A New Yorker’s war against Friday the 13th

So you survived yesterday’s first of this year’s two Fridays the 13th. The tragic aspect of this scientifically unsubstantiated belief that bad things happen on this day is not the superstition’s origin (which is complicated and debated), but that modern society has caved into it. Tall buildings and hotels usually don’t have a 13th floor, airline and train reservations are muted on this day, and even retail sales take a hit. And — get this — Ireland in 2013 banned the number 13 on its car registration system.

The greatest crusader against all this nonsense was a New Yorker, William Fowler (1828-1897), who spent much of his life emphasizing that Friday and 13, separately or combined, have no bad effect on people. And the best illustration of that was Fowler’s own life: He graduated from Public School 13 in New York City when he was 13, served in 13 battles for the Union army during the Civil War, was a member of 13 societies and entered the construction business, putting up — you guessed it —13 big buildings in the Big Apple. Not surprisingly, Fowler retired from the army on Aug. 13, 1863.

Most of all, Fowler founded the Thirteen Club in the city in 1880, committed to the goal that “superstition should be assailed and combated and driven off the earth.” The first club dinner was held on Jan. 13, 1881, at 7:13 p. m. with 13 guests sitting at the table. Before dinner, each would walk under a ladder, break a mirror, lavishly spill salt and open an umbrella. A banner over the table read (we who are about to die salute you). And defying the motto, no member died within a year.

Holding monthly dinners afterward on the 13th, the club grew in size (between 400 to 500 members) and brazenness. For example, one table was eventually devoted to 13 undertakers. Moreover, the Thirteen Club spread to other cities. And before its fading away in the 1920s, the club hosted five presidents of the United States. Chester Arthur was a frequent guest, as were Benjamin Harrison, Grover Cleveland, Theodore Roosevelt and William McKinley. And the club wasn’t fazed by McKinley’s wounding by an assassin on Sept. 6, 1901 (a Friday) or his death eight days later on the day after Friday the 13th.

One reason the club went out of business was Fowler’s sudden death on July 6, 1897, succumbing unexpectedly in his sleep as a result of a stroke. Another factor was that his crusade was successful to a large degree. For example, take the nonchalant and rather humorous view of the Washington, D.C. Herald newspaper on Friday, May 13, 1921. In a page-two story, it noted that the day was feared only by those “who have a superstitious nature” and “just a portion of the world’s population ... will shiver and worry.”

No big deal, the paper concluded: “Today, as on other days of the of the year, people will be killed, others will succumb to illness, some will fall down stairs, law-breakers will fall into the hands of guardians of the law, still others will enter the bonds of matrimony, while others will encounter various other misfortunes. On any other day these occurrences would be dubbed accidents.”

To be sure, the nation and the world have come a long, long way since the days of William Fowler. When I was a child, superstitions were rampant. We carried a rabbit’s foot in our pockets. When a family moved from one location to another, something was left behind, which served as an antidote to bad luck. And we had a housewarming at the new location ASAP so as to cultivate good luck. In the spring we looked for fourleaf clovers, a sure sign of good fortune in the days to come.

And now we have science, technology and education to give us a lot of good do’s and don’t’s on any given day. We’ve ventured into space and the depths of the oceans. Remember the Y2K crisis at the turn of the century that we thought would bring about doomsday in terms of computers moving from Dec.31, 1999, to Jan.1, 2000?

Well, we conquered that fearful event, and in offices throughout the land, we have the most up-todate mobile devices, sturdy desks and furniture, the latter making it easier each day — and especially on Friday the 13th — to knock on wood.