Futility Closet - 225-The Great Stork Derby
Episode Date: November 19, 2018When Toronto attorney Charles Vance Millar died in 1926, he left behind a mischievous will that promised a fortune to the woman who gave birth to the most children in the next 10 years. In this week'...s episode of the Futility Closet podcast we'll follow the Great Stork Derby and the hope and controversy it brought to Toronto's largest families during the Great Depression. We'll also visit some Portuguese bats and puzzle over a suspicious work crew. Intro: The programming language Shakespeare produces code that reads like a stage play. In a qualification round for the 1994 Caribbean Cup, Barbados and Grenada seemed to switch sides. Sources for our feature on the Great Stork Derby: Mark M. Orkin, The Great Stork Derby, 1982. In Re Estate of Charles Millar (1937), [1938] 1 D.L.R. 65 (Supreme Court of Canada). Chris Bateman, "Historicist: The Great Stork Derby," Torontoist, Oct. 29, 2016. David Goldenberg, "How a Dead Millionaire Convinced Dozens of Women to Have as Many Babies as Possible," Five Thirty Eight, Dec. 11, 2015. Adam Bunch, "The Great Toronto Stork Derby — Why the City Went Baby Crazy During the Great Depression," Spacing Magazine, July 23, 2013. Steuart Henderson Britt, "The Significance of the Last Will and Testament," Journal of Social Psychology 8:3 (August 1937), 347-353. Peter Edwards, "1926 Will Sparked Toronto's Great 'Stork Derby,'" Toronto Star, Sept. 9, 2006. "Big Family, Big Prize," Philippine Daily Inquirer, Jan. 17, 2002. Douglas J. Johnston, "Will Power," The Beaver 81:4 (August/September 2001), 37-39. Marty Gervais, "Stork Derby of '26 Meant to Tweak Beaks of Clergy," Windsor Star, June 23, 2000. Craig Zawada, "Dumb Moments in Legal History," Saskatchewan Business 20:6 (Nov. 1, 1999), 7. Pat MacAdam, "The Mischievous Will: Toronto the Good Left Shaken by Staid Lawyer's Quirky Last Wishes," Ottawa Citizen, Aug. 2, 1999. John Picton, "Lawyer's Will Started Baby Boom," Toronto Star, Feb. 26, 1989. Kathleen Walker, "Stork Derby Strangest of Lawyer's Bequests," Ottawa Citizen, Dec. 14, 1981. Susan Schwartz, "Prim Toronto Was Site of Baby Race," Montreal Gazette, Dec. 9, 1981. "Mrs. Annie Smith," New York Times, Jan. 21, 1948. "Toronto Bequest Provides for Second 'Stork Derby,'" New York Times, March 12, 1946. "Stork Derby Victors Lonely for Children," New York Times, July 6, 1938. "Topics of the Times," New York Times, June 1, 1938. "Last of 'Stork Derby'?", Ottawa Evening Citizen, May 31, 1938. "'Stork Derby' Winners Paid," New York Times, May 30, 1938. "Stork Derby' Prize Awarded 4 Women," New York Times, March 20, 1938. "Justice 'Troubled' in Baby Derby Plea," New York Times, Feb. 27, 1938. "Four Mothers of Nine Win Shares in $500,000 Stork Derby Cash," New York Times, Feb. 13, 1938. "Has Her 12th Baby," New York Times, Jan. 6, 1938. "Stork Derby' Will Upheld on Appeal," New York Times, Dec. 23, 1937. "Toronto Baby Race Upheld on Appeal," New York Times, Feb. 24, 1937. "Lady Astor Declares Stork Derby 'Horror,'" New York Times, Nov. 29, 1936. "Stork Derby Will Upheld by Court," New York Times, Nov. 21, 1936. "'Baby Clause' Held Valid in Millar Will," Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Nov. 19, 1936. "Ruling on Stork Promised in Week," New York Times, Nov. 17, 1936. "Dr. Hayne Thinks Toronto Mothers in 'Piker' Class," [Spartanburg, S.C.] Herald-Journal, Nov. 4, 1936. "Stork Derby 'Winner' Offers to Split Prize," New York Times, Nov. 2, 1936. "Birth Derby Ends; 6 Mothers in 'Tie,'" New York Times, Nov. 1, 1936. "Reaper at Finish Line in Baby Race," [Washington, D.C.] Evening Star, Oct. 30, 1936. "'Stork Derby' Will Is Attacked by Kin," New York Times, Oct. 29, 1936. "Foul Is Claimed in Baby Derby," [Washington, D.C.] Evening Star, Oct. 27, 1936. "Stork Derby Rule Taken by Premier," New York Times, Oct. 24, 1936. "To Fight Baby Derby Fund," New York Times, Oct. 16, 1936. "Threats in 'Baby Derby,'" New York Times, Aug. 30, 1936. "Another Baby Enters $500,000 Stork Derby," New York Times, Aug. 18, 1936. "12 in Toronto Stork Race, Parents of 89, Join Party," New York Times, Aug. 1, 1936. "Mrs. Kenny Leads in Stork Derby," Nashua [N.H.] Telegraph, Feb. 6, 1936. "'Dark Horse' in 'Stork Derby' Now Believes in Birth Control," Milwaukee Journal, Nov. 29, 1935. Phillis Griffiths, "Stork Derby Field Scorns Split Prize," New York Times, Sept. 15, 1935. "$500,000 Carried by Toronto Stork," New York Times, Sept. 8, 1935. "Toronto 'Baby' Will Safe," New York Times, Sept. 7, 1935. "12 in Toronto Stork Race, Parents of 89, Join Party," New York Times, Aug. 1, 1936. "The Commonwealth: Birth Race," Time, Dec. 20, 1926. Listener mail: "I Met a Celebrity at the London Openhouse!! Lord Palmerston, The Fuzzy," Reddit London, Sept. 24, 2018. Rachel Nuwer, "Bats Act As Pest Control at Two Old Portuguese Libraries," Smithsonian.com, Sept. 19, 2013. Julie H. Case, "These Portuguese Libraries Are Infested With Bats -- and They Like It That Way," Smithsonian.com, June 7, 2018. Patricia Kowsmann, "The Bats Help Preserve Old Books But They Drive Librarians, Well, Batty," Wall Street Journal, June 17, 2018. Universidade de Coimbra Library. Christina Caron, "Zanesville Animal Massacre Included 18 Rare Bengal Tigers," ABC News, Oct. 19, 2011. Kathy Thompson, "Ohio Exotic Animal Owner Speaks Out 1st Time Since Ordeal," [Zanesville, Ohio] Times Recorder, Oct. 18, 2012. "William Walker: Diver Who Saved Winchester Cathedral Remembered," BBC News, Oct. 6, 2018. This week's lateral thinking puzzle was contributed by listeners Wil, Cassidy, and Sydney, inspired by an item on 99 Percent Invisible (warning -- this link spoils the puzzle). You can listen using the player above, download this episode directly, or subscribe on Google Podcasts, on Apple Podcasts, or via the RSS feed at https://futilitycloset.libsyn.com/rss. Please consider becoming a patron of Futility Closet -- you can choose the amount you want to pledge, 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 podcast@futilitycloset.com. Thanks for listening!
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Welcome to the Futility Closet podcast, forgotten stories from the pages of history.
Visit us online to sample more than 10,000 quirky curiosities from a Shakespearean programming
language to a reverse soccer match.
This is episode 225.
I'm Greg Ross.
And I'm Sharon Ross.
When Toronto attorney Charles Vance Miller died in 1926, he left behind a mischievous will that
promised a fortune to the woman who gave birth to the most children in the next 10 years. In today's
show, we'll follow the Great Stork Derby and the hope and controversy it brought to Toronto's largest families during
the Great Depression. We'll also visit some Portuguese bats and puzzle over a suspicious work crew.
Charles Vance Miller died on Halloween. It fell on a Sunday in 1926 and the elevator in Toronto's
Crown Life building wasn't operating, so he ran up three
flights of stairs to get to his law office. He was 73 years old, and he died at his desk of a
heart attack. It turned out that Miller had made out his own will five years earlier. In itself,
that wasn't surprising, as he was a prominent attorney, but the nature of the will was
surprising. He'd written, this will is necessarily uncommon and capricious because I have no
dependence or near relations, and no duty rests upon me to leave any property at my death, and He'd written, provisions reflected a devilish sense of humor. He left stock in a local brewery to the Protestant
ministers of Toronto. He left shares in the Kenilworth Jockey Club to every ordained minister
in Walkerville Sandwich in Windsor. He left shares in the Ontario Jockey Club to two men who opposed
horse racing and to a third man who owned a racetrack. They could claim these shares worth
$1,500 each only if they did so as a group. And he left his holiday home near
Kingston, Jamaica to three lawyers who hated each other. But the most stunning provision was Clause
9. It said that the rest of his estate was to be liquidated into cash and invested for nine years.
Then, on the 10th anniversary of his death, this fund was to be given, quote,
to the mother who has since my death given birth in Toronto to the greatest number of children as It's not clear why Miller had done this.
He himself had never married, and in fact one newspaper called him a bachelor almost to the point of being a misogynist.
Some speculated that the clause was intended to help poor families who had many children,
or that it was meant to turn the spotlight on unbridled breeding and shame the government into legalizing birth control.
Some thought it was only a joke and that a proper, serious will would soon come to light.
But none did. Whether he'd intended it as a political statement, a social experiment, or just a lark, Miller was serious.
He had set up a 10-year baby-making contest among the mothers of Toronto.
It quickly came to be called the Great Stork Derby.
None of this would necessarily have
come to much. Miller had written the will in 1921 when his estate wasn't particularly big.
When he died, his largest asset was a block of stock worth $104,000. But two things happened.
In 1929, the Great Depression started, which spread real hardship among Toronto's poorer
families. And in 1930, a tunnel opened between Windsor and Detroit, and it turned out
that Miller had owned 100,000 shares in that project. His executors sold them for $750,000.
So now there were real stakes. The Toronto mother who had the most babies by Halloween 1936 stood
to gain most of a million dollars. It wasn't immediately clear what to expect from this,
but as the deadline approached, the most eligible Toronto family started to come to light.
Florence Brown had born 26 children in 22 years, all single births.
At the contest's halfway mark in 1931, 13 of her children were still living, and six
of them had been born in the contest period.
But Brown was now 42 years old, and it seemed unlikely she'd keep having a baby every 10
months or so.
Five years younger was Grace Bagnato, a court reporter with 20 children, 11 still living,
and five eligible in the contest. By 1933, she'd overtaken Brown in the Derby with seven children
and an eighth on the way. The Dionne Quintuplets, born in Calendar, Ontario around this time,
would have given a huge boost to their parents in the contest, but Miller's Will had stipulated
that the award was open only to residents of Toronto, which was several hundred miles to the south. As the years
passed, the standings continued to shift. By 1934, the leader was Lillian Kenney, who had nailed a
horseshoe over her door and promised to lead a band to Miller's grave when she won. She had 15
living children, 11 in the race. She was still in the lead in 1935, followed by Lucy Timlake, the
wife of a Toronto
Waterworks employee, and Kathleen Nagel, who was on public relief since her husband had lost his
job as a carpenter. With a year to go, each of them had nine children in the race. As the deadline
approached, the executors published notices in city newspapers calling on mothers to file their
claims before 4.30 p.m. on October 31st. This brought out a rush of new contenders. The most
colorful was Pauline Clark, who had 10 rush of new contenders. The most colorful was Pauline
Clark, who had 10 children eligible for the contest. The trouble here was that five of them
had been born after she and her husband had separated. Did illegitimate children count?
The will didn't say. Increasingly, it was clear that the contest would end in the courts.
I don't know what Miller was expecting, but it appears that none of these women were actively
vying for the prize. Most of them would have had large families in any case.
Just behind Clark in the home stretch was Hilda Graziana with eight children in the race.
When a reporter asked her about birth control, she said,
I don't believe in it. I didn't want all these children, but they came and that's that.
Clark hadn't even realized she was a contender until some relief workers
called her attention to the contest in summer 1935, a year before the deadline.
Money certainly was important to them. Most of the women
were desperately poor and trying to support very large families during a depression. Most of the
frontrunners relied almost entirely on government relief money. But they were also just amazingly
prolific. In July 1936, three months before the finish, six of the leading couples met for the
first time at a picnic on the Rouge River east of the city. The six couples had 89 children
among them, though not all of them qualified under the will. Clark alone had 10 children. She was 24
years old. In 1935, a New York Times reporter had tried to visit Lillian Kenny at home. She wasn't
there, and the reporter found that her husband, an unemployed tire worker, couldn't give the names
and ages of the 11 children they were claiming in the contest. With the kids' help, he answered the reporter, but Mrs. Kenney later told the reporter he'd got all mixed up and gave
him a new list. As the deadline drew near, reporters roved the city, constantly updating
the standings. One of them later said, the things I remember most are the smell of many children in
bad houses, the unnatural talk about big money by tired women living on relief, and the resigned
resentment of husbands whose procreative powers had suddenly become world news. A week before the deadline, ten mothers had told the executors that
they'd claimed the estate. Each of them had born eight to twelve babies in the contest period.
At this point, the Premier of Ontario, Mitchell Hepburn, stepped in to announce that his government
would supervise the finish. He called the contest the most revolting, disgusting exhibition ever put
on in a civilized country.
He said if the government does not take some action soon, litigation will drag the case through all the courts to the Privy Council, and when it ends, there will be nothing left for these poor mothers and their babies.
He'd been hearing reports about lawyers jockeying for business and said it is the duty of the government to stop this fiasco.
The thing has become a racket, and we can't let it go unchecked.
The mothers could claim only births that had been registered under the Vital Statistics Act, and the provincial secretary said he wouldn't permit
registration now of births that had taken place years earlier. That was bad news for Lillian
Kenney, whose claim of 12 babies included twins who'd been born in 1928 and registered then as a
single birth, and records couldn't be found for two more of her children. With that setback, she
dropped into fourth place behind three women who were claiming 10 children each
and tying her with Grace Bagnato, who had nine and was still expecting a tenth at any moment.
There was still hope for her, though.
The three leaders, Lucy Timlake, Kathleen Nagel, and Pauline Clark, claimed 10 each,
but those claims weren't completely borne out by the Bureau's registration records.
The best guess now is that the winning mother would have nine qualifying babies. The Derby ended at 4.30 p.m. on October 31, 1936, ten years to the hour
since Miller's death. Six mothers claimed the prize. Four of them claimed to have born ten or
more children in the Derby period, but all except Kenny had agreed to claim nine to avoid litigation.
Behind the six leaders were at least eight contestants who might still hope that some
of the winning babies might be ruled ineligible. Two pregnant women had been praying
to deliver their ninth babies before the deadline but now had to drop out. One of the first place
finishers, Lucy Timlake, had born her own ninth baby just three months earlier. It had died a day
before the finish but still counted since the birth had been registered, and in fact most of
the other mothers attended the funeral and left offerings on the coffin. Amazingly, though the derby was often called a race, some
mothers hadn't even entered until the last minute. One of the finalists, Isabel McLean, hadn't entered
until the day before the deadline. She said, we have had many children because we wanted them.
We never dreamed a mere nine would win. The 14 mothers who had filed claims with the executors
planned to attend a hearing at which the court would finally pass on the will's validity and name the winners. And the relatives
of Charles Vance Miller would also be seeking to have the will invalidated on the grounds that it
was contrary to public policy. That means essentially that the contest was against the
public good. One of the suits said it, quote, tends to the propagation of illegal children
and promotes competition amongst the women of Toronto in sexual matters, and tends to place a premium on immorality by offering an inducement to women, whether
unmarried or not, to compete against each other in sexual indulgence and incontinence.
On these grounds, the relatives wanted to have Clause 9 stricken from the will and then
to inherit the Derby Fund themselves under Ontario's intestate succession laws.
The writ filed by the relatives said that Clause 9 and the will's other
joking provisions, quote, were designed for the purpose of making persons forego beliefs,
convictions, and standards of morality commonly held by members of the community in order to
obtain money, as it was of the opinion of the deceased that the sanctity of marriage was fiction
and that hypocrisy was rampant among men and women generally. The said Clause 9 is scandalous
and has encouraged and promoted a race of competition among women
to bear children in order to obtain money contrary to the welfare of the community.
It must be said that some observers agreed.
In 1938, the New York Times said the contest can hardly be called in the best of taste.
The Globe newspaper said it was encouraging what no decent breeder of dogs would do,
and Lady Astor, a member of Parliament visiting from England, called the contest horrible. She said, think of what good that money would have done if
it had been left to open-air nurseries. What we want today in children is quality, not quantity.
The Associated Press found that among the 76 babies born in the contest period to the eight
leaders, the mortality rate was 22.5 percent, which was three or four times greater than the
rate for Canada as a whole. Critics asked whether we should want a society that encourages babies to be born into circumstances
where they're less likely to survive. But I'm not sure that's what the contest was doing.
There's no evidence that these women were actively competing to bear children. In fact,
they said they weren't. I think what happened really is that the contest shone a spotlight
onto large families and found that they were disproportionately poor. That's unfortunate,
but the contest didn't create that fact, it just brought it to public attention.
The court also had to rule whether illegitimate children ought to be counted. Pauline Clark had
separated from her husband, put their children into foster homes, and then had five more children
by another man. She wanted to have all of them qualified as legitimate. The judge did not look
on this sympathetically. He said, I think she deliberately turned her back on her first children.
Clark's lawyer tried to argue that all the kids had been born in wedlock, but the judge ruled against her.
Clark said, it was just a gamble anyway, as far as I was concerned.
I realized all along I might not qualify.
That doesn't actually seem very fair because the will just said that they had to be born.
It didn't say that they had to be born within wedlock or to be legitimate.
Yeah, I think the legal argument,
as I remember, was that that was sort of the presumption, at least in those days.
That's what prevailed anyway. In November 1936, Justice William Middleton of the Ontario Court
of Appeals upheld the validity of the will. He acknowledged that some observers felt the contest
was an affront to the public good, but he wrote, I cannot find that reproduction of the human race
is contrary to morals. And he pointed out that Miller's relatives had waited
until all possible harm had already been done before they raised that objection. He said he
thought the Derby Clause was prompted by, quote, sympathy for the mothers of large families who
are often extremely poor, not unmingled with a grim sense of humor. As to the effect of such a
gift, the attestator's attitude seems to me rather like the throwing of a handful of coins for the pleasure of seeing the children scramble for it.
The judge expressed sympathy for the mothers who had only eight eligible children. One reporter
wrote, Mrs. Ambrose Harrison, wife of a street railway motorman, laughed as if the judge had
told a joke. She is one of the mothers with eight. Miller's relatives appealed the decision,
but the Supreme Court of Canada unanimously upheld Middleton's decision. The contest was not against public policy,
and illegitimate children did not count. In the preamble to his will, Miller himself had
called it uncommon and capricious. His relatives had called it monstrous, indecent, and subversive
to motherhood. The five judges replied, we find it impossible to affirm that a policy of encouraging
large families by pecuniary rewards to the parents or donations to the children would have a tendency injurious to the state and to the people as a whole.
The Chief Justice wrote, Mr. Miller was entitled to dispose of most of his property as he saw fit, provided he did not violate the law.
He had no near relatives, and he certainly did not intend that the present appellants, next of kin, should have any part of it.
that the present appellants, next of kin, should have any part of it.
So, when the invalid claims were removed, four mothers shared in the final prize,
Isabel McLean, Annie Smith, Kathleen Nagel, and Lucy Timlake.
Each had given birth to nine children in the 10-year period.
Each got about $125,000.
Two other mothers were given $12,250 each, despite having had 10 children each.
One of them had had two stillborn children, and the other had given birth both inside and outside wedlock. I'm happy to report that the four winning families prospered.
In 1981, author Mark Orkin told the Ottawa Citizen, they were good, solid stock. They
invested their money wisely and lived quietly after the whole affair died down. From all reports,
they had happy, normal lives. And apparently, they kept up their love of large families. In 1938,
the New York Times interviewed Lucy and Arthur Timlake when they visited the St. James Hotel in New York.
They said they were lonesome for their 14 children.
It was the first time the family had been split up.
They had sent the children to a summer cottage because their home in Toronto was still besieged by curiosity seekers.
And in a separate story, the newspaper caught up with Kathleen Nagel, who had given birth to her 12th baby, a girl, on January 5th.
She said,
Nagel, who had given birth to her 12th baby, a girl, on January 5th. She said,
I would have liked twins, but I'm pleased anyway.
We often say that Futility Closet would not still be here today if it weren't for the support of our listeners, because that really is the case. We appreciate all the different ways that many of our listeners
help the show, but the backbone of our support is our Patreon campaign, as that gives us an
ongoing source of support so that we can commit to the amount of time that the podcast takes to make.
Patreon also gives us a good way to share some extras with our show's supporters,
like outtakes, more lateral thinking puzzles,
extra discussions on some of the stories,
and updates on Sasha, our dedicated Futility Closet podcast.
You can learn more about our Patreon campaign at patreon.com slash futilitycloset,
or see the Support Us section of our website for the link.
And thanks again to everyone who is a part of Futility Closet.
I have been periodically reporting on some of the official UK governmental mousers,
most recently in episode 216. And for those who don't devote their lives to keeping track of Great Britain's moggies and need a refresher,
Larry is the official chief mouser employed, theoretically, at 10 Downing Street,
though we keep hearing reports that he is perhaps not always living up to his title.
Palmerston, who has been reported to be frequently scrapping with Larry,
holds the mouser position at the Foreign Office, with Gladstone taking the role at the Treasury.
Charles Hargrove sent us a link to a Reddit thread that started with a very excited post,
I met a celebrity at the London Open House, Lord Palmerston the Fuzzy,
with a photo of a kitty snoozing on a rather fancy chair.
I had previously noted that some in the British media seemed to be maybe subtly backing Palmerston over Larry,
and that opinion might be held by some of the public too,
as one of the comments in the thread was, I met him a few months ago too. He's adorable.
Larry, on the other hand, is a total psychopath. Apparently Gladstone has his critics also, as someone wrote with some mild edits from me for family friendliness. And Gladstone is a part
of the male anatomy. Whoever downvoted this obviously hasn't
met him, but because to meet Gladders is to be savaged by the wee beastie. I'm still nursing a
grudge and a bitten hand. Wow. Someone else wrote on the thread, this cat has a better pension scheme
than me. I feel like such a failure. In episode 216, I discussed a cat in Texas who is employed by a local library there as a pest control specialist.
Zane Kenney wrote, doubt I'm the first to alert you to this potential rabbit hole, and sent a link to a Smithsonian Magazine article titled, bats act as pest control at two old Portuguese libraries.
And Zane, you were the first and only, so thank you. I hadn't heard of this story before, though it turns out there are
a few articles that have been written about it. At the University of Coimbra's Joanina Library
and the Mafra Palace Library, both magnificent 18th century Portuguese libraries, little bats
about an inch long come out at night to eat the
insects that would otherwise be nibbling on the library's books. This isn't a completely foolproof
scheme in that the libraries have to contend with bat droppings, requiring the furniture to be
covered every night and the floors to be cleaned every morning. In the Joanina library, a colony
of about a dozen little bats lives behind the bookshelves,
and the librarians cover the original 18th century tables each evening with leather shrouds imported from Imperial Russia, as their predecessors have done since at least the 19th century.
If you visit the library on a rainy afternoon, you can often hear the bats singing or emitting
social vocalizations, and the bats can sometimes be seen by visitors on evenings when the
library holds classical music concerts. The 10 or so bats in the library at the National Palace of
Mafra are a little harder to get to see, as the library always closes before nightfall, but there
is a small glass case displaying the taxidermied remains of three former bat residents. These bats
live mostly outdoors, flying into the library each
night to feed and hibernating inside the buildings during the winter. The libraries are both well
worth visiting, bats or no bats, for their magnificent architecture and furnishings and
important collections of old and rare books. But the bats do seem to be a big draw for visitors,
particularly at the Joannina Library, somewhat to the disgust of the
staff who work there. The library's caretaker said of the visitors, it pains me. Here you have all
this beauty, this knowledge, and they are asking where the bats poop. Another library staff member
said, the questions are non-stop. Is it true they are here? Where are they? How did they get here?
It requires patience.
A Joannina tour guide said that she doesn't mention the bats until the end of the tours
to avoid spending the whole time answering questions about them.
Sometimes I think to myself, enough of the bats, she said.
They should be a detail in the midst of this splendorous temple of knowledge.
An article in the Wall Street Journal did say, though,
And the answers to
those bathroom questions? Years ago, when workers removed part of a shelf to repair it, they
discovered a pile of bat guano about one yard high. Oh my gosh. So it's not that humans introduced
the bats? They don't think so. They don't know exactly for sure when the bats showed up, but
they've been there for a very long time in both libraries. They don't know exactly for sure when the bats showed up, but they've been there for a very long
time in both libraries. They don't know for sure when they started or how they got started,
but they think it's likely that the bats did this on their own.
Just found their way in, and the humans found they were useful. That's interesting.
Yeah, well, I mean, the bats found their way in because there was bugs, apparently. So,
yeah, so they're letting them stay, I suppose, for the insect problems.
I hadn't actually realized that insects would be such a problem for old books,
but apparently they're attracted to the paper and even more to the old glues.
So from what I read, if you're a bat-free library,
you need to periodically put your treasured books
either into a temporary deep freeze
or into nitrogen-filled chambers to kill any insects that you've got.
I didn't know.
But I'm guessing those don't get as many questions from the visitors.
In a few episodes, we've talked about kangaroos and wallabies escaping from animal parks or private homes and startling locals,
most recently in episode 220.
Ferret Steinmetz sent an email about a much worse story on a this guy. He did presentations at my goddaughter's
school. I petted a kinkajou and a bear cub he brought in, and at the time I thought,
this seems a little crazy, but they wouldn't just let any old guy keep dangerous animals at hand,
would they? As it turns out, they kind of do. Anyway, I love your podcast, and this story
seemed right up your alley as something to investigate if you weren't aware already.
Keep up the good work.
And this is a rather upsetting story if you're an animal lover.
Terry Thompson, the owner of a wild animal preserve, had been recently released from prison after serving a year on federal weapons charges.
Authorities said that he had also been charged several times in the past with animal abuse and neglect.
And one Tuesday evening, while his wife was away,
Thompson set free 56 wild animals and then apparently killed himself.
During the long, tense hunt to find the freed animals,
officers used infrared devices to try to spot them in the dark and relied on 911 calls to determine where some of them might be.
An attempt to tranquilize one of them might be. An attempt to
tranquilize one of the tigers just enraged it, and they ended up having to shoot most of the animals,
which included 18 Bengal tigers, 17 lions, six black bears, two grizzly bears, three mountain
lions, two wolves, and a baboon, although a couple of the animals apparently killed each other and
one was hit by a car. A wildlife expert said that it was especially heartbreaking that so many Bengal tigers were
killed as they are on the verge of extinction, but that the officers' actions had prevented
a potential catastrophe. The whole episode was apparently rather scary and upsetting for everyone
involved, including, I'm sure, the animals themselves, but the situation was truly horrifying
for Thompson's wife, Marion, who returned home the next day from a business trip to discover her
husband and many of their beloved animals dead. She referred to the animals as the heart and soul
of my existence. Six of the animals had stayed in their cages and were taken to the Columbus Zoo,
and Marion spent the next six months fighting for their return to her.
In the end, she was able to reclaim five of them,
as Anton, a panther, had to be euthanized after being seriously injured in an accident.
Apparently, Ohio had pretty lax laws regarding exotic animal ownership,
but after this incident, the state passed several new restrictions and regulations,
so hopefully now they won't, as Ferrett said,
just let any old guy keep dangerous animals.
Yeah, that sounds like a huge number of large animals
just to be maintaining, even if everything were going fine.
Right.
And it wasn't clear that he actually was
always maintaining them very well.
But yeah, what a risk to the public.
And I guess no one knows what was in his mind
when he let them out. No, I saw different possible explanations for what he might have
been going through, but I never found anything definitive. Yeah. In episode 192, Greg told us
about William Walker, who worked underwater for five years to build a firmer foundation for the
Winchester Cathedral. Owen Nelligan and Neil
Simmons both sent an update on this story, and I'm sorry that I've gotten a bit behind on our
listener updates so that this is a little bit late now. Neil said, further to your podcast about the
Winchester Diver, this news item appeared on the BBC over the past weekend. A memorial service was
held to commemorate 100 years since his death. I attended the university in Winchester 20 years ago and have just started working here too,
but until your podcast, I had never heard of this. Such an amazing story.
And it was really nice to learn that a service was held on October 6th at the Winchester Cathedral
to honor Walker's unbelievable work in saving it.
The BBC story reported that more than 40 of Walker's descendants
were expected to attend the service, including some from the U.S. There was also an exhibition
about Walker at the cathedral through October. So really nice to hear that he's still being
remembered. Yeah, he deserves it too. That was just such a monumental undertaking. And it's
surprising that such a strikingly unusual story is largely forgotten even now.
Yeah.
So thanks so much to everyone who writes to us.
We always appreciate your updates and comments.
So do please keep sending them to podcast at futilitycloset.com.
It's Greg's turn to try to solve a lateral thinking puzzle.
I'm going to give him a strange-sounding situation,
and he has to work out what's going on, asking only yes or no questions.
This puzzle comes from Will, Cassidy, and Sidney, the stick retriever in residence.
A man is driving on the freeway and sees a work crew on the side of the road.
He calls the police. Why?
Okay, does he call the police because he thinks
he sees a crime being committed?
Yes.
Connected with the work crew.
He thinks they're not legitimately a real work crew.
Correct. And he's able to tell that by looking at them
alone.
Hmm.
I guess so.
Is there some history that I need to know?
Not history, really.
I guess it's sort of context or what he knows, but not history with these particular people.
Is there more to the scene that I need to figure out?
Other people, other vehicles, what they're doing on this side of the road?
No, I guess what they're doing is relevant.
Okay.
By work crew, I just pictured that they're like a construction crew or something?
Not exactly a construction crew. Are they working on the road like a construction crew or something? Not exactly a construction crew.
Are they working on the road, repairing it or building it?
No, no, no.
Building something else?
No, they're not building anything.
Do I need to know how many of them there are?
No, there's just a group of them, a large group of them.
Are they committing the crime as he watches them?
Yes, actually.
Are they stealing something?
Yes.
Okay. I feel like something? Yes. Okay.
I feel like I'm making progress.
You really are making progress.
That's great.
They're stealing something,
but they look like a work crew.
Yes.
But what can you steal at the side of a road?
That's the trick.
Is the location important?
Yes.
Is this in the city?
No, probably not.
So could this be out in the highway somewhere,
out in the middle of the countryside?
There's got to be something there to steal.
No, I'll give you a hint that this is in California, and that's relevant.
That's interesting.
California is relevant.
California is relevant.
So this probably wouldn't happen in North Carolina, for example.
Is this a true story?
Yes.
I guess it must be.
All right.
What do you steal out by road?
Are they stealing cars, vehicles?
No, no.
And they look like a work crew.
Do we need to know anything more about the man, his occupation or anything?
He's just a...
Well, actually, his occupation is relevant, but I think that would be very difficult for you to figure out.
He's just a motorist.
Anyone might have noticed this.
Anyone could have noticed it.
But his occupation just helped him realize it was a crime going on
because he's connected to what they were doing.
Are they digging a tunnel?
No.
Are they, how would you say that, creating some kind of,
facilitating some kind of, I don't know, passage or something?
No, no. Some way to get an entrance into some place where the valuable is kept?
No, no.
The valuable is right by the side of the road,
and they are in the act of stealing it,
only they wouldn't necessarily look like they were.
Is it a living thing?
Yes.
Is it, I want to say marijuana, some kind of illicit substance?
No.
I guess it's not illicit anymore.
But we said a living thing, a plant.
Yes, yes.
A plant that grows by the side of the road.
Yes.
And they're just harvesting it, posing as a work crew.
No, they're not harvesting it.
They're stealing it, like you said earlier.
Okay, there's a plant growing by a road in California.
Yes.
And they're taking the plant.
Yes.
Because it's valuable to them.
Yes.
Posing as a work crew.
Yes.
So the only question that remains is what the plant is.
Yes.
Is it...
I think California.
California plant.
Yes.
That would be valuable, obviously.
You're not going to be doing this with dandelions or something.
Think bigger than a plant.
A tree?
Yes.
They're stealing trees?
They're stealing palm trees, yes.
The man is a landscape architect,
and he sees a crew digging at 7 p.m. on a Friday
and correctly suspects that they are trying to steal palm trees growing by the highway. In California, a mature palm tree can sell for as much as $20,000.
Will Cassidy and Sidney said, all of the credit goes to the creators of another great podcast,
99% Invisible. They had an episode a few years ago about palm thievery and the history of how
these expensive trees became Southern California symbols that they are today.
And they sent a link that, of course, we'll have in the show notes.
I hadn't, I like knew nothing about this.
I mean, so I read up on this a little bit, you know,
and if you think about it, palm trees aren't valued for the reasons that most other trees are.
They're not very good for shade, for example.
They're not good for climbing.
Yeah.
But they became a symbol of luxury.
And that's all you need, right, Is for people to want it for whatever reason. Even the Titanic had a palm
court as they were called. It's just palm trees became really associated with luxury. So with the
demand for mature trees so high, the prices have really spiked on them. That's amazing.
So thanks to Will, Cassidy, and Sydney, who we are quite sure is a good dog.
And if you or any of your pets have a puzzle you'd like to send in for us to try,
please send it to podcast at futilitycloset.com.
Futility Closet is supported entirely by our awesome listeners.
If you'd like to contribute to our celebration of the quirky and the curious,
please check out our Patreon page at patreon.com slash futilitycloset
or see the support us section of the website at futilitycloset.com.
While you're at the site, you can also browse through Greg's collection
of over 10,000 delightful distractions.
Check out the Futility Closet store, learn about the Futility Closet books,
which would make fun holiday gifts for the intellectually curious on your list.
And see the show notes for the podcast, with links and references for the topics we've covered.
If you have any questions or comments for us, you can email us at podcast at futilitycloset.com.
All the music in our show was written and performed by Greg's amazing brother, Doug Ross.
Thanks for listening, and we'll talk to you next week.