So Bad, It's Good

of his monikers came with a backstory. First up, Diamond, as you might imagine, this name referred to Robert's riches. Born in Antigua in seventeen seventy two, he was the son of a wealthy plantation owner. His family had the resources to send him to England for school, and he continued living in the UK as a young adult. When his father died in eighteen oh seven, Robert was the only next of kin, making him the heir to a massive fortune, and he wanted everyone to know about it.

One contemporary describe Robert's appearance as follows, and I quote his dress was remarkable. In the daytime, he was covered at all seasons with enormous quantities of fur. But the evening costume in which he went to balls made a great impression from its gaudy appearance. For his buttons as well as his knee buckles were of diamonds. Now, listen, I don't even have knee buckles, let alone ones made of diamonds. But Robert, well, he lived for attention. He

flaunted his wealth constantly. He wanted to be recognized everywhere he went, even while riding in his carriage, so he had a totally obnoxious vehicle custom built. The carriage itself was shaped like a seashell, the wheels were all different colors, and the sides were painted with images of roosters crowing. And that's where Robert got his second nickname. When people saw his carriage rolling down the street. They would shout out cockadoodle. Do I have to assume that they were

mocking him, But Robert didn't see it that way. To him, all attention was good attention, which brings me to his third nickname, Romeo. While Robert's already had a fortune, he dreamt of fame. He wanted to become known as a great actor. In eighteen ten, when he was thirty eight years old, he volunteered to take part in a charity

theater production in Bath, England. The organization was putting on a performance of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet and I'm sure you can guess which role Robert asked to play now. Audience members did not arrive expecting Broadway level talent. It was a charity performance after all, just a bit of light entertainment. But nobody, and I mean nobody, could have anticipated just how horrible Robert Coates version of Romeo would be.

To start, his costume didn't fit. Robert, who had enough money to buy whatever clothes he wanted, chose to wear pants that were so tight they split in the middle of the show. During the famous balcony scene, he paused in the middle of his delivering his lines to start chewing tobacco. After Juliet died, he tried to pry open her tomb with an actual crowbar. A reviewer had this to say about Robert's performance, quote, his delivery was uncouth,

his attitude most awkward, and his emphasis uniformly misplaced. At the beginning of the fourth act, the curtain was dropped. In other words, Ibert's performance was so disgraceful that the show had to be ended early. However, even as the curtain closed, he ran out to the front of the stage and kept trying to act. He had to be carried away from the theater by force. As for the audience, if you can believe it, they were kind of sad to see Romeo go. His performance might have been awful,

but it was also entertaining. This production of Romeo and Juliet didn't ruin Robert's acting career, It actually kickstarted it. Over the following years, he continued to appear on stage, each time delivering performances that were described by some as quote, irrational and disgusting. But at the same time, Robert gained a cult following. He was ridiculous, melodramatic, and pompous. He lacked any kind of artfulness or refinement. He was so bad he was good in a way. Robert Romeo Coates

got his wish. He became a famous actor. Even after he passed away in eighteen forty eight, his name lived on, although it was used as an insult. Calling an actor a mister Romeo Coates was a way of calling them absolutely awful. But hey, Robert believed that all attention was good attention, so he would probably be happy that we're talking about him at all. In two thousand and two, a ninety two year old Brazilian man named Francisco Xavier Candito,

better known as Chico, passed away. Chico was so beloved that his funeral became a national event. His wake lasted two full days. During that time, people waited in line that stretched over two and a half miles to stay their goodbyes. About twenty five hundred mourners passed by his coffin every hour. When his casket was finally taken to the cemetery, a police helicopter showered his grave with rose petals. The governor of Chico's home state announced that his burial

would be followed by three official days of Mourning. So I'm sure you're asking now what made people love Chico so much? Well, he was an author. He had written approximately four hundred and ninety books during his lifetime. But that's absolutely prolific output. Wasn't what made him special, is e. Chico was a self identified psychic medium. He claimed that the vast majority of his books weren't actually written by him.

They had been dictated to him by ghosts. This is a practice known as psychography, and it didn't originate with Chico. As early as the eighteen hundreds, spiritualists in the United States claimed that they could receive messages from the dead. Sometimes these mediums would fall into a trance while holding a pencil and paper. When they regained consciousness, the paper would be covered in sentences that, according to them, were

written by ghosts. Over time, the words came through tools like the Ouiji board, which spirits could supposedly use to communicate with the living. Some of these messages ended up being long and dare I say, quite artful. In the early nineteen hundreds, one ghost author actually gained commercial popularity. Her name was Patience Worth. I've covered her here on this show before, but as a reminder. Patience reportedly lived in the seventeen hundreds, but managed to pen three novels

over two hundred years after her death. As for who held the paper and pencil, that was Pearl Curran, a housewife from Saint Louis, who claimed that patient's spirit moved through her. Pearl serving as the conduit for patients became a literary sensation, and the saying was true of Chico. Although his story was far stranger than Pearls. He didn't need a pencil, paper, or a Ouiji board to talk

to spirits. They simply came to him. In nineteen fourteen, when he was four years old, Chico started hearing voices and having visions. His parents were scared. They thought that he was possessed by the devil. A local priest gave advice for how to get the demon out, too, like having Chico repeat thousands of prayers a day, but it didn't work. The boy's connection to the spirit world seemed unbreakable.

As a teenager, Chico began reading about spiritualism. He realized that he had a gift, and he resolved to use his abilities to help other people. He first began using psychography to comfort parents whose children had died. He would connect with these children's spirits and allow them to write letters through him. Most often they told their parents that they missed them, they loved them, and their spirits lived on. Eventually, though, Chico moved on from using psychography to write letters to

write books. He published his first work in nineteen thirty two. It was called Poetry from Beyond the Grave and featured two hundred and fifty nine poems that had been quotes unquote, revealed to him by the spirits of fifty six dead poets. And the book was a commercial success, and Chico continued to write at a breakneck pace. Between nineteen thirty two and two thousand and two, he wrote nearly five hundred books,

which sold over twenty five million copies. Many contained over religious messages, establishing him as one of Brazil's foremost spiritual leaders. At the same time, Chico made a point of engaging in humanitarian work and donating all of his profits to charity. He was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize twice, in nineteen eighty one and nineteen eighty two. So whether you believe in psychics or not, it's impossible to deny that Chico brought people comfort and hope, and that's why his

funeral was such a massive event. Still, not everyone was convinced of his power. Plenty of people tried to prove that he was a fraud, but none were successful. At one point, a woman brought him to court over a book of poetry. Chico claimed the book had been dictated to him by the ghost of a famous Brazilian poet, Umberto de compos So. Umberto's widow sued Chico for a share of the prophets. However, the judge ruled in Chico's favor, citing the fact that Umberto was dead and dead people

have no property rights. These days, Chico is remembered as one of the most important religious figures in Brazilian history, and while he died over twenty years ago, it's possible he still has more stories to tell. This time, maybe he'll be the one sending the messages from the great beyond. 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 Worldoflore dot com. And until next time, stay curious.