RedHanded - ShortHand: Nellie Bly – The Woman Who Changed Journalism

Episode Date: February 3, 2026

From faking insanity to go undercover in an asylum, racing around the world in 72 days, and reporting from the front lines of deadly war zones, this fearless investigative reporter risked everything to expose the truth… and she did it all in a corset. The unstoppable Nellie Bly rewrote all the rules to smash her way into the boys’ club of Victorian journalism, and blazed a trail for all the ladies who followed in her footsteps – including us.--Patreon - Ad-free & Bonus EpisodesYouTube - Full-length Video EpisodesTikTok / InstagramSources and more available on redhandedpodcast.com

Hello. And welcome to Shorthand. I have a very distinct memory of coming across this lady in deepest darkest lockdown. In my old bedroom, in my house share, just around the corner from the Unic Maker. Oh, yes. And I thought she could be a red-handed episode. I was wrong. We didn't have Short-Hand back then, so she didn't have anywhere to live.

But I'm glad that we found her. Absolutely. That's what this show is for. And we love here at Red-Handed and at Short-Hand. A badass vintage lady smashing down the patriarchy and getting shit done and that's absolutely what this lady done did. Today we're stepping into the lace-up boots of Nellie Bly, the woman who barged her way into the Boys Club of Victorian journalism

and came out on top. With her own unique flavour in investigative journalism, Nellie became an international star for her daring feats of bravery and tenacity, including infiltrating an asylum, smashing records for circumnavigating the globe and becoming one of the first ever female war correspondents. And those are just a few of her greatest hits. A trailblazing reporter paving the way for female writers,

Nellie Bly changed journalism forever. And paved the way for this whole podcast and all of our other ones. Hot off the press, this is the shorthand. The woman who would become the unstoppable Nellie Bly, was born Elizabeth Jane Cochran on the 15th of May, 1864, in Cochran's Mills, Pennsylvania. And yep, that's right, the town was literally named after her dad. Michael Cochran was a self-made powerhouse,

who ran the local mill, served as a judge, and basically owned everything. He was married twice, with 15 kids in total, and Elizabeth was his 13th daughter. Now, in this Victorian version, of cheaper by the dozen, you might think it'd be tough to make your mark. But Nellie was born to stand out. Her mum, Mary Jane, decked her out in bright pink dresses, while the rest of the town's kids sported drab greys and browns.

It even inspired her childhood nickname, Pink. Did you know that two of Russell Crow's cousins were captains of the New Zealand cricket team? I was listening to him doing an interview the other day. He was like, I grew up in a very, prestigious family. And my whole life I was like, how am I going to supersede these cricketers?

I'll just become Russell Crow. I see. I didn't even know he was a Kiwi. He's not. He's Australian. Oh. Be a family in New Zealand. I see, I see.

That is quite a legacy to live up to. Just buy himself a pink dress. Well, I'm sure he almost certainly has. But life for our pink, our lady pink, our nely blight pink, wouldn't be rose-tinted for very long. When she was just six, her dad suddenly died without a will, plunging the family into financial despair and forcing them to leave Cochran's Mills. How are you going to be literally the richest man in town, a town named after you, or whatever, and not have a will? That's shocking.

Leave my bazillion children to fight it out amongst themselves. I mean, I haven't got a will. Don't have a will. The government will take it all. I mean, they're going to take it all anyway, but they might take a bit less if you have a will. While Nellie's mother remarried, her new stepdad turned out to be a violent drunk. His abuse was so bad that Mary Jane filed for divorce, which was practically unheard of in 1878. 14-year-old Nellie had to testify in court, making even the dourous judge laugh with a wry shrug that her stepfather had been, generally drunk and cross since marrying her mum.

Age 15, Nellie enrolled in the state normal school to train to become a teacher. What's the abnormal school? But when the bank of mum ran dry, Nellie was forced to drop out after just one term and moved to Pittsburgh to help Mary Jane run a boarding house. While she searched for work to help support her family, opportunities for women were scarce

and nothing like what her less educated brothers would get. And Nellie was not impressed. And as we'll come to learn, she wasn't exactly the type of girl to keep Stum when faced with injustice. One day, Nellie stumbled across an article in the Pittsburgh Dispatch called What Girls Are Good For by Erasmus Wilson, whose pen name was Quiet Observer, or QO. So what were girls good for, according to him? Well, not much. Dismissing working women as a monstrosity, Erasmus insisted that the gentler sex belonged in the kitchen and the nursery. Given her own circumstances, Nellie was fuming. She fired off a scathing letter to the dispatcher's editor, a guy called George Madden, under the name Lonely Orphan Girl. And George

was impressed. He asked her to submit another piece, which became Nellie's first official article, the girl puzzle. Published in January 1885, when she was just 20, years old, the piece covered the struggles of women trying to get on the career ladder within an unfair patriarchal society. She swiftly followed up with an article provocatively titled Mad Marriages, where she tackled the harsh inequalities women faced under the state's divorce laws. Bold, personal and raw, the article caused quite a stir in journalistic circles and cemented Nellie's reputation as a writer who wasn't afraid to ruffle some feathers. George Madden was sold, and so he brought her on board as a

staff writer at the dispatch. But first, lonely orphan girl needed a new pen name. The few female reporters of the era didn't use their real names. So Madden chose Nellie Bly, inspired by a popular song at the time, as the moniker for his newest recruit. And just like that, the most legendary persona of Victorian journalism was born. After joining the dispatch, Nellie dipped her toes into the world of investigative reporting, going undercover as a worker at a copper cable factory to expose the harsh conditions and unfair labour practices that women endured there. Nellie had finally found her calling, uncovering social injustices,

one story at a time. But her fearless reporting soon pissed off all of the wealthy factory owners who advertised in the dispatch, so she found herself shoved onto the women's pages to cover society gossip and lighter features. Not content to report on the latest hairstyle trends or who was flirting with who at fancy gala's Nelly convinced her editor to let her go to Mexico as a foreign correspondent.

Wow. She spent six months writing articles about local customs and in classic Nelly fashion these weren't your average tourist-friendly fluff pieces. She got stuck into political drama protesting the unfair imprisonment of a local journalist who had criticised the Mexican government. She was forced to flee back home when the regime got wind of her articles

where she'd slammed the dictator Porfirio Diaz as being a tyrannical Tsar. We imagine it was a pretty hefty jolt back to Earth when on her return to the dispatch offices, Nellie was expected to write about flowers and dresses again. By 1887, Nellie had had it. Leaving a fabulously petty note on her desk that read, Dear QO, I'm off for news. York, look out for me.

Have you seen that meme where it's not a meme, it's just a photo on the internet? That's a meme. That's what a meme is. Shut up, Hannah. Someone, instead of a resignation letter, they just put a cake on their boss's desk. It's just like, fuck you. I didn't see that. I didn't see that. Nice.

If somebody quit and they left me a kick, I'd be like, oh, yum. Delicious. So Nelly Bly moved to New York City in May 1887 at the age of 23. young, hungry and ready to sink her teeth into the big apple. It wasn't going to be easy, though. Newsrooms didn't really welcome women at the time, and Nellie found the door quite literally slammed in her face at every turn. But she wasn't the sort to give up.

With her trademark tenacity, Nellie managed to manoeuvre her way into the offices of the country's most successful newspaper, Joseph Pulitzer's New York World. The paper thrived on its sensational brand of yellow, journalism. Bold headline, shocking stories, scandals and exposés designed to grip New Yorkers attention. It was the perfect stage for Nellie Bly, a fearless crusader for social justice, with a flair for the dramatic. In a true baptism of fire, the world's managing editor, John A. Cockrell, issued Nellie, the mother of all investigative assignments. To write a piece

about what life was really like at New York's notorious female mental asylum on Blackwell's Island. With rumours swirling about grim conditions, the world wanted the scoop, not just what a reporter might see on a sanctioned visit where they'd probably cleaned up their act. No, they needed someone on the inside.

There was no detailed plan, just an instruction to use the name Nellie Brown and the vague promise that they'd find a way to pull her out after a week or so. It was a huge leap of faith for Nellie to trust the word of a man she barely knew. What if he just left her in there? I mean, yeah, it's fucking terrifying. That whole, like, assignment section that you just read gives me chills, because I know what's going to happen next.

But Nellie, never, ever backed down from a challenge. as she later wrote I said I could and I would and I did we can we will we must I'm rewatching cheer it's really

really spurring me on in these dark winter months now Nellie as you can probably guess by now didn't do things by halves if she was going to do this she was going to do it properly and that meant

going deep under cover as a real patient the first challenge convincing the authorities that she was insane, insane enough to be committed to the island. Like a true method actress, Nellie stayed up all night to exhaust herself and practiced insanity in the mirror, rehearsing the wide-eyed, unblinking stare that she'd heard crazy people were known for. She hadn't actually met any seriously mentally of people, so she was basically just

winging it. I mean, back then, didn't take much for them to chuck you in there. The next day, she checked into a working women's boarding house, where she acted terrified of everyone and pretended not to know where she'd come from. Within hours, everyone, except one kind woman who looked after her, was convinced that Nellie Bly was indeed a Grade A certified nutter, who would, quote, murder us all before morning. Now, when you read her account, it's funny because Nellie doesn't seem to be acting that strange, just a bit spacey.

But evidently, as Hannah said, back then, that was enough to get you carted off to the Looney bin. The next day, Nellie was dragged before a judge to decide her fate. And despite Nellie's attempt at Crazy Sheek in her shabbiest clothes, Judge Duffy saw a well-spoken, fairly stylish young woman. He assumed that she must be someone's darling who'd been drugged and brought to the big bad city against her will, because women only mean something if they belong to men.

Nellie claimed her head hurt and she was from Cuba, dropping in a few spanglish words that presumably she learned Mexico and claiming that she heard voices. The mysterious case of the quote, Pretty Crazy Girl attracted media attention, with rival papers running headlines like, Who is this insane girl? In a bid to identify her. Nelly dodged the reporters crowding the court,

worried that a fellow journalist might recognize her and blow her cover, but ultimately, she pulled it off. After being sent for evaluation at Bellevue Hospital, the lead psychiatrist declared her positively demented, and a hopeless case before committing her to Blackwell's Island. With just a wide-eyed gaze and a dubious Cuban accent, Nellie Bly had achieved her goal. She was off to the asylum.

Nellie's account of her experiences on Blackwell's Island was later published in a series of articles for the New York world, and it painted a more shocking picture than anyone could have imagined. The first major revelation Nellie uncovered was that for most women admitted to the island, it was a one-way ticket with no hope of return. Though she decided to behave like her ordinary self once inside, Nellie was stunned to find that the sane as she behaved,

the more the staff seemed to believe she was crazy. She met multiple other women, who she felt were just as sane as her, many of whom were foreigners who'd just been chucked in the asylum without even being allowed to explain themselves in their native language. A disgusted Nellie rallied against the unjust practice, claiming that even murderers had more chances to prove their innocence in court than these women who were effectively sentenced to death in an asylum hat.

With her famous editorial flair, Nellie slammed the place as a human rat trap. Nellie described freezing baths that felt like trowning. Rotten food, flea-infested rags of clothing and the abject neglect of patients who were ill and suffering. Lock doors, manual gates and apathetic stars. meant that if a fire broke out, Nellie was certain that all the patients would be left to roast to death. Whenever Nellie tried to ask for better care, the attendants snarled that it was a charitable institution on limited funds, so she, quote, couldn't expect even kindness.

This was most evident in the relentless cruelty she witnessed from staff. Nellie painted a lurid portrait of evil nurses that would make Nurse Ratchet look like an angel. regularly tormenting, beating and neglecting patients as if for sport. Nelly reckoned that if you weren't already insane when you got to Blackwell's Island, you almost certainly would be after a few months of living in that hellhole. Reflecting on how the asylum's inhabitants were forced to sit on hard benches all day, without any entertainment, Nelly asked her readers, what, accepting torture, would produce insanity quicker than this treatment?

But unlike the other unfortunate souls on the island, Nellie's stay at least had an expiry date. After ten grim days, the New York world sent a lawyer to pull her out of there. And not even a week later, the first installment of Nellie's two-part column series were splashed all over the paper's Sunday feature page. She'd written it all up from memory in just a few days, having had her notebook and pencil confiscated on the island.

This woman was a journalist. machine. Sensationly titled Behind Asylum Bars, the illustrated report described Nellie's remarkable feat of infiltrating Blackwell's Island and exposing its secrets from the inside. The piece went Victorian viral, with New York readers gripped by this plucky girl reporter's daring antics and shocked by her lurid revelations about the asylum. Annelly's expose didn't just reveal the brutal conditions on Blackwell's Island. made people question everything about how the mental health care system worked. If Nellie had managed to hoodwink multiple experts into believing she was insane,

how many other perfectly sane women might also be locked up against their will? So the story's impact went far beyond the papers. It actually triggered reform. Nellie was summoned to testify before a grand jury investigating the asylum. She also returned to the island for a visit, where she was suspicious to see significant changes had been made in a place. in attempt to cover their tracks. Still, the jury believed Nellie's story,

and the subsequent report led to a budget boost of almost a million dollars, that's over $30 million in today's money, for the city's public charities and corrections department. Biographer Brooke Kroger notes that while New York City lawmakers had technically already been planning to improve the dire conditions at Blackwell's Island, Nellie still deserves bragging rights, since her expose made it impossible to sweep any of it under the wrong. rug. But perhaps the biggest impact was on journalism itself, especially for women. The asylum story

catapulted Nellie to instant fame, making her an overnight celebrity. At a time when having a byline was rare for any journalist, Nellie's pen name appeared in bold at the top of every single article she ever wrote from then on. The intrepid Nellie Bly became a character in her own right, capturing the imagination of New York citizens with her daring and gutsy adventures. More than that, Nellie blazed a trail for a whole new type of reporter, the Stunt Girl.

Stunt Journalism is when a writer throws themselves into a risky and sensational situation to get the scoop. It's not exactly a new concept, but Nellie was the first woman to do it. And while some critics sneered at Stunt Girl reporting as a cheap gimmick, Brooke Kroger notes that Nellie Bly created a template for a new wave of women to prove that they have the chops for a career in mainstream journalism.

Basically, Nelly Bly changed the whole fucking game. But Nellie Bly wasn't done yet. The biggest feat of her career was still to come. In 1888, fired up by Jules Verne's hit novel around the world in 80 days, she pitched the idea of doing it for real. It took her editors a full year to stop fretting about a lady travelling alone. with minimal luggage, but eventually they gave in. So at 9.40am on the 14th of November 1889, with about two days notice,

Nelly hopped on the Augusta Victoria steamer and set off on a 24,8,898 mile dash around the globe. Wanting to beat Nellie to the scoop, the rival magazine Cosmopolitan, sent another female journalist, Elizabeth Bissland to race her, doing the route in the opposite direction. It was the ultimate Victorian lady reporter showdown. Nellie travelled largely alone, hopping between trains, boats, rickshaws, horses and the occasional grumpy donkey. She blasted through England and France, even popping in for tea with Jules Verne himself. Then onto Italy, Egypt, Salone, Singapore, Hong Kong, Japan and beyond. A lot of it was surprisingly dull.

She spent chunks of the journey grumbling about delays, sea sickness and the odd foreign custom that caught on her nerves. It sounds like it would be fun I don't think it would be No, it doesn't sound fun It's like when you are travelling If you do have like an extended period away And you're in hostels And you meet those people that's like

I've been to a Brazilian countries And you're like yeah But you've only been on the road for like a year So that means you spent like a hot two days In each country That sounds horrific Like you can't claim to have been to a country If you've just been in the airport

Yes I agree I have been to India though Sorry So that's The world published daily updates from Nellie's telegrams, and in a bid to spice things up, they even launched a guessing contest. Whoever came the closest to predicting her final time would win their own free trip to Europe.

It was a huge hit with nearly a million hopefuls submitting guesses down to the second. On the last leg of her trip, the paper laid on a private train to whisk Nellie between San Francisco and New York, where she was cheered on by crowds, brass bands and fireworks. Returning on the 25th of January 1890, she officially completed her trip in 72 days, 6 hours, 11 minutes and 14 seconds. Eight days faster than slow coach and cocktail bar named man Phileas Fogg. With her rival Elizabeth Bisland trailing her time by four days, Nellie actually held the world record for the fastest time for months.

until businessman George Francis train shaved it down to 67 days. Nellie was at the peak of her celebrity and turned her adventure into a book aptly titled Around the World in 72 days. In classic Nellie fashion, she shrugged off her achievement by claiming it was not so very much for a woman to do

who has the pluck, energy and independence which characterise many women in this day of push and get there. After her around the world victory lap, Nellie slipped back into the newsroom and carried on doing what she did best, churning out big, buzzy stories. She quickly made a name for herself as the reporter who could sit down with anyone, murderesses, anarchists, you name it. She could sit with them and find the human being beneath the scandal. In 1893, she interviewed America's most famous anarchist Emma Goldman and accused serial killer Lizzie Halliday, producing surprisingly nuanced sketches. of women that the papers usually portrayed as monsters. Nellie also threw herself into stories about corruption and workers' rights,

shining her editorial spotlight on those getting a raw deal in the so-called gilded age. In 1896, she interviewed renowned feminist Susan B. Anthony, calling her the champion of her sex and making her support for women's suffrage loud and clear. As the 20th century rolled even closer, the seemingly confirmed bachelor's, Schleret Nellie took a surprising detour from journalism and got hitched. In 1895, she married Robert Seaman, a wealthy industrialist, 42 years her senior. Upon his death in 1904, Nellie inherited his metal manufacturing companies and even patented a few inventions of her own along the way.

It's kind of boring and about steel drum designs, so we're not going to go into the details of that. But for a while, Nellie, now known as Elizabeth Cochran Seaman, was one of the most powerful female industrialists in the US. You just know she was like, writer will now. This second. Before I put this pillow over your face. But it turned out that the running of a business

wasn't quite as easy as chasing stories. Nellie tried her best to lead with social conscience, offering healthcare and recreation for her workers. But financial mismanagement and employee fraud led to the company going bust after just a few years. Thankfully, there was still a place for the irreplaceable Nelly Bligh in journalism. She took up a post at the New York Evening Journal, covering events like the 1913 Women's Suffrage Procession,

where she made the spookily accurate prediction that American women would be given the right to vote in 1920. She went on to work as one of the very first female war correspondents during World War I, fearlessly reporting from the Russian and Serbian fronts, and she was even briefly arrested after an identity mix-up where she was mistaken for a British spy. And after over 30 years on the beat as a reporter, Nellie Blyne clearly still had decades of stories stacked in her pen.

But fate stopped her in her tracks in 1922 when she died from pneumonia at just 57. Renowned journalist Arthur Brisbane wrote a glowing tribute calling her the best reporter in America. Not just the best female reporter, but the best. Full stop. Nellie was posthumously inducted into the National Women's Hall of Fame and is generally recognised as the mother of investigative journalism

so good on you Nellie we probably wouldn't be here without you good job I don't think I could make it round the world in 67 days so I really enjoy race across the world as a TV show I really do enjoy it and I think that if an we were to be invited to go on to the celebrity version of it. At some point in the future, I'm not saying I'm a fucking celebrity. I'm just saying it'd be easier to race them because they care less,

as with all of the reality shows. Because I watched the celebrity one and I watched a normal one. The normal one, you can win 100 grand. So obviously everybody is like, fucking let's go. Celebrity ones, they win the money, but they win it for charity. And I just don't feel like they care as much. No. They're sat around eating breakfast.

And I'm like, what are you doing? What are you fucking doing? Let's go. This season's actually quite good. It's got Roman Kemp and his sister as like one of them. I don't really know a lot of the other couples. But it's quite fun and I would love to go on it. But I think it would be easier to win in the celebrity one.

We wouldn't win the money, but we'd win the glory. Yeah, I'm game. So let's see. We can apply for the regular one, but I think it's very cutthroat. I'm fucking bet. 100 grand. Fuck. You know, they've been training and shit.

But I think I could do it because I think the mistake they make is like, They don't just sleep on the buses. I'm like, why are you sleeping in a hotel? Because you only get a certain amount of money and you have to work to earn more money. You're giving them all of our tips. Huh? You're giving them all of our lead-in. But I'm like, if there's one thing I learned from traveling is you save the money by getting a fucking overnight bus, you sleep on the bus.

And then when you wake up, you're in the next place. I mean, that does seem fairly obvious. I mean, some of them do it. But they also just like, bitch out a bit. And they're like, oh, let's get a hotel. I'm like, no. I think that would be the problem. I think I would be too intense.

but we would win. We wouldn't have fun, but we'd win. And it might not be great TV, we'd win. So yeah, you know, if you're listening Channel 4, BBC even. I know I slag you off all the time because you deserve it, but have us on. Anyway, that is the story of Nelly Ply.

We hope you learned something. And we'll see you next week for another shorthand. Goodbye. Goodbye.