Booped

study remain as baffling as the human mind. One oddity that has puzzled brain researchers for years is the fact that some psychiatric illnesses seem to be tied to specific periods of history, like the condition known as glass delusion. While rare today, this condition was strangely common in medieval Europe. Those who suffered from it harbored the all consuming belief that they were literally made of glass. Some people believed

it was their whole body that was affected. One man was certain that it was just his head, while another thought the same about his heart. In most cases, though, the delusion was accompanied by a heightened fear that made day to day life almost impossible. Take for example, the man who refused to ever sit down out of fear that his buttocks would shatter. It's difficult to say why this particular delusion was so widespread in the past, although it could be connected to the way that glass was

viewed during the Middle Ages. Clear glass was a relatively recent invention and was sometimes associated with magic and alchemy. But while this helps explain why it was on people's minds, it doesn't give us much insight into what it was like to suffer from the illness. For that, we can

turn to the few documentary instances. The most famous one comes from medieval France, toward the end of the One Hundred Years' War in thirteen ninety two, physicians were summoned to the estate of a twenty three year old man named Charles. They found him moaning and tossing in bed, in the throes of an intense fear. Whenever he regained consciousness, he would shout at his servants, ordering them to keep their distance. He seemed convinced that if anyone touched him,

he would explode into shards of glass. These physicians diagnosed Charles with melancholia, a medieval catch all term associated with everything from depression to hallucinations. The idea is linked to humorism, an outdated medical theory which held that a person's temperament is affected by an imbalance of internal fluids, and according to his doctors, the best way to reset the balance was for Charles to rest and wait. At least initially,

it seemed to work. His fever broke and the delusions faded. He might have made a full recovery if things had gone differently. Despite his young age, Charles was an important military commander, the head of a large force of French soldiers. Just as he was starting to get better, he was summoned to the battlefield. Ignoring the advice of his physicians, he donned his heavy armor and headed out with a

company of knights. On the long, hot road to the battle, Charles grew irritable and exhausted when a nearby page accidentally dropped his spear against a helmet. The sound triggered something in Charles. He drew his sword and lunged at his own men, hacking away with abandon and screaming that they were enemies. By the time they managed to subdue him, four knights lay dead. Charles was dragged back to his estate and locked up in his bedchamber. The delusions eventually

passed again, but The incident left him traumatized forever. Afterwards, he drifted between periods of lucidity and mania. In his worst moments, he didn't recognize his wife or even know his own name. At one point, he destroyed his family crest while insisting that everyone call him George. Meanwhile, Charles continued to be convinced that he had been born with a glass body that could eat easily be fractured. To cope with his fear, he wore specially made clothing fitted

with iron rods. He spent most of his time at home, rarely appearing in public where he might accidentally bump into someone. As the years passed by, those calm stretches between Charles's episodes grew shorter. His physicians tried everything to help him, but with poor results. He received at least two exorcisms, and at one point a hole was drilled into his skull. He survived the operation, but continued to suffer from glass

delusion for the rest of his life. In fourteen ninety two, Charles contracted malaria and died at the age of sixty two. His harrowing illness left a long shadow on his family, as well as his country, because Charles, you see, wasn't just any French nobleman. He was Charles the Fourth, the King of France. If you were a performer during the Vaudeville era, you had to stand out. Everybody had a gimmick or a special skill to set them apart from everyone else, and for many to succeed, they had to

do a lot. Some performers became known for one thing, like singer Lillian Russell. Others diversified their offerings. They tap danced, sang, did skits or puppet routines and any combination thereof. For example, the Marx Brothers weren't just brilliant comedians, but also talented writers and musicians. Marx Brothers contemporary and fan Archibald Leitch came up as a pantomimist and physical comedian before fashioning

himself into the legendary actor Carrie Grant. Of course, many Vaudeville acts died on stage and were never heard from again, and a few gained some popularity in their day, but their legacies were lost to time. And then there was Esther. Esther's time in the spotlight was showing art, but the legacy she left behind can still be seen today. She was born Esterlee Jones in Chicago in nineteen eighteen, but she was better known by her stage name Baby Esther

or Little Esther. Jones had learned to sing and dance from a very young age, and her parents, who also happened to be her managers, got her in front of audiences when she was just four years old, and like a lot of young children, she started off by making silly faces and noises on stage. She often imitated a performer named Florence Mills, also known as the Queen of Happiness.

Mills had a high pitched voice and would utter silly words and phrases to charm the audience, and this is where Jones picked up one of the trademarks of her at The nonsense words and sounds that she would make during her performances. Phrases like boo boo boo and wa da da would earn her coups and applause from theatergoers

in Chicago and New York. Eventually, Jones needed the guidance of a manager with intimate knowledge of the entertainment businesses, so around nineteen twenty four, she signed with a man named Lou Bolton, and as her fame continued, to grow, so did her admirers. One woman, in particular, Helen Kin,

was paying close attention to Jones's act. Cain was a white jazz performer who had created a vamp character for herself, a young woman with curls in her hair who spoke with a high pitched baby voice and said wordless phrases like boot boot bee doop. And While Cain was gaining notoriety for her eerily similar act, Jones was touring Europe, performing for the kings and queens of Spain and Sweden. She also made an appearance at the famous Moulin Rouge

in Paris. Her travels soon took her to South America, followed by a stint performing with Cab Calloway and his orchestra back in the States. But during that time, Cain's and Jones's contributions to entertainment would converge in the creation of a brand new cartoon character. This persona emerged from Fleischer Studios, an animation company founded by a pair of

brothers from New York. It was an anthropomorphized French poodle with curls in her hair, who spoke with a baby voice and also said nonsense phrases like boot boot by Dooo. Sound familiar? Well, helen Kin thought so too. She took such offense to not being paid for her likeness that she sued Fleischer's Studios in nineteen thirty two for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. But the Fleischers weren't about

to take this lawsuit lying down. Lou Bolton, Esther Jones manager, testified in a New York courtroom in nineteen thirty four that Kin had watched Jones perform years earlier. According to him, Cain had appropriated several of Jones's mannerisms and her style to fit her own character. Bolton even presented an early sound test of Jones doing the act as evidence. Basically, in an effort to claim that the cartoon had stolen

her likeness. Helen Kin had exposed herself to the accusation that she herself had stolen that likeness from Little Esther Jones, and the court ruled that Cain had not made her case of infringement. There was no evidence that she was the true inspiration for the now iconic cartoon character, and looking back, it's clear that that character was an amalgamation of different performers and fashion styles of the era, from Jones and Cain to flapper girls of the nineteen twenties.

But regardless of who the Fleischers saw as the basis for the character, two things are certain. Without Helen Kine, there would be no Betty Boop, and there'd be no Helen Kine without Little Esther Jones. I hope you've enjoyed today's guided tour of the Cabinet of Curiosities. Subscribe for free on Apple Podcasts, or learn more about the show by visiting Curiosities podcast dot com. The show was created by me Aaron Mankey in partnership with how Stuff Works.

I make another award winning show called Lore, which is a podcast, book series, and television show, and you can learn all about it over at the World of Lawy or dot com. And until next time, stay curious. H