Miscellany: Arkansas Man

In Horatio, Ark., Fred Brown celebrated the twenty-fifth anniversary of the day he began to live in a large oak tree belonging to Tom Green. On coming to Horatio 25 years ago, he secured a room at the hotel, fixed a peculiar lock on the door, said in a German accent, “Just call me Fred Brown.” On finding the landlord snooping in his room, Fred Brown removed his belongings, moved to a large tank near the railroad. Annoyed by curious townsfolk, Fred Brown had the ends of his tank sliced off for doors, hoisted the tank into Tom Green’s tree, put a strip of tin around the bottom of the tree so no one could climb up quietly. Below his tree, he put a chicken yard; grew vegetables nearby. Annoyed by chicken thieves, Fred Brown tied a flag to the door of the henhouse so that it would flap when anyone opened the door. Annoyed by a sheriff, he went to court as a witness in a case, cursed the judge, was taken away to jail for five days. Unwilling to converse with strangers, to all who asked questions he answered “My past is buried. Ask no questions.”

Ceremony

In Denver, Col, Bishop Frank H. Rice performed a legal wedding ceremony for Maria Rita Salazar, 15, and Anacleto Ines, by pronouncing in their presence the word, “Married.”

“Black Maria”

In Manhattan, when the “Black Maria” in which he was driving nine prisoners to jail, caught fire, Patrolman Arthur Quinn summoned a fire engine. When the fire engine arrived, ten minutes later, he allowed the prisoners scorched, screaming, blinded by smoke, to get out.

Firpo Jacko

In Boston, Dr. Daniel Davenport was prevented from lecturing on Africans with a cinema called Jan go, in which appeared a cannibal called Maluba, because Maluba informed police that his real name was Firpo Jacko, that he was a janitor in a Harlem apartment house, that Dr. Davenport owed him $990 back-pay.

Bicycle

In Santa Barbara, Calif., Phil Weidman, custodian of a new $1,500,000 court house, found its corridors too long, rode about the building on an old bicycle.

Rhyme

In Cincinnati, William Houston, 76, laborer, exhibited 6,000 pages of manuscript which he had just completed—a rhymed version of the Bible.

Explosion

In Pottsville, Pa., John Wincavage, miner, was blown to pieces when the warmth of his body exploded a charge of dynamite in his pocket.