When the Liberty Bell Went on a National Tour

Getty Images
Getty Images

Philadelphia Mayor Rudolph Blankenburg had specific instructions for both the employees of Independence Hall and the citizens of the city on Independence Day 1915. He wanted the Hall to remain open past its regular closing time. This, he told the city, was so it could accommodate everyone who might want to say goodbye to the Liberty Bell.

The next morning, it would be gone. And Blankenburg wasn’t sure it was ever coming back—at least, not in one piece.


TradingCardsNPS, Flickr // CC BY 2.0

The Liberty Bell, once known as the State House Bell, is one of the most iconic objects in American history. Originally forged in London for delivery to Philadelphia in 1752, it broke upon the first strike and was twice re-casted by metalworkers John Pass and John Stow. Newly strengthened, it was a signal for lawmakers and residents to assemble. But after 90-odd years of persistent ringing, a crack started to manifest. Workers widened the crack and inserted rivets in the hopes it wouldn’t get worse.

According to some accounts, it did—perhaps after a ceremony to commemorate George Washington’s birthday in 1846—and so the Bell was taken out of service, becoming less of a utility and more of a symbol for an assortment of civil rights causes, from abolitionists to the suffragette movement.

While Philadelphians could visit Independence Hall for inspiration, the rest of the country often clamored for a look. Between 1885 and 1904, the Bell went on six road trips, first to the World’s Industrial and Cotton Centennial Exposition in New Orleans and finally to the Louisiana Purchase Exposition in 1904. Workers hoisted it on dollies and on train cars, passing through states so Americans could see the 2000-pound symbol for themselves.

Some observers were more recognizable than others. As it passed through Mississippi on its trip to New Orleans, former President of the Confederacy Jefferson Davis approached the Bell and spoke to it directly: "You, sacred organ, gave voice to the proudest declaration that a handful of men ever made ... Glorious old Bell, the son of a Revolutionary soldier bows in reverence before you.” Thomas Edison, who had visited it several times, was also spotted during a later tour, apparently fascinated with the sight of the Bell in the wild.

The 1904 trip appeared to be the last time it would leave Philadelphia city limits. With each successive journey, citizens fretted about the fragility of the Bell and whether it could survive transport. But in 1911, a band of politicians began making noise about another trip—this one clear across the country to San Francisco, where Mayor Jim Rolph petitioned for the Bell to appear in his city’s Panama-Pacific International Exposition. Newspaper magnate William Randolph Hearst endorsed the idea; San Francisco classrooms wrote letters urging Philadelphia to consider it; and in 1912, a petition bearing the signatures of thousands of San Francisco kids desperate to see the bell was sent to the Philadelphia City Council.

Philadelphia Mayor Blankenburg didn’t need any convincing. He agreed to the proposal, but was met with pushback by Boies Penrose, a senator and political rival who insisted the Bell remain undisturbed in the Hall. Talks dragged on for years between the cities, with the chief concerns being the Bell’s welfare in transit and the potential for its status as an American icon to be diminished.

The Bell, according to former Pennsylvania governor Samuel Pennypacker, was to be viewed with reverence and not stuck at “fairs associated with fat pigs and fancy furniture.” Other critics charged that for all the talk of fueling patriotism, the real motive was for the fair organizers in San Francisco to have an attraction that could draw huge crowds. Worst of all, prior trips had resulted in the Bell returning to Philadelphia a few pounds lighter: Gawkers would try and covertly chisel pieces of it off as a souvenir.

The two sides were at a standstill when the San Francisco fair opened in February 1915. As a kind of consolation prize, Blankenburg arranged for a ringing of the bell over the transcontinental Bell Telephone lines that had just been hung across the country.

But Rolph wouldn’t stop campaigning. His insistence, coupled with the sinking of the British ship Lusitania in May 1915, led to Philadelphia’s anti-touring contingent to soften. If the U.S. was about to be pulled into a world war, then perhaps some portable patriotism was in order.

Still, warnings by metallurgical engineers that the Bell faced the potential of being returned in pieces continued. Speaking to the Oakland Tribune, the reported “doctor” of the relic, Alexander Outerbridge Jr., spoke of the Bell as a patient afflicted with a cryptic “diseases of metals.”

“I myself have no hesitation in saying that the bell has a distemper which should insure its most careful preservation from all shocks such as it would be subjected to on a long journey,” he said.

The cross-country trip would be undertaken by rail, with the Pennsylvania Railroad given the responsibility of creating a ride smooth enough to minimize the risk of any further damage. Massive springs were used to cushion the train car housing the Bell. Dubbed the Liberty Bell Special, the train could also accommodate city councilmen and their families making the trip along with their special cargo.

The Bell hung from a yoke on the car and was surrounded by a brass railing to deter visitors from getting too close; a hook system was tethered to the lip of the Bell to prevent the crack from expanding, a precaution which remains in place today. Officials were firmly set on only allowing the blind to place a hand on it, but the Bell’s handlers were unable or unwilling to corral children, who were frequently hoisted up and allowed to kiss the metal.

Adults took a different tact. They would use whatever trinkets, jewelry, or pocket items they had at their disposal, handing them to guards and asking them to hold them up to the Bell’s surface. As the car traveled on through to San Francisco, the crowds could sometimes grow so deep that their edges couldn’t be seen from the train. An ocean of people had come at every stop to take in an inanimate object that had come to represent either the freedom they had or the freedom they longed to acquire.


IMLS Digital Collections and Content, Flickr  // CC BY 2.0

Incredibly, it’s believed that one-quarter of the country’s 1915 population was able to view the Bell as it made the 10,000-mile journey to San Francisco. When it arrived in California, the pull was so strong that it even lured a notorious safe robber named John Collins out of hiding. A police officer spotted him in the crowd and had him hauled away.

The train came to a stop on July 17, with the Bell getting a reprieve from travel. It remained on exhibit for four months, attracting far more attention than fair organizers could have predicted. In November, the Liberty Bell Special turned course and returned for home. The retreat was more eventful—and tragic—than the departure, with a woman in Memphis being crushed to death by the force of the swelling crowd. And while the Bell usually loomed over crowds in major cities, some stopovers were more truncated. In Beaumont, Texas, residents were disappointed to find the attraction would only be idling there for 10 minutes at 1 a.m. (although it didn't actually arrive until 6:30 a.m.).

Once it was returned to Independence Hall, the Bell’s handlers—politicians and caretakers alike—rebuffed any further attempts to put it back on wheels. The 1976 Bicentennial was one potential motivation, but further concerns over its condition meant the only trip it took was from Independence Hall to a specially constructed pavilion. It was moved to its current location in 2003. More than 18,000 people visit the bell daily today, where it remains intact—or as intact as it ever was.

Britain Is Forming a Modern Version of the 'Monuments Men'—and It's Recruiting

John Goodman, Matt Damon, George Clooney, Bob Balaban, and Bill Murray in 'The Monuments Men' (2014)
John Goodman, Matt Damon, George Clooney, Bob Balaban, and Bill Murray in 'The Monuments Men' (2014)
Claudette Barius, Columbia Pictures Industries, Inc. and Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation

During World War II, an international group of Allied art scholars, museum experts, archivists, and other conservationists known as the Monuments Men were sent to the front lines, tasked with locating and protecting cultural artifacts at risk of being lost to the ravages of combat. They were responsible for saving tens of thousands of priceless works of art in Europe—like Leonardo da Vinci’s Last Supper—from being destroyed by bombs or stolen by Nazis during the last years of the war.

Now, a new generation of experts will be tasked with doing the same in the face of modern wars. The British military is putting together a 15-person Cultural Property Protection Unit to protect art and archaeological artifacts in war zones from destruction, according to The Telegraph.

Recent wars in places like Syria and Iraq have put a huge number of priceless artifacts and artworks in danger. Smugglers use the chaos of war as cover to loot and sell ancient artifacts and other cultural heritage items stolen from from archaeological sites and museums on the international black market. The Islamic State finances at least part of its operations through the sale of stolen antiquities pillaged from sites under the group’s control, including the Mosul Museum, where militants reduced a huge number of rare artifacts to rubble and sold off others in the two years before Iraqi forces were able to take back the city.

The new group will investigate looting, prosecute smugglers, and gather information about endangered cultural heritage sites for the British government and its allies (to ensure that military forces don’t knowingly drop bombs on them). The Cultural Property Protection Unit is still in the nascent stages, though. It’s currently comprised of just one member, Tim Purbrick—a lieutenant colonel in the British Army—and is seeking to add experts on art, archaeology, and art crime.

There are already a few special forces dedicated to preserving art and cultural heritage items elsewhere in the world. Britain’s new task force will add to the work of groups like Italy’s Carabinieri Command for the Protection of Cultural Heritage (Carabinieri TCP), which has been investigating smuggling, forgery, damage to monuments, and other art crimes in Italy and beyond since 1969.

[h/t The Telegraph]

The Rise and Fall of 5 Claimed Mediums

Boston Public Library // Public Domain
Boston Public Library // Public Domain

In the late 19th and early 20th century, spiritualism was all the rage. People were looking for answers and comfort after the Civil War, so they turned to mediums and séances for spiritual guidance. The religious movement had such a pull that even Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was a believer. Despite its popularity, many debunkers argued that it had little legitimacy—alleged mediums were con artists who took advantage of the emotionally vulnerable and drained them of all their funds. Perhaps most surprising of all is that what turned into an enormous religious following started out as a simple prank pulled by two preteen girls.

1. THE FOX SISTERS

The Fox Sisters
Emma Hardinge Britten, Wikimedia Commons // Public Domain

In late March of 1848, Margaret Fox, a farmer’s wife living in Hydesville, New York, with her daughters, began to hear noises. These knocking sounds, she decided, could not have been human and certainly were not produced by her children. The mysterious banging became so maddening that she invited her neighbor in to hear for herself. Although skeptical, the neighbor humored the woman and huddled into a small room with Margaret and her two young girls, Maggie and Kate. The mother would ask questions that would be answered with a series of knocks, or as they would later be called, “rappings.” By the end of the night, both the mother and neighbor were convinced that Maggie and Kate were mediums, with the ability to communicate with the other side.

Soon their older sister, Leah Fox Fish, in Rochester, New York, got involved. Hearing of the girls’ otherworldly “powers,” the eldest sister saw dollar signs and promptly booked sessions for people looking to communicate with the dead. Their act took off, and soon the girls were touring the country. Maggie eventually found love while on the road, and settled down with an adventurer named Elisha Kent Kane. Kane convinced her to give up spiritualism, which she did until his untimely death in 1857. Meanwhile, Kate married a fellow spiritualist and fine-tuned her act. She was so successful in her deception that respected chemist William Crookes wrote in The Quarterly Journal of Science in 1874 that he thoroughly tested Kate and was convinced the sounds were true occurrences and not a form of trickery.

The façade went on for decades, until 1888 when Maggie finally spoke up. After her husband had died, she was left penniless and alone, and had turned to drinking. She wrote a letter to the New York World confessing her and her sister’s trickery prior to a demonstration at the New York Academy of Music. “I have seen so much miserable deception! Every morning of my life I have it before me. When I wake up I brood over it. That is why I am willing to state that Spiritualism is a fraud of the worst description,” she wrote.

She then explained that the mysterious thumping was the result of an apple tied to a string that the sisters would drop to torment their mother. At the New York Academy of Music, with her sister Kate in the audience, Maggie demonstrated her tricks to a raucous crowd of skeptics and staunch believers. She put her bare foot on a stool and showed how she could bang the stool with her big toe, producing the famous rapping noise. The Spiritualist world took a hit, but continued to persist. The same could not be said for the Fox sisters' careers. Although Maggie recanted her confession a year later—likely due to her poverty—the sisters were never trusted again and they both died penniless.

2. THE DAVENPORT BROTHERS

Photograph of the Davenport Brothers in front of their spirit cabinet
Wikimedia Commons // Public Domain

The Fox sisters may have burned out by the end of their career, but that didn't stop a slew of copy-cats and spin-off performers. Ira and William Davenport of Buffalo, New York, were inspired by the rappings of the Fox sisters and decided to try a session of their own with their father. Their session was so chilling (they would later claim their sister actually levitated) that they decided to make a show. In 1855, 16-year-old Ira and 14-year-old William got on stage for the first time. With the help of their spirit guide, a ghost named Johnny King, they performed a number of elaborate tricks that went past simple rappings; often bells, cabinets, ropes, and floating instruments would be utilized in the performance. Members of the audience would swear they saw instruments fly over their heads, or feel ghostly hands on their shoulders. The brothers were heralded as true mediums and enjoyed fame for the rest of their professional careers. After William passed away in 1877, Ira gave up the medium business for a quieter life.

He was not heard from again until magician Harry Houdini sought him out years later. The two became friends and Ira let him in on a few of his tricks, including one called "The Tie Around the Neck" that not even Ira’s children knew. The surviving Davenport told Houdini all about the tricks and trouble that went into keeping their secret, including reserving the front row for their friends and hiring numerous accomplices. Interestingly, some of their greatest tricks didn’t involve any work. Reports of flying instruments and mysterious sensations were purely delusions of the audience members. “Strange how people imagine things in the dark! Why, the musical instruments never left our hands yet many spectators would have taken an oath that they heard them flying over their heads,” Davenport told Houdini.

3. EVA CARRIÈRE

A photo of Eva Carrière regurgitating ectoplasm
Boston Public Library // Public Domain

Now armed with the secrets of the Davenport Brothers, as well as his own experiences as a medium in his younger days, Houdini set out to expose fraudulent mediums throughout the 1920s. He had initially believed that although it was all fake, it didn't harm anyone. The death of his mother made him realize the harm these fraudsters were really doing, and so Houdini set out to reveal their tricks. One such huckster was Eva Carrière.

As detailed in Houdini’s book, A Magician Among the Spirits, Carrière was a medium known for her ability to produce a mysterious substance called ectoplasm from a number of orifices. Carrière, with the help of her assistant and alleged lover Juliette Bisson, would be stripped down and searched to prove there was nothing on her person. She would then let Bisson put her in a trance, where Houdini said he was certain she was truly asleep. After some time, she would conjure up ectoplasm from her mouth that looked “like a colored cartoon and seemed to have been unrolled.” Houdini left feeling underwhelmed and unconvinced.

Still, Carrière seemed to hold many in her trance. A researcher named Albert von Schrenck-Notzing spent several years—1909 to 1913—working with her, and by the end, he was completely convinced. He published his findings and photographs in his book Phenomena of Materialisation. Ironically, this book ended up being Carrière's undoing: A skeptic named Harry Price wrote that the pictures proved that the faces seen in the medium’s ectoplasm were actually regurgitated cut-outs from the French magazine Le Miroir.

4. ANN O’DELIA DISS DEBAR

Ann O’Delia Diss Debar had gone through many monikers and identities in her lifetime, but according to Houdini [PDF], she started as Editha Salomen, born in Kentucky in 1849 (others claim she was named Delia Ann Sullivan and born in 1851). She left home at 18 and somehow convinced the high society of Baltimore that she was of European aristocracy. “Where the Kentucky girl with her peculiar temperament and characteristics could possibly have secured the education and knowledge which she displayed through all her exploits I am at a loss to understand,” Houdini wrote. Regardless, Salomon was extremely successful in her con artistry and managed to cheat Baltimore’s wealthiest out of a quarter million dollars. Claiming that funds were tied up in foreign banks, it was easy to drain potential suitors out of money and luxury.

After a quick stint at an insane asylum for trying to kill a doctor, Salomen took up hypnotism and married a man of slow wit named General Diss Debar. As Ann O’Delia Diss Debar and a general’s wife (although modern scholarship says that he wasn't a general and they weren't ever actually married), she found that people were eager to trust her. She took advantage of this trust when she met a successful lawyer named Luther R. Marsh, who had just lost his wife. After convincing him that she was a skilled medium, Diss Debar persuaded him to turn over his home on Madison Avenue, which she then turned into a spiritualistic temple and successful business. The swindler created spirit paintings, which, through sleight of hand, seemed to appear out of nowhere on blank canvases, as if the spirits painted them.

These paintings eventually landed Diss Debar in legal trouble when Marsh invited the press to come and see them. In 1888, the so-called medium was hauled into court for deceiving Marsh and swindling him out of house and home. Many testified against Diss Debar, including her own brother, but the most convincing participant was professional Carl Hertz, who was called in to disprove her trickery. With ease, he replicated each of Diss Debar’s tricks, and performed some that not even she could do. Satisfied that the woman was a fraud, the state incarcerated her for six months at Blackwell’s Island (now Roosevelt Island).

Despite all this, Marsh continued to believe in spiritualism. Unfortunately for Diss Debar, he seemed like the only one—she attempted to resurrect her career, but was unsuccessful, later being hauled back into court for charges of debt a year after her release. She traveled between London and America for years, going in and out of prison, before finally disappearing for good in 1909.

As Houdini put it harshly:

“Ann O’Delia Diss Debar’s reputation was such that she will go down in history as one of the great criminals. She was no credit to Spiritualism; she was no credit to any people, she was no credit to any country—she was one of these moral misfits which every once in awhile seem to find their way into the world. Better for had she died at birth than to have lived and spread the evil she did.”

5. MINA CRANDON

Mina Crandon in 1924
Malcolm Bird, Wikimedia Commons // Public Domain

In the 1920s, Mina Crandon (also known as Margery, or the Blonde Witch of Lime Street) was one of the most well-known and controversial mediums of her time. Born in Canada to a farmer, Margery moved to Boston and took up a number of careers, working as a secretary, an actress, and an ambulance driver. After divorcing her first husband, she married Dr. Le Roi Goddard Crandon, a surgeon who studied at Harvard. It was the doctor who introduced her to spiritualism and eventually led her down the path to becoming a medium.

Margery was a friendly, pretty woman, but the ghost of her brother Walter was much less charming. The medium would conjure his spirit, who would then rap out messages, tip over tables, and yell at the participants. Often ectoplasm would ooze from her ears, nose, mouth, and dress. The mysterious substance sometimes took the form of a hand and supposedly rang bells or touched the participants. Her performance was so convincing that it attracted the Boston elite and even Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. As her popularity soared, her prayers were even read by the U.S. Army.

In 1923, Harry Houdini joined a panel of scientists formed by The Scientific American to find a true medium. The prize for convincing them was $5000. The panel was quite convinced with Margery and was gearing up to give her the money for her legitimacy. Houdini wanted to take a look at the medium for himself, and in 1924, headed to Boston.

When the séance began, Houdini sat next to Margery with their hands joined and feet and legs touching. Earlier that day, the skeptic had worn a bandage around his knee all day, making it extremely sensitive to the touch. The heightened sensitivity helped him feel Margery move as she used her feet to grab various props during the act. After figuring out the scheme, Houdini was convinced of the fraud and wanted to go public. Despite his confidence, the rest of the panel remained uncertain, putting off the decision. By October, The Scientific American published an article explaining the panel was hopelessly divided. The hesitation angered both Houdini and Margery’s spirit. “Houdini, you goddamned son of a bitch,” Walter screamed. "Get the hell out of here and never come back. If you don't, I will."

By November, Houdini circulated a pamphlet called Houdini Exposes the Tricks Used by the Boston Medium "Margery." He then put on performances recreating Margery’s tricks for the amusement of skeptics. Humiliated and without prize money, Margery made a prediction in 1926. “Houdini will be gone by Halloween,” Walter declared. Coincidentally, Houdini did die that October 31 from peritonitis.

Margery and her prickly ghost brother may have gotten the last laugh, but by 1941, her reputation was in ruins from Houdini’s mockery. Still, she never confessed to her trickery, even on her deathbed.

Additional sources: Houdini, Harry. A Magician Among the Spirits. New York: Arno, 1972.

This story originally ran in 2015.

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