H is for... Homes, Strange
May. 14th, 2012 09:18 pmToday I came across this odd story in a copy of the Examiner (28 October 1899) and not having an H entry, I thought I'd share it.
MEN WHO LIVE IN STRANGE HOMES
FROM A FURNACE-BOILER TO THE SKELETON OF A WHALE.
Many men have made their homes in strange places; but perhaps the strangest habitation of them all is the rusty, battered furnace-boiler in the Erie Basin, Brooklyn, in which "Old Moore, " as he was commonly called, spent 40 years of lonely life, and in which he recently died.
"Old Moore's" history is strangely pathetic. In early manhood he was captain of a large merchant ship plying between Brooklyn and the East Indies. On his last voyage he married a native girl, of rare beauty, and was proudly bringing his bride to America, when his vessel was caught in a hurricane and dashed to pieces, every life but his own being lost.
He never recovered from the shock of losing his young wife; and day after day for 40 years he would row out to sea in the hope that he might at last find her body. Among the piled-up wreckage in the Erie Basin, hulls of abandoned coal-boats, old machinery, anchors, furnaces, and the debris of neighbouring factories, he found on old furnace-boiler, part of which was lined with abestos, and in these narrow, but warm, quarters, only 7ft. long, 4ft. wide, and 6ft. high, he made his home. He converted a broken steam shovel into a stove, and on it he cooked the few fish he caught. He never spoke a word to any soul except an occasional greeting to the watchman; and steadily declined all offers of sympathy and help.
In a home still smaller, and almost equally strange, a Tennessee man and his wife have lived for a generation, and brought up a stalwart family of 11 children. The home consists of a hollow tree, 7ft. in diameter, perched high on the side of an East Tennessee mountain. The floor is made of rough slabs, split from smaller tree trunks, dry leaves form comfortable beds, and the skins of animals a sufficient covering, while the entire furniture consists of an axe, a rifle, and a hunting knife, an iron pot, a water pail, two or three large gourds, a bread tray, and a meal bag.
In Wisconsin a party of hunters recently discovered a wild man living in a cave in the side of a huge bluff, partly covered with undergrowth. The man, who was apparently about 60 years old, had nearly lost all human likeness. His matted hair and beard almost enveloped him; his clothing consisted of a single sack wrapped around his body; and he had lived so long in the pine forest that he had lost all knowledge of human speech, and could only jabber incoherently.
His arms and legs were so enormously strong that he could lift a weight of half a ton as easily as a strong man could lift a hundredweight, and the soles of his feet were literally as hard as iron.
At Funfkirchen, in Hungary, a former landowner of great wealth has for many years led a similar savage life, roaming the woods by day in search of food, and spending the nights in caves or trees.
In the wildest part of the Alleghanies a party of hunters discovered a cabin nestling among the rocks on a barren hill-side. The occupant of this cabin--probably the most solitary in the world--was a middle-aged woman, of education and refinement, who retired to it from the world ten years ago.
It would be difficult, however, to find a more remarkable home than that which a fisherman has made for himself in an island off the coast of Labrador. 'This ingenious man has converted the skeleton of a whale, the carcase of which had drifted ashore, into a snug residence, which defies wind and weather; and here he leads, rent free, the life of a Jonah--only with a longer lease of the whale.
(The same article turns up in a NZ paper so I assume it originally appeared in an American publication. Beyond that, I've no idea of the source of the tales, and I don't care :)
FROM A FURNACE-BOILER TO THE SKELETON OF A WHALE.
Many men have made their homes in strange places; but perhaps the strangest habitation of them all is the rusty, battered furnace-boiler in the Erie Basin, Brooklyn, in which "Old Moore, " as he was commonly called, spent 40 years of lonely life, and in which he recently died.
"Old Moore's" history is strangely pathetic. In early manhood he was captain of a large merchant ship plying between Brooklyn and the East Indies. On his last voyage he married a native girl, of rare beauty, and was proudly bringing his bride to America, when his vessel was caught in a hurricane and dashed to pieces, every life but his own being lost.
He never recovered from the shock of losing his young wife; and day after day for 40 years he would row out to sea in the hope that he might at last find her body. Among the piled-up wreckage in the Erie Basin, hulls of abandoned coal-boats, old machinery, anchors, furnaces, and the debris of neighbouring factories, he found on old furnace-boiler, part of which was lined with abestos, and in these narrow, but warm, quarters, only 7ft. long, 4ft. wide, and 6ft. high, he made his home. He converted a broken steam shovel into a stove, and on it he cooked the few fish he caught. He never spoke a word to any soul except an occasional greeting to the watchman; and steadily declined all offers of sympathy and help.
In a home still smaller, and almost equally strange, a Tennessee man and his wife have lived for a generation, and brought up a stalwart family of 11 children. The home consists of a hollow tree, 7ft. in diameter, perched high on the side of an East Tennessee mountain. The floor is made of rough slabs, split from smaller tree trunks, dry leaves form comfortable beds, and the skins of animals a sufficient covering, while the entire furniture consists of an axe, a rifle, and a hunting knife, an iron pot, a water pail, two or three large gourds, a bread tray, and a meal bag.
In Wisconsin a party of hunters recently discovered a wild man living in a cave in the side of a huge bluff, partly covered with undergrowth. The man, who was apparently about 60 years old, had nearly lost all human likeness. His matted hair and beard almost enveloped him; his clothing consisted of a single sack wrapped around his body; and he had lived so long in the pine forest that he had lost all knowledge of human speech, and could only jabber incoherently.
His arms and legs were so enormously strong that he could lift a weight of half a ton as easily as a strong man could lift a hundredweight, and the soles of his feet were literally as hard as iron.
At Funfkirchen, in Hungary, a former landowner of great wealth has for many years led a similar savage life, roaming the woods by day in search of food, and spending the nights in caves or trees.
In the wildest part of the Alleghanies a party of hunters discovered a cabin nestling among the rocks on a barren hill-side. The occupant of this cabin--probably the most solitary in the world--was a middle-aged woman, of education and refinement, who retired to it from the world ten years ago.
It would be difficult, however, to find a more remarkable home than that which a fisherman has made for himself in an island off the coast of Labrador. 'This ingenious man has converted the skeleton of a whale, the carcase of which had drifted ashore, into a snug residence, which defies wind and weather; and here he leads, rent free, the life of a Jonah--only with a longer lease of the whale.
(The same article turns up in a NZ paper so I assume it originally appeared in an American publication. Beyond that, I've no idea of the source of the tales, and I don't care :)
