Thursday, December 18

Chew on This Story

image = chewing gum facts
By Art Cashin

On this day in 1869, Wm. Semple of Ohio was granted a patent on a form of chewing gum. Americans had long chewed a variation of an old Indian substance - - a combination of sap and paraffin. But like many American invention, somewhere else another guy was working on the same project. In this case the somewhere else was Staten Island.

A guy named Santa Ana, who had a somewhat brief political and military career in Mexico (see “Alamo”), was trying to start a new career in his 70's. And, where is a trendier, more intellectually challenging place than Staten Island. He was hoping to produce a substitute for rubber and had brought along some chicle (itself the sap of a Mexican plant).

He showed it to a local inventor, Tom Adams, this particular sample. But try as he could Adams couldn't make a rubber substitute. So one day while he was hanging out at a drug store (the mall had not been invented yet), Adams heard a kid complain about the paraffin gum. Adams went home, soaked some chicle in licorice and kneaded it into little pellets. The druggist sold out the new sample in six hours. Shortly, America was hooked on "Adams N.Y. Gum No. 1".

To mark the day, try not to chew out an employee. Some can be very snappy. And try not to laugh when someone tells you they always thought "Chicklets" was inspired by a poultry symbol.

Many thanks to Mr. Cashin and UBS Financial Services who graciously allow his historical musings to be republished on this site. To enjoy more of Art's posts simply click on "Cashin's Comments" in the label section on the sidebar.

Monday, December 8


Editors note:
I haven't written anything for this blog in quite some time so I thought I would write about the letter found below. It's a perfect fit for this site because it's great history written with tongue firmly in cheek. I decided not to write about it because I could never improve upon what the author wrote.

The source for the letter is The Freedmen's Book, by Lydia Maria Child. It is republished here under the terms of The Project Gutenberg.* Special thanks to Letters of Note blog.
Grant Davies


[Written just as he dictated it.]

Dayton, Ohio, August 7, 1865.

To my old Master, Colonel P. H. Anderson, Big Spring, Tennessee.

Sir: I got your letter, and was glad to find that you had not forgotten Jourdon, and that you wanted me to come back and live with you again, promising to do better for me than anybody else can.

I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yankees would have hung you long before this, for harboring Rebs they found at your house. I suppose they never heard about your going to Colonel Martin's to kill the Union soldier that was left by his company in their stable.

Although you shot at me twice before I left you, I did not want to hear of your being hurt, and am glad you are still living. It would do me good to go back to the dear old home again, and see Miss Mary and Miss Martha and Allen, Esther, Green, and Lee. Give my love to them all, and tell them I hope we will meet in the better world, if not in this. I would have gone back to see you all when I was working in the Nashville Hospital, but one of the neighbors told me that Henry intended to shoot me if he ever got a chance.

I want to know particularly what the good chance is you propose to give me. I am doing tolerably well here. I get twenty-five dollars a month, with victuals and clothing; have a comfortable home for Mandy,—the[266] folks call her Mrs. Anderson,—and the children—Milly, Jane, and Grundy—go to school and are learning well. The teacher says Grundy has a head for a preacher. They go to Sunday school, and Mandy and me attend church regularly. We are kindly treated. Sometimes we overhear others saying, "Them colored people were slaves" down in Tennessee. The children feel hurt when they hear such remarks; but I tell them it was no disgrace in Tennessee to belong to Colonel Anderson. Many darkeys would have been proud, as I used to be, to call you master. Now if you will write and say what wages you will give me, I will be better able to decide whether it would be to my advantage to move back again.

As to my freedom, which you say I can have, there is nothing to be gained on that score, as I got my free papers in 1864 from the Provost-Marshal-General of the Department of Nashville. Mandy says she would be afraid to go back without some proof that you were disposed to treat us justly and kindly; and we have concluded to test your sincerity by asking you to send us our wages for the time we served you. This will make us forget and forgive old scores, and rely on your justice and friendship in the future. I served you faithfully for thirty-two years, and Mandy twenty years. At twenty-five dollars a month for me, and two dollars a week for Mandy, our earnings would amount to eleven thousand six hundred and eighty dollars. Add to this the interest for the time our wages have been kept back, and deduct what you paid for our clothing, and three doctor's visits to me, and pulling a tooth for Mandy, and the balance will show what we are in justice entitled to. Please send the money by Adams's Express, in care of V. Winters, Esq.,[267] Dayton, Ohio. If you fail to pay us for faithful labors in the past, we can have little faith in your promises in the future. We trust the good Maker has opened your eyes to the wrongs which you and your fathers have done to me and my fathers, in making us toil for you for generations without recompense. Here I draw my wages every Saturday night; but in Tennessee there was never any pay-day for the negroes any more than for the horses and cows. Surely there will be a day of reckoning for those who defraud the laborer of his hire.

In answering this letter, please state if there would be any safety for my Milly and Jane, who are now grown up, and both good-looking girls. You know how it was with poor Matilda and Catherine. I would rather stay here and starve—and die, if it come to that—than have my girls brought to shame by the violence and wickedness of their young masters. You will also please state if there has been any schools opened for the colored children in your neighborhood. The great desire of my life now is to give my children an education, and have them form virtuous habits.

Say howdy to George Carter, and thank him for taking the pistol from you when you were shooting at me.

From your old servant,
Jourdon Anderson.

Congratulations to Dave McGovern for winning the 15 Seconds of Fame Award given to contributors of ideas for Cheeky History blog-posts. Thanks Dave! Keep 'em coming.

*This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at

Friday, October 31

Happy Samhain

Image = Lightgrid
By Art Cashin

On this day in (approx.) 823 B.C., the most inventive, charming and clever people ever to grace God's green earth came up with yet another ingenious idea.

They were, of course, the Irish (at this time A/K/A the Celts). Being bright they did not labor upon the obvious. So they let somebody else invent fire, the wheel, iron, astronomy, writing, calendars, etc. These they figured they could copy - - and boy did they. These clever folks....well.....they tended to save their strength for what was really important.

By this stratagem, even 1000 years earlier, while pagan types were grappling with such mediocrity as pyramids, irrigation and geometry, the Celts had learned to distill grain. This miracle medicinal cure (which would maintain mankind for over 3000 years) they called Usquebah. The amazed and very
indebted rest of the world mistranslated the name as "whiskey".

So for a millennia these wise and whiskey-witty folk enjoyed good health and good fellowship. Then as this particular day approached (circa 823 B.C.), gender problems arose. The women began expecting the men to hang out close to the cave as the evening came earlier each fall. If civilization were to progress, this would never do!

So the Celtic elders came up with the second great invention. They called it "Samhain" or end of summer. They explained to the women that as the season changed, ghosts, goblins and evil spirits came forth to threaten all humans. In order to protect the women and children, the men folk selflessly would have to put on old clothes, take some jugs of the magic Usquebah (possible snake bite you know) and go into the hills and light fires.

For nearly 1500 years the tradition held. Then came the good St. Patrick who was wise enough to keep the Usquebah but drove out the snakes. Conveniently, his Christian teaching did say that November 1st was the Feast of All Saints (or "All Hallows"). So it only seemed logical that if the saints were coming out, the devils would have one last fling. So, snakes or not, we would
still need those reliable old clothes, bonfires and protective booze on the eve of "All Hallows" or Hallow's Evening or Halloween.

To celebrate stop by "The Bog on the Moor" and fortify yourself against snakebite, but quit before ye begin to see the little people. For to go beyond, will surround ye with all kinds of devilment like - banshees and ghoulies and mothers-in-law.

Many thanks to Mr. Cashin and UBS Financial Services who graciously allow his historical musings to be republished on this site. To enjoy more of Art's posts simply click on "Cashin's Comments" in the label section on the sidebar.

Friday, October 3

The Great Imposter - No, It's Not a Politician

By Art Cashin

On this day (+1) in 1951, the Royal Canadian Navy found itself in a bizarre disciplinary proceeding. The proceedings were against a young naval surgeon who had recently become somewhat of a national hero.

It was during the toughest days of the Korean War (er...make that "Police Action"). In the choppiest of seas, the young surgeon was called upon to remove a bullet from a soldier's heart. Shortly after that, he saved a man with severe wounds and collapsed lungs. The medical work was so amazingly successful that newspapers and magazines ran special features on the young wonder surgeon.

Several folks who bought the magazines noticed the picture layout and the coincidence that the guy in the photograph had the same name as a doctor they knew...Dr. Joseph C. Cyr of Vancouver. They sent copies of the photos to Dr. Cyr. He noticed that the hero not only had his name...he had also attended the same schools, in the same years and got the same grades as Dr. Cyr of Vancouver. He called the Canadian Navy to question the coincidence.

That brings us to this day (+1) in 1951. They Navy had discovered that the guy who performed those delicate operations on a pitching vessel in primitive conditions was not Dr. Cyr. In fact, he was not a doctor at all. He was a U.S. citizen named Ferdinand Waldo De Mara. The Navy was ready to punish to the max...but De Mara's fellow officers, the crew and the men he had saved testified he was the most competent, dedicated and sincere man they had ever served with.

Perversely, the Navy inquiry also produced high praise for De Mara in the roles he had served in before he impersonated Dr. Cyr and joined the Navy. He was praised as a superior in a Trappist Monastery, a professor in three different colleges (in different subjects, no less), a jailbird (desertion from previous military service) and, perversely, later as a prison warden.

In all of the above positions and a dozen more (except jailbird), De Mara was an imposter. He had used different names and falsified various diplomas and accreditations he'd never won. His life was so remarkable and he succeeded at so many things others had trained for years to accomplish that the Press dubbed him - "The Great Imposter" and Hollywood made a movie about him.

But while they explained how he got into various positions, they never explained how in every one he was promoted time and again while being praised by co-workers, clients and superiors. For that you'll have to go to the Library and dig out De Mara's book (also called the Great Imposter). It is full of insights on human nature. The greatest of which De Mara called "the power vacuum" (an overstatement). Put simply De Mara felt that if you were put in charge of picking up cigarette butts you could soon be in management....simply because people don't want responsibility. They like power and pomp and titles and some even like making decisions...but whether in business, medicine, education or religion, folks don't want to take responsibility for their actions and decisions.

Interesting theory...but come on!!...this is America!!...this is capitalism!!....who ever heard of management ducking responsibility?

Many thanks to Mr. Cashin and UBS Financial Services who graciously allow his historical musings to be republished on this site. To enjoy more of Art's posts simply click on "Cashin's Comments" in the label section on the sidebar.

Thursday, September 18

It's Not Such a Crappy Idea After All

By Art Cashin

On this day in 1908, yet one more American threw aside the doubts of the establishment to start his own company.

Earlier, he had sought financing from America's premier merchant banks. But his enthusiasm was such that they laughed him out of their offices.

Some historians would later guess that it was his name that did him in. Not his first name -- that was a solid sounding William. And even his waspy prospective bankers couldn't object to his last name -- Durant (solid, American). But some felt his insistence on presenting his middle name made the bankers uneasy. For some reason, he insisted on announcing himself, both in person and on his business cards as William Crapo Durant.

Put money on a guy named "Crapo" -- not on your Newport estate. So supposed savvy bankers denied his request for four million dollars. Historical defenders of the bankers claim that it was not his name, but his proposed partners that turned them off. Even if automobiles were good, why would Durant think that combining his Buick operation with Ransom Olds, Maxwell Motors, and Henry Ford could result in a viable business?

So on this day in 1908, Wm C. Durant filed in the state of N.J. to incorporate something called General Motors at a cost of $2,000. (Ford opted out thinking his new Model T was worth more.) In a few short years, Durant dogged by some bankers, had to give up his company to other bankers.

But he then bought a small company called Chevrolet and soon was running GM again. Durant as you may have guessed was not a corporate guy and eventually gambled away over 120 million bucks (equivalent to five billion today).

When he died in the late 1940's, he was telling anyone who would listen that American's next fad would be -- bowling. Some guys just die too early.

Many thanks to Mr. Cashin and UBS Financial Services who graciously allow his historical musings to be republished on this site. To enjoy more of Art's posts simply click on "Cashin's Comments" in the label section on the sidebar.

Monday, July 14

Tired of the Hot Air? Have a Double Dr. Gorrie, On the Rocks of Course!

image =
By Art Cashin

On this day in 1850, a doctor at the "Mansion House" in Apalachicola, Florida amazed some guests whom he had invited by serving them drinks with ice. They were amazed not because it was a dry town… was
not....the guests were amazed because this was Apalachicola, this was Florida, this was July…..yet here was ice. How deep could his icehouse go… many feet of sawdust had he needed to pile up to save these few cubes of ice?

Then the doctor (Dr. John Gorrie) further amazed his guests by bringing more ice…..he brought out whole brick-like blocks of it. The guests were stunned. How had he managed to save this much ice… Florida…..into July! Dr. Gorrie laughed and told them he had made the ice only yesterday. "Sure!”
they said. "You made ice in July?" "Who the hell are you…..Mother Nature with a bad calendar watch?"

Dr. Gorrie must have laughed again and told them he had found a way of compressing water and then air in a way to chill things enough to produce ice. "Wow!" said the guests "Now you can open a bar!" Dr. Gorrie looked at them strangely….."Bar?…..This is a cure for malaria!"

Dr. Gorrie had noticed that malaria (a big problem in 1850) seemed to happen near wetlands (like Apalachicola) when it was warm. So he determined it must be the hot air that caused malaria. So, if you cooled the hot air down… should be able to stop malaria. That night Gorrie raised enough funds to install his ice-making, anti-malaria machine at the United States Marine Hospital. The main effect was that the rooms were cooler and the patients were cooler but the "yellow fever" continued. (It would be a half century later until Walter Reed would prove that the cause was mosquitoes who thrived in the hot weather…..not the weather itself.)

Although Dr. Gorrie was disappointed at what he saw as his "failure", bartenders and patrons did find a medicinal use for the ice. To celebrate… Clarence Birdseye and point out how one man's failure can
be another man's fortune. Forgive the frosty response.

Many thanks to Mr. Cashin and UBS Financial Services who graciously allow his historical musings to be republished on this site. To enjoy more of Art's posts simply click on "Cashin's Comments" in the label section on the sidebar.

Tuesday, July 8

Don't Kidd About the Pirates

Image = Wikipedia
By Art Cashin

On this day in 1699, a formerly prominent businessman was arrested in Boston and sent to London to be tried for capital crimes. He claimed it was all a mistake but the authorities denied him counsel and shipped him off in chains.

Four years before, he had even been one of the respected businessmen in Wall Street. His house on Hanover Square was impressive. And he had even been a driving force in raising funds for Trinity Church which would stand in the graveyard at the end of Wall Street.

But his fame as a trader and a seaman brought him to the attention of the king. The king solicited his service to stamp out the piracy that plagued the sea-lanes. On the day he set out, records show that most of New York turned out to cheer him on.

After early successes, however, disgruntled former crewmen began to claim that he had thrown in with the pirates themselves, and had become the worst of the lot. And, when he dropped off part of his recaptured loot with his friends the Gardiner Family (of Gardiners Island), stories spread that he had buried treasures from the East Coast to the Caribbean. (In fact to this day some maintain that Jacob Astor may not have become wealthy in the fur trade - but by discovering a huge cache of this man's treasure in what is now
Central Park.)

Anyway, despite his protests of innocence (and lack of counsel) he was found guilty of five counts of piracy. And, in May of 1701, he was dropped through the hangman's trap door and into history. Thus one of Wall Street's earliest luminaries - Captain William Kidd became the symbol of piracy for three centuries.

To celebrate take some sweet young thing to the "Traders Lounge" and explain that the connection between Capt. Kidd and Wall Street was purely coincidental. But caution her not to comment about the eye patches of the patrons. It tends to agitate their parrots.

Many thanks to Mr. Cashin and UBS Financial Services who graciously allow his historical musings to be republished on this site. To enjoy more of Art's posts simply click on "Cashin's Comments" in the label section on the sidebar.

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