A look back — way back — to constabulary tales of 1872
As we look ahead to the new year that’s almost upon us, let’s take a moment to reflect on the past. And we don’t mean the recent past, as in 2023, but back — waaay back, to 1872, the Globe’s rookie year, if you will. Back then, there was no “Blotter Tales” column, but there was a regular feature called “Police Notes” that highlighted crimes and misdemeanors committed in Boston. Here’s a sampling of incidents included in that column.
July 16, 1872 — Yesterday afternoon a span of horses with one of Sidney Squire’s furniture wagons ran away, and whilst going at a furious rate, were stopped at the corner of Eliot and Tremont streets by Officer Mitchell of Station IV.
July 18, 1872 — A horse attached to a buggy ran away on Tremont street at half-past seven o’clock last evening and smashed the carriage almost to atoms. Mr. Morris Breslau was the owner of the horse and carriage.
Dec. 28, 1872 — Somebody stole Chief Constable Boynton’s hat from the Municipal Court room on Thursday and he had to borrow one to wear home.
Dec. 30, 1872 — John Davis, who resides at the corner of Second Street and Dorchester Avenue, South Boston, went to sleep on Saturday night last in a barn belonging to J. Skinner & Co. and woke up the next morning with both feet frozen. He was taken to City Hospital.
CONQUERING THE COW
The July 16, 1872 edition of the Globe also featured a blow-by-blow account of a young man’s encounter with an aggressive cow at a farm in Belmont. The Globe reported that Thomas Hittinger was walking through a field when he “discovered a strange cow among the squashes, tomatoes, etc., and attempted to drive her off,” and what resulted was “one of the most desperate struggles with a mad cow that has ever been known.” The Globe reported that Hittinger was about 25 years old, weighed 220 pounds, and put up quite a fight. “At first the cow started to go, but in an instant turned upon him, and with eyes flashing fire, tail in the air and head down, accompanied with fearful bellowings, she sprang towards him,” the Globe reported. “Finding his only chance of escape was a close fight, he stood still and waited the attack, and just as the infuriated beast would have gored him through he seized her by the horns and then began the struggle.” At one point, Hittinger ended up under the cow, but still managed to cling to its horns and refused to let go. “In the desperate efforts to get away, the beast actually raised Hittinger to his feet, and then, for the first moment did he have any control of the animal, which he used effectually, and drove her from the field,” the Globe reported. “The animal was immediately secured, and will probably be killed.
Mr. Hittinger was very much exhausted after the struggle was over, but in an hour or two was entirely recovered. He owes his life to the fact that he is a strong, powerful, cool, courageous man, and his many friends will congratulate him on his successful fight with an enraged cow.”
THE MYSTERY REMAINS
Here’s another item that appeared in the July 16, 1872 edition of the Globe, but this incident apparently did not end well. It happened on Swett Street (now called Southampton Street) and involved a woman named Mrs. McNally who lived on Pine Island, which was located in South Bay in the area that’s now nestled between Widett Circle and the intersection that we know as Mass and Cass. “Last night a difficulty arose between a Mrs. McNally, living on Pine Island, and a Mrs. Lannan and her daughter Sarah, in the course of which Mrs. McNally received injuries which will probably prove fatal,” the Globe reported. “Mrs. McNally was taken home and is not expected to live through the night.” On Aug. 12 the Globe reported that Bridget Lannan and her daughter Sarah faced criminal charges for their assault on Sarah McNally. But what about Mrs. McNally — did she survive? If any genealogy-savvy readers can help solve that mystery, we promise to follow up on this 1872 story in the new year.