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if-you-fan-a-fire · 1 year

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"ROBBED WIDOW OF SOLDIER WHO DIED IN DIEPPE RAID," Toronto Star. April 9, 1943. Page 2. ---- Thomas Brown Jailed Three Months for Stealing Pension Cheque ---- "MEAN THING TO DO" ---- "A" Police Court, City Hall; Magistrate Browne. "You know that this woman's husband was killed at Dieppe, and that the money you stole was a government pension cheque from Ottawa," said Magistrate Browne to Thomas Brown, up for sentence on charge of stealing $75 from Mrs. E. Griffin.

"It was a mean thing to do," added his worship imposing a term of three months. Evidence given at a previous hearing showed that the accused knew the complainant. having met her in a restaurant where she was employed. The court was told that she took him to her home to clean some floors. She said that the money was in her purse and the accused took it.

Accused admitted buying a wrist watch with part of the money. He had $37 when arrested.

"For a young man. you have a very bad record." remarked Magistrate Browne to Peter Leclair, a soldier, convicted of assaulting P.C. Tom Duffy and also stealing a pound of tea. He was sentenced to four months on each count, to run concurrently.

Miss A Mitchell, a waitress in a Queen S. W. restaurant, said she saw accused taking the tea and leave. "I told a waiter and he went looking for him." she said,

A. Evans stated that he missed accused awhile and then saw him, some distance from the restaurant.

P.C. Duffy told of seeing the accused being chased. "I caught him," said witness. "He tried to kick me in the stomach and failed. He kicked me in the shine. We tussled and he knocked my helmet off."

Leclair denied taking the tea, but had nothing to say regarding the assault.

For failing to notify the registrar of his change of address, William Kerr, subject for military call. was fined $25 and costs or 30 days. He pleaded guilty,

Constable Glanfield. R.C.M.P. fold Magistrate Browne the police had been trying to locate accused for some months. "He admitted moving often," said the officer.

Donald Davey pleaded guilty of stealing a case of cigarettes from a transport truck. "He took the cigarettes, valued at $150, and sold them for $80, related Detective George Elliott.

"You will go to jail for three months." ruled Magistrate Browne.

Thirty days and a fine of $200 or 30 additional days, was the penalty given Edward Eisen, after he pleaded guilty of keeping a betting house on Yonge St..

Police Constable Fred Paveling said that over a period of three weeks P.C. Lamont made 12 bets on horses with accused.

Defence Counsel H. L. Mendelson pleaded for a reduction of the jail term.

"He was convicted once before on a similar charge." replied his worship

Appearing for sentence for stealing four radiator caps from parked motor cars on Colborne St. James McNeil and Clayton Lovely, first offenders, were given suspended sentence and probation for one year. They were arrested by Constable Agnew at the scene. Both pleaded guilty.

HAD DRUGS, GETS YEAR --- "B" Police Court, at the City Hall, Magistrate Prentice. "You will be fined $200 and costs or six months and in addition you will be sentenced to serve 12 months, his worship told David Kerr when he appeared for sentence on a charge of unlawful possession of drugs. On a charge of theft and receiving he was sentenced to additional six months concurrent.

Remanded for judgment and investigation until today after appearance yesterday on a charge of trespassing on the premises of a munitions plant Joseph Harty, 22, was fined 510 or 10 days. Harty had a record, Crown Counsel Malone reported.

Pleading guilty of aggravated assault upon Alee Herasimenko, 63, Dmytro Kowbel, 21, was sentenced to 30 days in jail. Through interpreter Markowitz. complainant stated he had been struck by accused in the kitchen of their Draper St. rooming-house after a verbal argument.

"He called me a name and I struck him," admitted accused.

"A most brutal assault," said Crown Counsel Malone.

HIS FINES TOTAL $70 ---- "D" Police Court, at the City Hall. Magistrate Tinker. Convicted of careless driving, operating a car without a proper license and having liquor illegally, Bruno Maisonneuve was ordered to pay a total of $70 in fines and costs or serve one month in jail. On the first charge. he was fined $50 or 20 days. on the| second $10 and costs or 10 days and on the third charge $10 or one month, sentences concurrent.

Constable Art Hudson said he went to Avenue Ad.., near Heath St., to investigate an accident and found accused standing beside his car, which was up on the sidewalk. "He was in no condition to drive," the officer said, adding that he found 22 full pint bottles of beer in the car.

"He had a beginner's permit but was driving without a licensed driver." explained Constable Hudson.

William Metcalf, driver of the other car, said accused, going in the opposite direction, suddenly swerved and crashed into his car.

Pleading guilty of illegal purchase of beer, John Ribich was fined $25 and costs or 30 days. His Royce Ave. home was declared a public place.

Constable Gordon Deyman said he found 29 quart bottles and 12 pint bottles of beer in the home. Ribich said he purchased six quarts at a brewer's warehouse and the rest from a brewer's driver.

"When I came home from work, I saw the brewer's truck in front of my home. The driver told me he did not have an order to deliver beer in my house, but said that due to icy streets he was unable to make all deliveries and said he would sell me three cases of beer, which I bought."

#toronto #police court #stolen cheque #theft #pension cheque #military widow #assaulting a police officer #resisting arrest #aggravated assault #narcotics possession #illegal beer #liquor control #sentenced to prison #toronto jail #ontario reformatory #fines and costs #canada during world war 2 #crime and punishment in canada #history of crime and punishment in canada

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cumberlandchinesecemetery · 1 year

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Chinese Cemetery, Cumberland, B.C.

The Chinese Cemetery in Cumberland, B.C. is and was home to many Chinese immigrants through the years. The Chinese believe that if you die you should return home. If you passed away in distant places, your soul would remain restless until brought home. In the Cumberland Chinese Cemetery, the bodies were exhumed after 7 years of being buried, cleaned and then stored to be shipped back to China. The graves in the Cemetery were marked with cedar markers and information about the buried person would be inside the casket.

Feng Shui is present in the cemetery, with sloping hills surrounding the cemetery, to the north of the location there is a forest for protection and there is Maple Lake sitting near by. Water is a representation of wealth and mountains are life giving breaths of nature. It’s important for Chinese cultures to practice Feng Shui because if their ancestor are comfortable then they shall bring them good fortune. It’s really beautiful to see people taking care of their ancestors even if they have passed away, making sure they are still in comfort, making sure the graves are tended to with offering and clean.

It’s interesting because a lot of the Chinese in the late 1800′s and early 1900′s (the cemetery was established in 1889) didn’t always have their families to take care of their graves so the responsibility would probably often fall onto organizations such as the Chinese Benevolent Association or other clan associations. They would clean the graves and give offering to the dead for their families that could not be in Canada.

McNeil, H. (2015). Chinese Burial Ceremony at Gravesite of Chun (1894-1959). Chinese Canadian Artifacts Project. Cumberland Museum and Archives. Retrieved November 10, 2022, from https://ccap.uvic.ca/index.php/chinese-burial-ceremony-at-gravesite-of-chun-1894-1959.

Chinese Burial Ceremony at Gravesite of Chun (1894-1959)

Maxwell, J. (2007). Chinese Cemeteries and Grave Markers in B.C.: A Research Guide. British Columbia History, 40(4), 13-17. https://ezproxy.kpu.ca:2443/login?url=https://www.proquest.com/scholarly-journals/chinese-cemeteries-grave-markers-b-c-research/docview/205098843/se-2

Parks Canada. (n.d.). Cumberland Chinese Cemetery. Historicplaces.ca - historicplaces.ca. Retrieved November 8, 2022, from https://www.historicplaces.ca/en/rep-reg/place-lieu.aspx?id=21262

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memoriesman49 · 2 years

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Bulldog Drummond - Death Uses Invisible Ink

The British Hero Bulldog Drummond - Death Uses Invisible Ink is a fictional character created by H. C. McNeile, as the hard boiled no nonsense-style detective. https://bulldogdrummond.libsyn.com/drummond

Check out this episodeof Bulldog Drummond

#detective #drama #thriller #suspense #mystery #bulldog drummond #sherlock holmes #humphrey

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pulpsandcomics · 5 years

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Bulldog Drummond was a character created by H. C. McNeile and published under his pen name of “Sapper”. After McNeile’s death the novels were continued by Gerard Fairlie.

H. C. McNeile

Bulldog Drummond (1920)

The Black Gang (1922)

The Third Round (1924)

The Final Count (1926)

The Female of the Species (1928)

Temple Tower (1929)

The Return of Bulldog Drummond (1932)

Knock-Out (1933)

Bulldog Drummond at Bay (1935)

Challenge (1937)

Gerard Fairlie

Bulldog Drummond on Dartmoor (1938)

Bulldog Drummond Attacks (1939)

Captain Bulldog Drummond (1945)

Bulldog Drummond Stands Fast (1947)

Hands Off Bulldog Drummond (1949)

Calling Bulldog Drummond (1951)

The Return of the Black Gang (1954)

#bulldog drummond #bibliography #h. c. mcneile #gerard fairlie

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mariocki · 3 years

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The Return of Bulldog Drummond (1934)

"Sir Bryan thinks that you are in a position to give him a little private information concerning the affair of Mr. Latter."

"I think Latter's indisposition was due to the ghosts of the past - or perhaps the spectres of the present. A punishment, McIver, for things done that it's not good to do."

#The Return of Bulldog Drummond #british cinema #1934 #Walter Summers #Herman C. McNeile #ralph richardson #ann todd #Joyce Kennedy #Francis L. Sullivan #Claud Allister #H. Saxon Snell #Spencer Trevor #Charles mortimer #Wallace Geoffrey #Patrick aherne #Jack Lester #Henry B. Longhurst #A.... Difficult and rather troubling film. Drummond is a ww1 veteran who abhors warmongering and sets out to defeat a plot to push Europe #Into another war: hoorah! This is good! But wait.. The villains behind the plan are all distinctly 'foreign' and have names with many #Consonants that begin with Z... Also Drummond's resistance takes the form of organising groups of vigilante ex military types and dressing #Them up in black shirts.... Not so yay. A little digging suggests that book Drummond (I've never read them) is a Lot worse and ultimately #Pretty openly fascist by the end of McNeile's run of novels. On the bright side‚ Richardson absolutely throws himself into this in a very #Brain off‚ fists on kind of way and the result is a typically chaotic bit of 30s British filmmaking with much awkward cutting and unnatural #Setups‚ some thoroughly cheese filled dialogue‚ and a rather wonderful moment in which Drummond simply picks up his wife and launches her #Over an electric fence to safety. Taken on its own merits as a very silly adventure yarn in the style of the time‚ this is diverting enough #Fun. Apply a little critical thinking about the time and the place and the context in which it was made‚ alas‚ and it becomes a little less #Comfortable.

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artreflectiveblog · 2 years

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SICKERT- A Life in Art Exhibition Review

To move through The Walker Art Gallery’s newest exhibition

Sickert - A Life in Art is to essentially walk the path of one of Britain's most extraordinary artists, whose creative evolution spans nearly six decades. Walter Richard Sickert (1890-1942) was a German born, English Post Impressionist artist who produced an unapologetic body of work, gaining a reputation after his death as one of Britain’s most radical painters of the twentieth century.

Sickert’s progressive approach to subject matter sought out those who were overlooked in society, being the first English artist to paint London’s atmospheric music halls during his early career, then later capturing his notorious naked women in his Camden Town nude series. (Miller, 2021, P.20) These artworks illuminated the underbody of society, shining a light on those kept in the shadows. Constantly honing his skill, Sickert challenged what his contemporary audiences found shocking and intriguing, and went on to influence British Avant-garde in the mid-twentieth century. Sickert’s passion for authenticity and the modern world resulted in a kind of pure art form, capturing an enduring essence of humanity that relates audiences today to subjects who lived more than one hundred years before. Sickert - A Life in Art has been curated as an intimate exhibition - despite the large volume of works. Charlotte Keenan McDonald, Lead Curator of Fine Art, at the Walker Art Gallery, said; “He repeatedly reinvented himself, pushing his art in new and unexpected directions. He sought to combine a technical interest in painting with his conviction that art should reflect the modern world. Visitors to the exhibition will experience first-hand how Sickert chronicled Britain during a period of rapid change through an outstanding and uncompromising body of work.” Each artwork also acts as a snapshot of Sickert’s personal life which seeps out from the thick layered oil paintings beneath. The collection of Sickert’s work is the largest that has taken place in Britain for thirty years, boasting over three-hundred paintings and drawings, (Miller, 2021, p.5) allowing the public to re-examine Sickert’s contribution to British art- both then and now.

E A R L Y L I F E

Upon entering the gallery, Sickert’s sombre Self Portrait 1896 (Figure 1) both confronts and welcomes, overlooking the gallery as a precursor to what is to come. The gloomy portrait was painted at the height of his success, despite his unsmiling, forbidding expression. The combined muted colour palette exposes the true weight of his financial misfortunes and separation of his wife, Ellen, which overshadowed his success at this time. (Miller, 2021, p.13) The painting, like Sickert’s personality, is captivating and complicated. While this painting is outside of the otherwise chronological timeline of the exhibition, it effectively kicks off the outstanding retrospective. Interestingly, the self portrait is surrounded by Sickert's early years; his rudimentary first paintings Violets 1880 (Figure 2) and scratchy pencil sketches, Husum 1978 (Figure 3) The pairing of these artworks together anticipates the changes in his artistic ability - uniting the improved technique and meaning that he gave to his later works.

T H E M U S I C H A L L S E R I E S Adjoining his early works are Sickert’s famous music hall paintings. Sickert was part of the vibrant art scene in London, where he became the apprentice of James Abbot McNeil Whistler for whom he owes credit for the inspiration of his earliest works. However, Sickert was not always an aspiring painter. As a young man, he pursued an acting career which ultimately was unsuccessful, but did inform some of his most acclaimed works – The Music Hall Series. (Corbett, 1998, p. 34) This sector of the exhibition spans across red walls, allowing the hints of colour among darkness to stand out to the visitor. Perhaps the star of the show is Minnie Cunningham 1892, (Figure 4) the vibrant vermillion red of the performer’s dress projects from the painting, surrounded by the same cherry-hue of the walls. Sickert found the beauty within the otherwise grim London scenes, which were at the time associated with heavy drinking and rowdy audiences of the middle class. His choice of subject perhaps influenced by the Parisian Impressionist scenes of nightlife and prostitution which were popular mong artists such as Degas and Manet. (Miller, 2021, p.18) These depictions of Music Hall paintings shocked the Victorian audiences, however despite the criticism that Sickert was bound to face, he engaged in the public debate surround politics and sex which undercut the modern society. Sickert's focus turned away from the performers in the later 1890’s, and focused primarily on the grand architectural spaces and the atmosphere among those in the audience. (Miller, 2021, p.32)This evolution is clearly marked through exhibition, using detailed information plaques and a simplified timeline, which is helpful for those who know less about Sickert��s life. It is clear from the outset of the exhibition that the intent is to simply and effectively display Sickert’s remarkable life and evolution as an artist in a sequential way- as the name of the show would suggest.

T I M E S P E N T A B ROAD

V E N I C E

Moving forwards into the next room introduces a new era of Sickert’s life, with travel and the time he spent painting in Venice and Dieppe explored thematically. Beneath an arched entrance, the audience is met with a series of cityscape paintings juxtaposing the dark and cramped interiors of the London Music halls displayed in the previous room. Sickert’s range of skill and technique required for such a shift in subject matter is apparent, Venice’s elegant surroundings allowed him to expand his collection of picturesque scenes. The first in the series of Venetian paintings shown is The Facade of St Mark’s Red Sky at Night 1895 (Figure 5) which is an impressive example among the many versions he painted of the same building under changing light. The dusty pink evening sky forms the background behind the vast building, gold brilliance bouncing off each of the crosses in the diminishing light. This exhibition places great importance on the influence Sickert’s environment had upon him, as well as the other great artists he had contact with.

D I E P P E

Another location that Sickert spent a prolonged amount of time at, and somewhere that proved to be fruitful for his career was Dieppe. Dieppe is a coastal town on the outskirts of Northern France, and was a social and artistic hub in the late 19th Century. There are two rooms dedicated to the collection of work he produced there, emphasising the importance to Sickert's career and the bridge Dieppe built between Britain and France. Degas, Blanche and Sickert became acquainted while working there, this expansion of social network exposed the flourishing artist to gain contact with Parisian dealers. (Daniels, 2002, p.59) Most impressive to the collection where the paintings that were originally commissioned by the owner of the Hotel de la Plage in Dieppe. To stand in the centre of the six large paintings, which have never been displayed together before, really gives a sense of what Sickert was striving to achieve. However, as the story goes, the Hotel owner was disappointed by the six paintings and they were never to be installed together until today in The Walker Art Gallery. Perhaps most favoured of the group is the painting Bathers 1902 (Figure 6) which was a unique take on Dieppe for Sickert, with no foreground or horizon and a sharp contrast between the striped red and blue bathers at leisure in the sea.

D R A W I N G S A N D S K E T C H E S

What sets this exhibition apart from the previous retrospectives displaying Sickert’s work is the expansive drawings and sketches that are part of The Walker Art Galleries’ Collection. Boasting over three-hundred pieces, The Walker has remounted the drawings in small collections in the same way that Sickert did originally onto canvas board. (Miller, 2021, p53) For the visitor, being able to view these fleeting moments of inspiration recorded quickly on scraps of paper, then being able to compare them to finished paintings, breaks down the artistic process and the boundaries set by traditional ‘painting only’ exhibitions. The glass encased palette (Figure 7) displaying his left-over paints is also encased in glass, as if he had just set down his paint brush. Sickert used soft graphite and black chalk to clarify the form of the figures and to help process the composition for the finished paintings. This cultivates a deeper meaning with the audience, bringing the master down to the basics of his creation. An excellent addition to the collection of paintings, Sickert’s paper collection displayed as he would have added an exciting twist to the exhibition.

C A M D E N T O W N N U D E S

Sickert moved back to London from Venice and Dieppe in 1905, and made some of his most iconic works during this era of his life. He began to capture domestic settings, portraits of those close to him and their nudes. Sickert had a fascination with capturing modern life, the mundane day-to-day events in his paintings went against public taste. ( Miller, 2021, p.65) The evolving role women and the increase in sex workers was a taboo subject for his early Twentieth Century audience. Within his Camden Town Nudes Series, he focused attention on limited use of light, exposing instead a rose hued, purposeful portion of the naked woman. The gloomy shades in the cramped dark rooms create a sinister undertone, combined with the violent brush strokes which are perhaps symbolic of sexual violence these idealised women endured. While a twenty-first century lens may criticise the objectification of these women, there is some merit perhaps in the realistic portrayal of female anatomy, there is a brutally honest portrayal of women within the paintings of whom he lived among and observed. La Hollandaise 1906 is one of the more shocking and intimate of the group. The position of the nude figure, propping herself up on one arm with her face obscured is suggestive of her insignificance as she is just one of many. Importance instead is placed on her illuminated body and the transaction that is about to take place.

J A C K T H E R I P P E R

The accusation that Sickert was Jack the Ripper has been given much media attention in the wake of this exhibition. Tactfully, the room exploring this conspiracy has been left towards the end of the exhibition, despite it being one of the main focuses of the advertising campaign. The suggestion that Sickert was the notorious murderer did not come to light until the 1970’s (Daniels, 2002, p 58) long after Sickert’s painting career and death, and it proved to be impossible that Sickert was the culprit as he was in Dieppe during the course of the crimes. While the exhibition leans into a sinister narrative by displaying the paintings on black walls with writing ‘Murder is as good as any other subject’ large above the paintings, the rumours are cleared discreetly on a wall panel.

T H E R E S E L E S S O R E

During the finishing walk of the gallery rooms, there is a space dedicated to artists other than Sickert who had influenced or been influenced by his work. While some of Sickert's portrayals of women may be controversial due to their violent imagery, the exhibition makes a case for the uplifting Sickert achieved of his female counterpart during his life time. Mentioned predominantly within the discussion of his woman-artist companion, his third wife, Therese Lessore. Sickert promoted her work long before their marriage, and like many female artists, Lessore has been greatly overlooked instead living under Sickert’s status. (Miller, 2021, p53) Whilst only a small portion of the exhibition discusses the vital role that women played in Sickert career, this honourable mention brings an aspect of inclusion to his otherwise white, cis male oriented exhibition.

L A T E R Y E A R S

The exhibition concludes with the later paintings of Sickert’s career and his final creative period of work to conclude the chronology. The journey from Sickert's early, formative years through to the final decades is overall a moving and extraordinary journey. Especially since Sickert’s final years where some of his most successful, and much of his work was purchased for public collections. Despite this, a lot of this work is less favoured than his earlier pieces and the final room of the exhibition almost seems underwhelming because of this, just a blur of street fronts and street scenes. Perhaps this is due to the increasing reliance on photography that Sickert had developed. These images are often direct copies of images found in his day to day life, such as newspapers.

Over all, Sickert: A Life in Art takes its viewers on an interesting chronological tour through the shifting career and changing styles of the artist. The volume of the works exhibited leaves something for every viewer to enjoy and the sheer differences in technique between each decade creates an absorbing journey into one of Britain’s most famed artists of the twentieth century.

#sickert #walter sickert #art #walker art gallery

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schattenkino-der-postmotten · 3 years

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SCHATTENKINO FÜR POSTMOTTEN

Alexander Wilson, Aesthesis and Perceptronium: On the Entanglement of Sensation, Cognition, and Matter, University of Minnesota Press

Anil Bhatti, Dorothee Kimmich, Albrecht Koschorke, Rudolf Schlögl, Jürgen Wertheimer, Ähnlichkeit, Internationales Archiv für Sozialgeschichte der deutschen Literatur

Arthur Kroker, Body Drift: Butler, Hayles, Haraway, University of Minnesota Press

Augusto Monterroso, Das Schwarze Schaf und andere Fabeln

Bernd Flessner, Nach dem Menschen: Der Mythos einer zweiten Schöpfung und das Entstehen einer posthumanen Kultur, Rombach

Bruce Clarke, Gaian Systems: Lynn Margulis, Neocybernetics, and the End of the Anthropocene, University of Minnesota Press

Bruce Clarke, Neocybernetics and Narrative, University of Minnesota Press

Carsten Strathausen, Bioaesthetics: Making Sense of Life in Science and the Arts, University of Minnesota Press

Cary Wolfe, What Is Posthumanism?, University of Minnesota Press

Catherine Bell, Performing Animality

Constance Classen, Worlds of Sense: Exploring the Senses in History and Across Cultures, Routledge

Cora Diamond, Fleisch essen und Menschen essen

Daniel S. Traber, Whiteness, Otherness and the Individualism Paradox From Huck to Punk, Palgrave Macmillan

David Cecchetto, Humanesis: Sound and Technological Posthumanism, University of Minnesota Press

David Farrier, Anthropocene Poetics: Deep Time, Sacrifice Zones, and Extinction, University of Minnesota Press

David Wills, Inanimation: Theories of Inorganic Life, University of Minnesota Press

David Wills, Dorsality: Thinking Back Through Technology and Politics, University of Minnesota Press

David Wood, Thinking Plant Animal Human: Encounters With Communities of Difference, University of Minnesota Press

Davide Tarizzo, Life: A Modern Invention, University of Minnesota Press

Debashish Banerji, Makarand R. Paranjape, Critical Posthumanism and Planetary Futures, Springer

Diana Walsh Pasulka, Michael Bess, Posthumanism: An Introductory Handbook, Macmillan

Dominic Pettman, Creaturely Love: How Desire Makes Us More and Less Than Human, University of Minnesota Press

Dominic Pettman, Human Error: Species-Being and Media Machines, University of Minnesota Press

Donna J. Haraway, Die Neuerfindung der Natur: Primaten, Cyborgs und Frauen, Campus-Verlag

Donna J. Haraway, When Species Meet, University of Minnesota Press

Donna J. Haraway, Cary Wolfe, Manifestly Haraway, University of Minnesota Press

Drew Ayers, Spectacular Posthumanism: The Digital Vernacular of Visual Effects, Bloomsbury Academic

Edwina Ashton, Steve Baker, The Salon of Becoming-Animal, New York University and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology

Élisabeth Fontenay, Without Offending Humans, University of Minnesota Press

Elizabeth Grosz, Animal Sex: Libido as Desire and Death, Routledge

Erik Hannerz, Performing Punk, Palgrave Macmillan

Erika Cudworth, Stephen Hobden, The Emancipatory Project of Posthumanism, Routledge

Ernst Kapp, Elements of a Philosophy of Technology: On the Evolutionary History of Culture, University of Minnesota Press

Francesca Ferrando, Philosophical Posthumanism, Bloomsbury Publishing

Gilbert Simondon, Individuation in Light of Notions of Form and Information, University of Minnesota Press

Gilles Deleuze, Felix Guattari, Tausend Plateaus. Kapitalismus und Schizophrenie, Merve Verlag

Giovnni Aloi, Deleuzian

Glemens-Garl Härle, Karten zu Tausend Plateaus, Merve Verlag

Ian Bogost, Alien Phenomenology, Or, What It's Like to Be a Thing, University of Minnesota Press

Ilya Prigogine, Isabelle Stengers, Order Out of Chaos: Man's New Dialogue With Nature, Bantam New Age Books

Indra Sinha, Menschentier, Edition Büchergilde

Isabelle Stengers, Thinking With Whitehead a Free and Wild Creation of Concepts, Harvard University Press

Isabelle Stengers, Cosmopolitics I, University of Minnesota Press

Isabelle Stengers, Cosmopolitics II, University of Minnesota Press

Jacques Derrida, Ned Lukacher, Cinders, University of Minnesota Press

Jakob von Uexküll, A Foray Into the Worlds of Animals and Humans: With a Theory of Meaning, University of Minnesota Press

Jamie Lorimer, The Probiotic Planet: Using Life to Manage Life, University of Minnesota Press

Joey Keithley, Jack Rabid, I, Shithead: A Life in Punk, Arsenal Pulp Press

John Ó Maoilearca, All Thoughts Are Equal: Laruelle and Nonhuman Philosophy, University of Minnesota Press

John Protevi, Political Affect, University of Minnesota Press

John Robb, Punk Rock: An Oral History, PM Press

Judith Roof, The Poetics of DNA, University of Minnesota Press

Julian Yates, Of Sheep, Oranges, and Yeast: A Multispecies Impression, University of Minnesota Press

Julius Zimmermann, Die Eigenständigkeit der Dinge

Jussi Parikka, Insect Media: An Archaeology of Animals and Technology, University of Minnesota Press

Kalpana Rahita Seshadri, HumAnimal: Race, Law, Language, University of Minnesota Press

Karen Pinkus, Fuel: A Speculative Dictionary, University of Minnesota Press

Kate Devlin, Turned On: Science, Sex and Robots, Bloomsbury Sigma

Kathy High, I offer my power in the service of love

Laura Erickson-Schroth, Trans Bodies, Trans Selves: A Resource for the Transgender Community, Oxford University Press

Laurent Dubreuil, The Intellective Space: Thinking Beyond Cognition, University of Minnesota Press

Laurent Dubreuil, Sue Savage-Rumbaugh, Dialogues on the Human Ape, University of Minnesota Press

Legs McNeil & Gillian McCain, Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk, Grove/Atlantic, Inc.

Lutz Dammbeck, DAS NETZ - Die Konstruktion des Unabombers & Das "Unabomber-Manifest": Die Industrielle Gesellschaft und ihre Zukunft: Nautlius Flugschrift, Edition Nautilus

Mads Rosendahl Thomsen, The Bloomsbury Handbook of Posthumanism, Bloomsbury Academic

Marcel O'Gorman, Necromedia, University of Minnesota Press

María Puig de La Bellacasa, Matters of Care: Speculative Ethics in More Than Human Worlds, University of Minnesota Press

Martin Kurthen, Robert Payne, White and Black Posthumanism: After Consciousness and the Unconscious, Springer

Matthew Fuller, Olga Goriunova, Bleak Joys: Aesthetics of Ecology and Impossibility, University of Minnesota Press

Michael Hauskeller, Curtis D. Carbonell, Thomas D. Philbeck, The Palgrave Handbook of Posthumanism in Film and Television, Palgrave Macmillan

Michael Haworth, Neurotechnology and the End of Finitude, University of Minnesota Press

Michel Serres, The Parasite, University of Minnesota Press

Mick Smith, Against Ecological Sovereignty, University of Minnesota Press

Mickey Weems, The Fierce Tribe: Masculine Identity and Performance in the Circuit, University press of Colorado

Neil H. Kessler, Ontology and Closeness in Human-Nature Relationships: Beyond Dualisms, Materialism and Posthumanism, Springer

ngbk, Tier-werden, Mensch-werden

Nicole Shukin, Animal Capital: Rendering Life in Biopolitical Times, University of Minnesota Press

Nigel Rothfels, Representing Animals, Indiana University Press

Oliver Krüger, Die Vervollkommnung des Menschen, E-Pub

Peter Atterton & Matthew Calarco, Animal Philosophy, Ethics and Identity: Essential Readings in Continental Thought, Continuum

Peter Mahon, Posthumanism: A Guide for the Perplexed, Bloomsbury Academic

Phillip Thurtle, Biology in the Grid: Graphic Design and the Envisioning of Life, University of Minnesota Press

Raymond Ruyer, Neofinalism, University of Minnesota Press

Riccardo Campa, Humans and Automata: A Social Study of Robotics, Peter Lang

Roberto Esposito, Bios: Biopolitics and Philosophy, University of Minnesota Press

Roger F. Cook, Postcinematic Vision: The Coevolution of Moving-Image Media and the Spectator, University of Minnesota Press

Ron Broglio, Surface Encounters: Thinking With Animals and Art, University of Minnesota Press

Siegfried Zielinski, Variations on Media Thinking, University of Minnesota Press

Stanislaw Lem, Sterntagebücher

Stefan Lorenz Sorgner, Branka-Rista Jovanovic, Evolution and the Future: Anthropology, Ethics, Religion- in Cooperation With Nikola Grimm, Peter Lang

Steve Baker, Artist Animal, University of Minnesota Press

Steven Shaviro, The Universe of Things: On Speculative Realism, University of Minnesota Press

Susan McHugh, Animal Stories: Narrating Across Species Lines, University of Minnesota Press

Thierry Bardini, Junkware, University of Minnesota Press

Timothy C. Campbell, Improper Life: Technology and Biopolitics From Heidegger to Agamben, University of Minnesota Press

Timothy Campbell, Adam Sitze, Biopolitics: A Reader, Duke University Press

Timothy Morton, Hyperobjects: Philosophy and Ecology After the End of the World, University of Minnesota Press

Tom Tyler, CIFERAE: A Bestiary in Five Fingers, University of Minnesota Press

Vilém Flusser, Rodrigo Maltez Novaes, Vampyroteuthis Infernalis, Atropos Press

Vinciane Despret, What Would Animals Say if We Asked the Right Questions?, University of Minnesota Press

#posthumanism #viecher #imitation #donna haraway #karen barad #bruno latour #reader

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tachtutor · 3 years

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BULLDOG DRUMMOND’S SECRET POLICE (1939).

BULLDOG DRUMMOND’S SECRET POLICE. (1939) John Howard (Captain Hugh C. “Bulldog” Drummond), Heather Angel (Phyllis Clavering), H. B. Warner, Reginald Denny, E. E. Clive, Elizabeth Patterson, Leo G. Carroll. Screenplay by Garnett Weston, based on the book Temple Tower by Herman C. McNeile. Director: James P. Hogan. Currently available online at several sites, including YouTube and Amazon…

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horrorkingdom · 3 years

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First Published: “The Corpse in Coffee Creek-Secrets of Ohio’s Tragic Triangle,” by Detective Otto H. Diskowski, Homicide Squad, Cleveland Police Department, as told to R. Rodgers, True Detective Mysteries, May, 1938.

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CHARLES SALWAY SLOWLY MADE HIS way home across the small culvert over Coffee Creek. His farm was just outside Mesopotamia, Ohio, and almost daily he walked down State Road 57 and crossed the creek to get to his field.

This afternoon of September 24th, 1936, there was an autumn tang in the air. It would not be long before frost would be on the ground and farming would be over for the season. He, his wife and his father had put in a good day’s work out there—the sort of work that gave a man an appetite and made him think longingly of his fireside and slippers.

Salway leaned for a moment on the rail, waiting for the others to catch up to him. Maybe next day he would bring out his fishing tackle and try his luck. Sometimes a man could get a pretty good string out of Coffee Creek.

The farmer’s eyes focused sharply. Directly underneath was an odd looking object. As the man’s family joined him at the railing, he pointed, wordlessly, to the bobbing horror in the water. Mrs. Salway gasped.

“What is it, Charles?” she asked.

Her husband was still staring. “It looks like a man,” he whispered.

Mrs. Salway shuddered. “A man? But where is the rest of him?”

The farmer gulped. “It looks like it’s just his head down there.”

His father nodded. “Yes, I don’t see anybody.”

The trio noted the closed eyes, and the purple, blotched face. Leaving the older man to keep watch at the culvert; young Salway raced for a telephone. “There’s a dead man out near my farm on Route 57,” he told the police. “I’ll wait there until you come out. He’s in the creek.”

Charles Salway returned to the grim vigil. He studied the face of the man in the water. Folks in that section of the country all knew each other. But neither Salway nor his father had ever seen the dead man before.

Sheriff Roy Hardman and Captain George C. Salen of the Warren police, lost no time getting to the scene. Accompanying them were several officers and Coroner J. C. Renshaw of Trumbull County. The farmer flagged them to a stop and excitedly pointed to his find.

“First we thought it was just a head, Sheriff,” he said, “but now I can see where the body is weighted down with something, so that just the head sticks out

It was a grotesque sight that greeted the officials. The water lapped gently against the dead face, tossing it from side to side. Releasing the body from what held it might prove to be a task.

In a short time, dozens of people flocked to see what the excitement was.

The officers, assisted by bystanders, finally extricated the body and laid it out on the ground for the Coroner’s inspection. While he went about his work, Sheriff Hardman and Captain Salen examined the wire with which the victim had been trussed and the heavy concrete slab attached to the corpse.

“Whoever did it,” the Sheriff remarked, “must have felt pretty sure it would be a long time before this thing rose to the surface. But the weight slipped down around the feet and there was enough buoyancy in the body to let the head float to the surface. No wonder it looked like a head without a body.”

“Looks like the fellow was pretty well beaten before being tossed into the creek,” Salen commented. “It’s the kind of beating gangsters give their double-crossers.”

The Sheriff shrugged. There might be some truth in that theory. The spot where the body was found is not far from Youngstown and only about forty miles out of Cleveland. Perhaps some rival city gangsters had been warring. Or maybe the killing was the outcome of strike trouble in the Youngstown steel area.

Coroner Henshaw estimated that the corpse had been in the water a week. There was not much else he could discover without a thorough examination, and the body was taken to the morgue at West Farmington.

After questioning the neighboring farmers and failing to find anyone who had heard or noticed anything unusual during the past week or ten days, the officers went to the morgue to search for a clue to the man’s identity.

Preliminary examination of his clothing revealed little—a few cents and the usual odds and ends. In a hidden inside coat pocket, apparently overlooked by the killers, the officers found a worn leather wallet.

Eagerly the contents were spilled on the table. The clue they seized upon was an identification card of a common type. Unless the murderers had been clever enough ‘to put it there to throw the police off the trail, it should reveal the identity of the dead man. It bore the name of Charles Steffes, Jr., and an address in Cleveland.

There was a space on the card classified “In Case of Accident Notify . . .” And next to it were the words, “Catherine Bunjevac, 1144 East 76th Street, Cleveland, Ohio.”

“Well, boys, that gives us something to start with,” Captain Salen announced. “We’d better get in touch with the Cleveland police and see what they know of Steffes.” The report of the murder came into Cleveland Headquarters over the wire that evening and Detective Lieutenant Jack Zeman took down the details.

He called in Detectives Carl Ziccarelli and Ralph McNeil, who were working on the four-to-midnight shift. “Just had word of a body being found in Coffee Creek,” he told them. “Check up on Charles Steffes, Jr., at 1328 East 53rd Street. And see what you can learn from a girl named Catherine Bunjevac at 1144 East 76th Street.”

Things began to hum. A quick check with the files revealed a record on Steffes. He had been arrested and charged with auto theft about a year before. He had pleaded guilty and, since it was his first offense, had been placed on probation. Further details disclosed he was an auto mechanic and twenty-six years old.

It was hardly the record of a person who might be involved in gang wars, but in the Police Department we learn to expect anything and consider everything a possibility until proved otherwise.

If he were a Clevelander and had been dead a week, perhaps someone had reported his disappearance to the Bureau of Missing Persons. A check-up here disclosed that on Sunday, September 20th, a call had come into the Bureau. A worried feminine voice had reported a disappearance.

“I’m worried about my friend, Charles Steffes, Jr.,” the caller said over the telephone. “I had a date with him last Thursday night and he said then that he’d telephone me the next day.

“He didn’t call and I thought maybe he was sick.” Her voice broke a little. “Charlie always kept his word with me. And when I found out he hadn’t been at work since Thursday and that no one had seen him at all, I got frightened.”

The officer tried to calm her. People, he told her, particularly men, often dropped out of sight for a time. Ninety-nine out of a hundred turned up again in their own good time. But this girl, who gave her name as Catherine Bunjevac, was sure Charlie Steffes had come to some harm.

“He’d never go away without telling me,” she insisted.

The report had been investigated at the time, but no trace of Charlie Steffes had been found. There was no accident victim who answered his description in the hospitals or the morgue.

That is, no one, until Charles Salway had seen the “body-less” corpse in Coffee Creek. It began to look as if woman’s intuition as to trouble had again proven correct. What Catherine Bunjevac had feared had apparently come true.

But supposing the corpse was that of young Steffes, the identification was just the beginning of the job. All we knew was that a girl named Catherine Bunjevac was to be notified in case of accident and that this same girl had reported him missing.

The department began to get busy in earnest. Detectives Ziccarelli and McNeil went out to check on Steffes, at the address in his wallet. This turned out to be a rooming house, run by Rudolph Zupanic. Here, Steffes had lived with his brother.

Both Zupanic and the victim’s brother, when interviewed, insisted they knew nothing of the garage mechanic’s whereabouts. The proprietor of the rooming house eagerly told the meager facts he knew about his lodger.

“Steffes left the house last Thursday night and we haven’t seen him since. He was rather close-mouthed about his affairs and never said where he was going or when he’d be back.”

Steffes’ brother confirmed this statement. “I haven’t any idea where Charlie could be. He just went out and didn’t come back. Several people have been asking for him since he left.” He shrugged. “He might be anywhere.”

His brother seemed to take his absence rather lightly, apparently confident that in due time he would turn up again. At the garage where Steffes was employed, the proprietor had the same attitude.

“He hasn’t been around for a week. Guess maybe he just decided to quit. A little guy came around a couple of times looking for him. Don’t know who he was.”

Was this “little guy” one of those who had called at the rooming house to inquire about the missing man? That was another angle to be investigated.

The garage owner gave the boy a good send-off. “He was a conscientious worker. Seemed serious-minded and said he was saving his money.”

When a young man who has had a previous brush with the law, settles down and talks about saving his money, experience has taught us there’s usually one reason—a woman. “Find the woman” is the detective’s old adage, and often a very successful one. In this case, the name of the woman had providentially been delivered into our hands.

But, before questioning Catherine Bunjevac, the detectives sought Steffes’ sister, whose address they had obtained at the rooming house. She had new information to give.

“Charlie and Catherine were at my house last Thursday evening (Sept. 17, 1936). We had a lot of fun kidding around, but they had to leave early, as Charlie complained he didn’t feel well. I didn’t think it was anything serious, but it did seem that he was worried about something. Usually Charlie was very happy-go-lucky, but that night he was different—acted a little as if he were afraid of something.

“I thought it was my imagination,” she continued, “but when Kate—that’s what we call Catherine—came over here on Saturday, looking for him, I got kind of worried. It wasn’t like Charlie to miss a date. He was crazy about her. Talked about getting married.”

So the girl, whose name appeared on Steffes’ identification card, was more than just an acquaintance.

Catherine Bunjevac’s parents told the detectives that their daughter was out with her fiancé, a Mr. Miller. The officers concealed the surprise they felt at this announcement. Steffes had talked to his sister about marrying Kate, but she apparently had other plans, or at least, that’s the way it looked.

“Do you know Charles Steffes, Jr.?” they asked the Bunjevacs.

Instantly there seemed to be a chill in the atmosphere. “Yes, we know him. He frequently called on our daughter.”

“Was he in love with her?”

“Perhaps. She’s a very pretty girl. Lots of men have liked her. But we didn’t want her to go with that Steffes. He isn’t dependable. He hasn’t any money. Mr. Miller can give Catherine a nice home and an automobile. He’s the kind of suitor for our girl.”

“Well, when she comes in, tell her the police want to talk to her.”

The parents’ faces showed no emotion at the knowledge that police wished to question their daughter. If there were fear there, it was well hidden.

Very early the next morning, Miss Bunjevac appeared at Headquarters. Her parents had been right when they said their daughter was pretty. It was not hard to imagine several young men in love with her at the same time.

As Sergeant James Hogan questioned her, he noted that she seemed greatly worried about her missing friend.

“The last time I had a date with Charlie, he seemed quite upset,” she said. “I asked him to tell me what was bothering him, but he wouldn’t say.”

As the girl talked on, the background of the case became clear. Here was a fun-loving young girl, torn between duty to her parents and her own heart. Steffes appealed to her romantic tastes, but her family frowned upon him.

Miller, she explained, was a name Joseph Csonka sometimes used for business reasons. He was a wall paper hanger whom she had known for a long time, and her parents thought he would make an ideal husband for her. He was the old-fashioned type, the sort who would never give a girl any worries—nor any thrills.

But Catherine Bunjevac had liked young Steffes. He was full of fun, liked to dance and have a good time. He made Csonka seem old and dull. A common enough tragedy, up to that point. But it didn’t tell us what had been worrying Steffes that last night he was seen alive. Could he have been involved in some racket and forced to “take a ride?” Or was it perhaps another woman, whose jealous fury had spent itself on her betrayer?

We discarded the latter theory at once. The very facts of the crime told us it had to be the work of a man. Women do not transport their victims forty miles, and then dump them overboard, with a slab of concrete to weigh them down.

Detective Gordon Shibley and I went to West Farmington to verify the identification of the victim. We questioned several of the near-by residents, but could find no one who knew anything about the mysterious happenings at Coffee Creek. The killer had taken pains to cover his tracks well, and no doubt darkness had hidden his sinister work.

Delve as we would, we could find nothing to tie the victim with any gang machinations. He had, to all intents and purposes, been paying strict attention to business and behaving himself. It looked as if the explanation would have to be found closer to home.

Officers returned to question Miss Bunjevac once more. Over and over she repeated her story of her friendship with Steffes and the last time she had seen him.

“He left me at my house early Thursday evening, as he said he didn’t feel well. I thought maybe he had another date, but then I felt sure he wouldn’t go with any girl but me. He said he’d call me Friday and when he didn’t I was annoyed. Joe asked me to go out with him that night and since I hadn’t heard from Charlie, I went.”

“Did you tell Csonka about Steffes?” the girl was asked.

“Yes, I mentioned it and said I was worried as that was the first time he had ever disappointed me. Joe said not to worry about it; that he’d probably be able to explain when I saw him.”

“Did you often discuss Steffes with your other suitor?”

“Quite often. He asked me, a couple of times to give up Charlie.”

The detectives’ eyes betrayed no particular interest. “Did the boys ever fight about your attentions?”

“Of course not,” was the quick reply. “Why, Joe helped me try to find Charlie. He went to his rooming house and the garage where he worked to discover what had happened to him.”

The little thin man who had “been making such anxious inquiries for the victim, as described by Steffes’ brother and the garage owner, was Csonka, evidently. He had been trying to find the man who had cat him out, in order to set the girl’s mind at rest.

“It was Joe who made me come right down to Headquarters, when we found out you were looking for me,” Miss Bunjevac continued. “He said it was best for me to go right away.”

“How did Joe act the Friday night after Steffes’ disappearance? Was he nervous or excited?”

“Why, no,” the girl answered, surprised. “He never talks a lot, but I didn’t notice him acting nervous or anything. Why should he?”

That’s what we were asking ourselves at the moment. We had two men in love with the same girl. One brash and forward; the other, from Catherine’s description, shy, meek and self-effacing. And the brash and forward one was now dead, his head battered in. I was convinced from what I could learn around Coffee Creek, that Steffes had been killed elsewhere and his body brought out to the lonesome farm area, probably by automobile.

The body had been returned to Cleveland from the West Farmington morgue and County Pathologist Dr. Reuben Strauss went to work to determine what had caused death. What we primarily wanted to know was whether the victim was alive when tossed into the water, or whether it was his corpse that was weighted down and shoved under the culvert.

On Friday night a detail of officers was sent to Csonka’s home on East 88th Street, to question him. It was destined to be quite a wait, as he was not at home. It was five-thirty in the morning before a short, slight man mounted the steps, to be met by a group of detectives.

Csonka evidenced no surprise. He acted as if it were not at all unusual for a couple of officers to be waiting to take him down to Headquarters. He showed no curiosity as to why he must go. He offered no protest, when the men went through his personal belongings. He evinced no embarrassment when he saw his personal letters being read. These included several written, but never mailed, to Catherine Bunjevac.

Those letters seemed to coincide with the man’s colorless personality. He was admittedly in love with the girl, but there was no hint of passion in his letters. They, too, were shy and bashful.

Downstairs in the basement, Csonka showed the same lack of interest, as officers went through his storage closet. The only thing found of any possible importance was a small amount of old wire.

And when Sergeant Hogan began asking him questions that Saturday morning, he realized he was facing a man who was able to conceal every emotion. He presented a bland, expressionless face and carefully deliberated before replying. We had a suspect, it is true, but we had little more on him than any man we might pick up in the street. He was in love with the same girl as the dead man had been—but that was his only connection, thus far, with the case.

The Sergeant, however, continued his investigation. A couple of detectives went out to find Csonka’s car. While they were gone, the report of Dr. Strauss came in and with it, the first ray of light. Steffes had been struck a hard blow on the head, but that had not caused his death. Water in his lungs indicated that he had been alive when tossed into the creek. He had died from drowning. That meant that the murderer, if and when we caught him, would be tried in the district in which the victim died—and those country juries are tough.

We decided to use a little old-fashioned psychology on Csonka. Detective Shibley and I brought him to the garage, and, with Sergeant Hogan and Coroner Arthur J. Pearse of Cuyahoga County, in which Cleveland is located, we started out on the ride to Mesopotamia and Coffee Creek. We were heading for the spot where Steffes’ battered body had been found. We had a little plan in mind and were eager to find out if it would work. The coolest, the calmest, the most collected criminal will often go to pieces when he is forced to revisit the scene of his crime. Dreams often will hound a guilty man into clearing his conscience, but a compulsory viewing of the spot will usually do it more quickly.

We did not do a lot of talking on that ride. Csonka continued to answer politely all questions put to him. Sergeant Hogan encouraged him to talk about himself. He nodded sympathetically when Csonka complained of business being slow. Csonka mentioned that he usually carried his tools—brushes and pails—in his car. Was he in love with Catherine Bunjevac? Sure, sure.

“You know, Sergeant,” he said to Hogan, “I think some gangsters got after Steffes. Probably took him for a ride. You know he was mixed up in some bad company for a while there.”

We did not answer. We were waiting for the psychological moment to outline to him what we thought had happened. But that time had not arrived as yet.

Coffee Creek looked far from sinister in the bright daylight. The foliage was just beginning to turn and the countryside was rich in autumnal hues. Everything spoke of peace, and quiet, restful living. It seemed hardly the spot for violence and death. Yet a man’s badly beaten body had been tossed into that creek and its calm water had taken his dying breath.

I took Csonka over toward the east rail and waited with him while the Coroner and Sergeant Hogan talked things over. I knew what was coming and encouraged the man’s nervousness by a complete silence and apparent indifference as to what was going on.

As the two officers conversed, their voices carried clearly on the still air. Hogan was outlining to Pearse what had happened. Csonka was the only one there who didn’t know that the Sergeant was putting on a little dramatic act.

“I think we’ve got this fellow,” Hogan was saying. “It all links up. Two of my men found his car, took a look in it and what do you suppose they found?”

“What ?” asked Pearse, all interest.

“Blood on the upholstery.”

“No!”

“Yes! And one of the windows was smashed. I think that happened when this bird Csonka swung at him with the brush and missed.”

“Brush?” asked Pearse.

“Didn’t you know we found a heavy paste brush in his car with blood on it? He hit Steffes over the head with his paste brush,” the Sergeant went on. “Again and again he struck him. Then when he thought he was dead, he drove out into the country and tossed the body overboard. He weighted it down to make sure it wouldn’t be discovered.”

Hogan paused dramatically as they came over to where we were standing. “Is that the way it happened, Csonka?” he asked suddenly.

I watched the man who was standing so close to me. I had thought of him as meek and mild—hardly the type to become involved in a murder case. But before my eyes I saw an amazing change take place. As he listened to Hogan’s outline of what might have happened that fatal September 17th, Csonka s eyes glittered. It was almost as if he were reliving the crime, and enjoying it. The meekness was gone and replaced by an expression of burning hate.

Abruptly he turned and faced us. “Sure, I killed him. I did it.”

The confession, unexpected as it was, did not give us all we wanted. We had to have details—proof to stand up in a trial. It was not a Cleveland case, but it was up to us to get Csonka talking.

Once he had started, the paperhanger seemed eager to tell the whole story and get it off his mind. I marveled at this shy little man, who, for more than a week had gone about his affairs as usual, but with a horrible secret hidden behind his meek, colorless face. He had even joined in the search for his victim, apparently seeing this would ingratiate him into the favor of Miss Bunjevac. And all the time he had known that the man she loved and waited for was lying in the cold waters of Coffee Creek, a heavy slab weighting him down.

Csonka opened up in earnest on the ride back to Cleveland. The story was even more grim and cold-blooded than we had conceived.

“I was ready to marry the girl. I wanted her. I was getting along fine and had a good business and good prospects. I could have given her things. I was in love with her and she seemed to like me well enough,” Csonka added, “until that Steffes fellow came along last April. Then things changed.”

I could picture this little paperhanger paying his court more to the parents than the daughter, much as they did in the old country. He loved the girl, in his fashion, and a great rage began working in his slow mind, when he found himself being cut out.

“That Steffes was just a no-good, a bum. I used to follow the two of them around and spy on them. A couple of times I met him and begged him to give up the girl. But always he just laughed and told me to beat it.

“And once,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “he told me Catherine wanted to marry a man. He insulted me.”

Steffes, knowing that the girl preferred him, and with the confidence of youth, had laughed tormentingly at the other man. And with that laugh he had sealed his doom.

“I met Steffes early in the week and told him I knew he had been in jail,” the paperhanger went on. “I threatened to tell the Bunjevacs what I knew, so they’d make Kate give him up.

“Steffes tried to laugh it off, but I told him it was time for a showdown. I told him to meet me Thursday night and he said he’d try to get away early enough to make it.”

That meeting, then, was what the garage mechanic had on his mind the last night his sister and his sweetheart had seen him. The story of feeling ill had been invented to make sure he would get away in time for the meeting he dreaded. The girl’s intuition that something was worrying him had been correct.

The men met by appointment at a beer parlor on East 53rd Street. Csonka began pleading with him to step out of the picture. Steffes drank stein after stein of beer and quickly lost his former dread. The oddly matched couple moved on from one beer place to another. At each they consumed several drinks, Steffes switching to liquor as the night wore on.

Once again in Csonka’s car, they continued the discussion, the murderer said.

“Sitting in the car at East 70th and Quincy. I told Steffes he’d have to give up the girl. He got mad at that, and took out a whisky bottle he had in his pocket. He swung it at me and I got scared. He was bigger than me and I reached in back of the car for my paste brush. I grabbed hold of it and hit him over the head.”

Csonka stopped a moment, as if remembering. A shudder shook his slight frame. He was thinking perhaps of the sickening thud each blow had made on the victim’s head. Then he continued:

“I had to hit him a lot of times before he became quiet. Then I got panicky and pushed his body into the back seat.”

It was evident that Csonka had believed his victim dead after the first blows. He even stopped to change a tire on his car before driving into his own garage.

“I stayed in the garage a while, not knowing just what I ought to do. I was scared someone might come’ in while he was there. And then—” his eyes widened with horror—”Steffes came to life again and started to fight some more.”

I could visualize the terror of the man, as his victim suddenly showed signs of life, when he believed him dead.

“This time I hit him with a heavy iron clamp and he lay still.”

Poor Charlie Steffes. His vitality must have been great, indeed, to withstand a series of such blows. The report showed without any question that he had been still breathing when tossed into the creek.

“I went around the corner to my house and got some wire and a big chunk -of concrete from under our garbage can. I tied him up and then started out to find some place to dump the body.”

And then came the most amazing part of this gruesome story. The killer had driven nearly fifty miles through the night, with the trussed-up body of his victim in the back of his car. And at each bridge and culvert he had stopped. With his flashlight he had peered into the water, trying to determine its depth. Joe Csonka was looking for water deep enough to-cover all evidence of his crime.

#horror #creepy #horror community #creepy photo

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