FIVE RED APPLES and AMBIGUITY

20 Wednesday Jun 2018

Posted by Waldo "Wally" Tomosky in Uncategorized

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Jorge Luis Borges, Karl Kraus, Ludwig Wittgenstein, Monk Eastman

Both Karl Kraus and Ludwig Wittgenstein used language to get us thinking.

Wittgenstein used the method of “literal autopsy”; thus dissecting a simple statement and asking us to ask ourselves what language is and to think about how we use it.

Kraus searched for every missing comma and other literate errors. He used these examples as a metaphor for what was wrong with the world and a base for his polemics.

A favorite example is Wittgenstein’s “Five Red Apples.”

Five Red Apples

Now think of the following use of language: I send someone shopping. I give him a slip of paper marked “five red apples”. He takes the slip to the shopkeeper, who opens the drawer marked “apples”; then he looks up the word “red” in a chart and finds a color sample next to it; then he says the series of elementary number-words – I assume that he knows them by heart – up to the word “five”, and for each number-word he takes an apple of the same color as the sample out of the drawer. — It is in this and similar ways that one operates with words. — “But how does he know where and how he is to look up the word ‘red’ and what he is to do with the word ‘five’?” — Well, I assume that he acts as I have described. Explanations come to an end somewhere. – But what is the meaning of the word “five”? – No such thing was in question here, only how the word “five” is used.

So that is the way Wittgenstein makes us think. He asks us how we really know what “apples” are, what “red” means and what the term “five” signifies. What he intimates is what he hasn’t said about the subject. How did the grocer know there were charts? How did he know which chart? How did the grocer know that five was a quantity and not a star or a bird?

Whereas Kraus’ example, would be signified by a time when people were generally decrying the Japanese bombardment of Shanghai. Kraus, at that very moment, was struggling over one of his comma problems.

“I know that everything is futile when the house is burning. But I have to do this, as long as it is at all possible; for if those who were supposed to look after commas had always made sure they were in the right place, Shanghai would not be burning.”

Kraus makes us think about all the connections between his comma being missing and Shanghai. He makes us think about the Japanese, the war and the bombardments. He makes us think about news-writers who may be as sloppy about reporting important events as they are about not paying attention to their commas. Do they really understand the importance of either?

So, now that I have repeated Wittgenstein’s and Kraus’ words and their philosophies about words, I will be expected to say something brilliant.

How about if I say something only half-brilliant, something dusky, something foggy, something like the crack of dawn on an overcast day, something ambiguous?

I can and I will. But first I must confess to being a hypocrite.

I once departed a very large corporation where clarity was honored. It was a learned characteristic for me; not instinctive. To be ambiguous was the kiss of death for one’s career. I learned my lessons well and survived.

Upon departing that corporation I joined an Ivy League university where ambiguity was used as a tool. Muddying the water was a well-practiced skill; especially at the faculty level. The ‘faculty senate’ minutes were bathed in ambiguity. And I don’t even want to get into the ambiguous statements used in meetings of individual departments. Responsibility could be avoided by being ambiguous about one’s personal thoughts and opinions.

So that is one half of my confession on hypocrisy.

I hated ambiguity.

Now, I must confess the other half.

I have learned to embrace ambiguity. Why? Because; it enhances the reader’s experience.

I know; that is a very strange thing to admit.

I do not say it because I am a lazy writer. I say it because I realize that if two people read something there will be two versions of whatever was written. And if two hundred people read the same writing there will be two hundred versions of what was written.

That is the beauty of the written word. Each person’s mind sees a different image. This is not only true for the story, as a whole, but for each individual word.

Forgive me for introducing another philosopher of words; Jorge Luis Borges.

Borges uses the ambiguity of words to fool us, to turn us around, to make us think such things as “Is he telling us a true story or making up another one of his glorious lies?”

Borges was the master of obfuscation and ambiguity. He would lead his writings with facts and figures and places and dates and documents, then, once he had us hooked, he would unwind his fiction. Or, he would lead off with a fiction and then give us a truth.

For example;

“Whether profiled against a backdrop of blue painted walls or of the sky itself, two toughs sheathed in grave black clothing dance, in boots with high-stacked heels, a solemn dance—the tango of evenly matched knives—until suddenly, a carnation drops from behind an ear, for a knife has plunged into a man, whose horizontal dying brings the dance without music to its end. Resigned, the other man adjusts his hat and devotes the years of his old age to telling the story of that clean-fought duel. That, to the least and last detail, is the story of the Argentine underworld.”

Borges now has us hooked; our imaginations have us located in the back alley of some Argentinian city. But as he continues we find ourselves in a much different venue.

“The story of the thugs and ruffians of New York has much more speed, and much less grace.”

And midway through the story of “Monk Eastman, Purveyor of Iniquities” Borges finally offers what it is that Monk purveys.

I, wishing to remain ambiguous, leave this small missive hoping to have planted two seeds in your mind. My agency is complete. It is now your turn.

THE END (but not of ambiguity)

THE RUBAIYAT’S CADAVER

28 Sunday Aug 2016

Posted by Waldo "Wally" Tomosky in Short Stories

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Christopher Decker, Edwar FitzGerald, Jorge Luis Borges, Omar Khayyam, The Rubaiyat

This post, just moved here, is more of an essay than a short story.

The Rubaiyat’s Cadaver

Jorge Luis Borges, within his essay “The Enigma of Edward Fitzgerald” (“Borges A Reader, Monegal and Reid, Dutton, 1981) informs us of how two men who lived eight hundred years apart, thousands of miles distant, and separated by several cultures, collaborated on a poem. Borges, in his own style, implies that this could be the result of both men being separate momentary faces of God. Just as quickly, Borges turns the reader around by suggesting “a beneficent chance” as being equal to “conjectures, of a supernatural sort.” He abandons both suggestions without supporting either. All while stating that the poetic collaboration of the Persian mathematician/astronomer and the English writer (neither of them well accepted by their own culture) could not have occurred without the discovery of a “[yellowing manuscript] with purple letters” at the Bodleian of Oxford University.

This writing by Borges is more of a short story than an essay. That is typical of him; writing a non-fiction and making it sound fictional, or, writing a fiction and making it seem to be non-fiction. Borges continually plays with our minds; in this case suggesting “universal histories”, “Platonic and Pythagorean Doctrine”, and even throwing in Avicenna and Alfarobi (World Eternal and Universal Form Beliefs respectively).

Another author (and editor) treats the same story quite differently. That man is Christopher Decker and he calls his book “Edward FitzGerald, Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, A Critical Edition”, University Press of Virginia, 1997. Decker approaches the story with the exactness required of a scholarly editor. The given reason for this book is the “careless editing” that has occurred over the years since Edward FitzGerald interpolated and translated Omar Khayyam’s original work. Adding to the confusion is the fact that FitzGerald ran across several manuscripts that may have been dubiously attributed to Khayyam. Also, FitzGerald could not stop re-writing his introductions and adding newly discovered and translated verse. These versions number seven and span the years 1859 to 1879.

Decker had his work cut out for him and approached it like a surgeon; or more exactly, like a coroner whose job it was to identify how the body (of Khayyam’s and FitzGerald’s work) reached the final state – the final edition of 1879.

And so Decker autopsied the Rubaiyat with exactness and laid the beautiful corpse on the cold stainless steel table of academia. Member by member and organ by organ he dissected the gorgeous body until it no longer resembled what it once was. He was, however, able to show us each era of her beautiful life; versions one through seven. He was even able to compare each version line by line, idea by idea, thought by thought, letter by letter (for those who enjoy such disjointed things).

After having read Borges’ story and Decker’s inquest there remains a doubt (in my own mind) whether I really understood the poem. I therefore, by my own set of rules, must re-interpret and re-record the Rubaiyat as I see it. This may or may not be the way that Khayyam intended it or FitzGerald interpolated it. It may or may not be the way that Borges and Decker understood it. Over the centuries I am sure it has been read a thousand different ways by a million different people. But this exercise I must do for myself.

The Rubaiyat was written in quatrains (four lines of poetry) with the first, second and fourth line rhyming. The third line was left free for the poet’s embellishment. Each quatrain is numbered.

I write it in prose for my own understanding and simplicity; sometimes one sentence, sometimes more. Miraculously the Rubaiyat became clearer with each sentence that I recorded. As the clarity grew so did my understanding of Omar Khayyam.

He had been living at his Vizier friend’s pleasure on a government payroll and at the expense of the province of Naishapur. Therefore he did not have the day to day worries as most of us have. He was not concerned with earning wages or saving for retirement. He had an advantage of living life to the fullest, day by day, and thinking about humanity. It was almost as if he were on permanent retirement (much like myself at this very moment).

And so, Omar Khayyam’s viewpoint of life was “Live for today, learn about new things, and do not take theology too seriously. Also, by the way, your life is slipping away bit-by-bit, day-by-day, and year-by-year.”

What follows is “The Rubaiyat” (rob-eye-yot) of Omar Khayyam of Naishapur, Persia (10?? AD) as interpolated by Edward Fitzgerald of England (1872) and finally simplified for my own simple mind (2011) in 101 verses of prose.

It is early morning and the stars have started to disappear. The Sultan’s tower is a shadow amongst shadows. I attempt to waken you.

I sit here before the sun shows itself and wonder why, when the Temple of Life calls for enjoyment, mediocre worshippers do not enter.

As the rooster awakens their early Life they wish to partake – but – realize the church will call them away.

A Spring festival renews the call to Life’s enjoyment but those who follow the popular ideology or theology think of Moses’ snowy hand and Jesus’ healing powers.

Theological beliefs are faint but the enjoyment of Life can be clearly seen in a vined flower and plants growing by a life-giving stream.

Languages of people change but not the song of the Nightingale. The red wine of Life awakens ones mind, ones ability to think.

Enjoy your renewed Life with new ideas, throw away your ideological and theological cloak. Your Life is flittering away like a bird on the wing.

No matter if your Life is large or small, glorious or bitter – it is disappearing drop-by-drop, like the leaves of fall.

Everyday Life grants you new experiences and new ideas. Embrace these; and discard the invalid ones as you wish.

Do we owe allegiance to the old ideas, the old gods, the superstitions? Why should we follow them?

Walk with me along the divide between theology and Living Life. Let us see who is remembered. Let them stay where they are.

We may find a nice shade tree, read a good book, and then discuss it. We will enter the “unknown” and exit a “paradise of ideas.”

Some live for human glory, some live to enter heaven; but enjoy what you have today and do not borrow from tomorrow.

Enter Life with glee, gain knowledge, sprinkle it on others; then leave life happy, knowing that you have contributed.

Those who once had great ideas are relived by the common man. Those great ideas may not apply today but we keep on digging them up.

Old hope is the kindling that will turn to ashes. It is an April snow that disappears with the sunlight of new ideas.

The caravan of Life, measured as each day goes by, brings new ideas and experiences; and the old fade into the twilight.

The reigns and territories of kings have turned to sand where animals roam. The hunter’s grave has turned to dust where the hunted remains to trample on it. But nothing has changed.

Glorious leaders reflect glorious ideas. These ideas may remain to have merit. They are the gardens where new ideas grow.

This garden grows delicately on the waters edge. Be careful not to trample on the new ideas that spring from it.

Clear my mind of regret and fear; for those culprits of the past and the future do not hold the potential of tomorrow in which I can be myself.

The most loved and best of humanity have had their drink of tomorrow and now they are gone.

Now we are the current holders of the earth and we too must, at some point, make room for the new holders of ideas.

So make good of all your potential before you descend into the earth as dust; without Song or Wine – for eternity.

Those who spend their time preparing for today and tomorrow shall be called fools.

Even the saints and sages are dead; their words stopped by the dust of time.

When I was young I studied under doctors and saints but my mind kept a place for my own thoughts as well.

I learned from them and on my own I expanded that growth. I gathered a flood of knowledge and created a whirlwind with it.

I became lost in my knowledge and it kept on flowing; but I knew not why I chased knowledge or what to do with it.

I did not ask when I would die. I did not even think of whether I would die. My conceit brought me to the insolence of not asking these questions.

I thought I had arrived at the seventh heaven, sitting on Saturn’s throne. My knowledge solved several puzzles of our solar system but not our Universe.

I saw that there existed a door (or veil) of Human Fate but could not unlock it. I thought of myself and some god. Or was it two forms of myself?

I knew He was there; somewhere in the seas or heavens. But as if being subjected to the magician’s tricks, all I could see was the night and morning.

I found You within me through a dim light. And the vision became fainter when you scolded me for my conceit.

Then You revealed the secret. Fill the cup of Life to the fullest and drink to the last drop; before you die.

At times I could not find the answer to Life (which of course, had to exist). I persisted and found Life would give and take; with a joy for both.

I have seen Life creating Life, forming it into shape, like clay. Pray, remember we all return to earth.

We came from earth and were given the name “Mankind.”

As we drink from the cup of Life we may toss a few drops on the earth; with a reverence to those who can taste it no more.

In the morning of your Life do you wonder about the cosmos as if it were the inverted cup? The cup of Life has the stars and the moon etched into its bowl.

Have you ceased to wonder about Man and God? Have you become disoriented in the hurricane of Life? Has all meaning slipped through your fingers?

Then say “Yes” to Life, learn and do what you can, see how you can exceed the self that you were yesterday and the manner of man you can be tomorrow.

Then, as Life comes to its end, you will not be sorry for what you have omitted.

Likewise, your soul will shake the dust and travel lightly, even if your body is held by the earth.

Death is a short stay for the soul. Those whose soul rises, leaves behind a simple body.

Do not worry, when we are forgotten, for the contributions of our lives are passed on to Mankind.

The world will exist far past the time of our death. The impressions we made are like a small pebble cast into the ocean.

We may like to believe we are somehow more than others; however, Life is only a temporary stop. Life’s caravan is circular and returns to where it started.

Life’s fortunes, the difference between truth and falseness, the separation between life and death, is as thin as a hair.

If these differences in life are so minute, how can we find the single Character that is the truth?

Every thought we have about these secrets torments our brain. We recognize that, from the fish to the moon, everything dies; yet the Universe goes on.

We get a glimpse of the Universe but its clarity is always poor; and then it disappears completely.

We scour, from heaven to earth, for these secrets. How are we to think of them once we are dead?

Maybe it would be better if we did not waste the precious time of Life chasing these answers down. Maybe we should just enjoy Life as Life gives it to us.

I gave up the logic and reasoning previously used in contemplating theology. Now I just enjoy Life.

I have erred in measuring Life with the tools of the surveyor and the heights of the stars; I now realize that I should have been Living Life.

People say my new calendar was invented for logical reasons. Not so! I was simply attempting to reconcile the falseness of yesterday and fear of tomorrow against the truth of today.

As I grow older I have a sense that someone (or something) is showing me a vision of a Carafe of Life; and encouraging me to drink in each and every day.

Why should I listen to seventy-two different religions when I see that the chemistry of Life can turn leaden existence into Golden enjoyment?

Mahmud, fierce defender and conqueror for Allah, has scattered the East Indian people before him.

Our theology has been changed into a weapon of will. Who has done this?

I reject this form of theology; my trust of it has turned to fear. Maybe there is a better way.

The promise of heaven and the fear of hell do not give me longer life. The only true thing remaining is that all existing things eventually die.

It is strange that none of the departed have returned to tell us what really lies beyond death.

After all the prophets died, the devout and educated told us interesting stories but then the stories were forgotten.

I thought this through and decided that I am responsible for (and make) my own heaven and hell.

My heaven is every fulfilled desire, my hell is when I have erred so pitifully that it haunts me. Why have I learned this so late in Life?

Life is like those balanced and painted lantern shades that spin on a pin. We are the painted figures that Life spins, day and night, for Life’s own show.

Or is Life simply a game of checkers, white for day – black for night, in which we are moved until slain; and then cast aside?

Or when the game of Life is played with a ball there are no questions allowed. He simply sends you down the field wherever He wants you. He knows clearly where He wants you to go.

And if Life is a writing, no matter whether you are witty or devout, what is written is written in stone. You can not go back and edit it.

Or if life is an inverted bowl and you are captured below the sky and above the earth, do not ask It for help. It is part of The Plan, just as you and I are.

What was first created already had a total plan. Man can not change what the Plan for Life is.

Drink up Life’s experiences, for you can not change them. We will never know how or why we exist; so just experience it and enjoy.

When Life started, even the most brilliant men were thrown aside. I know all that remains is the grave and the soul.

The spiraling vine and the whirling devil can capture my soul only if my basest instinct allows it to happen.

I would rather be consumed by Life’s love or wrath than to miss the truth of Life by believing in another’s theology.

Why should I allow anyone to set rules that threaten a perpetual hell? My rules of Life’s enjoyment are as valid as their rules of self-denial.

Why pay with the Gold of Life for something we never bargained for?

Although Life has strewn my path with evil, my will avoids precarious decisions. Life did not put me here to fail.

Even though some men are of a baser instinct (we all make errors) give forgiveness and accept it as well.

When I departed this earth I found myself surrounded by others who originated in the earth’s clay.

They were of all sorts. Short, tall, keen, dim, great and small, some talked incessantly, some spoke well, and some not at all.

One said “I hope that I was not created (in vain) from the earth’s clay simply to be crushed back into earth.”

A second one said “Even the peevish Boy of Life would not destroy us; those that He made and watched over.”

After a short silence a cripple spoke. “Why was I created? So that people would sneer at me?”

A talkative theologian then said “What is all of this talk about being made of clay? Who created us? Who sells us? Who buys us? Are we simply clay pots?”

Another spoke. “People say that we who are damaged will be thrown into hell. He who created us certainly would not do that!”

The last one spoke. “Whosoever makes or buys us will find that I am quite dried out. If they would only give me a little Life I could make a total recovery.”

As they all talked some saw the sign of a new beginning. They nudged each other and erroneously said – “Now we can get back to business.”

When I die please anoint by body and bury me near a busy place where people will come and go.

In such a place my reputation and soul will remind the Living of who I was.

Some of the things I believed in were held in error by others. This ruins my reputation and minimizes my Life.

Earlier in Life I sought repentance for breaking other people’s rules. When I started thinking for myself repentance was a thing of the past.

My enjoyment of Life has robbed my honor in other’s eyes. But if Life can be so full what is it that could possibly bring those others to joy?

When I die the book of my Life dies with me. But the eternal language of the Nightingale sings on. And Life continues somewhere else.

I hope that someone walking near my grave picks up my thought and brings it to Life, like the new Life that Spring brings to a herb.

May my ideas, through some miracle, live on. But let them live on in greatness (if not – then obliterate them in totality).

The future will search for us; off and on, seeking the meaning of Life. Maybe we can rid ourselves of our errors before they attempt these new meanings. And then let the seekers determine their own path.

100

A new era will occur. New seekers will appear. Some will look for me.

101

And when they find me please turn a bowl upside down so that I may contemplate the Universe and Life; once again.

REVISITING ‘AMBIGUITY’

24 Wednesday Dec 2014

Posted by Waldo "Wally" Tomosky in Philosophical

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Ambiguity, Jorge Luis Borges, Karl Kraus, Ludwig Wittgenstein

Tower of Babel

Both Karl Kraus and Ludwig Wittgenstein used language to get us thinking.

Wittgenstein used the method of “literal autopsy”; thus dissecting a simple statement and asking us to ask ourselves what language is and to think about how we use it.

Kraus searched for every missing comma and other literate errors. He used these examples as a metaphor for what was wrong with the world and a base for his polemics.

A favorite example is Wittgenstein’s “Five Red Apples.”

Five Red Apples

So, now that I have repeated Wittgenstein’s and Kraus’ words and their philosophies about words, I will be expected to say something brilliant.

How about if I say something only half-brilliant, something dusky, something foggy, something like the crack of dawn on an overcast day, something ambiguous?

I can and I will. But first I must confess to being a hypocrite.

Responsibility could be avoided by being ambiguous about one’s personal thoughts and opinions.

So that is one half of my confession on hypocrisy.

I hated ambiguity.

Now, I must confess the other half.

I have learned to embrace ambiguity. Why? Because; it enhances the reader’s experience.

I know; that is a very strange thing to admit.

That is the beauty of the written word. Each person’s mind sees a different image. This is not only true for the story, as a whole, but for each individual word.

Forgive me for introducing yet another philosopher of words; Jorge Luis Borges.

Borges uses the ambiguity of words to fool us, to turn us around, to make us think such things as “Is he telling us a true story or making up another one of his glorious lies?”

For example;

Borges now has us hooked; our imaginations have us located in the back alley of some Argentinian city. But as he continues we find ourselves in a much different venue.

“The story of the thugs and ruffians of New York has much more speed, and much less grace.”

And midway through the story of “Monk Eastman, Purveyor of Iniquities” Borges finally offers what it is that Monk purveys.

I, wishing to remain ambiguous, leave this small missive hoping to have planted two seeds in your mind.

AS I WANDERED #44 BLOODLINES ~ From Laprida to Borges, from warriors to artists.

22 Saturday Feb 2014

Posted by Waldo "Wally" Tomosky in AS I WANDERED

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Argentina, Aviceda, Dream Tigers, Garden of Forking Patchs, Jorge Luis Borges, Laprida, Mirror Man, Snorri Sturluson, The Book of Infamy, The Book of Sand, Wolf

Isidoro de Acevedo Laprida is a soldier of the Buenos Aires Army.

He comes from the family of the Argentine lawyer and politician Francisco Narciso de Laprida.

Francisco Narciso de Laprida died of murder on September 22, 1829. Francisco was a representative for San Juan and its president on July 9, 1816. Francisco aided in ushering in the Independence of Argentina.

Isidoro de Acevedo Laprida, the son of Francisco, fought in the battles of Cepeda in 1859, Pavón in 1861, and Los Corrales in 1880.

Isidoro de Acevedo Laprida now suffers at home of pulmonary congestion.

That home will become the birthplace of many words, formed into a variety of shapes; all from the mind of Jorge Luis Borges.

However – – -, do you see how I get ahead of the story?

The words are not yet born.

They have to be massaged;

and messaged in various intentional but convoluted ways.

They are to be the product of history: past and future. The words sat unused – – – for decades – – – in a library. Great-Grandparents from Northumbria;

Norse and English ancestors recorded by Snori Sturluson; in Iceland.

I have heard that he has recently been born.

Oh – – – how I wish to meet him; and to read his strange books.

©W. Tomosky♠

ARCHIVES OF SIN (The Final Post; Loci and Links) Post #8

23 Monday Jul 2012

Posted by Waldo "Wally" Tomosky in ARCHIVES OF SIN

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Arab, Archives, Criminal Justice, Egyptian, Elias Zreik, Forgotten People, Francesco Purpura, George Zreik, Greenwich Village, H.Simon, Harry Newman, Hirsch Seliger, J. Harris, John Dorthy, John Dozier, John Jay College, John Jay College of Criminal Justice, John Jay Sealy Library, John Stephan, Jorge Luis Borges, Library hours, Library Records, Lloyd Sealy Library, Mabel Rosher, Manhattan, Martha Pell, Mary Green, Michael Whelan, Monk Eastman, Purveyor of Inequities, Richard Lee, Southern Manhattan, Stephan Hooker, Syrian, Toussaint Vogelsand, William Delaney

A SUMMARY OF WHERE THE CRIMES OCCURRED.

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QUICK LIST: LOCATIONS OF CRIME, PERPETRATOR(S) and CHARGE

80 Catherine Street, Manhattan, Francesco Purpura, Rape

East 42nd Street and 6th Avenue, Monk Eastman, Attempted murder

532 East 20th Street, Michael Whelan, Attempted bribery

324 Greenwich Street, Harris/Simon/Seligar, Burglary and receiving

148 E. 45th Street, John Dorthy, Grand larceny

213 West 27th Street, Mary Green/Mabel Rosher, Grand larceny

25 Minetta Lane, Hooker/Vogelsang/Pell, Murder

81 Washington Street, Elias & George Zreick, Murder

East 19th and 20th Street, Richard Lee, Misappropriation

125 E. 50th Street, Harry Newman, Attempted rape

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For those of you who wish to look at the transcripts.

QUICK LIST: Links to the ten trial transcripts

PUPURA, rape, 2 reels of microfilm:

Reel #1

http://www.lib.jjay.cuny.edu/crimeinny/trials/pdfs/1170.pdf

Reel #2 http://www.lib.jjay.cuny.edu/crimeinny/trials/pdfs/1170_2.pdf

EASTMAN, Attempted Murder, 1 reel:

http://www.lib.jjay.cuny.edu/crimeinny/trials/pdfs/421.pdf

Whelan, bribery, 1 reel

http://www.lib.jjay.cuny.edu/crimeinny/trials/pdfs/1850.pdf

HARRIS, SIMON AND SELIGER, Burglary and Receiving Stolen Property

http://www.lib.jjay.cuny.edu/crimeinny/trials/pdfs/484.pdf

DORTHY, Grand Larceny

Reel #1

http://www.lib.jjay.cuny.edu/crimeinny/trials/pdfs/629.pdf

Reel #2 http://www.lib.jjay.cuny.edu/crimeinny/trials/pdfs/629_2.pdf

GREEN & ROSHER: Grand Larceny

http://www.lib.jjay.cuny.edu/crimeinny/trials/pdfs/485.pdf

HOOKER, VOGELSANG & PELL, Murder

Reel #1 http://www.lib.jjay.cuny.edu/crimeinny/trials/pdfs/39.pdf

Reel #2 http://www.lib.jjay.cuny.edu/crimeinny/trials/pdfs/39_2.pdf

THE ZREIKS, Murder

Reel #1 http://www.lib.jjay.cuny.edu/crimeinny/trials/pdfs/599.pdf

Reel #2 http://www.lib.jjay.cuny.edu/crimeinny/trials/pdfs/599_2.pdf

Reel #3 http://www.lib.jjay.cuny.edu/crimeinny/trials/pdfs/599_3.pdf

Reel #4 http://www.lib.jjay.cuny.edu/crimeinny/trials/pdfs/599_4.pdf

LEE, Innocent of Misappropriation

http://www.lib.jjay.cuny.edu/crimeinny/trials/pdfs/1354.pdf

NEWMAN, Attempted Rape

http://www.lib.jjay.cuny.edu/crimeinny/trials/pdfs/2100.pdf

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Thanks for reading my posts regarding the “ARCHIVES OF SIN”.

ARCHIVES OF SIN (A look at two possible sinners and Southern Manhattan) Post #7

21 Saturday Jul 2012

Posted by Waldo "Wally" Tomosky in ARCHIVES OF SIN

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How many of you read the title and thought “Southern Comfort Manhattan” instead of what you read? Tsk-tsk.

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Is there any good trial that ends up with the defendant getting smeared without any substantial proof? How this trial ever got past the grand jury is beyond the normal person. Richard Lee is a dock master of the wharves at the east end of 20th Street as it meets the East River (yesteryear’s North River). He is accused of taking $38 dock rental fee for the schooner “Nellie W. Craig” and then recording it as only a 50 cent rental. There is no proof that it is Richard Lee’s signature on the documents. The judge rightfully directs the jury to acquit Mr. Lee.

The Boat Captains Venue and “Old New York”

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Finally, in the last of the ten trial transcripts there is the inept sixteen year old Harry Newman who decides to either molest or rape a six year old girl. The activity is put to a halt as the girl’s mother finds her child partially unclothed and inept little Harry exposed. GUILTY!

A Link to a Modern Version of Young Harry Newman

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With these ten cases reviewed I decided to determine in which neighborhoods of Manhattan these crimes took place. I had all the addresses recorded in my notebook. My next step was to do a Google map search on Manhattan.

When the map appeared on my PC I had no additional work to complete. I was a little concerned when I saw what I thought I saw. Was I dreaming or was it the Southern Comfort Manhattan?

Right there, popping out of the map, were all of the alleged criminals that I had become familiar with. None of them appeared to be happy as the policeman hauled them off to jail.

Go ahead. Look at the rendering and then click on the policeman doing the hauling.

A Rendering of the Sinners Getting Hauled in

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That ended the evening. I never did get to shovel the fourteen inches of snow that night. It waited for me until morning.

This is where my story ends; HOWEVER:

For those of you who wish to look in the archives and get details of the crimes I will execute at least one more post with links to the archives. That way, if you enjoy reading or scanning the microfilm it will be at your fingertips.

ARCHIVES OF SIN (A look at eight more sinners) Post #6

19 Thursday Jul 2012

Posted by Waldo "Wally" Tomosky in ARCHIVES OF SIN

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Arab, Archives, Criminal Justice, Egyptian, Elias Zreik, Forgotten People, Francesco Purpura, George Zreik, Greenwich Village, H.Simon, Harry Newman, Hirsch Seliger, J. Harris, John Dorthy, John Dozier, John Jay College, John Jay College of Criminal Justice, John Jay Sealy Library, John Stephan, Jorge Luis Borges, Library hours, Library Records, Lloyd Sealy Library, Mabel Rosher, Manhattan, Martha Pell, Mary Green, Michael Whelan, Monk Eastman, Purveyor of Inequities, Richard Lee, Stephan Hooker, Syrian, Toussaint Vogelsand, William Delaney

John Dorthy; now there is a real weasel.

He had two accomplices who aided and abetted but they escaped the clutches of the law by the skin of their teeth. Mr. Dorthy, realizing that some poor working slob had saved over two thousand dollars, decided that he could scam him out of his hard earned savings. Knowing that the working man was not at the top of the intelligence game and hardly able to read, Mr. Dorthy made up a false will for a non-existent person. He then attached a blank bank withdrawal statement to the back of it. He read the “Last will and testament” to the unsuspecting fellow and asked him to witness it. The working stiff agreed and signed the second sheet which was actually the bank withdrawal statement. The rest is history.

A link to those who scam

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Whoe unto the boat captain that decided to hit a few beer joints and talk to a few women with painted faces and scented bodies.

Larceny was on their minds. I think we may surmise what was on the captain’s mind. The two lovely lassies, Miss Green and Miss Rosher, decided to separate the captain from what remained of the ship’s money. They did, went to trial, were convicted and obtained free room and board on the tab of New York City.

A link to ‘low life’ no matter where they reside

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The boys of Greenwich Village were just enjoying a nice game of craps when it hit the fan.

Pushing and shoving ended up with a broken front door. The owner of the door and young Stephen Hooker ended up in a second shoving match. Hooker was shamed by the older man. The two young men, Hooker and Toussaint conspired with Martha Pell (apparently a lady who enjoyed young men) to beat the owner of the broken door. Hooker ended up killing the owner with a couple of well-placed bricks to the head. We are not privileged to see how the story ended but it sure doesn’t look good for the three conspirators.

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From the beginning of one the transcripts it looks like the Zreik boys really got themselves in trouble this time. However, before too long, it becomes apparent that confusion reigns.

Several translators have to be brought in to understand the majority of Arab witnesses. Add to that the several different stories that the Egyptian and Syrian witnesses tell. Even though this transcript covered 610 pages of double spaced testimony, both the beginning and the end of the story are missing.

Yes, we imported some of our best gangsters of yester-year.

Link to when they arrived

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And we will save the last few sinners and a map of where these crimes occurred for the next post.

ARCHIVES OF SIN (A few more details about sinners) Post #5

17 Tuesday Jul 2012

Posted by Waldo "Wally" Tomosky in ARCHIVES OF SIN

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Archives, Criminal Justice, Elias Zreik, Forgotten People, Francesco Purpura, George Zreik, H.Simon, Harry Newman, Hirsch Seliger, J. Harris, John Dorthy, John Dozier, John Jay College, John Jay College of Criminal Justice, John Jay Sealy Library, John Stephan, Jorge Luis Borges, Library hours, Library Records, Lloyd Sealy Library, Mabel Rosher, Manhattan, Martha Pell, Mary Green, Michael Whelan, Monk Eastman, Purveyor of Inequities, Richard Lee, Stephan Hooker, Toussaint Vogelsand, William Delaney

I closed my notebook and put the leg rest up on my Lazy Boy lounger. I closed my eyes to reflect on the people I had just read about.

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There was Francesco Purpura, rapist, who had taken advantage of a thirteen year old girl in the back of his shoe repair shop.

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Then the semi-infamous Monk Eastman who was also known as William Delany. There is much more to be found of him than were in the trial transcripts.

Even Google and the NY Times knew about him.

Borges had compiled a list of the “inequities” that Monk Eastman had for sale.

However the transcripts only told a single story about him. He started his evening by carousing with his gang. He ended it by attempting to shoot a private policeman.

And then they turned him into a hero.

A Link to The Soldier Hero Monk Eastman

Link to Eastman’s Guys setting up an “Inequity”

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Ah yes! Let us not forget good old Michael Whelan the New York City building inspector. He could very well fit into today’s world. Michael attempted to hold the installation of a new boiler for ransom. If the boiler owners wanted to get a permit to install it they only had to deposit $25 into Michael’s pocket. They did. It was marked money. He was arrested. He was convicted. End of the story and Michael’s job.

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The egg and butter thieves; now there is a classic case. Joe Harris and Harry Simon decided to steal cases and barrels of these goods and deposit them in Hirsch Seliger’s cellar. Hirsch received these stolen goods so that he could sell them in his upstairs store.

As the silly old poem goes;

“A bright policeman heard the noise,

and came to arrest those three bad boys.”

As I sat there relaxing other things popped into my mind.

A link to bad boys of the future

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Well, I think four cases of those who sin are enough for today. We can visit others on our next post.

ARCHIVES OF SIN (Ten of the infamous; or innocently accused?) Post #4

15 Sunday Jul 2012

Posted by Waldo "Wally" Tomosky in ARCHIVES OF SIN

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There were so many criminals and such little time to visit them.

Maybe I had spent too much time with my good friend Monk Eastman; or William Delaney, or both.

I copied down several other names of the dutifully convicted. My plan was to select several names and to read the trial transcripts. I usually don’t stop to look at car and train crashes; however I do love a well organized criminal trial.

I summarized the following data from ten trial transcripts to save you time. We will look at the individual details in future posts.

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FIRST RECORD: FRANCESCO PURPURA

Date: 1910/05/18

Mr. Francesco Purpura was charged with rape, assault and abduction. He allegedly committed the crime at 80 Catherine Street; in the back of his shoe repair shop. The victim was a thirteen year old Italian girl. The question of her consent was raised. Mr. Purpura was found guilty by the jury.

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SECOND RECORD: WILLIAM DELANEY aka MONK EASTMAN

Date: 1904/4/12

Mr. William Delaney (aka Monk Eastman) was a gang member in 1904. The following fact does not show up in these trial transcripts but does appear in several other documents. Monk Eastman had been doing the dirty work for Tammany Hall, the corrupt force behind New York City politics. Monk Eastman had become arrogant and foolish. Tammany Hall had to get rid of him. Jail seemed the easiest method.

In this transcript Monk Eastman allegedly fired his pistol at two Pinkerton Policemen. They were hired to protect the black sheep of a well-to-do family. Monk and some of his gang attempted to rob the sheep. The Pinkerton’s moved in and the gun fight on 42nd street erupted. The jury found Monk Eastman guilty of the charges.

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THIRD RECORD: MICHAEL WHELAN

Date: 1914/3/11

Michael Whelan, a city building inspector in 1914, was accused of demanding and taking a $25 bribe. This was in relation to some boiler work being done at 532 E. 20th Street, Manhattan. Witnesses have stated that, after the demand for the $25 bribe, a sting was set up with marked money. Mr. Whelan took the marked money and placed it in his pocket. He was immediately arrested. The trial papers are prematurely terminated. Therefore we do not know if Mr. Whelan was found innocent or guilty.

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FOURTH RECORD: J. Harris, H. Simon, and Hirsch Seliger

Date: 1905/02/07

The case, tried in 1905, revolves around several cases of butter and eggs being burgled from 650 Hudson Street and delivered to 324 Greenwich Street. The goods were alleged to be illegally received and were of sufficient value to meet the requirements for grand larceny. Harris and Simon were caught delivering stolen goods to Seliger at his place of business. All three charges were bundled together to save time for the court. The defendants were found guilty.

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FIFTH RECORD: John Dorthy

Date: 1907/02/18

John Dorthy, in 1907, is charged with forging a working man’s name to a bank withdrawal statement. The location of the crime was 148 E. 45th Street. The crime was perpetrated under the pretenses that the working man was only signing as a witness to a will. There were two sheets of paper; the will and the second sheet being the withdrawal statement. The working man did not realize what he was signing. The top sheet was discarded and the money was taken from the bank. Because there was really no forgery that charge was dropped. The grand larceny charge was presented to the jury. The trial record does not show how the jury decided.

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SIXTH RECORD: Mary Green and Mabel Rosher

Date: 1905/02/07

In 1905 Frank Hellam, a boat captain from the state of Maine, contends that Mary Green and Mabel Rosher have robbed him. This allegedly took place at 213 West 27th Street, Manhattan. This, indeed, is a strange official transcript. In fact, it is not a transcript but rather the remembrances of someone. The two female defendants were convicted of grand larceny of the first degree.

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SEVENTH RECORD: Stephan Hooker, Toussaint Vogelsand and Martha Pell

Date: 1893/11/10

The two males and one female defendant are charged with 1st degree murder in 1893. Neighborhood boys and men were playing craps on John Dozier’s front stoop at 25 Minetta Lane. An argument erupted and Dozier’s front door is broken. As a result a fight erupted between one of the young men and Dozier. Later that day three people conspired to give Dozier a beating. That evening Dozier was attacked and hit in the head with two bricks. He died the next day in the hospital. There is much testimony about the character of the defendants. The trial transcript does not include the jury’s decision.

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EIGTH RECORD: The Zreik Brothers; Elias and George

Date: 1906/10/1

The transcript starts on page 296. There is no explanation as to why. An unknown witness (due to the missing transcript pages) is being questioned with the aid of an interpreter. There was a stabbing and two gunshots in a restaurant at 81 Washington Street. A man named John Stephen has been shot and falls to the floor. The witness tells the jury that George Zreik had a knife and a pistol at the time. The transcript is extensive due to most of the witnesses being Arabic and requiring a translator. Much of the transcript is discussion about the true meaning/intent of the translation. Multiple translators are called in due to confusion. There are conflicting stories between several of the witnesses. The jury’s decision is not in the transcript.

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THE NINTH RECORD: Richard H. Lee

Date: 1911/4/18

The defendant, a dock master, is accused of changing the price of a docking fee. Triplicate fee tickets are always made. In this case ticket #1 shows that $0.50 was collected. Ticket #3 shows that $37.38 was paid for docking the schooner “Nellie W. Craig.” The dock is located between East 19th and 20th Street on the North River. The defendant is accused of pocketing the difference. There is much technical wrangling between the lawyers and the judge. Witness testimony is sparse and conflicted due to this. In the end the whole case falls apart due to a lack of comparative signatures for the defendant. The tickets which the entire case is built on are not allowed. The judge directs the jury to acquit.

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THE TENTH AND FINAL RECORD: Harry Newman

Date: 1915/9/20

Harry Newman, a sixteen year old, is accused of raping a 6 year old girl. The alleged place of the rape was 125 E. 50th Street. Several witnesses saw him take the girl into a hallway. They became alarmed. They notified the mother who was in a building attached to the hallway. The mother says she caught the man with his private parts exposed and her daughter had her dress up and her panties unbuttoned. None of the witnesses saw an actual rape. However a doctor examined the girl the day of the alleged rape. He confirmed that her hymen had very recently been ruptured. A second doctor, less experienced, claimed that he only saw irritation of the girl’s private parts. After much discussion and closing remarks the jury finds the defendant guilty of a reduced charge of attempted rape.

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There I sat in my easy chair. Hardly had I expected to see such a group of infamous people.

Jorge Luis Borges had attempted to warn me when I read his “Book of Infamy.” He had introduced me to infamous people from around the world. But I never expected to see so many of them living in the south end of Manhattan, New York.

What is even more frightening is that I had only met sixteen of them. There were thousands more waiting for me in the college of John Jay’s “Lloyd Sealy Library.”

I hoped that none of them would appear to me that night.

ARCHIVES OF SIN (Opening the Library Doors) Post #3

13 Friday Jul 2012

Posted by Waldo "Wally" Tomosky in ARCHIVES OF SIN

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Albany, Archive Priests, Archives, Criminal Justice, Forgotten People, John Jay College, John Jay College of Criminal Justice, John Jay Sealy Library, Jorge Luis Borges, Library hours, Library Records, Lloyd Sealy Library, Manhattan, Me, Monk Eastman, NY Sate Archives, Purveyor of Inequities, Snowblower, Southern Comfort Mahhattan

I placed the SoCo Manhattan on a coaster right next to my lounge chair. My tablet and pen were also on the same end table. I was now prepared for some serious work.

These are the Sealy highlights that I came up with:

140 Abductions

556 Assaults of both degrees

164 Third degree burglaries

957 Grand Larcenies of both degrees

445 Murders of the first degree

247 Rapes of both degrees

265 Robberies of the first degree (With several other variations)

There were myriads of other crimes; way too many to list by quantity; however, not too many to mention, this time in reverse alphabetical order:

Wrongful act

Weapon carrying

Voting offense

Seduction

Sodomy

Receiving

Public Officers; Misappropriation, Corruption, Neglect, Taking (See Note 1 below)

Liquor

Forgery

Compounding a felony

Bribery

Arson

Note 1: These are now “Ethics Violations”, not crimes, exercised by the NY State legislature.

I first took a peek at the summary data on Monk Eastman’s trial.

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TRIAL #421 Date: 1904/4/12; Reels(s): 73.

Defendant(s): William Delaney, Sex: M; Monk Eastman, Sex: M;

Charge(s): Assault (1st degree); Assault (2nd degree); Murder (1st degree), attempted;

Judge: John W. Goff;

Defense Attorney(s): Cantwell; George W. Hurlbut; Moore;

Prosecuting Attorney(s): William Rand Jr.; Nathan A. Smythe;

Note(s): Alias Monk Eastman.

Stenographer Number: 514;

Page(s): 289 p.

Full-Text Transcript available: 421.pdf

Court: Court of General Sessions

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And then I perused the top page of the legal document.

Finally I studied some of the testimony:

Soon I realized that I had accidentally found a hot link that pointed to Monk’s trial record.

You are more than welcome to peruse the entire record yourself:

A link to Eastman’s trial record

I was happy to realize that I was using a platform that allows me to hot-key to these documents. I now had the ability to sit through Monk Eastman’s trial.

But this was just the beginning.

waldotomosky

~ Old Books, Old Artists and Other Interesting People

Tag Archives: Jorge Luis Borges

FIVE RED APPLES and AMBIGUITY

THE RUBAIYAT’S CADAVER

This post, just moved here, is more of an essay than a short story.

REVISITING ‘AMBIGUITY’

Tower of Babel

AS I WANDERED #44 BLOODLINES ~ From Laprida to Borges, from warriors to artists.

ARCHIVES OF SIN (The Final Post; Loci and Links) Post #8

ARCHIVES OF SIN (A look at two possible sinners and Southern Manhattan) Post #7

ARCHIVES OF SIN (A look at eight more sinners) Post #6

ARCHIVES OF SIN (A few more details about sinners) Post #5

ARCHIVES OF SIN (Ten of the infamous; or innocently accused?) Post #4

ARCHIVES OF SIN (Opening the Library Doors) Post #3