrett boys had a hand in choosing their soon-to-be stepmother. “The boys were along when Mr. Garrett visited me a few days ago. I believe they decided I was O.K.” In other words, Etta wasn’t going to be a fat mama.
Jesse was quoted as stating, “She’s good looking and smart. She is a good mother, an efficient housewife, and competent in business affairs. She has held a good job as a newspaper ad-taker for eight years. She isn’t mercenary and is not a social climber. She is charming and gracious. She is an all-around good woman, a fine woman for any man to have around the house.”
Etta R. Crosbie and Jesse L. Garrett with their children: Karin Crosbie (lower Right) and Jimmy Garrett, Quin Crosbie, and Jesse Garrett, Jr. (left to right in the back row). Image from the June 26, 1952 issue of the Cedar Rapids Gazette on page 30.
The plan was for the two to wed as soon as possible. Garrett said that they had an offer from WFMB, at the time the only television station in Indianapolis, to wed on the air. At first Mrs. Crosbie was game to the televised nuptials, but quickly cooled to the idea.
The couple arrived at Garrett’s West Virginia home on Wednesday, June 25th. Etta stayed at Jesse’s house that evening while he stayed with friends.
The issue as to where the couple would ultimately settle popped up quite a bit in the press. Etta preferred to live in Indiana, stating, “The mountains make me think I’m smothering.” Jesse was initially a bit more open minded, “I could be happy with her no matter where we were,” but seemed to be leaning toward residing in West Virginia.
On Friday the couple made their way to the Thomas Memorial Hospital in South Charleston, West Virginia to get their obligatory blood tests. After that, they headed to the county courthouse to obtain a marriage license, but several legal difficulties prevented them from doing so. First, Etta was not a resident of the state. Second, they were told that they would have to wait three days before they could wed. And, finally, they wished to be married by a justice of the peace, which was not permitted under West Virginia law.
They were thinking of heading to Kentucky to marry, but for some unknown reason that plan fell through.
Jesse said, “I’m determined to marry that woman if I have to go to the ends of the world.”
By Tuesday the couple was back in Indiana, attempting to obtain a marriage license in Jeffersonville. That didn’t work out, so the next day they were back in Rockport, but the county clerk there would not accept their West Virginia blood tests.
The couple’s next stop was the nearby small town of English. The Justice of the Peace there, George Megenity, was willing to perform the ceremony, mainly because the deputy county clerk had failed to notice that their blood test was from out of state.
Finally, on Wednesday, July 2, 1952 at 12:45 PM the couple became Mr. and Mrs. Jesse L. Garrett. The wedding took place at the law office of Henry Mock with Mr. Mock and reporter John M. Flanigan acting as witnesses.
The bride wore a yellow dress with a floral pattern on it and a white hat, gloves, and shoes. Due to the extreme heat of the day, the groom opted not to wear a jacket, but did put on a tie for the occasion. A five-diamond wedding band sealed the deal as all of the couple’s children looked on.
From there, the newlyweds and their children left for a short honeymoon in Elkhart. After that, the plan was for them all to head back to the Garrett home in West Virginia.
Where they were going to live permanently was still undecided. Mrs. Garrett stated, “I am willing to do what is best for all concerned, but things are too indefinite now. I can’t say where we will live.” Her new husband said that upon his return back home, “I will either dispose of my property or talk my wife into settling.”
That was never to happen. One month later, on August 5th, it was revealed in the press that Etta never came back to West Virginia with Jesse. The total length of time that the two were married before they went their separate ways was two days and seven hours. Jesse blamed it on her refusal to move to West Virginia, but, while he never mentioned it, he clearly refused to live in Indiana.
“I’ll probably divorce Etta. A lawyer friend told me I can go to Florida and get a divorce in six weeks. I might as well. You can’t keep a home going when your wife is 500 miles away.”
Jesse obtained a lawyer and filed for divorce. Etta, in turn, filed a cross divorce complaint against him. The divorce was granted on March 22, 1953 and Jesse was ordered to pay Etta $40/month alimony. That would be approximately $380/month today adjusted for inflation.
From there, it appears that Jesse Garrett’s life seemed to spiral out of control. His supposed life savings seemed to vanish overnight. “The $28,000 just melted away… A whack here and a whack there.” He explained, “The money went quick. First, I spent what cash I had; then I spent what was set aside for my boys’ education; then I sold some notes I had; and I mortgaged my house. Now they’re foreclosing on me.” The reason his home was being foreclosed upon was that he had borrowed $3,500 from a Charleston loan company and was unable to repay the loan.
On February 26, 1955, Domestic Relations Judge Herbert Richardson found Jesse to be in contempt of a court order by leaving the state without permission, disposing of personal property, and for refusing to make those mandatory $40/month alimony payments.
As two process servers emerged from the courthouse, they spotted Jesse standing on a corner. Jesse refused to submit to arrest and snatched the handcuffs right out of the arresting officer’s hands. Next thing you know, a wrestling match broke out between the three men. Two additional officers raced over from the courthouse and ended the scuffle. As Jesse was being led off to jail, he blurted out, “Call the newspapers; call the newspapers!”
It’s amazing what a few years can do. Instead of boasting about what a great catch he was, he was now pointing out how poor and feeble he had become. “My sister put me in business at Scott Depot. I get $20 a week and room and board for me and my two boys. That woman has an income of $420 a month. She’s 33 years old and I’m 52 and half blind. They want me to pay her $40 a month. I can’t and I won’t. Not a penny!”
He added, “I guess I’ll just have to get me a couple of pistols and rob a bank somewhere.”
Jesse stated, “I’ll stay in this jail until the bars rot off. I’m only making $20 a week and can’t afford to pay her.”
Five days later, he posted bond and was released. His bondsman, Mark Wisman, must have had second thoughts and dropped his surety. Next thing you know, on Sunday March 13th, Jesse was right back in jail. He was released the next day on a new surety.
After that, Jesse vanished. He was due back in court on March 21, 1955, but was a no show. In a registered letter that Jesse sent to the court from Nashville, he stated, “Please postpone my case for 30 days. There is serious illness here.” The judge wasn’t buying it and ordered Garrett’s arrest. Instead, the court was bombarded with letters and postcards that Jesse penned claiming everything from being framed to kidnapping to outright robbery. On September 25, 1955, Judge Richardson declared his bond forfeited and Jesse’s story was dropped from the headlines. I was unable to locate any further information on how this matter was resolved, so if anybody out there knows, please let me know.
Birth certificate for Jesse Lee Garrett, Jr.
The next time that Jesse would be in the press again was on September 4, 1974, but it had nothing to do with his marriage to Etta Crosbie. This time, Jesse and his son Jesse, Jr. were arrested as part of a drug sting. Basically, there were two men in Arizona who smuggled marijuana into the United States in 600-pound (272 kg) lots and once it was shipped to the East Coast, the Garretts and others would distribute it to West Virginia and Virginia. Jesse, Jr. was sentenced to five years in prison with just 270 days served and the remainder a combination of a suspended sentence and probation. As for his dad, he told Judge K. K. Hall, “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I’ll do whatever the district attorney tells me…” Jesse, Sr. was sentenced to three years’ probation.
Henrietta “Etta” Rems Crosbie passed away on January 8, 2008. She was 89-years-old.
Jesse L. Garrett, Sr. passed away on July 15, 1980 at 81 years of age. He is buried in the Sunset Hill Cemetery in Rockport, Indiana, the same city in which he was hoping to find Ms. Right. The epitaph on his tombstone reads, “We Miss You Dad, Jesse Jim.”
Useless? Useful? I’ll leave that for you to decide.
Image of Jesse L. Garrett’s tombstone in the Sunset Hill Cemetery in Rockport, Indiana. Image from Find-A-Grave.
Duke, a black and white Springer Spaniel made the national news way back in January of 1936.
It seems that one day his owner, E. C. McKenzie, forgot to feed Duke, so Duke moseyed on down to the local grocery store because he remembered that was where his owner purchased his food. Duke was starving so he barked for food and received a meal in exchange. After that first visit, Duke would go to the store every day and the market’s owner, O. J Durey, would feed him either a can of dog food or 2 pounds of hamburger.
And just how did Duke pay for his food? Mr. McKenzie opened a charge account for Duke to purchase his meals with.
Sadly, it was reported on March 22nd of 1937 – that’s a little over one year after his initial brush with fame – Duke passed away at 8 years of age. A veterinarian attributed his death at such a young age to overeating.
Ad for Molassine Dog Cake from the February 4, 1910 issue of The Canadian Grocer.
About three years ago I recorded the podcast on the Salem Trade School. It’s a fantastic story. If you have never heard about the Salem Trade School before, I strongly encourage you to go back and listen to it. Here is the original episode:
Briefly, in the late 1920’s the Salem Trade School played football against many of the high schools around Salem, Massachusetts. They were awful, losing game-after-game, year-after-year. Then, they surprisingly won one game and it was discovered that the Salem Trade School was completely fictional.
The school really didn’t exist and it was soon learned that the team was basically a money-making scheme that had been put together by a man named Harold Burgess.
A couple of months after I posted that episode, I received an email from a man named John Murphy, who’s dad had played on the team. John and I have spoken a number of times since the podcast was originally posted and I asked him if I could record our latest conversation and he graciously agreed.
Here is Part 1 of my interview with John Murphy where he discusses the Salem Trade School:
John was also involved in the initial launching of FIRST Robotics, where he worked with famed inventor Dean Kamen (Segway) for two years. In Part 2 of my interview with John, he discusses FIRST and how he became involved with it.
This story takes place on September 13, 1930 in a Minneapolis, Minnesota courtroom. There, a man named Morris Epstein was suing Ben Stillman because his police dog had bitten him. Epstein asked for $75 ($1,100 today) for his pain and suffering.
Stillman objected, not only because he didn’t want to pay the money, but because there was absolutely no way the dog could have done so much damage. To prove it, Stillman showed the judge the dog’s mouth. He was completely toothless. The judge ruled in favor of Stillman and his unnamed dog.
Champion Dog Foods ad that appeared on page 88 of the Beckert’s Seed Store catalog.
In a story dated April 5, 1921, a man brought his dog into the Animal Rescue League in Washington, DC to have his pet euthanized.
Lion, who was a large, furry combination of part sheepdog and part Saint Bernard, was suffering badly. He wouldn’t eat, lacked energy, and stood with his head hanging low.
After a brief examination, attendants at the facility discovered that he was being strangled by a piece of fishing line that was wrapped around his throat. It had to have happened while Lion was a small puppy, since his skin had grown around it. The fishing line was cut and the excess skin was burned away.
The dog suddenly regained his pep and offers poured in to give him a new home. It was ultimately decided to keep him in the Animal League facility.
Ad for Kellogg’s Gro-Pup Dog Food that appeared on page 275 of the May 1945 issue of the Ladies Home Journal.
The subject of today’s story is a young woman named Linda Marie Ault. Shortly after her graduation from Flowing Wells High School in Tucson, Arizona, 17-year-old Linda married Ronald Wayne Loomis on August 8, 1964. The marriage wouldn’t last.
Wedding photograph of Linda Marie Ault Loomis that appeared in the August 8, 1964 publication of the Arizona Daily Star on page 10.
In 1966, Linda moved back in with her parents, Dorothy and Joseph Ault, who had by this time had relocated to 4720 E. Beverly in Phoenix. It’s always difficult to know what really goes on behind closed doors, but various newspaper accounts piece together an image in which the Ault household became a generational battle between traditional, conservative parents and a liberal daughter who reached adulthood during the 1960’s sexual revolution.
Mrs. Ault blamed the failure of her daughter’s marriage mainly on the fact that Linda had been intimate with at least a half dozen men during that time period. Her promiscuity continued after moving back home and what Mrs. Ault referred to as “traditional” methods were used to avoid any chance of pregnancy. This included having Linda constantly walk upright for about a week. Another time she had to ride horseback for approximately one month.
Linda enrolled as a student at Arizona State University, but the Aults were having a very difficult time getting her to study. Instead, Linda increasingly worked on making herself more enticing to the opposite sex. At one point she was awarded a scholarship, but instead requested that she be allowed to use the money to purchase contact lenses so that she could ditch her cat’s eye style glasses.
During the spring of 1967, Linda called the police to report a domestic disturbance at the Ault house. Sheriff Deputy Jack Barnaby responded and witnessed “one of the most violent family fights I have ever seen.” He added that Mrs. Ault was “extremely belligerent and that she had threatened to commit suicide.” After this incident Mrs. Ault underwent psychiatric treatment and was considered to be just fine.
Some ten months later, on the evening of Friday February 2, 1968, Linda left the house to go to a dance. When she didn’t return home that night, her parents became concerned and made a telephone call to one her friends who informed them that Linda had left the dance with a man. The Aults became frantic and spent the remainder of the night driving through the Tempe-Phoenix area searching for her car but were unsuccessful.
Linda walked back into the house at 9:30 the next morning with a big smile on her face. When asked to explain where she had been, Linda stated that she had spent an intimate night at the apartment of a Williams Air Force Base Lieutenant named Joseph Cunningham.
Linda argued that she was 21-years-old and that she could do as she pleased. This made her parents even more furious and they forced Linda to telephone Lieutenant Cunningham and tell him that he had to marry her. The plan was very simple: The two would head off to Las Vegas for a quickie marriage and should Linda eventually be found not to be expecting a child, the marriage could be annulled.
Lieutenant Cunningham agreed to come to the house to talk things over, but if he had any thought about talking himself out of the impending nuptials, he was mistaken. Mr. Ault decided that he needed some sort of forceful persuasion to make sure that the two really married. Shortly after the telephone conversation ended, he drove to a pawn shop and purchased a 22-caliber revolver. He stated, “The main reason I got the gun was to get the man to marry Linda.” He added, “If we could show him the gun he’ll take her to Las Vegas and marry her.”
That was never to happen. While Mr. Ault was out shopping for the weapon, Lieutenant Cunningham called back and told Mrs. Ault that he wouldn’t be coming to their house to discuss what happened because he was already married.
So much for the shotgun wedding idea…
For the next day-or-so the Aults continued to press their daughter to express remorse for what she had done, but Linda was not giving in. One of the first things that her parents did was to take her over to her college and force Linda to withdraw from her classes. This was followed by walking around the neighborhood and forcing her to remain standing on her feet all day Saturday in an effort to abort a possible pregnancy.
At one point Linda started “to run and wouldn’t listen to me,” so Mrs. Ault picked up a branch from a Mesquite tree and whacked her on the back of her head twice. Linda then ran to a nearby gas station at 4300 East Baseline and called the police for help. Responding officer K.A. Roberts later testified that he had observed a blood trail that started at the back of Linda’s head, ran down her neck, and then separated into a V-shaped pattern between her shoulders. Linda refused to sign a complaint against her mother and returned back home.
1960 photograph of the 8th Grade Class at Flowing Wells High School. Linda Marie Ault is in the back row, fourth in from the far right.
Later that evening, Mr. Ault discovered Linda with a dull butcher knife pointed toward her stomach claiming that she didn’t have the strength to kill herself. Dad commented, “Oh, you’re grandstanding again.” He grabbed the knife and hid it away to prevent any further harm. He also hid his newly purchased gun under his mattress, just in case she decided to try to use it to grab their attention with it once again.
By Sunday morning, Linda still had not expressed any remorse for her actions, so the parents decided that they had to teach her a valuable lesson. One that would be memorable. One that she would forever regret. One that would cause her to truly reflect on what she had done.
Their solution: Linda would have to kill her beloved dog Beauty, a black and white mongrel that she had owned for about two years. Mrs. Ault stated, “I told Linda that after all she put so many people through, and her not suffer, that maybe she would suffer over an animal.”
Shortly before 11 A.M., Linda walked with Beauty one last time to a spot about 500 feet (150 meters) on the desert floor behind their home. As Linda and Mrs. Ault took turns digging a grave to bury Beauty in, Mr. Ault fired the gun into a cactus to be certain that it operated properly. He then loaded the revolver with 7 rounds and left the hammer on an empty chamber. “I told her to just pull the hammer back and trigger.”
At this point Mr. Ault walked about 50-feet (15 meters) to tie the couple’s other dog to a bush. Mrs. Ault then knelt down next to the grave that they had dug and held Beauty by her leash. She was looking down toward the dog but through the corner of her eye could see the barrel of the gun coming toward the dog. She said, “You have to put it right against her head.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Mrs. Ault could see Linda withdrawing the gun away from Beauty’s head and sensed that her daughter was hesitating on pulling the trigger.
And the… BOOM!
Mrs. Ault suddenly screamed, “My God, my God! She shot herself!”
Instead of shooting her dog, Linda had turned the gun toward her right temple and pulled the trigger.
“She’s shot herself! Baby, baby, help me!”
Mister Ault ran toward his daughter and carried her back to the house. Mrs. Ault dialed the operator in a frantic attempt to get an ambulance or the police, but time was ticking away fast.
Sheriff’s deputy Jack Barnaby arrived on the scene a short time later and cautiously entered the house with his gun ready. He had been the officer who had responded to that violent fight at the Ault home some ten months earlier, so he didn’t know what to expect. He found that no one was home.
That was because the Aults had made the decision to drive Linda directly to the Tempe Community Hospital themselves. Her condition was so grave that she was transferred her to St. Joseph’s Hospital in Phoenix.
Sadly, she did not survive. Linda died the next morning on February 5, 1968. She was 21-years-old.
Mrs. Ault was quoted as saying, “I thought she was just stalling.” She continued, “I killed her, I killed her. It’s just like I killed her myself.”
This photograph of Linda Marie Ault appeared in newspapers across the country shortly after the news of her tragic death broke. From page 1 of the February 8, 1968 issue of the Fort Lauderdale News.
While the couple lived just outside the Phoenix city limits, the shooting took place within its boundaries. As a result, the couple was questioned by Phoenix police and were fully cooperative. Mr. Ault stated, “I handed her the gun. I didn’t think she would do anything like that.”
The press quickly picked up on the story about about the college sophomore who opted to take her life over that of her innocent dog. Suddenly, Mr. and Mrs. Ault were thrust into the national spotlight. When questioned by reporters, Mr. Ault replied, “We told the police and the Sheriff’s office everything. You can get it all from them.”
Two days later the Aults were testifying at a coroner’s inquest. The couple was questioned by Chief Deputy County Attorney Moise Berger, who asked Mrs. Ault, “Did you or did you not know that she was four days past her menstrual period and there was no possibility she was pregnant?” Mrs. Ault replied that she was aware of that fact.
When asked why Linda agreed to calling and asking Lieutenant Cunningham to marry her, Mrs. Ault stated, “She finally understood there was more involved than just him and her in an act like that. You have responsibilities.”
Just before he left the witness stand, Mr. Ault asked to make a statement: “I don’t believe my daughter meant to kill herself. I don’t think she thought her father would load the gun, that he would let her shoot the dog.”
The hearing lasted approximately two hours and the jury of five men and one woman ruled that Linda had chosen to take her own life. Her death was ruled a suicide.
Joseph and Dorothy Ault waiting for the coroner’s inquest to begin. Page 1 image from the Arizona Republic on February 8, 1968.
One would think that would have been the end of the story, but it wasn’t. Attorney Berger said that there were still some unanswered questions and that the investigation would continue.
And that’s exactly what they did. At 5 P.M. on February 9th – 4 days after their daughter’s death – three sheriff’s deputies arrested the Aults at their home. They were charged with involuntary manslaughter and were held on $20,000 bond. Adjusted for inflation, that is approximately $143,000 each today. The couple both plead innocent to the charges, but should they ultimately be convicted, they were facing a sentence of 1 to 10 years in prison.
The rationale for the charges were that the couple were well aware that their daughter had attempted to take her own life with the kitchen knife the night before the shooting. By handing Linda a loaded gun the next day, the couple had broken Arizona law by knowingly assisting another person to commit suicide. Attorney Berger stated, “basically the facts show they were aware of their daughter’s emotional state and did give her a loaded gun. This does show a failure to exercise due caution under the circumstances.”
The Aults’ lawyer argued that their bond was excessively high. Mr. Ault had been a 20-year employee of the El Paso Natural Gas Company and both husband and wife had strong roots in the community. Neither could be considered flight risks, so bond was reduced to $2,500 each and they were released pending trial.
As if things weren’t bad enough for the Aults, on February 27th their 21-year-old son Howard Eugene, a Vietnam veteran, was sentenced to a term of one year to one year and a day in prison for forging a check on October 7, 1967. Surprisingly, the judge admitted that Howard’s chances for probation were weakened by the legal mess that his parents were in.
Just as the Aults’ trial was to begin on May 21st, Superior Court Judge William A. Holohan ruled that all of the testimony that the couple had given during that initial coroner’s inquest could not be introduced as evidence at their manslaughter trial. The rationale for this ruling was that the Aults had been advised by Justice of the Peace Stanley Kimball over the telephone that it wasn’t necessary for the couple to have an attorney at the inquest. Yet, they clearly should have had one.
After one-and-a-half days of testimony before a jury of five women and seven men, the prosecution rested its case. The defense then argued that the county had failed to prove that the couple was guilty of involuntary manslaughter and the judge agreed. He dismissed the jury and directed a verdict of acquittal.
While the Aults may have been cleared of any charges in a court of law, I can’t imagine how awful it must have been for them to live with the guilt for the rest of their lives. It’s an incredible burden to carry and not one that I would wish upon anyone.
I’ll conclude with a message of appreciation that appeared on page 44 of the February 15, 1968 publication of the Arizona Republic: “We wish to express our heartfelt thanks and appreciation for the acts of kindness, messages of sympathy and the beautiful floral offerings received from our many friends in our time of sorrow in the loss of our beloved daughter and sister, Linda Marie Ault. The Ault family”
Useless? Useful? I’ll leave that for you to decide.
On April 6, 1976, the Ottawa Journal published an article penned by Ian Haysom on the rock group Heart, who have sold more than 35 million records to date, that was titled “Call them Vancouver superflops.” He just tore into just how bad he thought that Heart was.
The story begins, “Take Heart. As far away as possible. And, for Ottawa’s and Canada’s sake, don’t let them encroach upon our sensibilities again. Plug their ventricles, twist their arteries, allow them to expire quickly.”
He described their performance at the National Art Centre the previous evening as “It was painful, ugly, excruciating, and artistically disgusting.” He continued, “Suffice to say that almost everything they try they do badly. They can’t sing, they can’t play their instruments and they can’t entertain.”
The only person in the band that he had anything positive to say about was lead singer Ann Wilson, who many today consider to be one of the best female rock vocalists ever. “Only Ann Wilson, a female parody of Mick Jagger with as much talent over-all as he possesses in his lower lip, approaches that thing called ability. She plays the flute passably well and struts sexily about the stage, which at least takes attention away from the music, such as it is.”
He concludes his brutal attack on the band with, “So have a heart, Heart, and have a heart attack for music’s sake.”
Elton John was the best-selling musical act of the 70’s, but few people realize that the best-selling American band was the brother-sister act of the Carpenters. James D. Dilts offered up a review of a Carpenters concert in the August 3, 1972 issue of the Baltimore Sun and immediately observed how different it was from any other concert he had attended. “I knew something was wrong as soon as I got to the gate. No suburban attack squads in tattered clothes roaming the fence, feinting at the entrance only to go over or under further down. No rocks. No epithets.”
President Richard Nixon with Karen and Richard Carpenter in the White House on August 1, 1972. (National Archive image – from Wikimedia Commons.)
Even more unusual was how easy it was for him to get backstage. Roadies and managers do everything possible to keep fans from gaining access. Yet, it was very different this time. The group’s manager walked out to greet him and let Dilts in without any debate. Once the Carpenters hit the stage, it was more of the same. Some of the audience members were dressed in nice clothing, stayed in there seats, and there was no sign of drugs or alcohol.
Personally, the Carpenters have always been one of my guilty pleasures. I know that their syrupy music makes some people want to puke, but in my mind no one can sing a depressing song better than Karen Carpenter. Dilts offered up his opinion, “The Carpenters music bears the same relationship to American popular music, roughly, as Disneyland bears to American society. All the impurities, the vitality, the diversity, have been strained out and the bland remainder repackaged into a sort of Mickey Mouse version of the real thing.”
He concludes the article by stating, “I went straight home and put on the Rolling Stones to clear my mind.”
A November 4, 1970 review of the album titled “Writer: Carole King” just tore into her singing ability.
“It is notable that the title of this album is not ‘Singer: Carole King.’ Carole King may be an excellent writer, but as a singer, she is barely competent. Her vocal range is very limited, she can’t sing any high notes, and at times her voice sounds flat and bored.”
Cover art for the album Writer:Carole King.
The article continues, “The tunes and the instrumentation help make up for the fact that Carole King can barely sing, making this album enjoyable if somewhat vacuous.”
It concludes that the songs may appear on other artists’ albums in the future, “But this is probably the first and only album Carole King will ever make.”
You probably know the story about her next album titled Tapestry: It was the number 1 best selling album for fifteen consecutive weeks, had the second longest run of any album on the Billboard 200 chart after Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon, and to date has sold over 25 million copies.
In December of 1988, the restaurant chain Denny’s decided to close all of its 1,221 stores for the Christmas holiday.
This was not an easy decision for the company to make. The chain was well-known for being open 24-hours-a-day, 365-days a year, so closing on Christmas day was predicted to cost the chain $5 million in sales.
They were faced with an even bigger problem: Since the chain never shut its doors, many of their restaurants were either built without locks on the doors or no one could find the keys to the locks that did exist. The company had to install door locks in more than 700 of its restaurants just so that they close for that one day.
My wife and I stopped at our local Denny’s a few weeks ago and the first thing I did was check the door. There was a lock there.
Picture taken at the Denny’s restaurant on Wolf Road in Colonie, NY on November 30, 2018 confirming that there is a lock installed on the front door.
The post office in Spokane, Washington had an interesting problem. On December 18, 1955, someone dropped off fifty envelopes to be mailed. All were properly addressed and stamped, but lacked one important piece: All of the envelopes were completely empty.
Apparently the mailer had forgotten to insert the Christmas cards or whatever they had intended to include. There was no return address on any of the envelopes to help identify the sender and while you are about 63-years too late, should you know what should have gone into those envelopes, please be sure to contact the Spokane post office.
English
French
German
Italian
Portuguese
Russian
Spanish