Futility Closet - 115-Gettysburg's Unknown Soldier

Episode Date: July 25, 2016

After the Battle of Gettysburg, a dead Union soldier was found near the center of town. He bore no identification, but in his hands he held a photograph of three children. In this week's episode of the Futility Closet podcast we'll follow the efforts of one Philadelphia physician to track down the lost man's family using only the image of his children. We'll also sample a 9-year-old's comedy of manners and puzzle over a letter that copies itself. Intro: The mayor of Talkeetna, Alaska, is a cat named Stubbs. According to multiple sources, the 3rd Earl of Darnley, an eccentric bachelor, suffered from the delusion that he was a teapot. Sources for our feature on Amos Humiston: Mark H. Dunkelman, Gettysburg's Unknown Soldier, 1999. Mark H. Dunkelman, "Key to a Mystery," American History 32:2 (May/June 1997), 16-20. Errol Morris, "Whose Father Was He?" (parts 1-5), New York Times, March 29-April 5, 2009. Ronald S. Coddington, "At Gettysburg, Life Imitates Art," Military Images 34:3 (Summer 2016), 54-55. "Visit Recalls Wartime Story," Gettysburg, Pa., Star and Sentinel, Oct. 28, 1914. The full text of Daisy Ashford's The Young Visiters, including J.M. Barrie's preface, is on Project Gutenberg. This week's lateral thinking puzzle was contributed by listener TJ. You can listen using the player above, download this episode directly, or subscribe on iTunes or Google Play Music or via the RSS feed at http://feedpress.me/futilitycloset. Please consider becoming a patron of Futility Closet -- on our Patreon page you can pledge any amount per episode, and all contributions are greatly appreciated. You can change or cancel your pledge at any time, and we've set up some rewards to help thank you for your support. You can also make a one-time donation on the Support Us page of the Futility Closet website. Many thanks to Doug Ross for the music in this episode. If you have any questions or comments you can reach us at [e-mail]. Thanks for listening!

Welcome to the Futility Closet podcast, forgotten stories from the pages of history. Visit us online to sample more than 9,000 quirky curiosities from a cat that's a mayor to an earl who thought he was a teapot. This is episode 115. I'm Greg Ross. And I'm Sharon Ross. After the Battle of Gettysburg, a dead Union soldier was found near the center of town. He bore no identification, but in his hands he held a photograph of three children. In today's show, we'll follow the efforts of one Philadelphia

physician to track down the lost man's family using only the image of his children. We'll also sample a nine-year-old's comedy of manners and puzzle over a letter that copies itself. And a quick programming note. We'll be off next week, so look for the next episode on August 8th. On July 5th, 1863, just after the Battle of Gettysburg, workers found a dead Union soldier near the center of town. He didn't have any identification at all.

There was no insignia to mark his unit or his rank. This was about 40 years before the era of dog tags, so he didn't have those. And he didn't have any personal items at all, including any letters or a diary by which they might have identified him. There's one exception, though. In his hands, he clutched what was called an ambrotype, which is an early type of photograph,

which was popular in the 1850s and 60s. And that showed three children who appeared to be under the age of 10. I'll put a copy of that in the show notes. They buried him in Gettysburg, but the ambrotype found its way to a man named Ben Shriver, who was a tavern keeper in Grafenburg, which is about 13 miles west of town. And he just kept it as a sort of keepsake or curiosity and showed it to curious patrons who came into the tavern. By chance that summer, a wagon broke down in the road that ran past the tavern, and four men came in. They were headed to Gettysburg to care for the wounded there, and one of them was a Philadelphia physician named John Francis Burns. Burns saw the ambrotype and convinced Shriver to give it to him, explaining that after he was done in Gettysburg, he might use it as a clue toward identifying the father of these children.

They figured that these children were probably the children of the dead soldier, and they might be able to use it as a clue to find his family, which otherwise seemed pretty hopeless. So they did this. Burns took the ambrotype back to Philadelphia where he lived, which was at the time the second largest city in the country with a population of more than half a million and was a publishing center. His plan was, this is interesting, to publish it in the paper. At the time, if this happened today, you could just publish the photograph in the paper, but at the time you couldn't, newspapers didn't admit photographic reproductions, they couldn't quite do that yet. didn't admit photographic reproductions they couldn't quite do that yet so the best he could manage was to write up a description of this photograph in words and publish that and hope

that it was recognizable enough that his wife wherever she was or his family might be able to recognize it uh and this he did he had enough foresight that before he actually approached the newspapers he had some photographs made up, some reproductions of them. His plan was that he would publish a description of the photo, and then if people wrote in, he could then enclose one of these reproductions and mail it out to whoever expressed an interest.

So they could actually see it for themselves. Also, he hoped to just sell these in general to people who were interested as he kind of publicized the story, and then he could collect the proceeds and give them to the widow or the family, whoever it was, if he was able to find them. So once that was done, he had those printed up in the form of what's called a carte de visite, which is a little paper photograph about two and a half inches by four, about the size of an index card. They could be printed at multiple copies. So he had a pile

of those printed up by multiple photographers, and then he approached the newspapers. As I said, Philadelphia was a center of publishing, so there were a lot of newspapers and other periodicals published there. The most famous description that he published appeared in the Philadelphia Inquirer on October 19, 1863. It's famous because it's, to modern ears, a bit florid or sentimental, but it's very memorable. And this is the one that was really picked up and reprinted verbatim in newspapers throughout the North. It starts like this. Whose father was he? That's the headline. After the Battle of Gettysburg, a Union soldier was found in a secluded spot on the field where, wounded, he had laid himself down to die. In his hands, tightly clasped,

was an ambrotype containing the portraits of three small children, and upon this picture, his eyes, set in death, rested. The last object upon which the dying father looked was the image of his children, and as he silently gazed upon them, his soul passed away. How touching, how solemn. What pen can describe the emotions of this patriot father as he gazed upon these children, so soon to be made orphans? Wounded and alone, the din of battle still sounding in his ears, he lies down to die. His last thoughts and prayers are for his family. He has finished his work on earth. His last battle has been fought. He has freely given his life to his country. And now, while his life's blood is

ebbing, he clasps in his hands the image of his children and, commending them to the god of the fatherless, rests his last lingering look upon them. And it goes on a bit more from there. And it goes on a bit more from there. The description that he actually published goes like this. Which it is. I never would have noticed a detail like that. brother, and sister. The eldest boy's jacket is made from the same material as his sister's dress, which it is. I never would have noticed a detail like that, but it is, and it seems to say something about maybe the circumstances of the family and is a really useful detail to help the family identify. It goes on, these are the most prominent features of the group. It is earnestly desired that all the papers in the country will draw attention to the discovery of this picture and

its attendant circumstances so that if possible the family of the dead hero may come into possession of it of what inestimable value it will be to these children proving as it does that the last thoughts of their dying father was for them and them only so as i say other picker other papers throughout the north picked this up uh and ran it uh, and there was not an immediate response, but there wouldn't have been. The whole world moved slower back in those days. So Burns just kept publicizing the photo as well as he could. Philadelphia was also a center for Presbyterian publishing, and about a week after the Inquirer's story appeared, he visited the offices of a newspaper called the American Presbyterian, and it published a simpler

account of this nameless soldier in its October 29th issue. Over the next few days, a copy of that paper made its way to Portville, New York, which is on the Allegheny River in western New York. And there it was received by a single subscriber whose identity isn't known. She was a woman, and when she was done with the paper, she passed it on to a friend of hers whose name was Philinda Humiston, who was the mother of three children ages eight, six, and four. Philinda's husband, Amos, was a soldier in the Union Army, and she had recently sent him a photograph that matched the one that was described in the American Presbyterian, and she hadn't received a letter from him since the Battle of Gettysburg. Amos, his regiment was the 154th New York Volunteer Infantry Regiment, and no list of casualties had been published for that regiment. So she didn't have any way of finding out whether he'd survived the battle, but she hadn't heard from him.

What a way to sort of find out what probably happened to your husband. Wow. When she read the description, she realized that it matched the photo that she'd sent him and knew that she was a widow, or it was very likely that she was. So she had a friend write to Burns, and he received that letter in early November, and he rushed, according to his plan, one of these carte de visites to her, and she got in the mail a picture

that matched the one she had sent to Amos. And she realized that he was the dead soldier, that her husband was dead. So she confirmed his identity, which was a fortunate thing. Burns had made no progress otherwise. One of the newspapers at the time noted that, quote, all efforts to ascertain his name or regiment have been to this time unavailing. So if they hadn't found her by this expedient, they probably never would have. And she would have never have known what exactly had happened to her husband.

I mean, she might have waited years, you know, thinking, well, he could have been captured and be in a prison or somewhere. He could be wounded and stuck somewhere. Like, she just wouldn't know. Yeah. And that situation was quite common. By the end of the war, there were 400,000 men who were just missing in action. I guess you'd have to assume eventually that he'd been killed. But it could take some years because, you know, they could have been in a prison camp somewhere.

And even after the war, it would take them a while to make their way home. Yeah, it's like the episode we did on Thelma Jean. Right. After World War I. Right. It's a terrible state of emotional suspense because even if you – you can't quite allow yourself to believe that he's dead and just go on with your life because there's some chance that he's not. Yeah. Because there's some chance that he's not.

So it was announced after she confirmed Amos' identity, it was announced that Burns, this physician in Philadelphia who was championing this cause, would travel up to Portville in New York and give her the original ambrotype and the proceeds from the sale of all these hundreds now of cards to visit that he'd been selling toward supporting this cause. And in fact, he did this. He visited her at home on January 2nd, 1864, and was accompanied at the time by a local Presbyterian minister who actually recorded the scene. He said when she received the blood-stained ambrotype, quote, her hands shook like an aspen leaf, but by a strong effort, she retained her composure. And he also gave to Philinda on that visit the profits from the sale of the picture, as he'd intended to. This brought a whole, the news that she'd been found brought a whole second wave of publicity. The first one had been just that they were seeking her, and then she'd been found. She became probably not something she wanted, but became famous around the country for being the wife of this forgotten or at least unidentified soldier. forgotten or at least unidentified soldier uh so but she they made she actually recovered less money than than people generally expect because they were selling lots of these carts to visit and a lot of sheet music too there were sentimental songs written about this whole story but relatively little of that money made its way to her she was working as a seamstress trying to hold together this family now with with no father and three children.

Eventually, the American Presbyterian, this newspaper whose description had reached her, suggested that an effort be made to found an asylum in Gettysburg for the orphans of soldiers there, not just hers, but anyone's. And Burns, the same physician, led an effort in establishing what became called the National Orphans Homestead Association. Individual donors and Sunday schools contributed to a fundraising drive. The association bought and renovated a brick building on Cemetery Hill in Gettysburg, and in October 1866, about 30 orphans took up residence there, and the Hummiston's came down from New York and joined them. Philinda was actually in charge of the children's wardrobe. The family, the Hummiston family, stayed there in Gettysburg only for about three years before Philinda remarried and they moved to Massachusetts.

So they just kind of moved out of the picture. The orphanage lasted for 10 years and then was closed under something of a cloud. They were accused of mismanagement and mistreatment of the children. In fact, in 1877, Burns himself was charged with embezzling, including mismanagement, waste of property, and violation of trust. embezzling, including mismanagement, waste of property, and violation of trust. Burns died in 1899 and is a bit of a, I don't know, puzzling figure. He obviously had a good heart in the beginning of this and the best intentions. In fact, he stayed in touch with the Humistons even after they'd moved out of the area and even helped Frank, one of the children, through Dartmouth. But the family remembered him equally well as a defrauder, at least in the eyes of some of the

children. In the beginning, he had used the Amber type to generate publicity to find the family remembered him equally well as a defrauder, at least in the eyes of some of the children. In the beginning, he had used the Amber type to generate publicity to find the family, and most likely he paid for the original carts to visit himself. And he stipulated that the sales of these and the sheet music should go to benefit the family if they were found. And he led the establishment of the homestead. But at some point, perhaps because he was facing financial straits himself, or possibly just through simple greed, nobody really knows, he started embezzling from the homestead. And although a lot of money was raised through the sales of these carts de visite, it's not clear how much of that he kept for himself. The Humiston family accused him of keeping at least some of the proceeds for himself that had been earmarked for the family. As a grown woman, the daughter, Alice Humiston,

was concerned about recovering the ambrotype. I said that he had gone up to New York and actually put it in the hands of Philinda, and that was witnessed by people at the time, but apparently, at least according to the Humiston family, that he asked for it back or somehow it got back into his hands, and they claim rather bitterly that they never recovered it again. She said, Alice Humiston said in 1914, quote, he refused to return it, saying that we would receive

it at his death. Even then, we did not recover it, and although my brothers have made a number of efforts since that to find the picture, they were unsuccessful in the work. There's an envelope that was passed down within the Humiston family that ostensibly contained the original picture, that was passed down within the Humiston family that ostensibly contained the original picture, but all it contains is one of these carte de visite reproductions of the original. On it is a handwritten notation by Alice, this child who was grown up at the time, that says,

The original was never handed over to the rightful owners who were cheated out of all the profits from the sale of the picture by Dr. Francis Burns, who never did a stroke of work after the pictures began to be sold, but lived in comfort all his days. He had absolutely nothing until then. So my mother was told by a lady who knew him well. My mother was young or this would not have happened.

So no one knows to this day what happened to the original. The family doesn't have it, and they've undertaken several times to find it, and it just appears to have been lost. It does seem, from what I'm able to understand, that it was handed over to the family at the time when he went up to put it into Philinda's hands. Although Alice's note seems to indicate that it wasn't, but I guess maybe there's just some confusion around that. Yeah,

I think that's the most accurate thing you can say. The newspaper articles at the time, when he was planning to go up, said that his goal was explicitly to return it to the family, but later newspaper articles say only that he explicitly to return it to the family but later newspaper articles say only that he intended to return it or promoted the promise of its return so it's not clear what actually happened there but regardless of what happened to the original ambrotype what's one of the things that's interesting to me about this whole thing is that this story took place just about at the earliest point in technological history that it possibly could have photography was just in its infancy at this point, and photographs couldn't even be printed in newspapers.

But a mother could send her husband a likeness of their children, and that likeness was good enough that she could recognize a written description of it later on. That wasn't possible much earlier in history. This just couldn't have happened. A monument to Amos Humiston was dedicated in 1993. It's located on North Stratton Street in Gettysburg, near the spot where his body was found. It's the only monument to an individual enlisted man that stands today on the battlefield at Gettysburg. We want to thank everyone who helps support our podcast.

It takes us many hours a week to put together the show, and we just wouldn't be able to keep doing it if it weren't for the donations and pledges that we get from our wonderful listeners. If you'd like to make a one-time donation to help us out, you can find a donate button in the Support Us section of the website at futilitycloset.com. And if you'd like to join our Patreon campaign and pledge a recurring donation to help keep us going, you can get access to our activity feed

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In 1890, a nine-year-old English girl named Daisy Ashford wrote a novella about upper-class English society in the late 19th century. She called it The Young Visitors or Mr. Saltina's Plan. She wrote this in an exercise book where each chapter was one long, scrawly paragraph, and then she put it in a drawer and forgot about it. In 1917, when she was 36 years old, she opened the drawer and rediscovered it and lent it to a friend who was recovering from influenza just to cheer her up. And that it did famously. Her friend loved it and it passed through many hands and wound up finally at the publishing house Chatto and Windus, who published it in 1919, almost exactly as it had been written, with a preface by J.M. Barrie, the creator of Peter Pan. And it was a big sensation. This is about 100 years ago in England at the time. It was reprinted eight times in the first year. And

its charm basically comes from the fact that it's exactly what it sounds like, a novel of manners written by a nine-year-old girl. I cannot do better than just reading from it. Here's how it begins. Mr. Saltina was an elderly man of 42 and was fond of asking people to stay with him. He had quite a young girl staying with him of 17 named Ethel Montague. Mr. Saltina had dark short hair and mustache and whiskers which were very black and twisty. He was middle-sized and he had very pale blue eyes. He had a pale brown suit but on Sundays he had a black one and he had a topper every day as he thought it more becoming. Thought is spelled T-H-O-R-G-H-T.

Ethel Montague had fair hair done on the top and blue eyes. She had a blue velvet frock which had grown rather short in the sleeves. She had a black straw hat and kid gloves. One morning, Mr. Saltina came down to breakfast and found Ethel had come down first, which was strange. Is the teammate, Ethel, he said, rubbing his hands. Yes, said Ethel, and such a queer-shaped parcel has come for you. Yes, indeed, it was a queer-shaped parcel. It was a hat box tied down very tight and a letter stuffed between the string. Well, well, said Mr. Saltina, parcels

do turn queer. I will read the letter first. And so saying, he tore open the letter, and this is what it said. My dear Alfred, I want you to come for a stop with me, so I have sent you a top hat wrapped up in tissue paper inside the box. Will you wear it staying with me because it is very uncommon? Please bring one of your young ladies, whichever is the prettiest, in the face. I remain yours truly, Bernard Clark. Bernard Clark becomes the love interest in this story. He turns out to be described as a tall man of 29, rather bent in the middle with very nice long legs, fairish hair, and blue eyes.

And over the course of the novel, he wins her heart. Here's the, I'm skipping ahead a bit, but here's the climactic love scene between the two of them. They arrived at Windsor very hot from the journey, and Bernard at once hired a boat to row his beloved up the river. Ethel could not row, but she much enjoyed seeing the tough, sunburned arms of Bernard tugging at the oars as she lay among the rich cushions of the dainty boat. She had a rather lazy nature, but Bernard did not know of this. However, he soon got dog-tired and

suggested lunch by the mossy bank. Oh yes, said Ethel, quickly opening the sparkling champagne. Don't spill any, cried Bernard as he carved carved some chicken they eat and drank deeply of the charming viands ending up with meringues and chocolates let us now bask under the spreading trees said bernard in a passionate tone oh yes let's said ethel and she opened and she opened her dainty parasol and sank down upon the long green grass she closed her eyes but she was far from asleep bernard sat beside her in profound silence gazing at her pink face and long wavy eyelashes. He puffed at his pipe for some moments while the larks gaily caroled in the blue sky. Then he edged a trifle closer to Ethel's form. Ethel, he murmured in a trembly voice. Oh, what is it, said Ethel, hastily sitting up. Words fail me, ejaculated Bernard

hoarsely. My passion for you is intense, he added fervently. It has grown day and night since I first beheld you. Oh, said Ethel in surprise, I am not prepared for this, and she leant back against the trunk of the tree. Bernard placed one arm tightly round her. When will you marry me, Ethel, he uttered. You must be my wife, it has come to that. I love you so intensely that if you say no, I shall perforce dash my body

to the brink of yon muddy river, he panted wildly. Oh, don't do that, implored Ethel, breathing rather hard. Then say you love me, he cried. Oh, Bernard, she sighed fervently. I certainly love you madly. You are to me like a heathen god, she cried, looking at his manly form and handsome flashing face. I will indeed marry you. How soon, gasped Bernard, gazing at her intensely. As soon as possible, said Ethel, gently closing her eyes. My darling, whispered Bernard, and he seized her in his arms. We will be married next week. Oh, Bernard, muttered Ethel, this is so sudden.

No, no, cried Bernard, and taking the bull by the horns, he kissed her violently on her dainty face. My bride-to-be, he murmured several times. Ethel trembled with joy as she heard the mystic words. Oh, Bernard, she said, little did I ever dream of such as this, and she suddenly fainted into his outstretched arms. And eventually everyone in the novel, customarily, they're all married at the end of it, including Bernard's friend, the Earl of Clincham. Here's how the book ends. So now that all our friends are married, I will add a few words about their families. Ethel and Bernard returned from their honeymoon with a son and hair, a nice fat

baby called Ignatius Bernard. They soon had six more children, four boys and three girls, and some of them were twins, which was very exciting. The Earl only got two rather sickly girls, called Helen and Marie, because the last one looked slightly French. Mr. Saltina had a large family of ten, five of each, but he grew very morose as the years rolled by, and his little cottage was very noisy, and his wife was a bit annoying at times, especially when he took to dreaming of Ethel and wishing he could have married her. Still, he was a pious man in his way and found relief in prayer. Bernard Clark was the happiest of our friends, as he loved Ethel to the bitter end, and so did she him, and they had a nice house, too. The Earl soon got tired of his stickly daughters, and his wife had a savage temper, so he thought he would divorce her and try again, but he gave up the idea after several attempts and decided to offer it up as a mortification.

So now, my readers, we will say farewell to the characters in this book, The End by Daisy Ashford. The whole thing is online. I'll put a link in the show notes. It's also been turned in the subsequent years into plays and films and TV productions. It's a shame that Daisy didn't write more, but as she told the Chicago Tribune in 1919, I'm afraid my literary genius, such as it was, lapsed with my school days. It's Greg's turn to try to solve a lateral thinking puzzle. I'm going to present him with an interesting sounding situation, and he has to try to figure out what's going on,

asking only yes or no questions. He's making funny faces at me. Does that mean you're ready? We'll find out. This puzzle comes from TJ, one of our fabulous patrons. A banker calls a tech support line with a problem at her branch. She describes the situation saying, I'm typing my employee's termination letter, and everything I type appears on her screen too. What happened?

Is this true? Yeah. Sounds true. Okay, I'm typing my employee's termination letter. Uh-huh. Meaning the employee's being fired? I presume so. Wow. Wow. And this

is true. And so everything she typed on her screen appeared on the employee's screen as well. Yes. So this was obviously being a problem. Okay. And the question is why? Yeah. Were they able to solve it yes they were um uh okay uh is does it matter that this is a bank could this have happened in some other it could have happened somewhere else is the time period important uh obviously keyboards are well yeah but other than that no and uh is the location? No. Okay. So it was just a bank.

Right. And she was typing it. Well, this gets quickly into, do I need to know anything particularly specific about the computer setup? I mean, operating systems or the network or something. Not operating systems or the network. The two. So she types. Basically, she's typing something on one machine. Yes.

And what she's typing appears on her screen and on the employee's screen. Yes. At the same time. Yes. Was that discovered to be a misapprehension? I mean, was there a mirror or something involved? No.

Okay, so it really was showing up on both screens. It really was. And I don't need you to know the software or anything she was using. Right. She typed something on a keyboard that appears on a screen. Yes. And, okay, do I need to know how that office is set up? Like, where physically these things are located?

With respect to each other, see what I mean? Let's just say they were probably near each other. Okay, so her employee is on another machine? Yeah. Another PC? Yeah. And are the two networked together? No.

No? No. So they might just be two, just for the purpose of the puzzle, they might be two completely separate machines that aren't connected in any way. Is that right? Right. But what she types, oh, is there some kind of voice recognition? No.

Good thought. It's always so disappointing when you think, oh, I thought of something very clever. It doesn't go anywhere. No, that's not it. Okay. Are there other people involved? No. So there might be just the two of them in the bank.

Yes. Is her employee present? I presume so. I presume that's how she found out that it was showing up on the other woman's screen. But she might not even be. She might not have even been there. And this still would have happened. Yes.

Okay. So she's typing it though. She's typing it on a keyboard. Does it matter particularly that this is a termination letter? No. Okay. So she's just typing something on one machine that shows up on another one. Right.

On the screen of another one. Yes. This is a crazy question is it somehow being typed into the other machine inadvertently somehow I don't think so if I think I understand you correctly well it's showing up on the screen of this other machine

I don't know how that would even happen but I'm just trying to figure out how that's the case if the two aren't connected yeah and it's not that the other woman's screen is connected in any way to the supervisors i'm just trying to get at how the right appearing i don't think so if i understand your question correctly um um i suppose if you sort of broaden out what you're saying

and mean it less narrowly, then possibly yes. Well, I'm just trying to get at whether this was some kind of illusion or whether they actually were connected. There actually was some connection. Let's go with that. Between the two computers? No. Not exactly.

Okay. But they're not like networked together or you know wired together like something like what i think you're thinking but okay so everything the everything the supervisor typed in this letter on her own screen showed up yes faithfully on the other one yes um and if there aren't other people involved would you say this was some kind of illusion or mistake that she was not understanding what she was seeing? No, that's not correct.

So it was really appearing on the other screen? It really was, yes. I'm running out of things to ask. If the two aren't connected and they really are, the letter is really appearing on the other screen. Well, I'm saying if you kind of broaden out about the connected, that's the closest. They're connected in some way.

There's some connection. But you're saying, so no one at all is necessarily working on the other machine. That's correct. Okay. How can two machines be connected in some broader sense? Not connected electronically. What does that mean? Well, I'm trying to get at what's causing the substance of the letter to appear on the other screen. Right.

They're not networked together. They're not, I don't know, I don't want to get too technical here. Yeah. I mean, this isn't, this doesn't require like super technical knowledge. It's the answer is mildly technical, but nothing that should be like real super technical.

Does it have to do with sound in any way? No. Um, if she had typed something else on her screen, it would show up on the other one as well. Yes. Is there any history I need to work out? I don't think so.

And this would, if she hadn't called tech support, this effect would have continued indefinitely in the future. Probably. I already asked you if there were other people involved. You said no. No other people involved. Man. other people involved you said no other people involved um man you're focusing too much on the computer the what's more important here is the keyboard is well these would have been desktops

that they would be using okay oh are they, are they wireless keyboards? Yes. Yes. Thank you. And TJ says, this situation occurred at a tech support call I took in 2010. The situation was an accidental use of two separate wireless keyboards that use the same frequency or channel. These cutting edge at the time keyboards were the pet folly of the branch manager who called and unauthorized by the bank in a bank. Yeah, apparently wireless keyboards are not a good idea in a bank. TJ adds, I just remembered is one of the weirdest calls I ever took as it took over an hour to solve and required help from my managers and the help desk above them. I'm pleased to say in the end, it was me who solved the problem though. And none of those

I had thought I needed to bring in for help. So it took TJ, a tech support guy, an hour to figure it out. So he did pretty good. And that would have been like a really weird, you know, trying to figure out what's going on. So thank you, TJ, for sending that puzzle to us. And if you have a puzzle you'd like us to try, you can send it to us at podcast at futilitycloset.com. That's it for this episode. And just a reminder, the next episode will be out in two weeks on August 8. In the meantime, if you're looking for more quirky curiosities, check out the Futility Closet books on Amazon, or visit the website at futilitycloset.com, where you can sample more than 9,000 quiddling videnda. At the website,

you can also see the show notes for the podcast and listen to previous episodes. If you like our podcast and want to help support it, either with a one-time donation or through an ongoing pledge, please see the supporters page of the website. You can also help us out by telling your friends about us or by leaving a review on iTunes or other podcast directories. If you have any questions or comments about the show, you can reach us by email at podcast at futilitycloset.com. Our music was written and performed by the incomparable Doug Ross. Thanks for listening.