Cincinnatians Gobbled up Tales of Barnyard Freaks and Vegetable Monstrosities

Corncob arms, mutant goats, and undead turtles.
262
It was customary, when freaks like the corncob arm were discovered, to put them on display at the local saloon.

From Cincinnati Post 28 July 1897, Image extracted from microfilm by Greg Hand

As autumn leaves littered the increasingly wintry ground it was, in days gone by, the signal for newspapers to trumpet the latest freak of nature emerging from the local barnyards. Cincinnati editors gleefully pounced on any monstrosity – animal or vegetable – that wandered in from the hinterlands.

The Cincinnati Post [28 July 1897] published a drawing of an ear of corn shaped like a human arm. The bizarre cob had been discovered by Albert Sturm, a traveling salesman who lived at 2331 Grandview Avenue in East Walnut Hills. Mr. Sturm’s office was on Pearl Street in the Bottoms, so it is likely he purchased the errant ear at the Pearl Street Market. He placed his remarkable discovery on display at a saloon in the West End.

Intriguingly, a similar chiroform cob had been discovered precisely three years prior and highlighted with a detailed analysis by the Cincinnati Enquirer [28 July 1894]. The newspaper argued against a supernatural interpretation of the phenomenon:

“The peculiar formation of the ear is due to the production of doubled celled blossoms, such as occur in almost every form of plant life. Pumpkins and squashes have been known to take on the likeness of the human face and the root of the mandrake assumes the form of a man with startling fidelity. This is the first time on record that the useful and nourishing corn plant ever tried anything in that direction. It was the general impression among the ignorant when the freak appeared, that it signified that the arm of the Lord had been stretched forth to destroy the world. This, of course, was based upon immature study of the Bible.”

Curious shapes afflicted all sorts of vegetables. W.G. Langdale, of Milford, Ohio, borrowed a most peculiar potato from a baker located in Lawrenceburg, Indiana, according to the Cincinnati Post [16 December 1903]. The spud was not only generally canine-shaped, but specifically resembled a popular cartoon dog at the time, known as Doc. Mr. Langdale allowed the Post to photograph the poochified potato, but insisted his ownership was temporary and that it would shortly be returned to its rightful owner.

Not only did this potato resemble a dog, it very closely matched a popular cartoon dog of 1903 at was discovered by a baker in Lawrenceburg.

From Cincinnati Post 16 December 1903, Image extracted from microfilm by Greg Hand

Another animal-shaped potato was dug up a year earlier in Dayton, Kentucky, the Enquirer [26 November 1902] reported. This tuber was shaped like an almost perfect imitation of a frog and weighed three pounds. As was often the disposition of such curiosities back then, the weird vegetable was placed on display at Joe Walpert’s saloon.

The Cincinnati Post [24 November 1892] carried news of a Kentucky farmer who planned to send to the Chicago World’s Fair a potato he grew shaped very much like a fist:

“It is an exact counterpart of a clinched fist. The fingers, knuckles, joints and nails are distinctly defined, and where it connects with the vine it has widened out, resembling a human wrist.”

Such oddball entities were not confined to the vegetable kingdom. Cincinnatians gobbled up any reports of animals exhibiting any features out of the ordinary, including some truly suspicious yarns.

Take the dubious tale spun by the Enquirer [22 February 1870] about a little girl, who found a little turtle down by a little creek. Unlike most similar stories, in which the little girl raises her cute shellback hostage as a pet, this minion of the netherworld decided she wanted only the pretty shell, so she gave the turtle to her mother, who promptly decapitated the thing and began eviscerating it.

“After a while the heart was taken out, and excited no little curiosity from the fact that it was beating still, although some time had elapsed since the turtle’s life was supposed to be ended by taking off its head.”

Mom, possessed of the same morbid curiosity as her demonic offspring, stuck the beating turtle heart on a needle and watched it continue to throb for the next four and a half days! Tiring of this macabre entertainment, the mother tossed the still-beating turtle heart into the back yard, where it was promptly devoured by an old grey hen.

End of story? Of course not! Several days later, the family chicken laid an egg, which was gathered up for the family’s breakfast.

“The mother took ‘Biddy’s’ egg, opened it, and in the very center of it found the identical heart which had been thrown away previously, and in as perfect a condition as ever. She could hardly believe her eyes, and so she called her husband and children, all of whom were satisfied that it was the same heart, as the needle punctures were still plainly visible.”

Cincinnati was a key market town for farmers throughout the Tri-State region, not only because of our various street markets, but due to a thriving wholesale business. Often, commission merchants found some marvel among their shipments and took it “on ‘Change” the next day – in other words, to the Merchants Exchange at the Chamber of Commerce. Such was the case with a chicken displayed on ‘Change and reported to the Cincinnati Gazette [22 April 1895]. This hen’s special trait was undiscovered until it had been plucked.

“In addition to having a naturally formed head, with two perfect eyes, the fowl was found after being dressed to have two more perfectly formed eyes, with perfect eyelids, one on either side of the oil sack above the tail.”

After entertaining the commission agents for a couple of days, the bird was donated to the Society of Natural History for preservation.

Fred Beineke raised goats at his place on Berlin Street (now Woodrow Street) in Lower Price Hill. One day, according to the Enquirer [28 August 1890] two normal kids and a caprine monstrosity were born in his shed. The poor thing sported two conjoined heads.

The weirder, the better. A random birth like Fred Beineke’s two-headed goat meant extra income. Even if a circus didn’t buy it, the owner could charge admission to the curious who waited outside his barn.

From Cincinnati Enquirer 28 August 1890, Image extracted from microfilm by Greg Hand

“It has four eyes, two mouths, two tongues! Its ears are set back further than usual. While all regularly formed goats have no upper teeth – only a hard gum – this one has a set in the upper jaw of each head, making it have four sets of teeth. In the middle of the two heads there is one eye-socket, with two eye-balls.”

Almost every day, the local papers published items about animals born with extraneous limbs or appendages, so six-legged horses, five-legged cows, four legged-ducks and pigs with four ears were almost a normal occurrence in the annual autumnal freak show.

Facebook Comments