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(Considering the widespread interest in genealogy and local history, The Punxsutawney Spirit is pleased to share with our readers vignettes of our area's past that reveal the ways life has changed over the past 114 years.
These reprinted reports with their original headlines and spelling from back issues of the local newspaper highlight events, personalities, attitudes and lifestyles that made the news long ago. This series will appear on Mondays for your reflection and amusement.)
LOCAL INTELLIGENCE
(April 4, 1894)
A Narrow Escape
Al. Hickox and Howard Buchanan were sinking a shaft on the Kessler farm in Perry township one day last week. It had reached a depth of thirty-four feet. The bottom was solid rock, and they were blasting it out. A windlass and tub were used to hoist the loosened material, and to raise and lower the workmen into the shaft. Buchanan had just put in a blast, lighted the fuse and gotten into the tub.
He told Hickox to hoist him up, and he went vigorously to work on the crank, but when he had him about half way up, his strength failed, and he informed Buchanan that he cold haul him no farther. It was a critical moment. Hickox exerted all his strength, but he could not budge the tub with its human freight.
"Let me down quick," yelled Buchanan from the well.
Hickox let him down, and he tore that fuse out of the hole in the rock in a jiffy, when it had almost reached the dynamite cap, and thus saved himself from being blown to pieces.
•••
SHOT IN THE HAND
Constable Graffius Meets with a Painful Accident
Constable Graffius has had a warrant for an Italian named Vingengo Corso for the past year. When the warrant was first issued the Italian fled, but about three months ago Graffius heard that the was back in Adrian, and went in quest of him.
While Graffius was standing at the door of the shanty where Vingengo lived, he went out of the back door, slipped around the corner of the house and shot at Graffius, the bullet passing through his coat in close proximity to his breast.
Last Friday Graffius saw his man again in the vicinity of Big Run and decided to take him in. Knowing the desperate character of the man he wanted to arrest, Graffius took the leather sheath off his revolver and dropped it into his coat pocket. He then made a break for his man, and caught him.
The Italian resisted, and reached for his gun. Graffius put his hand into his pocket to get his revolver, and, getting hold of the muzzle, it was discharged in pulling it out, the contents entering his right hand, severely lacerating it. The third and fourth fingers were almost cut off, and there is danger that he will lose them. When he shot himself in the hand he had to let go of the Italian, who ran away.
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John Ellis, agent for the bicycle of this place, was run down by the street car on Monday night. He was riding down Main street ahead of the car, and when near the residence of W. R. Neal, he turned out of the street car track to let the car pass by, but just as the car came about opposite him the wheel struck something which caused him to lose control of the machine, which started back across the track right in front of the car.
The car hit him on the shoulder, knocking him to the ground, but he managed to scramble outside the track. As soon as the car could be stopped the motorman rushed back, thinking he had a dead man on his hands, but John was up in a second, unhurt, and asked for his wheel, which was found under the car, and was not as badly damaged as one would expect to see it after having been ridden by a street car.
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April 11, 1894
It would not be at all surprising if the typewriter would shortly supplant stenography as a means of taking testimony in court and even reporting speeches verbatim. There have been tests of that machine made where a speed of 170 words per minute was approached.
Jacob L. Fisher, of this town, took the testimony in the patent fence hearing before ‘Squire J. W. Wilson last Friday, on the typewriter, and got it down in pretty good shape.
John White, son of Hon. A. C. White, of Brookville, who is even better than Fisher, on the type writer, and perhaps the best in this part of the State, can rattle off seventy-five words per minute. For ordinary testimony that his fast enough. Now, if a typewriter were built for this special purpose, with a system of phonographic characters, why should it not completely supplant short-hand?
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