A Tale of Two Sisters

Charles Deering had two daughters, Marion Deering McCormick and Barbara Deering Danielson. Marion carried the merging of the Deerings and McCormicks beyond the level of business when she, much to her father's chagrin, became the wife of Chauncey McCormick. The grandson of William S. McCormick (founder of the McCormick Harvesting Machine Company), Chauncey was considered a bit of a playboy and Marion's parents apparently disapproved of their engagement, even denying the veracity of the public announcement. The couple seems, nonetheless, to have eloped; holding a religous ceremony at the Paris residence of her uncle James following a civil union in that city on July 6, 1914.

Chauncey, it was noted in the New York Times' coverage of the wedding (shown in part above), had apparently proved himself worthy by working his way up in the family business from the position of "day laborer". The article also noted that he had not seen his name in print since he was gored by a wild elk on the estate of P.R. Greist while a senior at Yale.

Barbara's nuptuals occured without any documented controversy. She wed Richard Ely Danielson, future editor and publisher of the Atlantic Monthly. He is noted for his affiliation with the Skull & Bone Society (1907), and while other information about him is scarce, his name often appears in association with conspiracy theories, secret societies, the Illuminati, the Rothchilds, etc. - giving him a profoundly more sinister image than that acheived by his brother-in-law's mere rakishness.

The Deering sisters inherited their father's vast collection of fine art following his death in 1927. Initially placing much of it on loan to the Art Institute of Chicago, it was later donated to become a part of the museum’s permanent collection. Deering's affinity for Spanish artists added a significant dimension to the AIC's existing inventory with magnificent works like Bernat Martorell's Saint George Killing the Dragon becoming signature pieces among the museum's aquisitions.

Barbara and Marion continued to follow in the footsteps of not only their father but also their grandfather, extending the family's legacy of philanthropy. In 1933, their endowments built the Deering Library - a massive neo-gothic structure housing over half a million books -at Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois (see top left). Both Charles and his father William had been significant albeit anonymous patrons of the school from 1876 until their respective deaths. Brother Roger's bequest of $7,000,000 upon his death in 1936 was one of the largest donations ever made to an institution of higher learning at that time.

The Deering sisters also inherited their uncle James Deering’s lavish estate Villa Vizcaya following his death in 1925. They initially attempted to operate it as an attraction but were plagued by continuous repairs and restoration following the hurricanes of 1926 and 1935. They eventually sold Vizcaya to the county at a fraction of its value with the stipulation that it remain open to the public in perpetuity.

Big Hunting Ground

The area currently known as Cutler Bay, variously known at other times as Cutler Ridge or just plain Cutler, was once known by indigenous peoples as the "Big Hunting Ground". The area was part of the Perrine Land Grant in 1837, wherein congress gave a large alotment of real estate to noted horticulturist Dr. Henry Perrine for scientific endeavors. He was massacred on Indian Key at the outbreak of the 2nd Seminole War.

The area was prized as high ground, standing a full 16 feet above sea level along what is known as the Miami Rock Ridge - a geological feature running from the tip of the penninsula inland to the city of Jupiter. William Fuzzard, a friend of Dr. Cutler who was the first permanent resident of the area, was staying in Coconut Grove in the early 1880's while he explored his surroundings and began building a 2-story home in Cutler. He cut a path between the two locations, eventually widened to a wagon track that would later be known as the Old Cutler Road.

While visiting the Deering Estate, I took the nature tour led by a state park ranger named Andre. Much of our walk traveled the path of the afore-mentioned road (see above left). The tour, brimming with interesting details about the local flora and topography, ended at the site of a Tequesta burial mound (above right) beneath a large oak tree. Andre briefly alluded to the site being disturbed by a man hunting treasure many years prior. Apparently this scoundrel, while not having found anything else he considered to be of value, absconded with two skulls from the mound - which he later lost. It seemed like rather detailed information for an otherwise apocryphal tale, so I was not particularly surprised when, taking the guided tour of the buildings later that day, a second ranger named Max elaborated on the story..

Max went so far as to name the grave-robber as Charles Deering's son - "a self-styled adventurer in search of pirate gold". Deering had two sons - Charles William Case and Roger. Charles William died "without issue" prior to his father...so the suspicion falls toward Roger, though he is described as a sickly lad suffering from tuberculosis from age 17. Nonetheless, his pursuit of dry air led him as far as Egypt and eventually to Albuquerque where he died...so he was at least a traveler if not an "adventurer" and may indeed be the culprit. Information on both sons is scarce at best though I intend to dig a bit deeper.

Nothing runs like a Deering

Yesterday I visited the south Florida estate of Charles Deering, son of tractor baron William Deering. Following Deering Harvester's merge with the McCormick Harvesting Machine Company to become International Harvester in 1902, Charles became the chairman of the board. He was retired by 1910.

The estate was originally the site of a cottage built by Dr. Samuel Richmond, said to be a surveyor for Henry Flagler and the Florida East Coast Railway, in 1896. Richmond chose the small seaside village of Cutler (founded by Dr. William C. Cutler in the early 1870's) to build his home based on its proximity to the projected route of the railroad. As the FEC inched ever closer, Richmond added a three-story rooming-house in anticipation of accomodating weary travelers. The railroad's final path was over two miles away and while the Richmond Inn did play host to a few visiting dignitaries like Mr. Flagler, Cutler's handful of inhabitants began migrating to greener pastures.

Deering started buying up the town in 1916, converting Richmond's hotel into his winter home. In 1921, he decided to make the Cutler estate his year-round home and built a stone house in the Mediterranean Revival style alongside the converted hotel. The walls of the house are 18 inches thick, built to withstand even the most powerful hurricane. Having survived the Chicago Fire of 1871, Deering lived in fear of similar calamity and had all the stone house's doors encased in copper. He also ran water pipelines throughout the 444 acre estate to facilitate fire-fighting should the need arise. The Stone House was likewise built without a kitchen or dining room. All these activities took place in the adjacent Richmond House lest a smoldering morsel from a dinner plate create a raging inferno within the poured-concrete bunker.

Charles was an avid collector of fine art, filling his home with works by Spanish masters like Goya, El Greco and Velasquez. He was especially fond of works by Catalan modernist Ramon Casas, who sketched the portrait of Deering above. His collection, when appraised in 1922, had an estimated value of over $60 million - over three quarters of a billion in today's dollars. Following his death it was donated to the Art Institute in Chicago by his daughters.

Built during the prohibition era, the Deering manor was constructed with a feature extremely rare in south Florida architecture: a wine cellar. Carved deep in the limestone caprock, Deering's private stock was secreted away behind an actual bank vault door, hidden by a bookcase on hinges.

From the burning mountains of Mexico

Mexican Mustang Liniment

Take 2 fluid ounces petroleum, 1 fluid ounce ammonia water, and 1 fluid drachm brandy. Mix.

- from Dick's Encyclopedia of Practical Receipts and Processes: Containing over 6400 receipts embracing thorough information, in plain language, applicable to almost every possible industrial and domestic requirement: or, How they did it in the 1870's

One artifact of particular interest among our collection here at the Key West Shipwreck Treasures Museum is a bottle once containing Mexican Mustang Liniment, salvaged from the wreck of the Isaac Allerton. I was not surprised, though certainly amused, to find it among the massive collection of bottles from the wreck of the S.S. Republic on display in the Shipwreck! exhibit.

Around 1852, Dr. A.G. Bragg of St. Louis Missouri introduced his patent remedy guaranteed to cure ills ranging from Scalatica and Rheumatism to Screw Worms and Saddle Galls. Mexican Mustang Liniment… for Man and Beast! bellowed the banners advertising the elixir. The liniment, like many potions of the day, was comprised primarily of crude petroleum and described as “oil from the burning mountains of Mexico”. On the side of his store at the northeast corner of Market and 3rd Streets, Dr. Bragg had a mural painted depicting a volcano erupting amidst a fleeing regiment of Mexican troops led by General Antonio Lopez de Santa Ana – his wooden leg left behind on the battlefield waiting to be claimed as a prize by proud Texan militiamen. Dr. James McLean, an employee of Dr. Bragg during this time, took inspiration from this popular and dramatic mural when he went into business for himself selling Dr. J.H. McLean’s Volcanic Oil.

Dr. Bragg eventually sold his recipe to the Lyons Manufacturing Company in New York who continued to produce Mexican Mustang Liniment up until the turn of the century.

"So long as human ills endure, and mortals suffer pain, so long shall MUSTANG LINIMENT its glorious name maintain."

Bicycle built for...Steam

One of the more fascinating items on display at the Oklahoma City Museum of Science was a steam-powered bicycle built in 1885 by inventor Lucius Day Copeland in Phoenix, Arizona. Beginning with this augmentation of his Star high wheel safety bicycle, he went on to become a steam-power pioneer - designing a number of similar bicycles before graduating to automobiles.

"NEW YORK CITY?!?!?!?!!!"

On the day following my investigation of the Shipwreck! exhibit, my traveling companion and I made a pilgrimage to the town of Guthrie, about 30 miles north of Oklahoma City. Originally established as the state’s territorial capital following the land run of 1889, it grew over a matter of months to become the “Queen of the Prairie” with electricity, a trolley system, underground parking garages, and all other manner of modern conveniences alongside the ornate brick buildings and Victorian mansions lining its streets . It became the first state capital 1907, but this title was lost by popular vote in 1910…by some accounts in retaliation for criticism of state politicians in the local newspaper. By order of the governor, the state seal was moved (or “stolen” according to local lore) in the middle of the night on June 10 of that year. Legend has it that a posse was formed and sent to Oklahoma City to reclaim the seal by force…all to no avail.

With the loss of the capital, Guthrie took an economic nosedive – losing railroad traffic, commerce, industry and eventually much of its population. As it shrank while nearby communities grew, Guthrie never experienced the urban sprawl nor the drive to demolish and modernize that became so prevalent in the other towns. As a result, much of the original city remains completely intact as if it were a time capsule of Victorian frontier living. The city currently boasts the largest urban Historic District in the U.S., with over 2,100 buildings over 400 city blocks.

We began our visit with a trolley tour of the city. The narration was pre-recorded and sorely in need of maintenance. While many of the details were fascinating, the tour lacked color and in many cases (particularly concerning architectural styles) accuracy. Drive times between sites were filled with dead air, squandering ideal opportunities for more elaborate anecdotes. The narrator’s tone was decidedly bitter, particularly when referencing the loss of not only the state capital, but also the university Guthrie had been promised as consolation. Nonetheless, the city spoke for itself through both its extraordinary examples of turn-of-the-century architecture and its unique history.

Historic plaques tell the story of many former residents and their businesses throughout the downtown area. The Same Old Moses Saloon once stood near the corner of Harrison Avenue and 2nd Street. Its proprietor, Moses Weinberger was a banana-merchant turned liquor-dealer from Wichita who had settled in Guthrie during the land run of 1889. A popular host, successful entrepreneur, and shrewd publicist, Weinberger once invited local resident and prohibition crusader Carry Nation to speak at his saloon with the intention of drawing a massive crowd. Upon finishing her speech, she produced her infamous bar-busting hatchet and proceeded to have at the gin mill's fine wooden countertop – at which point she was restrained and ejected from the premises. From that day forward, the Same Old Moses displayed a sign proclaiming “All Nations Welcome Except Carry”.

Directly across the street from the site of the Old Moses stands the Blue Bell Bar, built in 1903 to replace the original wood-frame structure opened in 1889. Tom Mix, star of many early cinematic Westerns, bartended at the Blue Bell during the territorial years before making his way to Hollywood. My compatriot and I sought refreshment at this fine establishment and enjoyed the quaint interior which has retained many of the original fixtures and fittings. Several seats down the bar, two local gentlemen discussed the ineffectiveness of the local 3.2 percent beer while they sampled a variety of imported brews for comparison of taste and strength. At one point, one of the gentlemen insisted on evidence of his drink’s origin and, having read past what he described as “a bunch of German writing” he announced “Bottled in…” - now joined by his partner as they exclaimed in unison: “NEW YORK CITY?!?!?!?!!!” - bringing uproarious laughter to all five of us in the Blue Bell. Somewhere an advertising executive is smiling.
As we departed, the fellow drinking New York’s finest German beer bid us farewell: “Y’all come back and see us again now. We’ll be stuck here for the rest of our lives.” Actually, I can think of worse places.

Farragut's Flagship

Being a shipwreck enthusiast and even professional of sorts in the field, it made a strange sort of sense to plan a trip to Oklahoma City in order to experience Odyssey Marine’s Shipwreck! exhibit at the Museum of Science there. The exhibit combines a vast array of artifacts from several different wrecks with interactive technology highlighting Odyssey’s state of the art salvage techniques and equipment.

Of primary interest was their discovery of the S.S. Republic, a sidewheel steamer sunk by a hurricane off the coast of Georgia in 1865. Built in Baltimore in 1953 as the Tennessee, it operated as a merchant vessel, eventually becoming the first Baltimore steamship to cross the Atlantic. The Tennessee also claimed the title of the first passenger steamship providing regular service between New York and Central America.

Serving as a blockade runner for the Confederacy during the Civil War, the C.S.S. Tennessee was captured by the U.S. Navy following the siege of New Orleans - during which Admiral David Farragut's famous order "Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!" was given - and became Farragut's flagship for the remainder of that campaign. Farragut, adopted son of Commodore David Porter (a hero and villain of local Key West history ) will be revisited and more thoroughly examined in a later entry.

Following further service as the U.S.S. Tennessee in the blockade of the Gulf of Mexico and the assault on Ft. Morgan in Mobile Bay, the ship was renamed the U.S.S. Mobile. Shortly hereafter, she was damaged in a hurricane near the mouth of the Rio Grande and decommissioned. Sold at auction, repaired and renamed, the S.S. Republic resumed her career as a passenger steamship on the route twixt New York and New Orleans. On October 25th, 1865 - the fifth day of her fifth journey, she succumbed to the strength of a hurricane off the coast of Georgia.
The Republic was carrying not only passengers and commodities, but also a cargo of cold, hard cash sorely needed to aid in the reconstruction of the war-torn South. Over $400,000 in gold and silver coins was lost with the ship.

In August of 2003, Odyssey Marine Exploration discovered what was left of the S.S. Republic 100 miles southeast of Savannah in over 1700 feet of water. Their salvage yielded over 51,000 coins (approximately 1/3 of the original cargo) with an estimated value of $75 million and over 14,000 unique and varied artifacts. A vast assortment of these items are included in the Shipwreck! exhibit alongside touch-screens and talking kiosks that tell the story of the Republic and other wrecks.

Extraordinary Exagerators

It is, to say the least, interesting, when considering the men whom Washington surrounded himself with, to consider the cases of Major Pierre L'Enfant and General Friedrich Wilhelm Von Steuben - both of whom came to Washington's attention at Valley Forge.

Von Stueben appears in Portsmouth, New Hampshire (birthplace of Tobias Lear) in 1777 having served on the general staff of the Prussian army. He represents himself to Washington not only as royalty, but as one of Frederich the Great's generals (in reality having only attained the rank of Captain). Nonetheless, he single-handedly shaped a militia on the brink of both starvation and desertion into a disciplined force that rivalled that of the British. He also wrote the drill manual that would become that standard for U.S. armed forces through the War of 1812.



Pierre L'Enfant, who had studied Art at the Louvre before joining the Revolution, parlayed a modest talent for drawing into a career as both a military and civil engineer. While initially involved in less significant travails upon his arrival at Valley Forge - such as creating a portrait of Washington at the behest of Maj. Gen. LaFayette, L'Enfant would go on to draw the blueprint for the city of Washington, D.C. The saga of his schemes, scams, and unlikely successes is most excellently, if densely, told by Les Standiford (author of the brilliant Henry Flagler biography "Last Train To Paradise") in his monumental "Washington Burning".

Colonel Tobias Lear

Early today I learned about the man named Colonel Tobias Lear. For many years a trusted aide and personal secretary to George Washington, Lear is also noteworthy as "The Man Who Stole from the Father of Our Country" - having embezzled rents he was collecting for General George following his years as president. Lear is most famous as the man who was present as Washington passed, immortalizing his final words "'Tis Well." Following Washington's death, Lear became custodian of the late president's papers and personal effects...ostensibly with the intention of co-authoring a definitive biography of the country's first commander in chief. When this honor fell to Justice John Marshall and Lear was instructed to forward the source materials to him, large portions of Washington's diaries along with much of his correspondence had gone missing. Most poignantly absent were a series of letters from a heated exchange with Thomas Jefferson. During Washington's presidency, Jefferson criticized his administration as "Anglican, Monarchial, and Aristocratical" in a letter to an Italian friend. The letter found its way into publication abroad and was eventually translated for the American public by Noah Webster. Washington was understandably furious and initiated a correspondence that one of Washington's servants described as being so dire that it could only end in a duel.

It is suspected that Lear destroyed this correspondence at Jefferson's request and this theory is supported by Lear's appointment to diplomatic positions in the Caribbean and on the Barbary Coast during Jefferson's presidency. While my early education painted a stellar portrait of Thomas Jefferson, history's soft, white, underbelly continues to reveal a less than moral if not wholly unpleasant man behind the myth.

Tristissimus Hominum

As the founder of the Honorable Society of Reluctant Explorers, Unlikely Historians, and Anachronistic Adventurers, I have opted to begin this chronicle of those things I learn and experience both as a record for myself and as a resource of sorts for like-minded individuals.

As we approach the Ides of March, I reflect briefly on that Roman ruler - my namesake Tiberius: refered to by Pliny the Elder as "tristissimus hominum" - the gloomiest of all men. It is my hope that my studies, travels, and their resultant musings might provide a panacea, a "Medicine for Melancholy" if you will, for my restless spirit and my tendency toward darker depths. My recurring insomnia will certainly facilitate random ramblings on any number of thoughts and discoveries...though they may seemingly lack direction, connection or cohesion. It has been my experience that time and tenacity will reveal that stitching in the fabric of whatever corner of history catches my fancy - and that the threads grow stronger and more intricate with that exposure.