Dead and Loving It

You heard that right. You cannot stop someone from using a clothesline on their property there by law. And if you're a boxer in Utah, you can forget about biting your opponent unless you want a visit from the cops. But perhaps the strangest case of a broken law occurred in New York in nineteen a woman named Johanna Voch lived at one ten Magenta Street with her son Armando. Armando had a bad habit of running his mouth first thing in the morning, screaming things like go to Hell

and scaring the neighborhood cats and dogs. Voches neighbors, Mrs Ormsby Gendro and her husband couldn't stand Armando's constant yelling, especially since Mr Jandro worked nights and slept in the mornings right when Armando was beginning his daily shouting sessions, and public obscenity was definitely not tolerated at the time. Mrs Voch tried, but she couldn't control Armando, and the Jandro's didn't care. Something had to be done, and so the angry neighbors took Mrs Voch and Armando to court.

He sat in the back screaming go to hell to anyone and everyone he met, and when Mrs Jandro took the stand to testify, Armando made it impossible for her to speak, shouting his rude directions even were the sound of the judge's gavel. Mrs Voach pleaded with the judge, after all, it wasn't Armando's fault, as he had learned his horrible language from the janitor's boy next door. But Mrs Jendro had brought witnesses with her to refute Mrs

Voce's claims. They'd never seen the janitor's boy, but they'd certainly heard Armando swearing at anyone with an earshot. At that point, the judge called Armando to the stand Missus Jendro explained how his outbursts triggered all the animals in the neighborhood to bark and miao, resulting in a cacophony of noise in the middle of the day when her husband was trying to get some rest. Sure enough, Armando turned towards Missus Jendro and yelled go to hell, go

to hell, for everyone in the courtroom to hear. He also said things like turn out and up with your hammocks? What the l bill going to sleep all day? Strange utterances. To be sure, the judge instructed Armando to be escorted out of the room so they could carry on the proceedings in peace. Mrs Voach explained how Armando was smart, but he just had no control over what he heard. The police would often come to the home after receiving

noise complaints from neighbors. If it was a married cop pain visit, Armando would yell in my harem at the top of his lungs, or he might ask a heavy set cop Bill, how are the chickens. Witnesses called Armando evil. He'd scream epitaphs and inappropriate phrases, even on Sunday mornings when people were walking to church. The judge, however, found himself unable to rule either way, so he postponed the case for one week, pending the results of an investigation

into Armando's terrible habit. The next day, probation Officer Frank Cooley visited the janitor next door, then stopped by the home of Mrs Votch. Within moments of greeting her, Armando started telling the officer to go to Hell. Over and over he yelled vile things until the man finally left with the answers he'd come for. Cooley present to his findings to the judge, stating that after a brief yet fruitful investigation, he had no choice but to instruct Mrs

Voach to sell Armando. Yes, I said sell, but don't worry. It's not like New York had laws stating that vulgar children must be sold if they didn't behave. Armando wasn't Mrs Voach's human son. He was for parrot. Boredom is in rare supply these days, given the ubiquity of personal tablets and smartphones to distract us. Some of our best ideas come from waiting in line for coffee. Or simply soaking in the shower without a screen to occupy our attentions.

But before technology took over our lives, people found other ways to alleviate boredom. They went outside, went on long walks to enjoy nature, or and started hobbies. Imagine that in the late nineteenth century in Australia, boredom was not so easily cured, at least not until a new form of entertainment swept the country, giving young people with nothing but time a startling way to spend it. The state

of Victoria was under attack. Someone named the Wizard Bombardier was running around in white robes and a tall round hat called a sugar loaf, scaring people. He would scream in their faces before throwing rocks at them, then he would dash off into the night. It had been a ghost, some of the victims thought at first, After all, who would do such a thing to a random stranger. Unfortunately, at the time, Australia was still getting over its rule

as a penal colony for Irish and British convicts. Victoria, while a free colony, did not have a formal police force like it does today, and citizens had gotten used to free reign of the region. With little to do and no regard for other well being, some Victorians took up ghost hoaxing. They used the modern technology of the time to amplify their spookiness of their costumes, including glow

in the dark paint. One hoaxer even used it to write prepared to meet Thy Doom on a suit of armor he wore as he chased people through the streets. One news article from described a hoaxer who wore a white sheet painted red and ran through the town of Connington, near Perth. His antics didn't last long, however, as residents eventually cornered him and held him at gunpoints until he surrendered. Unfortunately,

such harmless fun inevitably turned into something more sinister. Tired of scaring Australians using sheets and glowing paint, young people donned their ghostly costumes to rob people and businesses, or commit even worse crimes. Without a formal police presence to quell the mischief, locals took it upon themselves to bring

order and peace back to their communities. A blast of buckshot was enough in most cases to send the youth's back into their homes and out of the streets, but those were most cases, some folks were having too much fun to be stopped. Herbert Patrick McLennon was a man who would wear a painted top hat and coat, calling himself the ghost and swinging a cat of nine tales at women he met. When authorities tried to intervene, he threatened to shoot them. Oddly enough, McLennan wasn't some teenager

looking for fun, though. The police who eventually arrested him discovered that he was a well known public speaker. That was the strange thing about ghost hoaxers. While they may have started out as kids looking for a fun time, the adults in the community, teachers, clerks, and even women of means, had taken up hoaxing, hoping to bring a little bit of spontaneity to their lives, and because they had money, they had ways of improving upon their costumes

with props and other special effects. Some tied coffins to their backs so they looked like they had just risen from the grave. Others incorporated live music while haunting, and many tended to lurk in places known for death and supernatural activity. Cemeteries were popular, and if an area wasn't scary enough, a hoaxer might paint a glowing skull on a wall somewhere to mark their territory for anyone walking past it. After years of being terrorized, assaulted, and robbed,

the Australian people had had enough. The police weren't helping, and everyone was tired of avoiding certain parts of their towns under threat of being haunted. Dogs became instrumental in stopping hoaxers from hurting each other. One man, Charles Horman, had served in the military and took it upon himself to wage his own war on the hoaxers. He armed himself with a shotgun and a cane, once spending off two men simultaneously who had been caught committing multiple crimes.

By the time World War One started, the idea of terrorizing other people as ghosts, had lost its flavor. No one wanted to pretend to be the dead when thousands of Australians were giving their lives overseas, and even after the war ended, ghost hoaxing never picked back up again. Perhaps everyone finally realized that the dead should probably stay

away from the living. 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 Manky 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 Lore dot com. And until next time, stay curious. Ye