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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (March 4, 1898)
TABOR S STAR RISING. THE EX-CROESUS IS IN LUCK ONCE MORE. t'ntll Hr I'at Ilia llnl Wife tlia Han of Fortune shone ne If far Hint Alone After Divorce fame IColn anti Dlaanler In Fverr Form* AS the touch of a lucky man's gold i hanged for the better the luck of the man who twen ty years ago was the best advertised millionaire on this continent, but who later was reduced rz- _ _ to poverty and ac tual want? Will It be only a matter of a short time when Senator H. A. W. Tabor, who once was considered the Croesus of Colorado, will he on his feet again? These are the questions every one Is asking In Denver. A quarter of a century ago everything Tabor touched turned to gold. The most visionary schemes In which be Invested brought back wealth seemingly without limit. At one time . his Income was more than $100,000 a week. Hardly a year before be had been running a small store In Leadvllle, and Mrs. Tabor's laundry work added mueh to the family Income. Yet, even at that time bis liberality was exten sive considering his limited means. No “busted” miner ever appealed for cred it in vain. The number of men who re ceived "gruli stakes” from Tabor would fill a small city directory, yet the gro ceryman never did business in a busi nesslike manner. He asked for no Written agreements, and trusted solely to the honesty of his fellow men. This trait ho has not yet outgrown, though it cost him several fortunes. When "*Tabor "grub staked” a miner be asked very little about the future, and many times the recipient of his bounty failed to remember the old man when the vein of glittering ore was struck. Hut ail were not the same. Several did divide with the storekeeper, and It was in this way that the great flond ’gateg of wealth were pried open. When the gold did begin to flow it was sim ply a deluge. The Little Pittsburg and dozens of other mines each contributed to the Immense Income. Tabor bought prospects by the dozen In seemingly barren ground, and Invariably veins of mineral were uncovered within a few ; feet. Would-be swindlers sold him ■ “salted” mines, and before a week's work bad been done on them the mln ‘ era I taken out was richer than the S|»pecimens which had been salted. So ; general did this deluge of wealth be f.. come that “Tabor's luck” was an ex pression on every one’s tongue. I Tabor was always surrounded by a horde of leeches, who laid snares for bis money at every turn. So firmly did the old fellow believe in bis luck that he encouraged bis poker playing pro y, penalties, and went up against many r “cold decks," with the result of drop ping a few thousand dollars a night. But for a time his income kept coming taster than his wildest extravagances. Then came the turning point in Ta ; hor’s career. The turn was not aud it den. The momentum*of the groat rush of gold could not be suddenly checked. It slowed down when family matters | turned and Tabor secured a divorce from bis wife, who had stood beside him In Leadvllle and through poverty. Mrs. Tabor No. 2 was a more brilliant woman In every respect, It was admit fc ted, but the Kates refused to indorse i the change. Tabor got into maelstrom of brilliant life, and It was too much i for him. Accustomed lo limited social surroundings of a tough mining camp, where his wife was probably the only respected woman, the whirl of swift so ciety was too much for the old man, and he fell. His inexhaustible supply of money taught him that with gold /v IT. I anythin* couM he bought. Everything and everybody bad a price, and he had enuuRh to pay the bill. Hia Rie«; wealth faded away In a few mouth*. The hand of hla Creator waa niellttK ®*t earthly pontahment to the mau who had put away the wile whom U> had p.otulavd before fiod to love ami eherlah until death did them teirt. Tabor waa not afraid of hard work, and ke offered to go to work with pwh and drill and earn a living He tramped over the kill* in aeareh of work and found a pivmulu* rouuiiy in in.ulder iVumr. near ih# new mimon mmo of Ward. ||« lo rated uu Ike ground and opened Up «>m mineral but had no fund* lu work il In deepnlr ke ret irvo 4 to lleavvr. I "he *h» *aa indeed .lark lo him llnlv one *l‘m-n«r of l|*ht .hone and a« l» k* grweped He wept to «.dorado dpriaga and • ailed mrnl ion. ik» nilkwur own*. u| ike In dependent* Mine Cripple < r*#fc TV tp.r had never hagor* met the nnn (Vwuw II bad keen rumored huW •trt ibnl dttnink» monar war “tnrhir;" even bod v harked at evtty OPterpr «# promote* on hi* mart Ha came a winning proposition Just as In Tabor's early days. To him the old man went. He wanted to bonow money. “Mr. Stratton,” he began, "I am Mr. Tabor. I have heard that you were generous In helping out deserving peo ple who had any prospect of getting even with the world. I have up here in Uowldpr county a claim on which I have good ore, but it will require money to work it. I have hardly enough to buy grub for myself, wife and two little ones, who arc now liv ing In a cold and cheerless cabin near the mine. Will you loan me $30,000 for a few months and take my note for this amount?” The old man’s eyes were Oiled with tears. He could not beg, yet here was a man who could help him to a sufficient income to end his days beyond the gnawings of hun ger and want. Would he grant the re quest? Millionaire Stratton sat for a few minutes lost in thought. Finally he answered: “Mr. Tabor, I have at present such drains upon my Income mat i cannot nejp you. i am sorry, but It Is Impossible." Tabor said no more. He returned to Ward and told his wife of the disap pointing result of the trip. Together they ugreed to fight fate as they had done In the past. Next morning Ta l»or went to the mine and worked hard with pick and drill, but his ef forts were too slow. It needed ma chinery and modern methods. The gold was there, but hand work was not the way to get it. Yet he worked on. Several days after his visit to Strat ton Tabor was obliged to visit Den ver. Some small matters had called Mi\a. i a nun. him from his work. Having finished these, he walked up to the Brown Ho tel and looked Into the lobby to see the faces of any of his old time friends who might be there. Hardly had he stepped Inside the door before a white haired man walked up to him. It was Stratton, who had been informed that Tabor was likely to come to the hotel that evening. In fact, it Is suspected that the Cripple Creek millionaire’s agents had something to do with Ta bor's call to Denver. Stratton ap proached Tabor with outstretched hands. "Mr. Tabor,” he began, "I am glad to see you! In fact, I wanted to talk with you about a little matter which we discussed last week. I find that I can very readily let you have the |30,000 which you asked for, and I want to say right here that I adtniro you for what you have done for the State of Colorado and the city of Den ver. I made every dollar I have !n this state and I would feel mighty small if I could not help out a man who was Individually responsible for UMK U v'l mv (,1 vuiu> i'o i ii id i will monwealth. I have here just thirty $1,000 bills. You may have them Just as long as you please. If you ever get so much money that you ran spare them without trouble you may pay them back, but until that time they are yours. I don’t want a note and I don't want any promises. I sincerely wish that they will be the means o( turning your luck and that you will become as wealthy as of old." Mr. Tabor took the money and stam mered something almut notes or trust deeds or something, but could say no thing intelligently. He Angered the bills and a new feeling pulsed through his veins. He was convinced that "Lucky Tabor" was once more umong men. The change came In a few weeks. Tabor went back to Ward and told his wife of his good luck, and they agreed to live In poverty until their mine could drug them out. The money was deposited In bank and checked out only for mining purjioses. Tabor earned his food as before, and some times It wax quite slim. Only last week lie walked the four miles over the mountains to tin- little store at Ward for some food H* nought three cans of corn and three tans of toma toes, which were wrapped up in brown I paper imi carried home. Tabor An* ! gereil the nirkrls and dimes over tier i vousty aa lie paid for the goods, and | plainly showed that hU private ttuanc ; «« were nearing the end. Yet he would I touch not one rent of the mine money. A few days later the announcement I was tu ide that Talxtr had been uom i mated by President McKinley to be { postmaster <•( Denver. Several weeks ago I•vistmaster Iordan died suddenly ■ and Mr*. Jordan was permuted to take | the oik*e fur tae tmeeplred term No hslr eaperted fur a u»' me tu that Isf iuer Senai**' Tabor * name would be j mentioned fur ike place The plum i waa cittisidcreel the prim* for which I hundred* of Influential politic au« were striving When the enmaontement so i mad** ihat labor hod been nominated there lit* few persona in I he elate who did no* fv I glad ftigemta'e In ttungnry ere compelled to enbmlt to n queer pas legmen i The man who haa been Mullah enough la mnm Its nlten ta obliged by law in lie* with both *»! them. In the am bawae ASLEEP THREE YEARS STRANGE CASE OF A BUFFALO MURDERER. °l*c*d In *n Anjrlum II* Hfraaim'U Motionl*Hn for Three Iran Avrak* th* Ollier Daj but Boon l.i«|»srd lolo 8lrrp Again. II.LIAM OIPP, of Buffalo, was prac tically dead (or more than three yCars, and when he awoke the other day from the long, dreamless sleep, which was ho near sn approach to dis solution memory ■u'lintninniT brought back t o him no suggestion of the terrible day when he murdered his mother, shot his father, and became a child, a simple child, who had lost his hat, and was crying because he could not find It, ''Willie'’ Oipp was twenty years old when something In his brain went wrong, three years ago, and when he awoke recently he believed he was on ly twenty still. As far as can he learned there Is no taint of Insanity or epilepsy In the family. Well reared by loving parents, the boy, when he was grown, obtained employment as a ear Inspec tor for the Lehigh Valley railroad. He worked hard and steadily and assisted In supporting the home which he shared with his parents. Ho far com monplace. But the boy of twenty fell In love with Miss Mary Drews, who was twenty-three. There was some talk at home about his being too young to devote serious attention to a woman, but the boy was determined to marry, and knowing his parents thought he was too young, he anticipated a row when he told them of his decision. The matter weighed upon his mind. He was firmly determined to marry, but he feared the conscuttences of announcing It to his parents, He was hut twenty. It stood thus when he went to his work on November 1, 1X91. It was cold, and at 1 o'clock on the following morning ho told his companions that he would go home and get Ills heavy overcoat. Ills mother left her bed to admit him, and when he had the coat and was go ing she followed him Into the kitchen. Intending to lock the door after him. Up to that moment he was the loving, stalwart son. Then, ns she moved into the kitchen behind him, something In bis brain worked abnormally, as when a well-ordered machine Is destroyed by a defective bolt or cog. Suddenly he turned, drawing a pistol, and without a word shot her through the head. So suddenly was It done that the woman was dead before she could scream at the horror of reading murder on her boy's face. The noise of the pistol brought the father to the kitchen. His son stood above the mother's body, pis tol In hand, silent, ready for another crime. One glance, and the elder Gipp ran straight at the pistol. The ma niac’s aim was true, and a bullet pene trated the father’s cheek, but he closed and seized the weapon. The maniac seemed capable of fear. There was a brief struggle, in which he lost the pis tol. Then he dashed through the kitchen door, scaled a fence and was gone In the darkness. The father gave the alarm and the city was searched, the police by hundreds looking for a desperate murderer. They found, after twenty-four hours, a forlorn human be ing crouching In a barn, a man In Irame, a child in intellect. Murder frenzy, fear, childishness—these had come in turn as Hie poor, wrecked brain worked on like a crippled engine. “I’ve lost my hat,” he said piteously, as they rushed upon him. “Please find It for me.” And he fell to mumbling Inco herently. The expression on his face was that of a troubled child. Later it Wild.IK Clll'P. became lee* Intelligent. The line* which made I he face »eem firmly moulded ap peared (o relax aud to give the effect of flahhlueaa, lu the face there wa* no trace of honor a> any time, only ouc of trouble aud bewilderment. ‘Wil lie" (llpp evicted lio longer. Some |U1‘II i tal demngemeat hail *latu him liefore j he killed Ilia mother, lu taw, there wa no one to expiate me crime, and be i rau*« ae are a kindly folk and do not 1 deetroy live* with It are tieeleaa, but have lumber mom* and attire room* in | which to prolong them, they moved th' helph »* creature to the *lat* hoapttal fur the ln»ane and watted for hint to I die. They who wonder a hunt the enul I way wonder about the immortal part of tilpp during th* bmg trame which wa* 1 *u llhe the *le*p *1 death In It* deatruc 1 lion ul memory and uuionat-tnuMie** j of aua round I age. h* lh« moment of i hi* apprehentton he relap*ed gutehly Into com* a* on* who »# utivvly weary and nmt r**t They lifted him into a tal aa If he had been a pattern wad*r ether, and t hence f.*» ward ywltltun towel to have left him forever It* never »p**h* lie never moved egvept when the attendant* forced him t*> and guided hla liwba »' *« perhapa half •f the urn* be lav un hie hath, hla *yee fixed upon the celling, but with vacant gaze. A child would have followed with hi* eyes the strategic marching* of file* upon that ceiling, vaguely, but consciously. Wonderful, as it appeared to the doc tor*. who expected that he would waste away and die, he neither lost nor gain ed weight. Physically he remained what he was when they carried him to his cot. In the matter of food he swal lowed what was placed In his mouth and ceased to swallow when they put in no more. That he had any feeling In the matter no one could say. Some who saw him held the theory that his sense of motion and speech was chained, but that he was aware of all that passed about him, remembered the killing of his mother, and lay there day after day, month after month, go ing over and over the terrible events, unable to do anything but think. Thl* the doctors said was not possible un der the circumstances. He did not think at all, they said, his condition be ing one of anaesthesia, due to shock. And then, three years and two months after the tragedy, "Willie” Glpp awoke. The brain for a time almost readjust e<l Itself into the perfect machine it had been before bis crime. An attend ant busy in the dormitory at five o’clock in the morning heard an unex pected noise behind him, and, turn ing suddenly, saw Olpp walking to ward hint. HI* face wore a bewildered expression. Ills bands ran through his hair and rubbed his eyes. His glance swept the room wonderlngly, as one never seen before. The attendant gazed at him In wonder and fear, ho was so like one risen from the dead. The boy’s eyes fixed themselves upon MARY DREW. tlie nurse’s face, and ho said In a low, hesitating tone, as one unused to speech: "Where am I?" The attendant made no reply, hut ran In search of Drs. Erost and Bowerman. All three returned In a minute and found Glpp walking about the room, examining its contents with Interest. The physi cians led him to his cot and seated him upon it. "Do you know where you are?” a doc tor asked. “No, hut I guess I am sick," he replied. “What is your name?” Rubbing his head as if to refresh his memory Gipp looked at the doctors for a few seconds and then replied, "Willie Glpp.” “How old are you, Willie?” "Why,” lie said, “I’m twenty.” He appeared to wonder why they should ask him those things, and yet he had difficulty in finding a reply. He is twenty-three, but his mind had taken up life some time before the tragedy when he was twenty—before the se quence of events In his life was broken by the brain lesion which made him an Insane matricide. The music of the zither died and Wil lie Gipp appeared to sleep. The physi cians issued orders that no one should disturb him or attempt to test his mem ory further lest what nature herself had done and the hope built upon the momentary lifting of the cloud he de stroyed by untimely interference. But on January 10 the doctors thought it well to admit the hoy’s anxious sister, GusHie, and she was allowed to go to his bedside. He lay on his back, star ing at the celling, in complete apathy. "Willie!” the girl said, eagerly. He looked at her, but in his eyes there was no gleam of recognition. "Don't you nuwn iur, m i i ho . ‘*«,*v**» ■ He did not know her, and the fact seemed to trouble bint. He searched her face long and sadly with question ing eyes. Then he shook his head. "1 am your sister, Gussie," she said. “I am your sister," he repeated, monoton ously, as a child repeating part of a les son beyond Its comprehension. He could talk, but memory had fled again. His father and brother came, but !»• did not know them. To the relatives tho physicians said they could not decide for a week or more whether ther* was a chance of permanent recovery. Aa medical men they have been keenly In terested In the case. I asked several 1 physicians concerning It. "’hut pu* | sled them moat Is the prolongation of the state of anaesthesia, for it was j their belief that the boy would recovtr complete consciousness or die in three or fuur months, at moat, after the Aral setaure. Hr. William C. Krauaa, an eminent alienist, who has watched ihi* case with Interest, said of It: “Glpp • as undoubtedly Insane when he hilled his mother. It was a sudden aelsure. probably brought about by worry over the interference he e speeded from hie parents In the marriage mam which ha propos'd t“ enter He passed from lb* violent elate Into anaesthesia a condt ! (lam usually due to some Injury or great sbo.lv. The shock may have been a momentary realisation of kla erlm* That would be anHlctent to throw him Into the condition In which he baa eg lust ever since I think It la q-ies • louabm whether he will ever recover i out ret of hie fatuities and he seem# to be relgpemg Into a slate of come om e mote “ A child of I henng on several ur casioi . had vaaeltne applied to some Utile ten to eg. ladmest to the toub, who was In •llama* over mm asoreh* *4 pastry; tin due amt del the <Met vaeeltae BASE BALL GOSSIP. CURRENT NEWS AND GOSSIP OF THE GAME. Another Indian Player to Make III* Debut on the National l.eague Dia mond — Protect Against Agreement C Itangee- - Current Topics. Indian Player Signed. ITCH E It Jacob Jlnicson, the pitch er of the Carlisle School team, who has Just been signed for the Phila delphia league club, Is a native and to the manlier horn of the Seneca tribe of the great Iroquois Nation of New York, and was horn near the quaint old village of Gowanda, in Cattarau gus county. His father Is Alexander Jlmeson, and his mother's maiden name was Kllza Smith, both being Spneoas. Jlmeson Is not only a good base hall player, hut an all around athlete of no mean pretensions In field or gymnasium, lie has played with success In every position in a base hall , nine, and lust season held up strongly the place of left, half-hack on the foot ball team of the Indian School. He Is 23 years old, fi feet 9 Inches In height and weighs 172 pounds. Jimeson went to the Carlisle Industrial School in 1892. At his home In New York State he wan a leader In athletics among his fellows, hut played a particularly good game of country base hall. At Car lisle his proficiency in this sport was noticed and at once gave him a place upon the second team. In 1894 he was placed upon Hie regular nine, and dur ing tlie latter part of that season was pitcher and captain of the team. In 1890 the business men of Carlisle hired a number of base ball players, from which was formed a seml-professlonai team which found a place in the Cum berland Valley League. Jimeson was signed us pitcher on the Carlisle or ganization. He played with success, and was particularly successful lu throwing a drop curve which puzzled the best batters who stood at the plate. Jimeson struck out more men than any pitcher In the League during the same period had to his credit. At Carlisle r / JACOB JIMBSON. hr? learned the trade of house painting and paperhanging, and in this craft la considered an adept, even by those who are opposed to educating the red men in the skilled trades. He is proud of his good record in the school. Jlme son is compactly built and strong. In complexion he Is light, and although his conversation Is studied and re served, it Is cheerful, und when books or athletics are mentioned his face brightens and beams with intelligence. He has none of the make-up of a blanket or Western reservation Indian. Against Agreement Change*. The minor league magnates have al ways claimed that they would rather have the players they sell than the money they receive from the sales of their stars to National League clubs. Yet they strenuously protest against the proposed amendment to the Na tional Agreement providing for the re turn of a player, who on trial is found not to be fast enough for the National League. The most logical objections to the amendment in question are that "the period not exceeding thirty play ing days" during which the player is to he kept on trial is too indefinite, ami further, no compensation accrues to the selling club. In case the player Is returned, for the period during which it was deprived of his services. The clause that in the event of the return of the player, "the amount" (of the purchase money) "deposited with the | president shall be refunded to the tna ! Jor league club," shows that the uiluor j league clubs may have to pay the ptay ' er for hia services during the proba I tinnary period. As the major league magnates showed a spirit of fairness in dealing with the . la** A dub* at l*hllad*lphta, theie is every reason for I presuming that a like course will b* ’ pursued wben itiey meet next spring at ftl Loot*, dt Louis New How Mss Ahout IsS.Mvis Toin Hums, who is to msuags t hi I rago next year, ha* unique Idea* about hall playing IHstussIng tk* Cog nor t'attahsn 4*al. h* said recently *1 j have not seen f'altakan ptay Mound tat** and do nut know tbs nature of j t'liuiiui a work hers on the Chicago { team but from what I have seen of I t on not I regard him a* an •ictihkl sevuud tan**man. a man who was quail gsd natural!* tor the position and had played It long enough to tear a ||» points Me ha* tb« advantage ov*y j Callahan I should think In being \ header on kh feet Ym i mean that i neavisr on hi* feel and In no* bmag so exceptionally fast. Yes, I moan that It rnay be a disadvantage to be too, fast. All old infielders will tell you that a man may be natura ly too fast, too flashy, to play the position well. He overruns his ball or throws It too quickly. A certain ballast Is neces sary for success in such a position as second base. Now, take 1Moffer, he is considered a fast man, and he is very fast. And yet he never dashed at a ball and missed It, because of going too quickly. Balls that it was neces sary for him to handle speedily ho handled so, but he had the i.appy fac ility, whether natural or acquired, ot timing his work well. Many very fast men are too fast at times, and uty im pression of Callahan Is that he Is such a man,” Kn.lor.fn,e,,t for the Scheme From the Cincinnati Tlmes-Slar: Minor leagues are no; doing the whole sale drafting that they were expected to do. The reason for this is found In the fact that Class A minor league clubs find that little or no desirable talent was left In the Class B, C and I) teams, after the major league raid was over. The result is that the Class A clubs must hold off on making up their teams until the major league teams ter of this wholesale drafting by tho big league the minor leagues need some protection, for how -an the Western, Eastern, Atlantic and New England leagues recruit when the big league captures all the desirable talent In tho Class B, C and It leagues? It would seem the proper thing In connection with drafting of players that a rule should he enacted allowing clubs exer cising the drafting rule to claim play ers front only the cla.-s immediately be neath them. That Is to say. that tho big league clubs could draft only from class A minor league; teams; Class A from Class B only, and so on. In this way the minor leagues would not suffer so much front the draft, as no minor, league club would lose more than two players at the end of any season, and the players would bo properly devel oped before they reached the fastest company. This scheme would also cur tail the farming practice to some ex tent. Not So Mot'll. A base ball crank wlio has a fond ness for keeping records, re alls an In cident that at the time was talked of all over the country. On Sept. 2fi, 1884, in a game between the Detrolts and another league team., Charley Bennett ntade a record that lias seldom been equaled by any catcher In the big league. He was re. eiving for George Weld man, and he put out 23 men of the opposing side in nine Innings. ... _ . ... .... ,.|HI1, All mill I tin I TO t II l J W III. .. . other three were ntj.ped at the plate. Bennett also had ihrec assets on throws to second base.—New York bun. The above statement might Include the fact that Weidman put out the oth er man. It is all true except the im plication that this feat was accom plished by the great battery in a league game. It was not, but In a country game in the Kalamazoo district, the Detroit pitcher and catcher being hired for the occasion for *20 each and theli expenses.—Ex. A Clever ritcher. Philip Corcoran, who has just been drafted by the Cincinnati Club, was tho clever young pitcher of Jack Chap man'^ Meriden team. He la a brother of the famous shortstop, Thomas W. Corcoran. Philip was born in Septem ber, 1873, at New Haven, Conn., and learned to play ball at an eaily age.^ He iirBt earned a reputation .with thoi crack Sheldon team, several years ago. In 1894 he pitched for the then noted Noyes-Strouse team, of New Haven, and did not lose a game that season, meeting all the best amateur teams of the state, and defeating one and all with apparent ease. In 1896 be was, with the Derby team, of the Nauga-i tuck League. This .'ear he has been one of Manager Chapman's winning pitchers, helping to land the genial manager’s Meriden team in first place in the Connecticut League champion ship race. Young Corcoran is a pitch er of more than ordinary ability. Hu !i " PHIL COdt'OMAN la narlaialjr • «<•».• I* n* '■ j lu« uf *(!»• • 411.1 *. a* r IJett! .'l fc*«l-uM). 1 III ft# n**U« la « ai**- t-i,.. in l*>> I* •• I ins mmui (•»gwa N) 1**4 ft ft. *1 j tofi at Ik* ik< n.») | II* ta uf Mhivll' kftlld ft* lit M it* i. U? pu-iftd* m* Itliltiiii Mft W »* Vl*b*a*,; iv || H'atkift* *( **>• I nn b us > tftk Mftm (• k»|iu| 4 (i«4i tali h#r t«ftind ift* Ml •• ><<«* *.* ft* raft 4# |w<l ftaftk H« 4^** *»•« b*in. • la lk* leiatl f»»kH *n>4 •• ft* mm *4 ft) t*lBating fUirf* t -Hlft* Ift * b*-k««oi •♦*»> utM. 4ai ftiallk** Am** k* I* lift** tkal kit* ft*i *fc«t >ftteka* 4» *ft(i raatkf «• Ifttii *'*'••» k**ii **