Image provided by: University of Oregon Libraries; Eugene, OR
About The Sunday Oregonian. (Portland, Ore.) 1881-current | View Entire Issue (Nov. 9, 1913)
THT3 SUNDAY OREGONIAX, PORTLAND, NOVEMBER 9, 1913. jfa Ever Met ' j" r9 Mill IP .-... - 'ill II EUI II I'UBV f .4.;4j- ,Jnicl You Have One. The Bi Cities; Are FulLaf EXipliocttcs. AZZ Our Noted Men Have Doubles and in Many Instances It Is Hard to Tell Them Apart Compare the Photographs Below r BY MARA VENTS THOMPSON. Mrs. Thompson Is the author of "The TVoman'i Law," a, serial In The American Mairnslne, based on double identity, in which a monther, to save her child, substitutes an Innocent man for a murderer. She has been Interested In the subjeot (or years. First, she found her own double, Annie Walsh, whose astonishing re semblance to herself Is revealed by two photographs reproduced . below. Then she beeame interested In the comments of a Judge who said that a criminal ie foolish to quake be fore a published description of him self, because any desorlptlon would fit at least two men In each block. This judge went on to say that he could find his double In half an hour In any crowded thoroughfare his double so far as height, weight, shape of head and color of eyes and hair can bo conveyed by description. Later, she found many police prose cutors who told her that Identifica tion by finger prints and other scien tific means is developing simply be cause the old method of depending on descriptions for Identification is a failure. TO come suddenly upon yourself re flected In a mirror that Is, to think It's yourself, and to dis cover It's another person you see! How do you think you'd feel looking into the eyes of your double across a department-store aisle under such cir cumstances? I certainly felt queer. My double started and drew back Invol untarily, and so did I. I blurted out: "I thought you were my reflection. Did you think the same about me?" "Yes," she whispered in an awed tone. "It's uncanny. Isn't it?" Then solemnly we went tog-ether to one of the long; mirrors in the store and looked at ourselves and each other Bide by side. Both were dressed In white and wore a big Panama hat Our faces, flg-ures, apparel were so similar that each could only stare in silence at this other woman whose outward Identity was so like her own. My dou ble suggested that we have our pic tures taken. So we went to a photog rapher across the street. He wanted us to pose together. "Twins always do," was his argument. We believed that our respective pic tures would not look alike. Minus coloring and expression, the difference would be more apparent, we said. But lo! our pictured features were dupli cates also. Which is the picture of myself and which Is my double? You don't know. Well, you needn't look embarrassed. My own mother doesn't know. My double is Annie Walsh and I met her In the Jordon-Marsh store in Boston in 1909. At the time I jotted down the follow ing points of likeness between Annie Walsh and myself: Eyes, nose, mouth. chin, lines of expression, squint In eyes when laughing, contour of face, height. general appearance and manner. I will leave it to any reader whether our pho tographs, herewith reproduced, would not deceive anyone, even a husband or mother. Of course, in the flesh one could not deceive the other's relatives long, but outsiders could be deceived Indefinitely. e This set me to thinking, and, being a writer of fiction, it was not long until I had imagined the situation which I have worked out in "The Woman's Law." But before I started to write I thought that I would see whether I could find other cases of double Identity. I knew that I had double. Did anyone else have? Did anyone else? I laugh now when , I think of my query.- Chief Inspector McGarr, of the Bos ton police, says: "If you don't know how common a man with one arm is, begin to look for him and you'll pretty soon una out. -v Now, you either paw the lata Mayor Gaynor, of New York, or hare seen, pic tures of him. Christy Mathewson, the great "Matty," knew Gaynor well. So when he saw him at the railway sta tion in Richmond, Va., a few years ago. be shouted to a fellow ball player in the car, "Oh, Jags, look! there's Gay nor" "How d'y'do. Mayor?" The Giants crowded to the window and 'gave the Mayor & round of applause. Only it was not Mayor Gaynor. It was Dr. Thomas Wilson, educator, and treasurer of the New York State Training School for Girls, who received this ovation from the Giants. Dr. Wilson bowed and smiled. It would have been useless for him to say he was not Mayor Gaynor. He had tried this before. He. has a Summer residence at Oak Island Beach, and on every trip to and from. Long Island he was ac costed with "How d'y'do. Mayor?" from someone. Shortly after Mayor Gaynor recovered from his illness attendant upon the shooting, a conductor of the Brooklyn trolley stopped beside Dr. Wilson and said in a worried voice, "Why, Mayor, you Juet went down with me. and here you are back again." Dr. Wilson merely smiled. But when the car reached Eighth avenue and Flatbush, where the Mayor lived, and he didn't get off, the conductor, now very anxious, came In and said, "Here's your street. Mayor." "I have business further up," replied Dr. Wilson, truthfully. This resemblance between the late Mayor and Dr.' Wilson was not a tem porary one. For 15 years the doctor was taken repeatedly for Gaynor. The first time occurred 15 years ago at the Hotel Brooklyn. A lawyer came to Dr. Wilson and said, "Excuse me. Judge, but I would like to speak to you about that reference case in Harlem,'' and pro ceeded forthwith. Dr. Wilson's explana tion of who he was only partly con vinced him. Well, if you say you're not Judge Gaynor, I'll have to take your word for It. But Lord! I know you. I've tried cases before you. I'd swear it's Judge Gaynor" here before me." Mark the words "I'd swear." Miss Jessie Wilson, daughter of the President, has a double In Miss Grace Brown, a Washington girL Miss Brown went in one of the large department stores recently and was amazed when the floorwalker offered to put a special clerk at her dlsposaL The floorwalker had never seen Miss Wilson, but he thought be recognized her from her pic tures. Miss Brown has had a number of such experiences. During the centenary of the Louis iana Purchase at St. Louis in 1904, John Spargo, of the Boston Herald, and Mayor Haynes, of Minneapolis, together with friends, occupied a box' at the theater. Soon this box was the center of attention. Opera glasses from all parts of the house were leveled upon it, -A note from a St. Louis newspaper friend called Mr. Spargo out. Get roe next to Morgan quick," said he. y "Morgan?" queried Spargo. . "No raggln' now," said his friend. "I know Pierpont Morgan when I see him. The reporters of all the papers are outside wait in' to jump htm as he comes out-" Then John Spargo knew who it was that Mayor Haynes looked like. He had been trying for three years, to place the resemblance. He didn't know Morgan personally, but he knew him through his photographs. And this was how nine-tenths of the crowd that lined the sidewalk to get a glimpse of "Pierpont Morgan" knew him. The re porters who had faced Morgan per sonally and the man in the street who had looked at his picture in tbe papers both believed Mayor Haynes to be the Wall street king. Another newspaper man comes in on doubles. In a different way. A. H. C Mitchell, sporting editor of the Boston American and author of "The Triple Tie," has a double in E. C. Smith, a plumber in Medway, Mass. Smith, waiting at the station one day, rai amuck of a crowd of Boston newspaper men alighting for an outing. He was greeted with "Mitchell," "If there isn't Mitchell!" and slapped on the back and hustled along with the newspaper crowd, much to his dismay. He missed his train, but he got a good lunch. And now, when he walks the streets of Bos ton and hears "Hello, Mitchell," he understands it, which he didn't before. Chauncey Depew had a double In D. J. Bates, a grocer of North Scituate. A Summer resident there, a friend of Depew'v said she never qulie. sot, over wuk ps: mm m mm a -. kbs ii nt t it t itiih tuary-.'. . . : .- :-: v. x. mm ml v.: y 1 If , ; p v villi lit- K'f ' C , " A -Ufl t lv,;', A . y t A I l s II WW-4 k;,,:' 'f tint s a-ai. lLJ,. r - y A - h , " ; V , - U ' ' . ; ' IV'-.-.LsftfC ..-.'.VMr - - -. " " " ill i'7i zr- :"'t 1 Ys: 'm-' mmH:m- : "Av -ifi'l' v J MlMll" ' ' ' -J. - . '- ' r - - - - - .- I 0 the shook of seeing "Chauncey" measuring out potatoes and pickles. Supposing you were an unmarried woman, and people were constantly asking you "How is your husband?" This was the query that Miss Ida Tar bell heard daily some years ago while living in Washington. She was mis taken for Mrs. A. W. Greely, wife of the famous Arctic explorer. It was not enough, for Miss TarbeU to be posted. on the latest schedule in the tariff and other National matters of which she Is master, she must also know the state of General Greely's health. It was easier to respond "The General is well, thank you," than to explain to intimate acquaintances of the Greelys that she was not Mrs. Greely, but Miss TarbelL Judge Hughes, of the Supreme Court, has his double in 'Mr. Claude M. Hart, manager of tbe Hotel Touraine In Bos ton, and Colonel Roosevelt bag bis Ja Judge Keyes, of Concord, Mass. Mr. Key ea has a fund of-amusement out of his resemblance to his famous proto type. A politician and ardent Progress ive, he is in evidence at the Progressive rallies, and is always mistaken for the Colonel. While Roosevelt la being cheered by one part of a crowd, Keyes, mistaken for Roosevelt. is lustily greeted by another part. Mothers stop him with a proud "I have six children. Colonel," or a supplicating "Kissa de baby, please, Mr. President," , When first introduced to the Colonel, Keyes flashed a Rooseveltian grin at him and said, "Dee-lighted." Roosevelt gave a twin grin and said, "Bully! that's bully." A New York professional man writes ma as follows: "A year or two ago I started for the theater in the subway with my wife and two other women. We had no sooner sat down than a man opposite with three or four women in his charge looked at me and began to laugh. I aaw the resemblance between him and me and so did the women in his charge and In my charge. We were both dressed in evening clothes and looked absolutely alike. ' It was so apparent and such a joke, that we got up and gravely shook bands and lifted, our hats to each other much to the amuse ment Qf the whole car full of folks." And-i-but why go on? You have your double somewhere. Not exactly. No. For here is the pecu liar thing. Not even twins of one birth look exactly ahe. There is always a little difference between them. One nose is always more con-, vex or concave than tbe other or the ear lobe Is a little longer. But who ever notices an ear, unless it Is a de formity. Can' you tell what shape your wife's is? Right now, offhand? Well, think a little. You can't even now. Of course not. No one ever can. Yet it Is the ear, more than any other feature, says Chief McGarr, that tbe, trained criminologist looks at, Th.9 eyes, the nose, the mouth, these may be the same In two men. But It Is not so with the ear. The ear is dis tinctive. Individual. identifying as a thumb mark. The untrained eye sees the' ensem ble, it gets impressions, It is indiffer ent to detail. Temples of Africa From Africa there always comes something new, was a popular saying In Rome 2000 years ago, which is equally apt today. The Dark Conti nent has been traversed in so many directions during the last 50 years, has been visited by so many exploring expeditions that people were tempted to believe that all its mysteries had long been exhausted. Yet barely a decade has elapsed since the discovery of the giraffe and of the zebra, the existence of which had until that time been wholly unknown to the zoologists of the civilized world. Nature may have other revelations of the same character still in store for us in the remote regions of Central Africa. Only within the last quarter of a century has it been ascertained that the pigmy tribes of the darkest re ceases of the Congo Valley forests, vaguely referred to by Herodotus 400 years prior to the Christian era, are not mere myths. Stories of purely na tive origin Insist that there are in the mountain fastnesses of equatorial Af rica races of white-skinned, blonde hair, blue-eyed men and women en tirely cut off since time immemorial from any contact with the outer world stories used as themes for romance bv Sir Rider Haggard and other nov elists. Ajid now comes Major C. per clval, an officer of the British Army, who in a most Interesting article in the Geographical Journal for Septem ber discusses, on the strength of the experience which he acquired while recently employed by the Governor General of the Soudan, the native stories, according to which there are In the Mungalyat hills of the Behr-el-Ghazal and also in the French spheres of Central Africa entire systems of temples hidden away in the caves of those regions that equal if they do not exceed in splendor those already dis covered in Egypt. There is no record of these caves having ever been visited by any white man. They have never been explored by any European or American, yet every African traveler has heard of their existence. Gustav Nachtlgal Schweinfurth and otherg who. have penetrated in Bornu, Wadi, the furthest confines or Darfur, and Bahr-el-Ghaaal. refer to them as Impregnable strongholds of native rul ers, retreats to which access is kept as far as possible secret. One In par ticular, heard of both by Major Perci val, and three decades previously by the German explorer Nachtlgal, near Ndele, now within the limits of the French sphere, has been referred to by them as the headquarters of the grand master of the great militant Moslem Order of the Senussl, They were Informed that the cavern was more than a mile long, traversed by a subterranean river bordered with rushes. But they were never permitted to penetrate these mountain fast tesses or to approach even within miles thereof. Hence the civilized world is wholly dependent upon native sources for Information concerning them, and if the eaves in question are used as fortresses today by those dusky races which have been combat ting with the utmost tenacity the ad -vanoe of the white man, with Chris tianity and Western civilization in his train, there is no reason why they should not have In ancient times been likewise arranged for worship, and for the celebration of the rites of those wonderful religions of thousands ot years ago, to which the world is in debted for such noble ruins as tnese at Memphis, at Philae, at Thebes and elsewhere along the Valley of the Nile. New York Sun. Economical State of Affairs. (Washington Star.) "High cost of living worry you?" "No," replied Mr. Meekton, cheerily. "I have dyspepsia and Henrietta is on a hunger strike." Have. You. Thought of It? Atchison Globe. , What a lot of old stuff a minstrel show can spring, and get away with it. 1
