Annie Taylor, the First Person to Cheat Death Over Niagara Falls

Standing on the Canadian side of Niagara Falls with several newspaper reporters idling nearby, Annie Edson Taylor started to cry. It was October 23, 1901, and the 62-year-old had been causing a stir by proclaiming that she intended to seal herself in a pickle barrel and allow the water current to carry her along the Niagara River to the 177-foot drop over the falls. It was a feat so ill-advised that local authorities threatened her manager, Frank Russell, that he could be charged with manslaughter if his client perished in the process.

Their caution was justified. No one had ever made it over Niagara Falls and lived, with one newspaper describing the act as being undertaken only "in the deliberate commission of a suicide." Taylor had her own reasons for trying, but the delay—the current had been too choppy for the boatmen charged with getting her into the water—lent credence to naysayers who believed she was either a kook or a liar. Disappointed, she began weeping.

The following day, a determined Taylor returned to the site, this time sealing herself in the barrel. For the retired schoolteacher from Michigan, going over the falls was going to be her ticket to a new, better life—assuming she was able to hang on to it.

Situated on the border between the United States and Canada, Niagara Falls is made up of three waterfalls—Horseshoe Falls, American Falls, and the Bridal Veil Falls—that converge into a massive overspill of 6 million cubic feet of water per minute. As with Everest and other great natural wonders, thrill-seekers are rarely content to admire the view. They want to see if they can endure the forces of nature.

In 1829, a man named Sam Patch built a platform that stood 85 feet above the lower Niagara River. He dove into the water and survived. Emboldened, he dove a second time from 130 feet. (A third jump, not into the Niagara but into the High Falls of the Genesee River in Rochester, New York, killed him.) In 1859, a tightrope walker named Jean Francois Gravelet-Blondin successfully inched his way across a wire spread over the Niagara gorge, a feat that ignited a series of copycat attempts.

No one, however, had made an announced attempt to start at the upper river and allow themselves to be carried by the violent current over the crest of the falls. To do so without any kind of special equipment, it seemed, would mean certain death.

None of this appeared to deter Annie Taylor. Born in 1838 in Auburn, New York, Taylor married at 18 and subsequently suffered a series of tragedies. Her son died shortly after birth; her husband was killed in the Civil War. Surviving on an inheritance from her wealthy parents, Taylor began traveling around the country, teaching school and offering dance classes in Bay City, Michigan and elsewhere. As the years went on, her income remained modest while her savings dwindled. Being "poor," she once told a reporter, was something she had not had a chance to grow accustomed to, and considering her financial woes, she "might as well be dead."

While in Bay City in 1899, she happened to overhear a tavern owner brag about having gone over the falls in a padded rubber suit. Taylor found the idea ridiculous, and the man couldn’t substantiate his claim, but it gave her an idea. What if Taylor survived such an attempt? The resulting fame would likely lead to a fortune in speaking engagements, photos, and other publicity.

Whatever fear should have accompanied her plans seemed to be trumped by her fear of poverty. She told the Detroit Free Press that she set about "carefully studying the problem for three months," enlisting the services of a boatman who knew the Niagara River well. The man advised her that she stood the best chance of surviving by being placed in the Horseshoe on the Canadian side, where the water was deepest.

The unlikely daredevil—who told the press she was 43, not 62—set about contracting the West Bay City Cooperage lumber yard to make her a barrel suited for stunt work. The roughly 5-foot-tall, 3-foot-wide oak-and-metal container weighed 160 pounds and included an interior harness to prevent Taylor from being shaken inside like a pinball. A 200-pound ballast was fitted on the bottom to help keep it upright; it would be vacuum-sealed to prevent water from seeping in, but had a valve that allowed for air—enough to keep her alive for an hour, should her rescuers have any trouble locating her.

Since the attempt would be all about publicity, Taylor hired a promoter named Frank Russell to drum up interest. Russell started by displaying the barrel in a store window with a logo on it that read "Queen of the Mist." Talking to reporters, he was coy about the identity of the person who intended to go over the falls. On October 8, he finally revealed it was an ex-schoolteacher named Annie Edson Taylor. She would make the attempt on October 23—unbeknownst to reporters, the day before her 63rd birthday. The interest was predictably high.

Two days before her scheduled voyage, Taylor found a "volunteer" to test the barrel—her aptly named cat, Niagara. The feline was sealed in the makeshift vessel and sent tumbling over the falls and 177 feet to the river below, where he was retrieved and seemed no worse for the wear.

Of course, a cat was hardly a proof of concept for the survival chances of a 60-something, full-grown woman. Soon, it would be time for Taylor to climb in.

Annie Edson Taylor in barrel with boat
Rivermen ready to row Annie Edson Taylor into the Niagara

The boatmen who eyed the choppy waters on October 23 and vetoed her first attempt returned the following day and gave their approval: They’d be willing to get into a rowboat and tow Taylor’s barrel into the middle of the Niagara River, where it would float before being picked up by the strong current near the mouth of the falls, toppling over and—hopefully—coming to rest in the lower river below.

In an effort to preserve her modesty, Taylor excused herself and put on a dress more conducive to risking her life—one that ended just under the knees instead of hanging down to her ankles. Her team helped her into the barrel, strapping her into the harness and stuffing the interior with pillows for cushioning before sealing the top shut.

With a crowd of several thousand witnesses gathered below, Taylor was towed out about a mile from the brink and left to fate. The barrel bobbed gently along the river before the force of the falls enveloped it. Accelerating, Taylor didn’t so much go over the falls as she was ejected from it, being propelled forcefully from the mouth and free-falling to the water below.

After a pause, the barrel emerged bobbing in the lower river, and handlers paddled over to it. The barrel was sealed so tight that a worker had to use a hand saw to cut the top off. Peering inside, someone exclaimed, "My God, she’s alive!" A shaken Taylor was helped out, the only visible damage a 3-inch gash on her scalp. (Having later admitted she lost consciousness for a brief time, it’s likely Taylor suffered a concussion.) The stunt made national headlines, which is precisely what Taylor anticipated.

But the expected windfall never came. Russell, who she believed would be instrumental in helping her monetize the stunt, disappeared with the barrel, a key prop in any public setting. Despite hiring private investigators to track its whereabouts, she never located it.

Relegated to selling 10-cent booklets about her experience or charging small fees for photos and appearances, Taylor had risked her life for relatively little reward. She died in 1921 at the age of 82 with so little money that her burial in Niagara, New York was funded as a result of donations.

Despite Taylor’s admonition after going over the falls that "no one ought to ever do that again," several people have tried. Between Taylor’s attempt and 1995, 15 people did so intentionally: 10 survived, an attrition rate that made her attempt all the more spectacular.

Although fortune eluded her, Taylor was right about the stunt attracting fame. She will forever be known as the first daredevil with the stomach and aptitude to have survived the drop—or the second, if you count her cat.

11 Sharp Facts About Annie Oakley

Getty
Getty

You probably know that Annie Oakley was an outstanding sharpshooter who became famous while performing in Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show. But if your knowledge of her life is limited to Annie Get Your Gun, we’ve got you covered. In honor of her birthday, here are 11 facts about Oakley, the Little Sure Shot of the Wild West.

1. SHE MADE HER FIRST SHOT AT 8 YEARS OLD.

Born on August 13, 1860 in a rural part of western Ohio, Phoebe Ann Moses grew up poor. Her father’s death in 1866 meant that she had to contribute to help her family survive, so she trapped small animals such as quail for food. At eight years old, she made her first shot when she killed a squirrel outside her house. “It was a wonderful shot, going right through the head from side to side. My mother was so frightened when she learned that I had taken down the loaded gun and shot it that I was forbidden to touch it again for eight months,” she later said.

2. SHE USED HER SHOOTING SKILLS TO PAY OFF HER MOM’S MORTGAGE.

Despite Oakley’s top-notch shooting skills, her widowed mother struggled to make ends meet. She sent Oakley to work for another family in exchange for her daughter getting an education. As a teenager, Oakley returned home (after working as a servant for an abusive family) and continued to hunt animals. She sold the meat to an Ohio grocery store, earning enough money to pay her mom’s $200 mortgage. She later wrote: "Oh, how my heart leaped with joy as I handed the money to mother and told her that I had saved enough to pay it off!"

3. SHE BEAT HER FUTURE HUSBAND IN A SHOOTING MATCH.

At 15 years old, Oakley participated in a shooting match on Thanksgiving with Frank Butler, an Irish-American professional marksman. The match, which happened in Cincinnati, was a doozy. To Butler’s surprise, the teenage girl outshot him by one clay pigeon, and he lost the $100 bet he had placed. Rather than feel embarrassed or emasculated by his loss, Butler was impressed and interested, and the two married the following year.

4. DESPITE HER PROFESSION, SHE EMPHASIZED HER FEMININITY.


Getty Images

At the end of the 19th century, shooting was a predominantly male activity, and Oakley certainly stood out. But rather than dress or behave like a man to fit in, she emphasized her femininity. She wore her own homemade costumes on stage, behaved modestly, and engaged in "proper" female activities such as embroidery in her spare time.

5. SHE WAS ONLY FIVE FEET TALL.

In addition to Oakley’s gender, her diminutive stature made her stand out in the world of sharpshooting. In 1884, the Sioux chieftain Sitting Bull befriended Oakley when the two performers were traveling across the country. Acknowledging both her height and her shooting skill, Sitting Bull nicknamed Oakley Watanya Cicillia (English translation: Little Sure Shot). The American Indian warrior liked Oakley so much that he gave her his special moccasins to "adopt" her as his daughter.

6. SHE PERFORMED FOR KINGS AND QUEENS IN EUROPE.


Wikimedia Commons, Public Domain

Although the concept of the Wild West is firmly rooted in Americana, Oakley showed off her shooting skills across Europe as part of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show. In 1887, she performed for Queen Victoria at the American Exposition in London, and the queen reportedly told Oakley that she was a "very clever little girl." In 1889, Oakley performed at the Paris Exposition and traveled to Italy and Spain. The press loved her, the king of Senegal wanted her to come help control the tiger population in his country, and Italy’s King Umberto I was a fan.

7. SHE OFFERED TO LEAD FEMALE SHOOTERS IN WORLD WAR I.

Wanting to use her shooting skills to serve her country, Oakley wrote a letter to President McKinley in 1898. She offered to provide 50 female sharpshooters (with their own arms and ammunition) to fight for the United States in the Spanish-American War, but she never got a response. Similarly, in 1917, she contacted the U.S. Secretary of War to offer her expertise to teach an army unit of women shooters to fight in World War I. She didn’t hear back, so she visited army camps, raised money for the Red Cross, and volunteered with military charities instead.

8. SHE SUED THE PRESS FOR PUBLICIZING HER (NONEXISTENT) DRUG ADDICTION.

In August 1903, two of William Randolph Hearst’s newspapers in Chicago reported that Oakley was a cocaine addict who was arrested for stealing a black man’s pants. Other newspapers ran the story, and Oakley—who was neither a drug addict nor a thief—was horrified. "The terrible piece … nearly killed me … The only thing that kept me alive was the desire to purge my character," she said.

The woman who had been arrested in Chicago was a burlesque performer whose stage name was Any Oakley. Most newspapers published retractions, but Hearst didn’t. He (unsuccessfully) hired a private investigator to uncover anything sordid about Oakley. Oakley sued 55 newspapers for libel, ultimately winning or settling 54 of them by 1910. Despite winning money from Hearst and other newspapers, costly legal expenses meant that she ultimately lost money to clear her name.

9. THANKS TO THOMAS EDISON, SHE BECAME A FILM ACTRESS.

In 1888, Oakley acted in Deadwood Dick, a financially unsuccessful play. At the Paris Exposition the next year, though, she met Buffalo Bill Cody’s friend Thomas Edison. In 1894, Oakley visited Edison in New Jersey and showed off her shooting skills for the inventor’s Kinetoscope. The resulting film, called The Little Sure Shot of the Wild West, featured Oakley shooting a rifle to break glass balls. Although she didn’t continue acting in film, she did act in The Western Girl, a play in which she portrayed a sharpshooter, in 1902 and 1903.

10. TWO SERIOUS ACCIDENTS HALTED HER CAREER.


Annie Oakley in 1922

Wikimedia Commons, Public Domain

In 1901, Oakley was injured in a train accident while traveling between North Carolina and Virginia for a performance. Although reports differ about the severity of her injuries, we do know that she took a year off from performing after the accident. Two decades later, Oakley was injured in a car accident in Florida. Her hip and ankle were fractured, and she wore a leg brace until 1926, when she passed away from pernicious anemia in Ohio at age 66. Frank Butler, her husband of 50 years, died 18 days later.

11. HER NAME BECAME AN IDIOMATIC EXPRESSION.

You know you’ve made it when your name becomes an idiom. Because of her shooting skills, the phrase "Annie Oakley" acquired a meaning of a free ticket to an event. Performing with Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show, Oakley shot holes in tiny objects, making targets out of everything from playing cards to a dime to a cigar dangling out of her husband’s mouth. Because free admission tickets for theatrical shows had holes punched in them (so they wouldn’t be sold to someone else), these tickets came to be called "Annie Oakleys."

A Brief History of Canada's Iconic Hudson’s Bay Blanket

Jessica via Flickr // CC BY-NC-ND 2.0
Jessica via Flickr // CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

The Hudson’s Bay Company blanket may appear to be a fairly plain household item, but it’s perhaps the most remarkable blanket in the world. The off-white wool patterned with slender stripes of green, red, yellow, and indigo played a vital role in how modern Canada came to be—and it's still for sale today.

The Hudson’s Bay Company is now a well-known retail group that claims to be the oldest company in North America, and it includes Saks Fifth Avenue and Lord and Taylor among its department stores. But as far back as 1670, the company, then under royal charter from England, operated as a fur trading business, pioneering the exploration and settling of Canada. In many of the farther regions, the Hudson’s Bay Company was the effective government of the vast territory, and was at one point the largest landowner in the world, controlling approximately 15 percent of North America.

And it was the striped Hudson’s Bay Company point blanket that helped pioneer the way.

According to the official company history, blankets had been taken to Hudson Bay as trade goods as far back as 1668. But it was in 1779 that the Company first commissioned the English textile mill of Thomas Empson in Oxfordshire for “30 pair[s] of 3 points to be striped with four colors (red, blue, green, yellow) according to your judgment.”

The durable and warm blanket was prized by the early fur traders, miners, and prospectors. “I have in my possession,” wrote one such explorer, “one of a pair of blankets which I purchased in your store 30 years ago this month … packed north all through the mountains and received some of the roughest usage that any fabric could possibly survive. I could not truthfully estimate how many tons of river gravel was dumped onto it and washed in our attempts to find gold.”

But more importantly, the striped blanket proved highly popular with the native inhabitants of Canada. Easier to sew than bison and seal skins, and much quicker to dry, the blankets provided superb insulation during the harsh winter months. Often the blankets were converted into winter coats, known as “capotes.” As fur trade increased, it was the striped blanket that often paved the way for the early relationships between the company adventurers and the native tribes, and it was often traded for beaver pelts.


Steelbeard1 via Wikimedia Commons // CC0 1.0

As well as the traditional stripes, the iconic blanket was also known for its “points”: a series of thin black lines located just above the lower stripes. These “points” were not, as is sometimes commonly believed, an indicator of how many pelts the blanket was worth in trade, but an easy-to-read measurement of how large the blanket was. When folded, the lines, or “points” would be displayed, easily indicating the exact size of the blanket. The term stemmed from the French empointer (to make threaded stitches on the cloth). According to the company’s specifics:

A full point measured 4 – 5.5 in.; a half point measured half that length. The standard measurements for a pair of 1 point blankets was: 2 ft. 8 in. wide by 8 ft. in length; with a weight of 3 lb. 1 oz. each. Points ranged from 1 to 6, increasing by halves depending upon the size and weight of the blanket.

As the lucrative fur trade expanded into Canada, with an increasing number of trading posts, forts, and settlements, the highly prized point blanket became a primary trading commodity. Demand was so great that production back in England was expanded to the A.W. Hainsworth Company in Yorkshire toward the end of the 18th century. Their wool was known for being well-made and had been used in everything from billiard tables to the felt on piano hammers. Still made there today, Hainsworth is so prestigious, it was worn by both Prince William and Harry at the 2011 royal wedding.

By the 19th century, the Hudson’s Bay Company had evolved into a vast mercantile retail empire, often transforming their frontier trading posts into general stores, catering to—as their official history put it—“one that shopped for pleasure and not with skins.” Today the company is one of the oldest existing in the world, and still bears the distinctive colored stripes on some versions of its logo.

Despite its iconic status, the blanket is not without controversy. Disturbing claims have accused British administrators in North America of using the Hudson’s Bay blanket to spread smallpox among the native tribes as the British Empire expanded further into Canada. General Sir Jeffrey Amherst, commander of the British forces in North America during the Seven Years War, suggested in a letter to one of his colonels that the deadly pox might be introduced to the local population, and the colonel’s reply put forward the horrific idea that it could be conveyed in blankets. But according to their official history, “Hudson’s Bay Company had nothing to do with the story of the use of smallpox as biological warfare.” Complicating matters even further, while there was an outbreak of smallpox in native communities the following spring, the disease was already present in those areas before Amherst’s letters, so it’s unknown if he actually went through with the plan or merely mentioned it.

These days, the distinctive stripes can be found on everything from iPhone cases to golf balls to beach chairs. But the blanket itself is still for sale, looking much as it did when the original orders were placed in London over 230 years ago, paving the way for the birth of modern Canada.

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