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The Weird Week in Review

Man Shoots Store Over Crawfish

Larry Wayne Kelly of Ensley, Florida, found he could not buy crawfish from a seafood market on Sunday evening because they were out of stock. He had called the L&T Seafood Market just before closing time at five. Kelly apparently became upset, and continued to call the business many times after they closed. At about 7PM, police were called to investigate shots fired in the neighborhood. After a car chase, they found Kelly with several loaded firearms in his vehicle. They also found eleven bullet holes in the seafood market building. Kelly asserted that he is a “sovereign citizen” and not subject to the law, but he was arrested anyway on 27 felony charges.

Horse Herpes Forces Rodeo Queens to Ride Stick Ponies

An outbreak of equine herpes virus is causing havoc on the rodeo and show horse circuit. Normally, the contestants in the Davis County Sheriff's Mounted Posse Junior Queen Contest in Utah ride horses as they compete, but this year rode stick ponies instead. The competition is a little tougher as the horses will not being doing any of the work. The stick pony competition tests how well the riders know the routine. Although not sexually transmitted, equine herpes is highly contagious among horses, incurable, and can be fatal.

Police Shoot Concrete Alligator

Three policemen in Independence, Missouri spotted an alligator on a lawn. They lined up and got two shots into the alligator before they realized it was made of concrete. Homeowner Rick Sheridan heard the shots from his garage and went around to find the policemen shooting at his lawn ornament. Sheridan plans to patch up the damaged alligator.

Credit Card Found 25 Years Later -Underwater!

John Krayeski of West Palm Beach, Florida, was spear fishing in the waters off Singer Island, specifically at an artificial reef called the Triangle. A responsible diver, he often picks up trash he sees underwater. On this trip, he picked up an old JC Penney credit card. Back on land, he read the name on the card: Jack Jacobs. He knew the name, as Krayeski's construction business had built an addition at Jacob's home. Jacobs' wife told Krayeski that they never had a card from JC Penney, but later Jack Jacobs called and said he'd lost that card 25 years ago, before he was ever married! However, he had no idea how it ended up a mile out at sea.

"I told John I'm going to drop another credit card in the ocean and he has 25 years to find it."

"Make it a gold American Express and I'll find it a lot sooner," Krayeski said.

Bank Robbers Dressed as Nuns

It was a scene modeled after a bank robbery depicted in the movie The Town as two people dressed a nuns robbed the West Englewood branch of TCF bank in Palos Heights, Illinois, Sunday afternoon. They jumped over the counter and forced two employees into the vault where they packed a duffel bag with an undisclosed amount of money. No shots were fired. The two "nuns," later described as a white male and a white female, fled in a silver Chevrolet. The bank was open as usual on Monday. The robbers' disguises were surprising, but even more astonishing is the fact that a bank was open not only on Sunday, but also on a Monday holiday!

Is the Yellow Brick Road in Peekskill?

When L. Frank Baum wrote The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, could the yellow brick road have been inspired by a road in Peekskill, New York? City historian John Curran thinks so, and has done the research. Baum attended Peekskill Military Academy in 1868, when he was 12 years old.

In 2005, a Fulbright scholar and artist persuaded John Testa, who was the mayor of Peekskill at the time, to conduct an authenticity study on the road. Mr. Curran uncovered maps showing that West Street, which leads from the steamboat dock up a hill to the military academy, was indeed made of Dutch pavers, a common yellow-hued brick in the Dutch-settled area.

The maps showed Mr. Baum had to have walked along the road to get to school, Mr. Curran said.

Only a small part of the road is still brick. Curran would like to restore the road, or build a monument of some sort to Oz, but the city does not have the money for such a project.

Stolen 59" TV Transported on Bicycle

Police in South Daytona, Florida, though something looked suspicious when they spotted 23-year-old Steven Long riding a bike with a 59" television wedged between his lap and the handlebars. The rider fled when he saw the cops, and later abandoned both the bike and the TV set. He was arrested in a residential yard after a short chase. Long told police that he had been given the set to settle a debt, and that he ran because "he doesn't like police." Meanwhile, a burglary was reported in which a 59" TV was taken. The victims identified the set, which they had only purchased a week before, but was retrieved broken beyond repair.

Original image
Dori Ann Bischmann, PhD
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History
Inside the Never-Before-Seen Scrapbook of the Rubber Skin Lady, a 1930s-era Sideshow Star
Original image
Agnes the Rubber Skin Lady and other performers, including Frieda Pushnik, Major Small, and John Williams the Alligator-Skin Boy.
Dori Ann Bischmann, PhD

As a young girl growing up in Milwaukee, Dr. Dori Ann Bischmann loved exploring her parents' attic. One day in the early 1970s, she discovered a mysterious trunk that piqued her curiosity.

Inside, there was some children's china, an antique baby doll, a beaded hat and bag from the 1920s, and an old scrapbook. The book had a picture of two puppies on the cover.

But the images between the covers weren't as cuddly as advertised.

Dori had found the scrapbook of her great aunt, Agnes Schwarzenbacher, also known as Agnes Higginbotham and Agnes Schmidt—but more famously as Agnes the Rubber Skin Lady. On the inside cover of the book a title marked in pen read, "Scrapbook of Show Life."

The newspaper clippings, photos, and signed pitch cards (promotional postcards featuring individual performers) that filled nearly 90 pages gave Dori a glimpse into the life of one of the sideshow's biggest stars of the 1930s. It also unlocked a family secret.

Close-up of a 1932 group photo of sideshow performers, with Agnes the Rubber Skin Lady featured in the center.
Close-up of a 1932 group photo of sideshow performers, with Agnes the Rubber Skin Lady featured in the center.
Dori Ann Bischmann, PhD

Dori had never met her aunt, who passed away in 1962. Nor had she ever heard about how Agnes drew crowds to watch her exhibit the excessive, elastic skin that covered her legs. Agnes could stretch the rubbery flesh anywhere from 15 to 30 inches, although from the waist up she looked completely normal. There are no reports of a diagnosis, but she may have had a condition called Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome.

Agnes, who was born in 1902 in Germany and came to America three years later, had shared her unusual skin on stages across the continent. In Toronto, she even performed before royalty. In one of the scrapbook's clippings, she spoke of the event as being one of the greatest thrills of her life on the road: "The audience was a very distinguished one and most famous of all was the Crown Prince of England, now the Duke of Windsor. I was most thrilled when he applauded vigorously."

With each turn of the book's pages, Dori encountered many of the extraordinary people Agnes performed with, particularly at the Ripley's Odditorium at the 1933 World's Fair in Chicago. At the time, Robert Ripley's "Believe It Or Not!" cartoon was extremely popular, and the Odditorium was the first public exhibition of unique performers and curiosities Ripley had gathered during his travels around the world. More than 2 million people visited his collection at the World's Fair and witnessed live acts like Agnes.

Clippings and pictures from Agnes Schwarzenbacher's circus scrapbook
Top: Crowd gathered at an oddity show capitalizing off Ripley’s success at the World’s Fair. Bottom: Agnes is featured in a newspaper clipping, between two photos of unknown performers.
Dori Ann Bischmann, PhD

Dori was enthralled with her discovery. "I have always been fascinated with people who are unique," she tells Mental Floss. Today, she works as a psychologist and often counsels people who have genetic disorders.

"I see a lot of amazing people overcoming many hurdles," she says. "At the same time I see people who are depressed. I wonder how all of the circus freaks felt on the inside. Were they hurting and depressed and putting on a show outwardly? Or did they find contentment in giving something of themselves to help others?"

While it's hard to know exactly how Agnes felt, there are glimpses in some of the scrapbook's clippings.

"I would like very much to be normal in every respect," Agnes says in one newspaper article. "Don't misunderstand me. I said I would like to, but simply because my skin is rubber doesn't mean that I have become morbid. Far from it. I am, perhaps, one of the most pleasant persons you ever met. And why shouldn't I be? I don't consider myself seriously handicapped. I realize that my skin when stretched isn't exactly normal, but I don't allow the presence of such skin on my body to make me self-conscious."

A page of promotional images from Agnes Schwarzenbacher's circus scrapbook
A collection of performers from the 1933 World’s Fair, and a Ripley’s Believe It Or Not cartoon.
Dori Ann Bischmann, PhD

Indeed, Agnes's skin ailment proved to be quite profitable—several articles in the scrapbook claimed that "The salary paid her is the highest ever paid a freak." No numbers are given, and like many sideshow claims, this may have been an exaggeration. But many sideshow performers were paid well, especially for the Great Depression.

"She used a circumstance she was born into to become an independent woman with a high-paying career (for the day)," Dori says. "She traveled and experienced many things other women might not have been able to experience."

Photos of Agnes Schwarzenbacher and her family
Top: A photo featuring Agnes Schwarzenbacher with her father and siblings: Mary, John, Rose, and Carl. Below: A portrait of Agnes dated 1926.
Dori Ann Bischmann, PhD

The Schwarzenbachers, however, weren't as self-confident as Agnes. Her family would have preferred that she covered her legs with long dresses and kept her anomaly to herself. They wanted nothing to do with her performances.

"The family was embarrassed that she was in the circus," Dori says. "I was also told that Agnes went to doctors to see if the tissue could be cut off. Apparently they couldn't in those days because it was too vascularized." (In other words, the tissue was too filled with blood vessels.)

The family's shame lasted well after Agnes's death. The scrapbook had originally been stored in Dori's grandparents' attic. When her grandmother passed away, no one in the family wanted the book except for Dori's mother, who had married Agnes's nephew.

"My mother was a person who was accepting of all people," Dori said. "She wasn't embarrassed about Agnes. She thought it was a shame that Agnes's flesh and blood did not want her scrapbook. The scrapbook is the story of Agnes's circus years, but also of her family."

Of course, it wasn't unusual for people born with anomalies to be treated in such ways. The sideshow, which had its heyday from the mid-1800s to the 1940s, offered them a rare chance to escape a life of seclusion, earn a living, see the world, and—perhaps most importantly—to enjoy a sense of camaraderie.

In a 1959 article from the New York World-Telegram and Sun, longtime showman Dick Best expanded on this thought more colorfully: "For the past thirty years I have been able to give employment to scores of [sideshow performers], give them financial independence, and companionship. You realize this when you see a mule-faced girl, a guy with three legs, and a girl weighing 500 pounds playing poker with a guy who shuffles and deals with his toes. In a crowd like that nobody sits around feeling sorry for himself or anybody else. You could be accepted there if you had nine arms and ten heads."

The "mule-faced girl" that Best referred to was Grace McDaniels, who Agnes worked with and featured in her album. McDaniels was afflicted with a condition that caused tumors to grow on her lips and mouth. In addition to being called "mule-faced," she was also billed as the Ugliest Woman in the World. Agnes's photos show her with McDaniel's teenage son, Elmer, who traveled with her.

The "guy with three legs," as Best called him, also appears in the scrapbook. His name was Francesco Lentini, billed as the Three-Legged Wonder. He also had four feet, and two sets of genitalia.

Agnes's friend Frieda Pushnik, the Armless, Legless Girl Wonder, is featured more prominently. Born in Pennsylvania in 1923, Pushnik had only small stumps at her shoulders and thighs, with which she learned to sew, crochet, write, and type. At the age of 10 she joined the Rubber Skin Lady at the Chicago Odditorium during the World's Fair. In addition to having collected several of Frieda's pitch cards, Agnes also had personal photos. One of these captures another companion, a dwarf named Lillie McGregor, holding little Frieda. Without legs, Frieda is about half the size of Lillie.

Lillie appears in other photographs with her husband, Harry. They are each seen pulling a person in a wagon with their eyelids. Agnes even saved the Ripley's cartoon that illustrated the stunt.

Clippings and pictures from Agnes Schwarzenbacher's circus scrapbook
Spread of newspaper clippings, including articles about Agnes and a Believe It Or Not cartoon starring her friends Lillie and Harry McGregor, who could pull each other in a wagon with their eyelids.
Dori Ann Bischmann PhD

Lillie McGregor pulls an unidentified man in a wagon with hooks attached to her eyelids at the 1933 World’s Fair.
Lillie McGregor, a friend of Agnes, pulls an unidentified man in a wagon with hooks attached to her eyelids at the 1933 World’s Fair.
Dori Ann Bischmann, PhD

While Agnes's adventures in show life surrounded her with many kinds of unique people, one photo is of a man who shared a similar ailment. Arthur Loos, the Rubber-Skinned Man, had skin that hung loose beneath his chin, much like a basset hound's. He could stretch the flesh 8 inches. If they bonded over their sagging skin, Agnes made no mention of it in the scrapbook.

The man she did bond with was not a performer in the sideshow at all. He was a foreman who operated rides at a fair, a man named Jack Higginbotham. Their marriage is mentioned in one of the book's clippings, which states they were wed in Rockford, Illinois. However, the Rubber Skin Lady's love story was a mere subhead to another sideshow romance that earned the paper's headline: "Bearded Lady and ‘Elephant Man' on Midway are Newlyweds."

Agnes Schwarzenbacher and her husband
Agnes with her husband, Jack Higginbotham.
Dori Ann Bischmann, PhD

Although her family may have stayed far away from the sideshow stage, Agnes kept them all close. Photos of her with her father, brothers, sisters, and other family members populate numerous pages of the scrapbook.

Had Dori only seen these particular family photos, with her aunt's dresses covering her legs, she would have never known Agnes was different in any way—or what an amazing story she had to tell.

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Thanks to a Royalties Dispute, Spain’s Smurf Village Will Soon Be No More

For the past six years, tourists in Spain who were tired of Gaudí could head to the town of Júzcar, a tiny spot nestled high in the Andalusian mountains, for a high dose of lowbrow design. In 2011, the town’s buildings were painted bright blue to promote The Smurfs 3D movie, as part of a publicity scheme orchestrated by Sony Pictures. But now, thanks to a nasty royalties dispute, Atlas Obscura reports that Júzcar can no longer market itself as a Smurf-themed town.

Sony Pictures reportedly chose to give Júzcar a Smurfy makeover because its surrounding hills are filled with mushrooms. (Smurfs loooove mushrooms.) Technically, the cartoonish color scheme—which was achieved by covering homes, churches, and even gravestones with thousands of liters of blue paint—was supposed to be only temporary. But regional unemployment was high, and as the tourists began flooding in, Júzcar’s residents voted to keep the village’s new look instead of whitewashing its buildings back to their original pale hue. They played up the Smurfs theme by erecting sculptures and murals, orchestrating themed events, and even dressing up like Smurfs themselves. Soon, the pastoral town was attracting up to 80,000 sightseers per year, according to The Independent.

However, Júzcar’s tourism gimmick hasn't gone over well with the descendants of Pierre Culliford, the Belgian artist who once worked under the pseudonym Peyo. Culliford created the Smurf comics in 1958, so Júzcar officials had agreed to pay 12 percent on all Smurf-related royalties to his estate. Now the deal appears to have soured: The town’s council recently released an online statement informing potential visitors that Júzcar has now “lost the authorization to market itself as a Smurf town.” (The notice has since been removed from the website.)

It's unclear what precisely went down between Culliford's relatives and the Júzcar town council—but as of August 15, 2017, the town will have no more Smurf statues, Smurf-themed weddings, Smurf impersonators, or mushroom-capped public kiosks. Still, Júzcar will remain blue, according to The Local. This means the town may still serve as a magnet for novelty-loving tourists for years to come—even they can no longer take a selfie with Papa Smurf.

[h/t Atlas Obscura]

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