In an era before national celebrities ensured a steady stream of scandal, newspapers found the stuff that would get gossips gossiping and buying newspapers in divorce courts, police reports and from anyone with an ax to grind.
Allen County Republican-Gazette (Aug. 2, 1898)
The back page of the Allen County Democrat was stuffed with snippets of advertising, advice, observations, news and reports on who was arriving and who was leaving.
“The martins have left after a stay of fifteen weeks,” the Democrat wrote September 2, 1880, referring to a prominent bird family. Among prominent Lima humans, the newspaper noted that Emma Dalzell was home after spending her summer vacation in Kansas while Frank Bell and John Boose were preparing to leave for Notre Dame to resume their studies.
Meanwhile, because anything political was welcome in the partisan papers of the day, the Democrat wrote that a “Republican who lives in Upper Sandusky” had taken a vote “on the fast train” of the Pittsburgh, Fort Wayne and Chicago railroad between Van Wert and Lima that showed 238 passengers favored Democrat Winfield Scott Hancock and 72 liked Republican James A. Garfield in the upcoming presidential election (Garfield won handily).
All of which was nice but the reporters and editors at the Democrat and other newspapers in the late 19th century knew what attracted readers — and it wasn’t “Miss Emma Blecker, of Findlay, was visiting friends in the city Saturday.”
The Democrat spelled it out, urging readers to send in any gossip they heard. “Don’t be backward but send us anything you know, and we will endeavor in our humble way to repay you. If your team runs off and twists your mother-in-law’s neck, we will rejoice with you; if your best Alderney (a type of dairy cow) breaks a leg, we will do our utmost to console you,” the newspaper wrote. “Send us the news. Send it in lively. A dog fight, a runaway team, an elopement, a broken arm, a birth, a marriage, a death with one or two cuttings and shootings makes us happy for a week.”
In an era before national celebrities ensured a steady stream of scandal, newspapers found the stuff that would get gossips gossiping and buying newspapers in divorce courts, police reports and from anyone with an ax to grind. Elopement was a popular topic.
“The good people of Lima came near having a first-class sensation last week in the form of an elopement by one of the young men of the city with the wife of another resident of this thriving burg, and the affair was only prevented by mere accident,” the Lima Democratic Times wrote in February 1882.
The couple, the newspaper explained, agreed to meet “at the depot one day last week and take the early morning train for the north.” However, the young man, “in order to get his courage up to the proper point,” got drunk and missed the train. The woman waited in vain before finally going home, according to the Times.
“The next day the irate husband was prancing around town with a small arsenal in his pocket looking for the man who contemplated elopement with his wife but failed to find him.”
Most elopement stories didn’t involve firearms and didn’t shield the participants with anonymity. Under the headline “A Rural Maiden Skips with a Tonsorial Artist, Who Leaves Numerous Creditors to Mourn His Departure,” the Times in May 1885 told the story of an itinerant barber named Will White, who fell in love with Della Lockard. Lockard had come to Lima from Middle Point and worked as a domestic at “a highly respectable West Market Street residence,” the newspaper noted, adding that White’s love for her was “not a roller rink love or anything of that sort, but a genuine case of can’t-help-it” and that “the mash was mutual.”
According to the Times, White promised Lockard he would buy her a nice home and furniture. “The poor girl, who had not seen much of the world, believed him, and as the result of being jammed full of this kind of taffy,” the newspaper wrote, she left town with White, who left town leaving several creditors holding the bag, including Maguire’s peanut emporium, which was owed $2.55 for peanuts and beverages.
Unlike tales of elopement, stories of infidelity were common and afforded a wonderful opportunity for newspapers to tally the wages of sin. The Allen County Republican pounced on one such opportunity in a front-page story from October 1889.
“An erring wife (the newspapers generally named the wife as the erring party) and her infidelity has caused the breaking up of another household and the bringing of disgrace upon an innocent child – a daughter of twelve years,” the Republican wrote.
The erring wife in this case was a “Mrs. Stonecyper,” described by the newspaper as “a large voluptuous brunette, attractive in appearance and in fact a handsome woman.” Mrs. Stonecyper, the Republican wrote, “had many admirers and it was not long until it became noised about that she was not what a married woman ought to be …”
Mr. Stonecyper, according to the story, stoically endured his wife’s transgressions “on account of their child” until one night when he came home from his job on the Lake Erie and Western Railroad to find yet another stranger fleeing out the side door of his South Main Street home. Mr. Stonecyper and the stranger fought, with the stranger having “nearly all of his clothes” torn off and Mr. Stonecyper suffering a black eye. Mr. Stonecyper promptly separated from his wife, resigned his position with the railroad and left town. Mrs. Stonecyper and the daughter “took their departure for Fort Wayne where her parents live,” the Republican wrote.
In January 1891, the Republican reported Mr. and Mrs. Charles Elkins, of North Pine Street, had not been enjoying “domestic felicity” because of “imprudent actions indulged in by both, so it is rumored.” According to the newspaper, Mr. Elkins was first to be caught in imprudent actions “when Mrs. Elkins, who was on a secret watch, discovered her husband emerging from the house of a woman of questionable character on Tanner Street (Central Avenue).” Mrs. Elkins broke out “a few panes of glass in the front windows” with her fists and then “commenced on her husband.”
About two weeks after that, Mr. Elkins returned home “at an early hour” to find “another man enjoying the company of his wife,” the Republican wrote. Mr. Elkins broke down the locked door but was too late to confront the other man, the newspaper added. “Mr. Elkins is not exactly confident as to who the man was but is almost certain he can identify him – and he is quite a prominent citizen, whose name, when announced, will cause quite a sensation.” The name was never announced.
In July 1890, the table were turned on the source of a rumor by a woman the Democrat called “Plucky Miss Green,” who took the woman to court. “The plaintiff testified that she had learned that a report had been spread to the effect that she had been seen in Dr. Bates’ office on South Main Street, as late as half past 11 o’clock at night,” the Democrat wrote. “Having never been in the doctor’s office but once and then in company with a half dozen other young people who spent the evening there, she determined to put a stop to the slanderous talk by finding the originator and having her punished.”
The slanderer was eventually determined to be Mrs. McLain, who was fined “$3 and costs, amounting in all to $13.” After the trial, according to the newspaper, the judge expressed his “contempt for people who delighted in spreading gossip and slander… He thought it was time that a stop should be put to so much gossip in Lima.”
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SOURCE
This feature is a cooperative effort between the newspaper and the Allen County Museum and Historical Society.
LEARN MORE
See past Reminisce stories at limaohio.com/tag/reminisce
Reach Greg Hoersten at [email protected].
