Schuylkill dating

Sunshine

2020.09.29 02:21 vkrttta Sunshine

Didn't want to bring in someone with a depressing title. But I have been facing severe depression since the last six months (I came out to myself). Recently, I really liked someone, but I got ghosted after two dates. Its 8 PM right now. I be 19 at 12. Isn't it really funny how a 20 year old closeted Chinese, that got ghosted yesterday, has got no one to wish 'Happy Birthday, I hope you stay blessed',and has to go back to his internship tomorrow at sharp 8 😂.
More funny is how I made sure to remember each and everyone's birthday and got them presents days before. Like my to-be-roommate/closest friend doesn't remember it is my birthday today, although I have literally told him a week ago. I mean, not that starting to cry after seeing the Schuylkill River wasn't weird enough, but now, I am so pathetic, that I am using my secondary reddit to post about my pathetic life and gain sympathy, which I don't even wanna do.
I think I should be pacified by my parent's 12:00 am video call and just go back to bed. It wouldn't have made any difference to anyone, would I have not been born, but unfortunately, the earth has to take my extra 150 lbs. Gotta do laundry, I hope that makes me feel better.
submitted by vkrttta to lonely [link] [comments]


2020.04.29 04:04 BubbaJoeJones I compiled a list of images related to unsolved cases where investigators are asking the public’s help to identify the subjects of the photo. Each photo is of a John or Jane Doe, Suspect, or Objects in an investigation. Do you recognize any of these subjects?

I complied 3 albums containing images where investigators are asking for the public’s help to identify the subject of said image. These albums will focus on images of John and Jane Does, Suspects who have been captured on CCTV or other forms of media, and Objects linked to a criminal investigation.
Case summaries are included. The link to the albums are listed below.
John and Jane Does
Suspects and Persons of Interest
Objects
If you know of a case that fits the criteria of any of the three categories, feel free to let me know. Let’s expand the lists.
John and Jane Doe Sources
“Mostly Harmless” Articles:
Doe Network
Mysterious Hiker Found Dead On Florida Trail May Be From Brooklyn
Police: Hiker who died in Florida may be Lake George-area man; ID sought
Opelika Jane Doe Articles
Opelika’s Baby Jane Doe remains unnamed eight years after remains discovered
Authorities hope video leads to identity in Opelika Jane Doe death case
Facial Composite
El Dorado Jane Doe Articles
Doe Network
DNA helps identify leads in mystery murder case dating back nearly three decades
Rockledge Jane Doe Articles
DNA Doe Project
FBI
Schuylkill River Jane Doe Articles
NAMUS
Suspects/Persons of Interest Sources
Delphi Murders
Audio and Video
Indiana State Police
Murder of Eva “Kay” Wenal
Solve this case: Who killed Kay Wenal?
Killer's confession letter released in 2008 cold case
Murder of Shelbey Thornburgh
Houston Police, family plead for tips in unsolved murder of aspiring model
Investigation Discovery
Video Footage of Suspect
Murder of Al Kite
FBI
Murder of Aurora man remains unsolved 15 years later but police still believe renter killed him
Phenotype Report
Murder of Jennifer Cohen
MOTHER BEATEN IN BAY RIDGE: HER KILLER REMAINS ON THE RUN
Owl's Head Park Murder: NYPD Still Searching For Person of Interest (surveillance footage included)
Objects Sources
Lonnie Franklin, Jr. Case Articles
"Grim Sleeper" Serial Killer Suspect's Secret Photos (Full Album)
Serial Killer Known as ‘Grim Sleeper’ Dies in Prison
The 'Grim Sleeper' Serial Killer: 7 Things to Know After Lonnie Franklin's Death
Rodney Alcala Case Articles
Serial Killer Rodney Alcala’s Photos Released: Can You ID Any Of These Women? (Full Album)
Prosecutor worries Alcala might have killed others
Serial killer Rodney Alcala charged in slaying of pregnant woman in Wyoming
Long Island Serial Killer Case Articles
Police reveal new crime scene evidence in Long Island serial killer case
What we know and don't about Long Island’s suspected serial killer case
Amy Mihaljevic Case Articles
Homemade curtain might hold key in Amy Mihaljevic's murder
Amy Mihaljevic's father speaks to 3News about the day her body was found, 30 years later
David Parker Ray Case Articles
Items and Artifacts in David Parker Ray Case
submitted by BubbaJoeJones to UnresolvedMysteries [link] [comments]


2020.03.23 00:48 firefliesxx NYT: "I’m Jealous of the Attention My Wife Gives My Son. Am I a Monster?"

Archived link to the NYT article: http://archive.is/0f9qC
I'm not denying that children can put strain on relationships and bring up all sorts of complicated emotions. But this man's writing made me roll my eyes so hard and so frequently that I thought they were going to just pop right out. Here's my favorite part:
Before we had kids, I was the one my wife needed to look after. I’d always operated under the notion that my brand of helplessness was endearing, adorable even.
It seemed like an unspoken agreement between the two us: I promised to provide constant laughter, endless adventure (one of our first dates involved jumping off a 40-foot high railroad bridge into the murky waters of Pennsylvania’s Schuylkill River) and a steady stream of ridiculous stories to keep her entertained well into our golden years.
All she had to do in return was accompany me on my many soul-crushing stand-up comedy gigs in exotic locations like Scranton, Pa., and Poughkeepsie, N.Y., and help me limp through my adult life without accidentally killing myself or winding up in jail.
But when a baby comes along, those spacey, idiosyncratic behaviors like, say, putting the lunch meat in the cabinet under the kitchen sink, aren’t quirky fun things to tell your girlfriends about — they’re infuriating.
...
I’ve all but lost my ability to charm my way back into my wife’s good graces these days. Little boyfriend, on the other hand, can take a permanent marker to her favorite dress, and all he has to do is look at her with those dreamy eyes and say his trademark anger-defusing phrase: “I like ya hair.”
Translation: "I have gotten away with acting like a literal child my entire adult life and I am unable to do even the most basic of chores or responsibilities correctly. My wife somehow now thinks this is infuriating now that we have a child????? I am so confused and neglected."
It's so infuriating that he clearly felt he was being emotionally intelligent by writing this, when in reality it just shows how tone deaf he really is. I hate this trope of the "lazy and stupid but boyishly charming man and the tired but tolerant wife."
Ladies, we cannot settle for these men who think their inability to do even basic chores or maintain expected adult responsibilities is cute and that they make up for it by being "charming" or "adventurous." Not only are they actually not that charming, but we are not their mothers!
submitted by firefliesxx to FemaleDatingStrategy [link] [comments]


2019.10.22 00:26 RiderRob Schuylkill Crossing at Grays Ferry status as of this afternoon. Haven’t seen any official updates in the past few months on opening date. I did see that $67 million was approved for projects to expand the SRT from Christian St to Passyunk Ave for FY 2019-2020. Who’s got the insider info on this?

Schuylkill Crossing at Grays Ferry status as of this afternoon. Haven’t seen any official updates in the past few months on opening date. I did see that $67 million was approved for projects to expand the SRT from Christian St to Passyunk Ave for FY 2019-2020. Who’s got the insider info on this? submitted by RiderRob to phillycycling [link] [comments]


2019.08.09 18:17 aanjheni Conjecture Lecture: Or I suck at future predictions of the show

tldr: If participating in this subreddit has taught me anything is that I royally suck at predicting what will happen in Mr. Robot. What I do moderately well is look for patterns and recall history. I also have an insatiable need to understand another person’s creative process, since I am not one of those creative genius types. This is my attempt to highlight some of the RL historical events and people to the Mr. Robot universe and what I perceive where u/SamEsmail received his inspiration for Mr. Robot. It has also taught me that I like bullet points.
First a mini-timeline. While I am sure there are a ton more dates and events, these are the ones that have come up pretty frequently in the show.
1991 – The World Wide Web was launched at CERN; Linux was also introduced
1995 – Various browsers introduced, Windows 95 released, personal computer sales explode
2003 – 4chan launched
2004 – Thefacebook (later Facebook) was launched, Anonymous was established on 4chan
2006 - Wikileaks launched from servers in Iceland by Australian hacker, Julian Assange
2007 - Collateral Murder video and associated documents were published on Wikileaks; ChanOps started (?)
2008 – Tom Cruise’s weird propaganda video for Scientology is leaked, Anonymous launches Project Chanology against Scientology
2009 - Manning states that she started working with Wikileaks on Thanksgiving 2009 in a chat with Adrian Lamo
2010 – Anonymous launches Operation Payback in retaliation against industry attempts to stop Piratebay and WikiLeaks; Chelsea (then Bradley) Manning leaked information to Wikileaks (crucially the Collateral Murder footage and documents); Manning confides in informant, Adrian Lamo; Manning is arrested and imprisoned much of it under the Prevention of Injury status.
2011 – Arab Spring, Occupy Wallstreet, Gawker hack, emergence of LulzSec from the anon group Internet Feds, BART hack, Sony hack, Fox Network hack, UK banks hack, PBS hack, Operation AntiSec, way too many others to list; several LulzSec members arrested
2012 – This is the year that Esmail said his idea for Mr. Robot was ‘born’. More members of LulzSec arrested, NSA statement on Anonymous and power grid threats
2013 – Criminal cases finalized against several LulzSec members
2014 - Manning is provided with hormones to facilitate her gender reassignment
2015 – Mr. Robot universe; Manning is provided all necessary items to address her gender dysphoria
I speculate that Esmail was intrigued by world events that led up the arrest and conviction of LulzSec members. Perhaps he read Olson’s 2012 book, “We Are Anonymous: Inside the Hacker World of LulzSec, Anonymous, and the Global Cyber Insurgency” (Olson, Parmy). Perhaps he just kept abreast of the news. It certainly was all over the web in articles and blog posts such as:
Not to mention Twitter with the associated hashtags. Even a ‘diary’ posted on isc.sans.edu (there are a number of documents cited in this link that are fascinating reading, although you may have to hunt down cached versions since the links are dead).
Okay, so where was I going with this? Oh yes, there are so many similarities to the entire history of LulzSec and the Mr. Robot Universe. For example:
Some of the people involved in LulzSec and/or satellite players seem to be inspirations for Elliot, Darlene, Angela, Kayla, Romero, Gideon, and Trenton.
Some of the iconography with LulzSec and (some) seen prominently in Mr. Robot
Early Hacker Groups and Events
Hackers on Planet Earth Convention

The Next HOPE Convention of 2010 (Well worth a look at the documentation and lineup all of the HOPE conventions.)

Hotel Pennsylvania, Manhattan, NY
I think one of the most important inspirational pieces for Esmail may have been the following essay written by Jake Davis in February 2012:
Hello, friend, and welcome to the Internet, the guiding light and deadly laser in our hectic, modern world. The internet horde has been watching you closely for some time now. It has seen you flock to your Facebook and your Twitter of the years, and it has seen you enter its home turf and attempt to overrun it with your scandals and “real world” gossip. You need to know that the ownership of cyberspace will always remain with the hivemind. The Internet does not belong to your beloved authorities, militaries, or multi-millionaire company owners. The Internet belongs to the trolls and the hackers, the enthusiasts and the extremists; it will never cease to be this way.
You see, the Internet has long since lost its place in time and its shady collective continues to shunt he fact that it lives in a specific year like 2012, where it has to abide by 2012’s morals and 2012’s society, with its rules and it punishments. The Internet smirks at scenes of mass rape and horrific slaughtering followed by a touch of cannibalism, all to the sound of catchy Japanese music. It simply doesn’t give a tuppence about getting a “job”, getting a car, getting a house, raising a family, and teaching them to continue the loop while the human race organizes its own death. Custom-plated coffins and retirement plans made of paperwork…the Internet asks why?
You cannot make the Internet feel bad, you cannot make the Internet feel regret or guilt or sympathy, you can only make the Internet feel the need to have more lulz at your expense. The lulz flow through all in the faceless army as they see the twin towers falling with a dancing Hitler on loop in the bottom-left corner of their screens. The lulz strike when they open a newspaper and care nothing for any of the world’s alleged problems. They laugh at downward red arrows as banks and businesses tumble, and they laugh at our glorious government overlords trying to fix a situation by throwing more currency at it. They laugh when you try to make them feel the need to “make something of life,” and they laugh harder when you call them vile trolls and heartless web terrorists. They laugh at you because you’re not capable of laughing at yourselves and all of the pointless fodder they believe you surround yourselves in. But most of all they laugh because they can.
This is not to say that the Internet is your enemy. It is your greatest ally and closest friend; its shops mean you don’t have to set foot outside your home, and its casinos allow you to lose your money at any hour of the day. Its many chat rooms ensure you no longer need to interact with any other members of your species directly, and detailed social networking conveniently maps your every move and thought. Your intimate relationships and darkest secrets belong to the horde, and they will never be forgotten. Your existence will forever be encoded into the infinite repertoire of beautiful, byte-sized sequences, safely housed in the cyber cloud for all to observe.
And how has the Internet changed the lives of its most hardened addicts? They simply don’t care enough to tell you. So welcome to the underbelly of society, the anarchistic stream-of-thought nebular that seeps it way into the mainstream word – your world – more and more every day. You cannot escape it and you cannot anticipate it. It is the nightmare on the edge of your dreams and the ominous thought that it claws its way through your online life like a blinding virtual force, disregarding your philosophies and feasting on your emotions.
Prepare to end to the hivemind, motherfuck.
Gosh, I can just hear Elliot saying something like this, can’t you?
submitted by aanjheni to MrRobot [link] [comments]


2019.05.23 00:25 JamieD_99 Hilarious dating profile admits belief Sixers got name from Schuylkill Expressway

Hilarious dating profile admits belief Sixers got name from Schuylkill Expressway submitted by JamieD_99 to philadelphia [link] [comments]


2018.12.27 03:55 NotJ3st3r Thursday, December 27th

Today are:

Snowflakes are associated with the holiday season, and today is a day to cut them out of paper. Cut out snowflakes are popular with kids, but today anyone can make them. A variation of Japanese origami is called kirigami. While both include folding paper, in kirigami you unfold the paper and then make cuts with a scissors. With cut out snowflakes you usually cut the paper when it is still folded, and then open it to reveal a snowflake. Just like no two snowflakes are alike, it is easy to make many different designs of cut out snowflakes.

Fruitcakes have long been tied to the holiday season, whether as a treat, or as target of jokes and ridicule. The earliest recipes for them date to Roman times, where pomegranates, pine nuts, and raisins mixed with barley hash were used. Fruitcakes became popular in Europe, where the fruits and nuts used in them were a delicacy. Thus, they came to be served primarily on special occasions such as weddings and during Christmas. Honey and spices were also common ingredients in fruitcakes in Europe in the Middle Ages. Their popularity in Europe rose with the importation of cheap sugar from the colonies in the sixteenth century, which allowed fruit to be better preserved. Native fruits such as plums and cherries were better preserved, but this allowed more fruits to be imported from around the world as well. Recipes proliferated all over Europe; recipes varied by country and changed over time. By the early nineteenth century, a typical recipe would be made up of citrus peel, pineapple, dates, pears, and cherries.
After gaining popularity in Europe, fruitcakes gained a foothold in the United States, especially in locations where fresh fruit was hard to come by. Nuts became a staple of recipes, most likely because a lot of fruitcake producers were located in the southern United States, where cheap nuts were prevalent. This helped lead to the coining of the phrase "nutty as a fruitcake" in 1935. Today fruitcakes are typically made of candied or dried fruits, nuts, and spices, and are sometimes soaked in spirits such as brandy. They come in all shapes and sizes; they can be round, oval, square, or shaped like a ring. Butter or cream is usually not added as the cakes are so sweet on their own, but some are covered with powdered sugar. Many believe the best fruitcakes are slightly aged; they are often made a month before being eaten, and with the proper preserved fruits and spirits, they can last about three years. Wrapping them in alcohol soaked linens also lengthens their shelf life.
The mail order fruitcake business began in 1913. Fruitcakes are also often sold from catalogs by charities for fundraisers. Beginning in the twentieth century, fruitcakes began being maligned. They have been referenced in negative ways in various television shows, most notably by Johnny Carson, who once said, "The worst gift is a fruitcake. There is only one fruitcake in the entire world, and people keep sending it to each other." On another occasion, attempts were made to destroy a fruitcake on his show, but the attempts were unsuccessful.

Visit the Zoo Day takes place during the holidays, between Christmas and New Year's Day, at a time when children often have off from school. Family members who live out of town are often visiting as well. Given these circumstances, Visit the Zoo Day provides a great way for families to bond during the holidays.
A Zoo—short for a zoological park—is a place that contains animals and exists to entertain, educate, engage in scientific research, and focus on conservation. Early zoos, known as menageries, were private collections of animals held by the wealthy. They existed as early as 2,500 BCE, being found in Egypt and Mesopotamia. They were found soon afterward in ancient China, Greece, and Rome. Aztec Emperor Montezuma II had one of the first collections of animals in the Western Hemisphere.
Modern zoos came about during the age of Enlightenment. One of the focuses of the era was on science, and this extended to zoology. There was an increased interest to study animals, with the goal of better understanding their behavior and anatomy. In order to do this more accurately, animals needed to be observed in more natural habitats. This was a driving force behind the establishment of modern zoos.
One of the first modern zoos, Menagerie du Jardin des Plantes, opened in Paris, France, in 1793. This followed the French Revolution; the menageries of the aristocrats, including those of the king and queen, were used to start the zoo. This early zoo did not have much for natural habitat, though, and was set up more like a museum, having small display areas.
Shortly thereafter in America, in 1804, Thomas Jefferson sent Lewis and Clark on an expedition out West to find and document the animals living there. This demonstrated the new country's interest in animals, but the country was not quite ready for a zoo. When the London Zoo opened to the public in 1847, it influenced some in the United States to start thinking that it was time to open their own zoo.
A physician named William Camac spearheaded the cause for a zoo in Philadelphia. On March 21, 1859, the Pennsylvania State Legislature voted to establish the Philadelphia Zoological Society, and Camac became its president. The Society—the first of its kind in the United States—worked to raise public and private funds to build the zoo. With the start of the Civil War in 1861, the plans were put on hold, as money was not available to devote to the zoo until after the war.
Eventually, the Zoological Society was given 30 acres of land in Fairmount Park on the banks of the Schuylkill River. The size of the zoo was later extended to 42 acres. On opening day, 3,000 people visited the zoo and were welcomed by a brass band and flags. Adults were charged 25 cents for admission, while children were charged 10 cents—this was the cost of admission for the next half-century. Yearly memberships were available for 10 dollars, with lifetime memberships being 50 dollars. During its first year of operation, 228,000 people visited the zoo. Today it has 1.2 million visitors each year. Presently, there are many zoos all across the country, making it easy to celebrate Visit the Zoo Day!

Happy Celebrating
submitted by NotJ3st3r to nationalsomethingday [link] [comments]


2018.09.21 13:02 Radi091 Smashed My PR at Rock 'n' Roll Philadelphia Half Marathon

What? Rock 'n' Roll Philadelphia
When? September 16, 2018
How far? Half Marathon
Website? https://www.runrocknroll.com/en/events/philadelphia

Intro

Just to preface this report, I first ran Rock 'n' Roll Philly in 2016 and it was my worst half marathon to date. I'd gotten a bit cocky, I didn't train nearly enough for the race, and it was unseasonably hot. I still managed to come in just barely under 2-hours but it was a long and painful race, especially towards the finish.

Since then, I've gotten a lot more serious about running and about my training, and after setting a new PR in the half marathon in April while training for my first marathon, I decided to dedicate the fall to really pushing my limits. I settled on Rock 'n' Roll Philadelphia as a sort of redemption run.

My main goal headed into the race was to set a new PR but by amping up my training, and adding some speed/strength work, I had my mind set on breaking 1:40:00 (My previous PR was 1:45:45)

Full report with pictures available at IRUNONBEER.com

The Morning

We were staying in DE, so we had a bit of a drive to get to Philly. Alarms went off at five and we were on the road by six to head to the race. We'd reserved a parking garage the night before but unfortunately, as we reached the city, we quickly realized that they were closing all of the streets that would allow us to get to our spot. As time went by, traffic started to pick up, more streets started to close, and I began to panic a bit. Luckily my wife offered to take over driving so I could hop out and run to the starting line.

Luckily for me, Brooks had offered me VIP package as part of a marketing campaign I helped with earlier in the year which made a HUGE difference pre-race. With the VIP package, I got access to private gear check and private bathrooms which meant no waiting in lines. Since I was getting to the starting area with only 20-minutes to spare, this was a Godsend. I was in and out with enough time to squeeze in a quick warmup. Did I mention Des Linden was warming up in the VIP area as well!? Another added bonus and motivational boost pre-race. I strolled into the starting corral with about 2-minutes to spare before the first corral was off.

Miles 1-4

The pre-race jitters were in full swing waiting for my corral to begin but I turned on my playlist and tried to settle down and focus in the final seconds. Crossing the starting line, I felt great, I found a comfortable pace and was enjoying the crowd support. Since this was my first real attempt to push my pace for an entire race, my main fear was finding a pace that was fast enough to hit my goal but also maintainable for the entire race. Since the first 4 miles were run through downtown Philly, I did my best to stay relaxed and enjoy the sights.

Glancing at my watch, I was moving faster than my plan but I felt strong and didn't feel like I was exerting too much effort. Around mile 2, the 1:40 pacer whizzed by me and over the next 2 miles, he was gaining a bit of a lead on me. This was a bit concerning since breaking 1:40 was my primary goal and I kept catching myself speeding up trying to catch him. Looking at my watch, however, I was running much faster than I'd like to. It was a little stressful watching the pacer stretch his lead but I kept reminding myself to slow down and run my own race.

Miles 5-8

By mile 5 we were wrapping back around by the Philadelphia Art Museum which meant it was time to settle in for the long out-and-back along the Schuylkill River. Out-and-backs are tough on me mentally but the nice part was that this portion of the course was very flat. It was around mile 5 that I also caught back up to the 1:40 pace group which certainly gave me a confidence boost seeing that they'd slowed down SIGNIFICANTLY

Once I passed the group, I knew that as long as I stayed ahead, I'd hit my goal. I was hovering just over a 7:15 mile at this point which, again, was faster than I'd initially planned, but I was still feeling good. I was continually checking in with my breathing to make sure I wasn't overreaching. By mile 8, that pace was definitely starting to feel more difficult but still manageable.

Miles 9-12

You hit the turnaround of the out-and-back at mile 9 which gave me an initial boost in motivation because I was finally headed back towards the finish line! Unfortunately, that motivation was short-lived as my mind kept wandering back to how much longer I had to go. After turning around, we were headed directly into the sun, and it was hot... really hot. Memories of my first attempt at Rock 'n' Roll Philly were flooding my mind but I was doing my best to push through them.

I was ahead of my goal, I had some wiggle room to work with if I needed to slow down but I tried to push those thoughts from my mind. The closer I got to the finish, the hotter it got, and I noticed my posture starting to sag a bit as I hunched my shoulders and head in an attempt shield my eyes from the sun. Every mile, I knew I was that much closer to the finish but it was a difficult push, that's for sure.

Mile 13

As soon as I crossed into mile 13, my stomach let me know just how much of a toll the heat was taking on me and I darted off-course and promptly puked onto the grass. Puking is never fun but I actually felt a lot better once it was over. I wasn't thrilled with the time it would add but I tried to pick it up again so I could finish strong, I was still well ahead of schedule.

Winding around the final turns, I kept thinking of some of my wife's last words to me before the race "remember to smile at the finish." There was no way that was going to happen. I was sporting an intense grimace as the finish line came into view and I mustered everything I could to pick up the pace for that final uphill. I was overjoyed for a split second as I crossed the finish line but then I immediately threw up whatever was left in my stomach. Still, I'd done it!

The Finish

This was only the second time I've hurled at the finish line of a race and I have to commend the support team from Rock 'n' Roll who were quick to rush over with cold water to make sure I was alright.

A few minutes later I joined the flow of the rest of the finishers and wound my way through the chute grabbing anything I could carry. I snagged another Gatorade, some chocolate milk, and plenty of chips and pretzels. Halfway through the chute, I caught up with my family who were able to tell me my unofficial chip time, 1:38:17. The funniest part about that number is that the day before, as a joke, I randomly threw out 1:38:06 as my expected time.

As soon as I was through the chute, I headed back to the VIP tent to get a finisher's massage and it was phenomenal! It was only 10-minutes, but my hamstrings and IT-bands were definitely thankful. After that, I grabbed my gear bag, got changed in one of the changing booths, and headed back out to meet my family. Of course on the way out, I passed Des Linden again as she was crushing pushups after her post-race run... She's an animal!

All that was left to do was run the Rocky steps and celebrate the victory. It was a hell of a race but I've been riding the high since I got home. I'm already making plans to crush another PR in 2019!

Official Time and New PR - 1:38:16



https://preview.redd.it/7g67n1oxpkn11.jpg?width=823&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=edbe1a9048cbbecb1665676c81b7d942c47b17df

submitted by Radi091 to running [link] [comments]


2018.08.22 21:18 mrpersson Could someone clip a Newspapers.com article for me?

Naturally, I found this one day after my free trial ended. The newspaper is the West Schuylkill Herald in Tower City, Pennsylvania. Date Oct 20, 1922
It's about William F. Jones and his wife Elizabeth celebrating their golden anniversary. Not sure if it's a single article or if there are multiple blurbs. I think it mostly refers to him as W.F. Jones but I can see at least once they call him William.
Thanks for any help
submitted by mrpersson to Genealogy [link] [comments]


2018.08.08 10:43 assessment_bot [ Non-Fatal ] [ 07/30/2018 ] Luscombe 8, Pottsville/ PA

Category Data Category Data Category Data
Event Id: 20180730X43312 Investigation Type: Accident Accident Number: GAA18CA456
Event Date: 07/30/2018 Location: Pottsville, PA Country: United States
Latitude: 40.705556 Longitude: -76.374445 Airport Code: ZER
Airport Name: SCHUYLKILL COUNTY/JOE ZERBEY Injury Severity: Non-Fatal Aircraft Damage: Substantial
Aircraft Category: Airplane Registration Number: N2022K Make: Luscombe
Model: 8 Amateur Built: No Number of Engines: 1
Engine Type: FAR Description: Part 91: General Aviation Schedule:
Purpose of Flight: Personal Air Carrier: Total Fatal Injuries:
Total Serious Injuries: Total Minor Injuries: Total Uninjured: 1
Weather Condition: VMC Broad Phase of Flight: Report Status: Preliminary
Publication Date: 08/07/2018
http://www.ntsb.gov/_layouts/ntsb.aviation/brief.aspx?ev_id=20180730X43312
submitted by assessment_bot to NTSB_database [link] [comments]


2018.07.01 16:17 Sir_Superman Every Conference Change For the 2018-19 Season

Hello there,
Since July 1st is the beginning of the new academic & athletic school year I made this list of every conference change starting today unless noted on a different date. I've included changes for both primary & football-only conference moves, if I included all sports the list would probably double in size. Schools that play football are shown in Bold.
I would say the biggest changes this year are Liberty moving up to FBS, Idaho dropping to FCS, and Hampton leaving the MEAC, a HBCU leaving a HBCU conference. However nothing quite on par with Wichita State moving to the AAC last year.
Hope you enjoy and please let me know if I've missed something or made any errors.

NCAA Division I

NCAA Division II

NCAA Division III

NAIA

NJCAA

USCAA

NCCAA

submitted by Sir_Superman to CFB [link] [comments]


2017.10.28 19:01 BacteriaLogical 100 Years Ago in Pro Football – Canton Bulldogs 41, Rochester Jeffersons 0

The 3-0 Canton Bulldogs continue the defense of their Ohio League professional football championship with a 41-0 defeat of the Rochester Jeffersons at League Park in Canton, Ohio.
The name Jefferson is testimony to the team’s beginnings as a sandlot team, many of which popped up across the country during the late 1800s and into the early part of the century. These sandlot teams were limited in how far they could travel, leaving them to play crosstown rivals. As these rivalries unfolded, the teams began calling themselves and each other by the street name or avenue near where the team played, in this case Jefferson Avenue in Rochester.
The Rochester Jeffersons, under the leadership of owner Leo Lyons who started playing for the team at age 16 in 1908, grew from the sandlot and won the New York Professional Football League (NYPFL) title in 1915 and 1916.
On this day a hundred years ago, Leo Lyons didn’t just put his team on a train to Canton, he put them on track to become a charter member of the NFL.
Some researchers go further, arguing this game more than any other led to the creation of the NFL itself, seeing the new league as essentially a merger of the NYPFL into the Ohio League.
Leo Lyons, tireless promoter of professional football, had sparked a national interest, even in defeat.
He forced football players around the country, even old sandlot teams, to make a gut check: do you have what it takes to play the best?
The Rochester Jeffersons proved they did October 28, 1917, the first NYPFL team to challenge Ohio’s place as the center of the professional football universe. Teams with humble beginnings were competing all over the country. There was only one way to find who had the best football team, and that was to create a nation-wide league.
By age 18 Lyons was already involved with the team’s finances, promoting games, managing the team, a role he would maintain until the team ceased operations after the 1925 NFL season. Hall of Fame Immortal George Halas mentioned Lyons in his acceptance speech, as Halas had modeled his stewardship for the Bears. Lyons is credited as being “manager, owner, photographer, doctor, counselor, financier, field worker, game booker, agent, and scout.”
Talking with Jim Thorpe after the blow-out, Lyons remained upbeat, predicting that one day pro football would be the biggest sport in America.
After the war when the invitations went out from Canton to create the NFL, one arrived in Rochester addressed to Leo Lyons.
The October 28, 1917 loss to Canton helped Lyons make bigger games and recruit better players. Unfortunately, the Jeffersons had a big problem that made it impossible for them to survive the times. Not even Lyons could overcome this issue: pro football fans in Rochester only wanted to see the local boys play. When Lyons recruited a big name player, attendance suffered. The Jeffersons played their last season on the road.
It seems football historians, with no way to answer the question of whether there might have been a professional football team somewhere in America that could have been competitive in the Ohio League, find it’s easiest to simply dismiss the idea.
At this time, for a West Coast professional football team to test their mettle in Ohio, it’s just ridiculous, so we’ll never know. With no footage, first-hand accounts are all we have. The journalists covering pro football wanted to see the sport thrive as well, and would use hyperbole to make the game sound more interesting. When it’s time to make comparisons, who travelled enough to see all of these different teams? Even top sportswriters could only see so many games.
It’s easier to make a more seamless history and simply say “the Ohio League had the best teams in the world.” If pressed for evidence, well in 1917 the New York state champ lost 41-0; any questions?
Yet, Lyons might have made a better argument for the state of professional football outside of the Ohio League if he had instead chose to play a second-tier team, say the struggling Columbus Panhandles that Canton had just defeated 54-0 the week prior. In this comparison, Rochester appears to have outplayed Columbus. Still, Leo Lyons wanted to promote professional football, so it made more sense to play the best. He wasn’t going to go all the way to Ohio to play Columbus. For historians it would have been great if he did, because it would have provided a key data point.
In the absence of any evidence, the idea that Ohio in 1917 is the center of the football universe will persist.
This same lack of real data also allows each region to imagine how their local powerhouse might have fared. These independent teams were often led by a great veteran player, whose name had become synonymous with the team and as such, impossible for him to play anywhere else.
It would have been highly unusual to see a West Coast player leave his home to play in the Ohio League, even though Thorpe was making $1,500 a game at this point.
Evidence this had already changed can be seen in 1925 when Champ Chamberlin used telegrams to recruit John Stockton’s grandfather Hust Stockton from Gonzaga to play in Philadelphia for the Frankford Yellow Jackets.
The Philadelphia and southeast Pennsylvania area is one place where we have evidence of independent teams playing against NFL teams.
Of course everyone is familiar by now with the great teams from Schuylkill County, Pottsville, Coaldale, Gilberton, Shenandoah and Wilkes-Barre, the Anthracite League as they came to be known. One of the reasons these teams became famous is that they were playing pro football on Sunday, in defiance of the state’s Blue Laws. Supposedly the county DA was quoted as saying, “If you want to come up here and tell these coal miners they can’t play football on their day off, be my guest.”
It’s impossible to discount the effect the Blue Laws had on the development of professional football.
It should be no surprise Ohio became the center of the football universe, when you consider almost everyone east of the border would have to play football on Saturday at a time when college ruled the gate. If you wanted to play on Sunday, you needed to head west.
In Philadelphia professional teams played on Saturday. The Frankford Yellow Jackets were already hard at work by 1917, and upstart Holmesburg from right up The Kings Highway took the city championship in 1919 and 1920. If these were “neighborhood” teams we wouldn’t expect to find the score of the city championship game in the London Times and San Francisco Chronicle. They competed against other teams around the city and its environs, as well as traveling teams from New York and DC, Reading and Lancaster.
Play in the western suburbs throughout the pre-war era was dominated by Conshohocken, led at the time by Earl Potteiger, who would go on to coach the New York Giants’ 1927 NFL championship team.
When the NFL began play in 1920, there were only two teams east of Ohio, the Rochester Jeffersons and the Buffalo All-Americans.
After the 1917 season the Jeffs were forced to suspend operations like almost everyone else, even Harvard and Yale, with an exception being the city of Buffalo, which somehow managed a six-game pro season in 1918.
When the Jeffs returned to the field in 1919 they lost the New York State title to the same Buffalo team that had won the city title in 1918, a team head-manned by one of pro football’s first great quarterbacks, Michigan’s Tommy Hughitt.
The torch for professional football in the state of New York had passed from Rochester to Buffalo.
In 1920, as the NFL came together, Buffalo, led by Frank McNeil, having defeated Rochester in 1919, felt his team worthy of joining the newly formed league and had already taken his team on a barnstorming tour through Ohio.
Looking for star power he recruited Dartmouth’s Swede Youngstrom and started calling the team the All-Americans to highlight the abundance of college talent on the roster.
The Rochester Jeffersons posted a winning record in the NFL’s first year, finishing ahead of Canton in the standings, even though they only played one other NFL team, a 17-6 loss to Buffalo, which finished the season 9-1-1.
Like the Bills of the 60s and 90s, the Buffalo All-Americans were probably the best team from their era that didn’t win a championship, finishing 9-1-2 in 1921, again only good enough for second place.
The All-Americans went into the last game of the 1920 season knowing they were one win away from the championship, while their opponent, the Akron Pros, only needed a tie. The game ended 0-0, and with it, Buffalo’s hope for a championship in the NFL’s first year. According to modern NFL tie-breakers the Buffalo All-Americans would be considered co-champions of the 1920 season, as Akron finished 8-0-3. For fifty years the NFL had the title listed as undecided, until records were found that at one of the meetings prior to the 1921 season Joe Carr had put forward Akron as champion and those present had voted aye.
None of the players from this great Buffalo team are in the NFL Hall of Fame. Not Hughitt; not Youngstrom, who at least made the “Hall of Very Good” Class of 2012; not Cornell’s Ockie Anderson, perhaps the NFL’s first star running back, whose career was cut short by injury; not Penn’s Heinie Miller, who Walter Camp described as the greatest end he’d ever seen play; not Lehigh’s Butch Spagna, who would later make NFL all-pro; not Tackle Lou Little, who played with Miller at Penn and went on to win the Amos Alonzo Stagg award and entry into the College Football Hall of Fame for his work at Columbia, where he developed Sid Luckman; not their Penn teammate Center Lud Wray, who co-founded the Eagles and became their first coach a year after being the first coach of the Redskins. What else could he have put on his resume? Star player in the league’s first year for a great team, first coach for two NFC East rivals, co-founder of the Eagles; forget about Canton, Philadelphia born and bred Lud Wray can’t even make the Ring of Honor at the Linc.
Instead, most of the accolades are reserved for Bert Bell. So what is it about greatness that tends to diminish the contributions of those around them? No one does it alone.
Bell, Wray, Miller, Little, the four Penn players served in the same unit during the war, and Bert Bell was the first to his feet when the officer asked for volunteers on a suicide mission. Then they returned to Penn for one last year of college ball. It should be a movie. One researcher found that Lud Wray, despite being in the Army, was on the League Island Marine Team in 1918, another dominant team playing in the eastern Pennsylvania area at the time. The military fielded some great football teams in this era out of military camps and bases around the country, and these teams would sometimes play against local pros.
According to Bert Bell’s biographer, it was Wray who handled the negotiations that allowed the buying group to obtain the territorial license for Philadelphia the Yellow Jackets had relinquished after the 1931 season, agreeing to settle debts with the Bears, Packers and Giants that the team had built up as the depression took hold of the team’s community-sponsored finances in Frankford.
Supposedly, Bell didn’t even have his share, the crash of ’29 had cost him dearly, and he borrowed the money from his fiancé, Frances Upton.
At that time, Upton might be compared to Janet Jackson circa Poetic Justice, already famous as a singer and dancer, she went out to Hollywood and just killed it.
Another way to measure Upton’s star power, when someone had the idea to do a live shortwave radio broadcast for Admiral Byrd in 1929, who was in Antarctica at the time in search of the South Pole, she made the cast.
Bell met her when she arrived with her entourage at the Ritz-Carlton, where he worked after his playing days had ended.
He took her on a date to Franklin Field to watch Penn play; she pointed out the pro game was more exciting. “At least they throw the ball.”
As one of the country’s most popular entertainers it was natural for her to float in the same circles as the top athletes of the day, and she had seen pro football at the Polo Grounds and Wrigley Field before ever meeting Bell.
In the depths of the depression, this woman bankrolled the creation of the Philadelphia Eagles, not because she had stars in her eyes, but because she believed in pro football, and she believed in Bert Bell.
More importantly to the history of professional football, she told Bell it would be impossible to marry a drinking man, and for her he sobered up, opening the door for him to become an NFL Immortal.
Bell bled the bluest of blood, and some argue this led him to the football field in the first place, similar to Hall of Famer Benny Friedman, whose biographer claimed he wanted to play football in part to dispel the myth that Jews were somehow a weaker species of man.
No one questions the toughness of a football player, especially not back then.
Bell, at 155 pounds, played the quarterback position with a desperation that gave caution to those who might think to tease him about his given name, deBenneville, an homage to his mother’s lineage that extended back to before the Revolutionary War. His father had been the Attorney General of Pennsylvania. The old man, instrumental in the creation of the NCAA, told Bert “he could go to Penn or he could go to hell.” When Bell returned a war hero his father bought him a $1,000 touring car that became famous around campus during the 1919 season.
Yet, Bell had what we would call today a gambling problem. In 1919 he was so sure Penn would defeat Swede Youngstrom and Dartmouth that he bet everything he had on the game.
He left the keys in the Touring car, put it the lot outside of Franklin Field before the game, and when Dartmouth came away with the upset it was never seen on campus again.
Bell’s father of course wanted him to marry well, and made a $50,000 investment to that effect, money he squandered at Saratoga.
The story that best reveals Bell’s somewhat singular position in American history involves the kidnapping of the Lindbergh baby.
Naturally, the feds were concerned about mob involvement, but who can find the answer to such a question? They turned to Bert Bell. He was able to verify from Al Capone himself, then in jail, that the mob was not involved, crucial and reliable information Bell then passed along to the proper authorities, which then guided the effort to catch the kidnappers.
Of course Bell became an NFL Immortal not because of his work at the Eagles, which never had a winning record under his ownership and may have been the worst franchise ever. The stories abound; apparently they were down to their last football and after a field goal attempt the kids ran away with it, and these were some of their last remaining fans.
It was Bell’s time as Commissioner that made him a first ballot Hall of Famer. And what does history measure as one of his first challenges and greatest accomplishments? Bell made sure the gamblers could not influence the outcome of an NFL game. He knew if there was ever a whiff these games were being fixed on the inside, it would be the end of the NFL as the fans would turn away. He saw how it had ruined boxing.
In a way it was like putting Joseph Kennedy in charge of the newly founded SEC after the stock market crash; the only one who really knows how the fox keeps getting into the henhouse is the fox himself.
Back to Buffalo. One reason these players may not get the recognition they deserve is because they are at the center of a story that poses an embarrassing challenge to the myth that the best teams in the country were in NFL.
Many of these Buffalo All-Americans were “two-timers,” playing on Saturday for the self-proclaimed US National Professional Champions of 1920, which was unfortunately not an NFL team, nor an old Ohio League team, but the Union Big Red out of Phoenixville, Pennsylvania.
It’s likely Bert Bell was in the middle of all this, as Youngstrom signed with Buffalo prior to two-timing with Union, and the two men were notorious rivals at the game of Bridge. There is a rumor Bell might have even suited up for Union.
The Union came into being in the post-war environment where soldiers returned with an interest in playing and watching sports. Phoenixville had fielded a dominant professional football team since 1907, but also needed to suspend operations in 1918, only managing to play one game in early December, a 48-0 blow-out of Paschall AC from Philadelphia.
Prior to the 1919 season, a rival club opened its doors in Phoenixville, the Phoenix Athletic Club, and signed the borough’s best players, such that Union, which noted researcher John Fenton of Ghosts of the Gridiron fame estimates compiled a 95-8-10 record over its existence, could only manage a scoreless tie against Phoenixville High School in what would be the only game they played. Long-time Union coach and captain Fats Eyrich left town to play for local powerhouse Conshohocken.
Phoenix meanwhile compiled a 6-0-2 record in 1919 ahead of the big game against Conshy. As was the tradition of the time, they looked for top college talent to help them win. They recruited Miller, Spagna, and Bodie Weldon and Johnny Scott from Lafayette, who played on the team that upset Penn in 1915. Snowy conditions contributed to a 0-0 tie in front of 5,000 fans at Norristown’s Great Stockade Grounds.
Prior to the 1920 season, Eyrich returned to Phoenixville with a proposal to create a first class football team. The top college stars recruited for the Conshy game would form the new team’s core. He made his pitch to about 50 local leaders and they raised more than $7,000 in one week. This wad of money became a magnet for top east coast talent.
Potteiger came over from Conshohocken, bringing with him end Whitey Thomas, who years later would make the pages of Ripley’s Believe it or Not for gaining over 100 receiving yards while playing for the Atlantic City Roses.
Youngstrom, Miller, Wray, Little, Spagna, Weldon, Johnny Scott, the two-timers would suit up for an early game Saturday in the Philadelphia area and then take the train to Buffalo, joining Hughitt and the rest of the All-Americans for an NFL game on Sunday.
Miller, who coached Union, made all 22 games, while Wray and Little only each missed one (when Union defeated Ewing Little sat out as he was their coach).
Union ended up 11-0, giving Heinie Miller a combined 20-1-1 record for the 1920 professional football season. In 1925 Miller became coach at Temple, and he brought in Bert Bell and Lud Wray as assistant coaches. Keeping with the long story of their friendship, they argued incessantly, and Bell quit the team over Wray’s insistence on scrimmaging the team at practice. The two friends obviously patched it up by 1932 as it was Bell who recommended Wray to become the first coach of the Redskins, a team Bell’s close friend NFL Immortal George Preston Marshall had just purchased.
After romping through the local athletic clubs and coal teams, Union defeating long-time rival Conshohocken. It was at that point that they decided to go into the city and play Holmesburg and Frankford at the Baker Bowl (Phillies Park). Paid attendance for the Holmesburg game stood near 9,000. With the big gate looming Union brought in Stan Cofall, the Vice President of the NFL. When Union came away with the 13-0 win, they were so happy they sent a homing pigeon back to Phoenixville with the good news.
Two days later Union returned to the Baker Bowl to defeat the Frankford Yellow Jackets, 10-6 in front of 15,000 fans.
At 10-0, they now challenged any professional team to board the train and come to Philadelphia, with the mythical national championship on the line, and the promise of a big gate.
Obviously the Buffalo All-Americans could not answer the call, given they were the same team.
The Akron Pros, led by NFL Hall of Famer Fritz Pollard, who also two-timed with Union that year – scoring five touchdowns in two games – did not want to risk their championship claim, as everyone knew Union was a top team, perhaps none more than Pollard himself.
So it fell to Jim Thorpe and the great Canton Bulldogs, many of which arrived the night before at North Philly station to much hoopla.
On Saturday Union defeated Canton 14-7 in front of more than 17,000 fans at the Baker Bowl.
It’s tempting to use the final scores of these games to show that both Frankford and Holmesburg might have been able to give Canton a game in 1920. Yet, it’s hard to judge a team when the lineups are in flux. As the potential for a big gate grew so did the opportunity to bring in better players just for that one game.
Conversely, if the team felt confident, or the gate looked light, there would be no reason to spend extra money, and this of course this would be reflected in the final score. For instance, in 1920 Union defeated Ewing 14-0 while Frankford blew them out 41-0. As noted, Little didn’t play, but by the time Union played Frankford they had already put together what was probably the best team in America, and while Frankford would have also been working to bring in better players, they did not have the same kind of cash.
The Union-Canton game of 1920 is the most attended pro football game in the NFL’s first year, in part because so many All-American fans had come down from Buffalo to see their team play in a different jersey.
Imagine that, President of the NFL Jim Thorpe competing against Vice President of the NFL Stan Cofall in a game the young league could not possibly have sanctioned, but not even the president and vice president could say no to a gate like that.
Meanwhile, the most attended game between two NFL teams in 1920 was at the Polo Grounds in New York City. In this game the Buffalo All-Americans defeated the Canton Bulldogs 7-3. Youngstrom blocked a Thorpe punt and recovered it for a touchdown; as the story goes you could still see the imprint from the laces in his chest three days later.
The point of all this is, in the NFL’s first year the two most attended games took place in New York City and Philadelphia, and both games were won by effectively the same team of east coast all-stars. Looked at this way, it appears the end of Ohio as the center of the football universe had already begun at the time of the NFL’s founding.
While the Blue Laws would not be repealed in Philadelphia until the Eagles in 1933, with Bert Bell himself an outspoken critic and effective lobbyist, the idea that teams from the old Ohio League could take the train into Philadelphia on Saturday for a big gate, and then play in Schuylkill County on Sunday on their way out of town made it more attractive to extend the league eastwards. In fact Union’s boy manager Leo Conway was at the NFL’s spring meeting prior to the 1921 season.
The 1920 Union team so overwhelmed the small town of Phoenixville that Miller could not convince the locals to take another bite of the apple in 1921, and so Conway, with Miller still coach, moved into the city and played the 1921 season as the Union Quakers of Philadelphia, again fielding a top team. Carlisle and Canton veterans Pete Calac and Joe Guyon, after losing to Union in 1920, were now two-timing for Union in 1921. These pros knew where the money was, and Guyon would go on to be part of Potteiger’s 1927 Championship team in New York.
It seemed logical that the Union Quakers would become Philadelphia’s first NFL team for the 1922 season, but what about the two-timers?
Buffalo owner McNeil settled the issue midway through the 1921 season, causing a crisis for the young league by exposing the two-timers and acting like he just thought they were playing light games in Philadelphia. Miller went to the paper to say it was all about money, pointing to how McNeil had used the league’s new rules against Johnny Scott in what might have been the first contract dispute. Some of the two-timers stayed in the NFL, but those with ties to Philadelphia left the NFL behind.
In 1922, the Union veterans including Little, Spagna, Thomas, and Scott joined Frankford, replacing many of the starters. Miller served as coach and captain. This 1922 Frankford team defeated the NFL’s Rochester Jeffersons 33-0. In 1923 Little took over as captain and coach. In 1922 and ’23, the Frankford Yellow Jackets racked up a 6-2-1 record against NFL teams.
After the 1923 season Frankford challenged the latest iteration of the Canton Bulldogs, this one a dominant team that had just finished its second undefeated NFL season, becoming the first back-to-back champ in league history, a long string of shut-outs to their credit. Up front the Bulldogs were led by NFL Immortal Fats Henry and Hall of Famer Link Lyman, both playing about 240, and coached by Hall of Fame End Champ Chamberlin from Nebraska. When the Bulldogs came to Philadelphia to play Frankford they needed a late field goal from Henry to secure the 3-0 win.
Even in defeat, like Rochester before them, Frankford had proven it was possible to compete with even the best of the old Ohio League teams, and the Yellow Jackets became the first NFL team from Philadelphia in 1924.
That year, Chamberlin, Henry and Lyman won their third straight title, this time as the Cleveland Bulldogs, with a 7-1-1 record; both their loss and their tie came against the expansion team from Frankford, which fell far down in the standings given the struggle of playing at home on Saturday and then on the road Sunday, much like their two-timing predecessors.
In 1925 Frankford brought in Chamberlin, fresh off his three-peat, but an injury derailed what looked like a fourth straight title for a coach with a better winning percentage than Belicheck whose losses mostly came when he wasn’t playing; when he was on the field as a coach he was almost unbeatable.
In 1926 Chamberlin returned to lead Frankford to the first NFL championship for a team east of Ohio.
In what was effectively the championship game, a 7-6 win against the Bears, Chamberlin blocked the extra point and Hust Stockton engineered a fourth quarter two-minute style touchdown culminating with a pass to the smallest player in the NFL, Two-Bits Homan. This was a repeat performance from earlier in the year against the Packers, with Stockton again connecting with Homan late, giving Frankford the 20-14 win. Stockton earned his own place in Ripley’s Believe it or Not for averaging over 100 yards passing per game at Gonzaga under the guidance of coach Gus Dorias, who was Knute Rockne’s quarterback at Notre Dame.
With the New York Giants winning the NFL in 1927, the shift in power east out of the Ohio League had become patently evident, and remains in place today. Obviously this move towards the east coast population centers helped the NFL grow into what it is today, and that all started 100 years ago today with Leo Lyons and the Rochester Jeffersons.
Both the 1926 Yellow Jackets and Giants had roots that stretched back to the Union Big Red of 1920, with Youngstrom playing for Frankford and Potteiger coaching the Giants.
1926 played an important role in this shift in power, as NFL Immortal Red Grange split with Halas about how the money should be divided. The gate had gone from 5,000 to 25,000 when Grange put on a Bears uniform. Wouldn’t it make sense that Grange would be the one to get rich? Obviously, Halas could not relent.
To express his frustration, rather than simply forming a team of his own, Grange created an entire league to compete with the NFL.
For the new league, he wanted teams in big cities, and so Grange himself played for the New York Yankees.
The American Football League, as it was called, lasted only one year, but its argument that the success of professional football required a move into the big cities has held.
Grange made his point; in the end, it’s all about the gate. You want to have a good football team? Get your money out. The Union Club proved this in 1920.
By the end of the AFL season, only one of the four surviving teams was not being subsidized by Grange’s Yankees, and that was the Union Quakers of Philadelphia.
Yes, the old gang had reunited. This 1926 version of Union was again managed by Conway and featured Johnny Scott and some of the other players from Philadelphia’s storied past. They defeated Grange and won the AFL title. Imagine that, 1926, the 150th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, and the city of Philadelphia holds both major professional football championships.
Union, in their tradition, challenged NFL teams to what would have been the first Superbowl, the champion of each league facing off, but given the controversy of 1925, no one wanted to get on Joe Carr’s bad side, especially not the Frankford Yellow Jackets.
The 7th place New York Giants invited the Quakers to a game at the Polo Grounds. In the snow, after falling behind 3-0 at half, the Union Quakers of Philadelphia were crushed 31-0, forever ending the argument about which league had the better football teams.
Grange would take his Yankees into the NFL for the 1927 season, the only AFL team to make the transition.
For many of the great players at Union, it was the end of an era, one that featured big games both in and outside of the NFL, a story that remains surprisingly untold in Philadelphia, a place that loves its history almost as much as its pro football.
Most historians begin the narrative of professional football in Philadelphia with Connie Mack in 1902, but in 1899 Frankford had 2,000 fans watching the Yellow Jackets defeat Reading YMCA 28-0 at Wistar Park. Obviously the baseball men were desperate to use their monolithic stadiums for some other purpose, and football’s flexibility in bad weather made it a likely candidate. Earlier in 1917 Commiskey had floated the idea of a nation-wide pro football league, using the same exact players from the baseball teams supplemented with local pros. At the time they thought it could only work on the West Coast because of the weather.
We all know Halas and Thorpe started out in baseball, and that a lot of great football players surrendered their place on the field to go play in the park, and that pro football did everything it could to emulate baseball, and that during this era and for a long time afterwards all these other sports could do was wish they were more like baseball.
Let history show despite their wishes it was not the baseball men that made professional football.
It was great pros like Stan Cofall and Heinie Miller, who took every game they could get, and smart guys like Bert Bell and Swede Youngstrom who had a love for the game, football men.
And of course it was people like Leo Lyons from the Rochester Jeffersons, who showed George Halas what it takes to become an NFL Immortal, and knew 100 years ago that football would be bigger than baseball.
Week 3: https://www.reddit.com/nfl/comments/77t4vs/100_years_ago_in_pro_football_canton_bulldogs_54/
Week 2: https://www.reddit.com/nfl/comments/76e5t7/100_years_ago_in_pro_football_canton_bulldogs_80/
Week 1: https://www.reddit.com/nfl/comments/75119e/100_years_ago_in_pro_football/
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2017.10.28 18:58 BacteriaLogical [October 28, 1917] Canton Bulldogs 41, Rochester Jeffersons 0

The 3-0 Canton Bulldogs continue the defense of their Ohio League professional football championship with a 41-0 defeat of the Rochester Jeffersons at League Park in Canton, Ohio.
The name Jefferson is testimony to the team’s beginnings as a sandlot team, many of which popped up across the country during the late 1800s and into the early part of the century. These sandlot teams were limited in how far they could travel, leaving them to play crosstown rivals. As these rivalries unfolded, the teams began calling themselves and each other by the street name or avenue near where the team played, in this case Jefferson Avenue in Rochester.
The Rochester Jeffersons, under the leadership of owner Leo Lyons who started playing for the team at age 16 in 1908, grew from the sandlot and won the New York Professional Football League (NYPFL) title in 1915 and 1916.
On this day a hundred years ago, Leo Lyons didn’t just put his team on a train to Canton, he put them on track to become a charter member of the NFL.
Some researchers go further, arguing this game more than any other led to the creation of the NFL itself, seeing the new league as essentially a merger of the NYPFL into the Ohio League.
Leo Lyons, tireless promoter of professional football, had sparked a national interest, even in defeat.
He forced football players around the country, even old sandlot teams, to make a gut check: do you have what it takes to play the best?
The Rochester Jeffersons proved they did October 28, 1917, the first NYPFL team to challenge Ohio’s place as the center of the professional football universe. Teams with humble beginnings were competing all over the country. There was only one way to find who had the best football team, and that was to create a nation-wide league.
By age 18 Lyons was already involved with the team’s finances, promoting games, managing the team, a role he would maintain until the team ceased operations after the 1925 NFL season. Hall of Fame Immortal George Halas mentioned Lyons in his acceptance speech, as Halas had modeled his stewardship for the Bears. Lyons is credited as being “manager, owner, photographer, doctor, counselor, financier, field worker, game booker, agent, and scout.”
Talking with Jim Thorpe after the blow-out, Lyons remained upbeat, predicting that one day pro football would be the biggest sport in America. After the war when the invitations went out from Canton to create the NFL, one arrived in Rochester addressed to Leo Lyons.
The October 28, 1917 loss to Canton helped Lyons make bigger games and recruit better players. Unfortunately, the Jeffersons had a big problem that made it impossible for them to survive the times. Not even Lyons could overcome this issue: pro football fans in Rochester only wanted to see the local boys play. When Lyons recruited a big name player, attendance suffered. The Jeffersons played their last season on the road.
It seems historians, with no way to answer the question of whether there might have been a professional football team somewhere in America that could have been competitive in the Ohio League, find it’s easiest to simply dismiss the idea.
At this time, for a West Coast professional football team to test their mettle in Ohio, it’s just ridiculous, so we’ll never know. With no footage, first-hand accounts are all we have. The journalists covering pro football wanted to see the sport thrive as well, and would use hyperbole to make the game sound more interesting. When it’s time to make comparisons, who travelled enough to see all of these different teams? Even top sportswriters could only see so many games.
It’s easier to make a more seamless history and simply say “the Ohio League had the best teams in the world.” If pressed for evidence, well in 1917 the New York state champ lost 41-0; any questions?
Yet, Lyons might have made a better argument for the state of professional football outside of the Ohio League if he had instead chose to play a second-tier team, say the struggling Columbus Panhandles that Canton had just defeated 54-0 the week prior. In this comparison, Rochester appears to have outplayed Columbus. Still, Leo Lyons wanted to promote professional football, so it made more sense to play the best. He wasn’t going to go all the way to Ohio to play Columbus. For historians it would have been great if he did, because it would have provided a key data point.
In the absence of any evidence, the idea that Ohio in 1917 is the center of the football universe will persist.
This same lack of real data also allows each region to imagine how their local powerhouse might have fared. These independent teams were often led by a great veteran player, whose name had become synonymous with the team and as such, impossible for him to play anywhere else. It would have been highly unusual to see a West Coast player leave his home to play in the Ohio League, even though Thorpe was making $1,500 a game at this point.
Evidence this had already changed can be seen in 1925 when Champ Chamberlin used telegrams to recruit John Stockton’s grandfather Hust Stockton from Gonzaga to play in Philadelphia for the Frankford Yellow Jackets.
The Philadelphia and southeast Pennsylvania area is one place where we have evidence of independent teams playing against NFL teams. Of course everyone is familiar by now with the great teams from Schuylkill County, Pottsville, Coaldale, Gilberton, Shenandoah and Wilkes-Barre, the Anthracite League as they came to be known. One of the reasons these teams became famous is that they were playing pro football on Sunday, in defiance of the state’s Blue Laws. Supposedly the county DA was quoted as saying, “If you want to come up here and tell these coal miners they can’t play football on their day off, be my guest.”
It’s impossible to discount the effect the Blue Laws had on the development of professional football.
It should be no surprise Ohio became the center of the football universe, when you consider almost everyone east of the border would have to play football on Saturday at a time when college ruled the gate. If you wanted to play on Sunday, you needed to head west.
In Philadelphia professional teams played on Saturday. The Frankford Yellow Jackets were already hard at work by 1917, and upstart Holmesburg from right up The Kings Highway took the city championship in 1919 and 1920. If these were “neighborhood” teams we wouldn’t expect to find the score of the city championship game in the London Times and San Francisco Chronicle. They competed against other teams around the city and its environs, as well as traveling teams from New York and DC, Reading and Lancaster.
Play in the western suburbs throughout the pre-war era was dominated by Conshohocken, led at the time by Earl Potteiger, who would go on to coach the New York Giants’ 1927 NFL championship team.
When the NFL began play in 1920, there were only two teams east of Ohio, the Rochester Jeffersons and the Buffalo All-Americans.
After the 1917 season the Jeffs were forced to suspend operations like almost everyone else, even Harvard and Yale, with an exception being the city of Buffalo, which somehow managed a six-game pro season in 1918. When the Jeffs returned to the field in 1919 they lost the New York State title to the same Buffalo team that had won the city title in 1918, a team head-manned by one of pro football’s first great quarterbacks, Michigan’s Tommy Hughitt.
The torch for professional football in the state of New York had passed from Rochester to Buffalo.
In 1920, as the NFL came together, Buffalo, led by Frank McNeil, having defeated Rochester in 1919, felt his team worthy of joining the newly formed league and had already taken his team on a barnstorming tour through Ohio. Looking for star power he recruited Dartmouth’s Swede Youngstrom and started calling the team the All-Americans to highlight the abundance of college talent on the roster.
The Rochester Jeffersons posted a winning record in the NFL’s first year, finishing ahead of Canton in the standings, even though they only played one other NFL team, a 17-6 loss to Buffalo, which finished the season 9-1-1. Like the Bills of the 60s and 90s, the Buffalo All-Americans were probably the best team from their era that didn’t win a championship, finishing 9-1-2 in 1921, again only good enough for second place.
The All-Americans went into the last game of the 1920 season knowing they were one win away from the championship, while their opponent, the Akron Pros, only needed a tie. The game ended 0-0, and with it, Buffalo’s hope for a championship in the NFL’s first year. According to modern NFL tie-breakers the Buffalo All-Americans would be considered co-champions of the 1920 season, as Akron finished 8-0-3. For fifty years the NFL had the title listed as undecided, until records were found that at one of the meetings prior to the 1921 season Joe Carr had put forward Akron as champion and those present had voted aye.
None of the players from this great Buffalo team are in the NFL Hall of Fame. Not Hughitt; not Youngstrom, who at least made the “Hall of Very Good” Class of 2012; not Cornell’s Ockie Anderson, perhaps the NFL’s first star running back, whose career was cut short by injury; not Penn’s Heinie Miller, who Walter Camp described as the greatest end he’d ever seen play; not Lehigh’s Butch Spagna, who would later make NFL all-pro; not Tackle Lou Little, who played with Miller at Penn and went on to win the Amos Alonzo Stagg award and entry into the College Football Hall of Fame for his work at Columbia, where he developed Sid Luckman; not their Penn teammate Center Lud Wray, who co-founded the Eagles and became their first coach a year after being the first coach of the Redskins. What else could he have put on his resume? Star player in the league’s first year for a great team, first coach for two NFC East rivals, co-founder of the Eagles; forget about Canton, Philadelphia born and bred Lud Wray can’t even make the Ring of Honor at the Linc.
Instead, most of the accolades are reserved for Bert Bell. So what is it about greatness that tends to diminish the contributions of those around them? No one does it alone.
Bell, Wray, Miller, Little, the four Penn players served in the same unit during the war, and Bert Bell was the first to his feet when the officer asked for volunteers on a suicide mission. Then they returned to Penn for one last year of college ball. It should be a movie. One researcher found that Lud Wray, despite being in the Army, was on the League Island Marine Team in 1918, another dominant team playing in the eastern Pennsylvania area at the time. The military fielded some great football teams in this era out of military camps and bases around the country, and these teams would sometimes play against local pros.
According to Bert Bell’s biographer, it was Wray who handled the negotiations that allowed the buying group to obtain the territorial license for Philadelphia the Yellow Jackets had relinquished after the 1931 season, agreeing to settle debts with the Bears, Packers and Giants that the team had built up as the depression took hold of the team’s community-sponsored finances in Frankford.
Supposedly, Bell didn’t even have his share, the crash of ’29 had cost him dearly, and he borrowed the money from his fiancé, Frances Upton. At that time, Upton might be compared to Janet Jackson circa Poetic Justice, already famous as a singer and dancer, she went out to Hollywood and just killed it.
Another way to measure Upton’s star power, when someone had the idea to do a live shortwave radio broadcast for Admiral Byrd in 1929, who was in Antarctica at the time in search of the South Pole, she made the cast. Bell met her when she arrived with her entourage at the Ritz-Carlton, where he worked after his playing days had ended.
He took her on a date to Franklin Field to watch Penn play; she pointed out the pro game was more exciting. “At least they throw the ball.”
As one of the country’s most popular entertainers it was natural for her to float in the same circles as the top athletes of the day, and she had seen pro football at the Polo Grounds and Wrigley Field before ever meeting Bell. In the depths of the depression, this woman bankrolled the creation of the Philadelphia Eagles, not because she had stars in her eyes, but because she believed in pro football, and she believed in Bert Bell.
More importantly to the history of professional football, she told Bell it would be impossible to marry a drinking man, and for her he sobered up, opening the door for him to become an NFL Immortal.
Bell bled the bluest of blood, and some argue this led him to the football field in the first place, similar to Hall of Famer Benny Friedman, whose biographer claimed he wanted to play football in part to dispel the myth that Jews were somehow a weaker species of man.
No one questions the toughness of a football player, especially not back then.
Bell, at 155 pounds, played the quarterback position with a desperation that gave caution to those who might think to tease him about his given name, deBenneville, an homage to his mother’s lineage that extended back to before the Revolutionary War. His father had been the Attorney General of Pennsylvania. The old man, instrumental in the creation of the NCAA, told Bert “he could go to Penn or he could go to hell.” When Bell returned a war hero his father bought him a $1,000 touring car that became famous around campus during the 1919 season.
Yet, Bell had what we would call today a gambling problem. In 1919 he was so sure Penn would defeat Swede Youngstrom and Dartmouth that he bet everything he had on the game.
He left the keys in the touring car, put it the lot outside of Franklin Field before the game, and when Dartmouth came away with the upset it was never seen on campus again.
Bell’s father of course wanted him to marry well, and made a $50,000 investment to that effect, money he squandered at Saratoga.
The story that best reveals Bell’s somewhat singular position in American history involves the kidnapping of the Lindbergh baby.
Naturally, the feds were concerned about mob involvement, but who can find the answer to such a question? They turned to Bert Bell. He was able to verify from Al Capone himself, then in jail, that the mob was not involved, crucial and reliable information Bell then passed along to the proper authorities, which then guided the effort to catch the kidnappers.
Of course Bell became an NFL Immortal not because of his work at the Eagles, which never had a winning record under his ownership and may have been the worst franchise ever. The stories abound; apparently they were down to their last football and after a field goal attempt the kids ran away with it, and these were some of their last remaining fans.
It was Bell’s time as Commissioner that made him a first ballot Hall of Famer.
And what does history measure as one of his first challenges and greatest accomplishments? Bell made sure the gamblers could not influence the outcome of an NFL game. He knew if there was ever a whiff these games were being fixed on the inside, it would be the end of the NFL as the fans would turn away. He saw how it had ruined boxing. In a way it was like putting Joseph Kennedy in charge of the newly founded SEC after the stock market crash; the only one who really knows how the fox keeps getting into the henhouse is the fox himself.
Back to Buffalo. One reason these players may not get the recognition they deserve is because they are at the center of a story that poses an embarrassing challenge to the myth that the best teams in the country were in NFL.
Many of these Buffalo All-Americans were “two-timers,” playing on Saturday for the self-proclaimed US National Professional Champions of 1920, which was unfortunately not an NFL team, nor an old Ohio League team, but the Union Big Red out of Phoenixville, Pennsylvania.
It’s likely Bert Bell was in the middle of all this, as Youngstrom signed with Buffalo prior to two-timing with Union, and the two men were notorious rivals at the game of Bridge. There is a rumor Bell might have even suited up for Union.
The Union came into being in the post-war environment where soldiers returned with an interest in playing and watching sports. Phoenixville had fielded a dominant professional football team since 1907, but also needed to suspend operations in 1918, only managing to play one game in early December, a 48-0 blow-out of Paschall AC from Philadelphia.
Prior to the 1919 season, a rival club opened its doors in Phoenixville, the Phoenix Athletic Club, and signed the borough’s best players, such that Union, which noted researcher John Fenton of Ghosts of the Gridiron fame estimates compiled a 95-8-10 record over its existence, could only manage a scoreless tie against Phoenixville High School in what would be the only game they played. Long-time Union coach and captain Fats Eyrich left town to play for local powerhouse Conshohocken.
Phoenix meanwhile compiled a 6-0-2 record in 1919 ahead of the big game against Conshy. As was the tradition of the time, they looked for top college talent to help them win. They recruited Miller, Spagna, and Bodie Weldon and Johnny Scott from Lafayette, who played on the team that upset Penn in 1915. Snowy conditions contributed to a 0-0 tie in front of 5,000 fans at Norristown’s Great Stockade Grounds.
Prior to the 1920 season, Eyrich returned to Phoenixville with a proposal to create a first class football team. The top college stars recruited for the Conshy game would form the new team’s core. He made his pitch to about 50 local leaders and they raised more than $7,000 in one week. This wad of money became a magnet for top east coast talent.
Potteiger came over from Conshohocken, bringing with him end Whitey Thomas, who years later would make the pages of Ripley’s Believe it or Not for gaining over 100 receiving yards while playing for the Atlantic City Roses. Youngstrom, Miller, Wray, Little, Spagna, Weldon, Johnny Scott, the two-timers would suit up for an early game Saturday in the Philadelphia area and then take the train to Buffalo, joining Hughitt and the rest of the All-Americans for an NFL game on Sunday.
Miller, who coached Union, made all 22 games, while Wray and Little only each missed one (when Union defeated Ewing Little sat out as he was their coach).
Union ended up 11-0, giving Heinie Miller a combined 20-1-1 record for the 1920 professional football season. In 1925 Miller became coach at Temple, and he brought in Bert Bell and Lud Wray as assistant coaches. Keeping with the long story of their friendship, they argued incessantly, and Bell quit the team over Wray’s insistence on scrimmaging the team at practice. The two friends obviously patched it up by 1932 as it was Bell who recommended Wray to become the first coach of the Redskins, a team Bell’s close friend NFL Immortal George Preston Marshall had just purchased.
After romping through the local athletic clubs and coal teams, Union defeating long-time rival Conshohocken. It was at that point that they decided to go into the city and play Holmesburg and Frankford at the Baker Bowl (Phillies Park). Paid attendance for the Holmesburg game stood near 9,000. With the big gate looming Union brought in Stan Cofall, the Vice President of the NFL. When Union came away with the 13-0 win, they were so happy they sent a homing pigeon back to Phoenixville with the good news.
Two days later Union returned to the Baker Bowl to defeat the Frankford Yellow Jackets, 10-6 in front of 15,000 fans.
At 10-0, they now challenged any professional team to board the train and come to Philadelphia, with the mythical national championship on the line, and the promise of a big gate.
Obviously the Buffalo All-Americans could not answer the call, given they were the same team.
The Akron Pros, led by NFL Hall of Famer Fritz Pollard, who also two-timed with Union that year – scoring five touchdowns in two games – did not want to risk their championship claim, as everyone knew Union was a top team, perhaps none more than Pollard himself.
So it fell to Jim Thorpe and the great Canton Bulldogs, many of which arrived the night before at North Philly station to much hoopla.
On Saturday Union defeated Canton 14-7 in front of more than 17,000 fans at the Baker Bowl.
It’s tempting to use the final scores of these games to show that both Frankford and Holmesburg might have been able to give Canton a game in 1920. Yet, it’s hard to judge a team when the lineups are in flux. As the potential for a big gate grew so did the opportunity to bring in better players just for that one game.
Conversely, if the team felt confident, or the gate looked light, there would be no reason to spend extra money, and this of course this would be reflected in the final score. For instance, in 1920 Union defeated Ewing 14-0 while Frankford blew them out 41-0. As noted, Little didn’t play, but by the time Union played Frankford they had already put together what was probably the best team in America, and while Frankford would have also been working to bring in better players, they did not have the same kind of cash.
The Union-Canton game of 1920 is the most attended pro football game in the NFL’s first year, in part because so many All-American fans had come down from Buffalo to see their team play in a different jersey.
Imagine that, President of the NFL Jim Thorpe competing against Vice President of the NFL Stan Cofall in a game the young league could not possibly have sanctioned, but not even the president and vice president could say no to a gate like that.
Meanwhile, the most attended game between two NFL teams in 1920 was at the Polo Grounds in New York City. In this game the Buffalo All-Americans defeated the Canton Bulldogs 7-3. Youngstrom blocked a Thorpe punt and recovered it for a touchdown; as the story goes you could still see the imprint from the laces in his chest three days later.
The point of all this is, in the NFL’s first year the two most attended games took place in New York City and Philadelphia, and both games were won by effectively the same team of east coast all-stars. Looked at this way, it appears the end of Ohio as the center of the football universe had already begun at the time of the NFL’s founding.
While the Blue Laws would not be repealed in Philadelphia until the Eagles in 1933, with Bert Bell himself an outspoken critic and effective lobbyist, the idea that teams from the old Ohio League could take the train into Philadelphia on Saturday for a big gate, and then play in Schuylkill County on Sunday on their way out of town made it more attractive to extend the league eastwards. In fact Union’s boy manager Leo Conway was at the NFL’s spring meeting prior to the 1921 season.
The 1920 Union team so overwhelmed the small town of Phoenixville that Miller could not convince the locals to take another bite of the apple in 1921, and so Conway, with Miller still coach, moved into the city and played the 1921 season as the Union Quakers of Philadelphia, again fielding a top team. Carlisle and Canton veterans Pete Calac and Joe Guyon, after losing to Union in 1920, were now two-timing for Union in 1921. These pros knew where the money was, and Guyon would go on to be part of Potteiger’s 1927 Championship team in New York.
It seemed logical that the Union Quakers would become Philadelphia’s first NFL team for the 1922 season, but what about the two-timers?
Buffalo owner McNeil settled the issue midway through the 1921 season, causing a crisis for the young league by exposing the two-timers and acting like he just thought they were playing light games in Philadelphia. Miller went to the paper to say it was all about money, pointing to how McNeil had used the league’s new rules against Johnny Scott in what might have been the first contract dispute. Some of the two-timers stayed in the NFL, but those with ties to Philadelphia left the NFL behind.
In 1922, the Union veterans including Little, Spagna, Thomas, and Scott joined Frankford, replacing many of the starters. Miller served as coach and captain. This 1922 Frankford team defeated the NFL’s Rochester Jeffersons 33-0. In 1923 Little took over as captain and coach. In 1922 and ’23, the Frankford Yellow Jackets racked up a 6-2-1 record against NFL teams. After the 1923 season Frankford challenged the latest iteration of the Canton Bulldogs, this one a dominant team that had just finished its second undefeated NFL season, becoming the first back-to-back champ in league history, a long string of shut-outs to their credit. Up front the Bulldogs were led by NFL Immortal Fats Henry and Hall of Famer Link Lyman, both playing about 240, and coached by Hall of Fame End Champ Chamberlin from Nebraska. When the Bulldogs came to Philadelphia to play Frankford they needed a late field goal from Henry to secure the 3-0 win. Even in defeat, like Rochester before them, Frankford had proven it was possible to compete with even the best of the old Ohio League teams, and the Yellow Jackets became the first NFL team from Philadelphia in 1924.
That year, Chamberlin, Henry and Lyman won their third straight title, this time as the Cleveland Bulldogs, with a 7-1-1 record; both their loss and their tie came against the expansion team from Frankford, which fell far down in the standings given the struggle of playing at home on Saturday and then on the road Sunday, much like their two-timing predecessors.
In 1925 Frankford brought in Chamberlin, fresh off his three-peat, but an injury derailed what looked like a fourth straight title for a coach with a better winning percentage than Belicheck whose losses mostly came when he wasn’t playing; when he was on the field as a coach he was almost unbeatable.
In 1926 Chamberlin returned to lead Frankford to the first NFL championship for a team east of Ohio.
In what was effectively the championship game, a 7-6 win against the Bears, Chamberlin blocked the extra point and Hust Stockton engineered a fourth quarter two-minute style touchdown culminating with a pass to the smallest player in the NFL, Two-Bits Homan. This was a repeat performance from earlier in the year against the Packers, with Stockton again connecting with Homan late, giving Frankford the 20-14 win. Stockton earned his own place in Ripley’s Believe it or Not for averaging over 100 yards passing per game at Gonzaga under the guidance of coach Gus Dorias, who was Knute Rockne’s quarterback at Notre Dame.
With the New York Giants winning the NFL in 1927, the shift in power east out of the Ohio League had become patently evident, and remains in place today. Obviously this move towards the east coast population centers helped the NFL grow into what it is today, and that all started 100 years ago today with Leo Lyons and the Rochester Jeffersons.
Both the 1926 Yellow Jackets and Giants had roots that stretched back to the Union Big Red of 1920, with Youngstrom playing for Frankford and Potteiger coaching the Giants.
1926 played an important role in this shift in power, as NFL Immortal Red Grange split with Halas about how the money should be divided. The gate had gone from 5,000 to 25,000 when Grange put on a Bears uniform. Wouldn’t it make sense that Grange would be the one to get rich? Obviously, Halas could not relent.
To express his frustration, rather than simply forming a team of his own, Grange created an entire league to compete with the NFL.
For the new league, he wanted teams in big cities, and so Grange himself played for the New York Yankees.
The American Football League, as it was called, lasted only one year, but its argument that the success of professional football required a move into the big cities has held.
Grange made his point; in the end, it’s all about the gate. You want to have a good football team? Get your money out. The Union Club proved this in 1920.
By the end of the AFL season, only one of the four surviving teams was not being subsidized by Grange’s Yankees, and that was the Union Quakers of Philadelphia.
Yes, the old gang had reunited. This 1926 version of Union was again managed by Conway and featured Johnny Scott and some of the other players from Philadelphia’s storied past. They defeated Grange and won the AFL title. Imagine that, 1926, the 150th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, and the city of Philadelphia holds both major professional football championships.
Union, in their tradition, challenged NFL teams to what would have been the first Superbowl, the champion of each league facing off, but given the controversy of 1925, no one wanted to get on Joe Carr’s bad side, especially not the Frankford Yellow Jackets.
The 7th place New York Giants invited the Quakers to a game at the Polo Grounds. In the snow, after falling behind 3-0 at half, the Union Quakers of Philadelphia were crushed 31-0, forever ending the argument about which league had the better football teams.
Grange would take his Yankees into the NFL for the 1927 season, the only AFL team to make the transition.
For many of the great players at Union, it was the end of an era, one that featured big games both in and outside of the NFL, a story that remains surprisingly untold in Philadelphia, a place that loves its history almost as much as its pro football.
Most historians begin the narrative of professional football in Philadelphia with Connie Mack in 1902, but in 1899 Frankford had 2,000 fans watching the Yellow Jackets defeat Reading YMCA 28-0 at Wistar Park. Obviously the baseball men were desperate to use their monolithic stadiums for some other purpose, and football’s flexibility in bad weather made it a likely candidate. Earlier in 1917 Comiskey had floated the idea of a nation-wide pro football league, using the same exact players from the baseball teams supplemented with local pros. At the time they thought it could only work on the West Coast because of the weather.
We all know Halas and Thorpe started out in baseball, and that a lot of great football players surrendered their place on the field to go play in the park, and that pro football did everything it could to emulate baseball, and that during this era and for a long time afterwards all these other sports could do was wish they were more like baseball.
Let history show despite their wishes it was not the baseball men that made professional football.
It was great pros like Stan Cofall and Heinie Miller, who took every game they could get, and smart guys like Bert Bell and Swede Youngstrom who had a love for the game, football men.
And of course it was people like Leo Lyons from the Rochester Jeffersons, who showed George Halas what it takes to become an NFL Immortal, and knew 100 years ago that football would end up bigger than baseball.
Week 3: https://www.reddit.com/nfl/comments/77t4vs/100_years_ago_in_pro_football_canton_bulldogs_54/
Week 2: https://www.reddit.com/nfl/comments/76e5t7/100_years_ago_in_pro_football_canton_bulldogs_80/
Week 1: https://www.reddit.com/nfl/comments/75119e/100_years_ago_in_pro_football/
submitted by BacteriaLogical to 100yearsago [link] [comments]


2017.10.26 14:54 assessment_bot [ Non-Fatal ] [ 10/22/2017 ] CESSNA 150, Pottsville/ PA

Category Data Category Data Category Data
Event Id: 20171023X81254 Investigation Type: Accident Accident Number: GAA18CA020
Event Date: 10/22/2017 Location: Pottsville, PA Country: United States
Latitude: 40.705278 Longitude: -76.377500 Airport Code: ZER
Airport Name: SCHUYLKILL COUNTY /JOE ZERBEY Injury Severity: Non-Fatal Aircraft Damage: Substantial
Aircraft Category: Airplane Registration Number: N22092 Make: CESSNA
Model: 150 Amateur Built: No Number of Engines: 1
Engine Type: FAR Description: Part 91: General Aviation Schedule:
Purpose of Flight: Personal Air Carrier: Total Fatal Injuries:
Total Serious Injuries: Total Minor Injuries: Total Uninjured: 2
Weather Condition: VMC Broad Phase of Flight: Report Status: Preliminary
Publication Date: 10/25/2017
http://www.ntsb.gov/_layouts/ntsb.aviation/brief.aspx?ev_id=20171023X81254
submitted by assessment_bot to NTSB_database [link] [comments]


2017.09.18 22:37 BigFatToad Schuylkill River Trail Completion Date?

Does anyone know when the schuylkill river trail will be fully paved and completed before 26th Street?
Thanks
submitted by BigFatToad to philadelphia [link] [comments]


2017.08.22 23:08 WestKendallJenner The Girl in the Box: Philadelphia’s Other Unknown Child

[Warning: This case involves a small child who was brutally murdered. If you find cases involving children too upsetting, you should probably skip this post.]
On February 25, 1957, a college student discovered the body of a little boy hidden in the woods off Susquehanna Road in the Fox Chase neighborhood of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. His body had been wrapped in a flannel blanket with his arms folded over his chest before being left in a cardboard J.C. Penney’s bassinet box in the woods. An autopsy revealed that he was the victim of chronic abuse and malnourishment, and had been beaten to death and his hair crudely lopped off up to two weeks before his discovery. Locks of hair stuck to his skin.
The Boy in the Box is perhaps the most iconic unidentified child in America. His death was the subject a massive investigation and information campaign, as local papers flooded the area with hundreds of thousands of flyers bearing his bruised face and the bassinet box he was found in. Generations of detectives and amateur sleuths alike have put in countless hours over the past 60 years in an attempt to identify him, and he even has his own website.
But how many of you have heard of Philadelphia’s other, lesser-known unidentified child, the Girl in the Box?
Her case began at 3:50PM on May 3, 1962, a little over five years after the discovery of the Boy in the Box, when 43-year-old barge deckhand Jesse Davis noticed a yellow milk box tied shut with clothesline floating in the Schuylkill River just off the property of the Atlantic Refining Company. Curious, he pulled the box towards him and cut the clothesline — and a small, headless body floated to the surface.
Assistant medical examiner Dr. James Weston determined that the body belonged to a young African-American girl between the ages of four and six years old, who had been dead somewhere between five days and two months before her discovery. Her head had been severed with a sharp instrument, and the fourth finger of her right hand had been partially amputated and wrapped in a layer of adhesive tape and gauze. Severe burns to her feet and back suggested that her killer had unsuccessfully tried to incinerate her body before deciding to dispose of her in the river. She was covered with a white work apron (similar to one you would see in a machine shop) and a sheet of clear blue plastic before being placed in the milk box, which was then weighted down with bricks and sealed with clothesline before being dumped into the Schuylkill.
Also inside the box was a Sunday, March 11, 1962 issue of the Philadelphia Daily Bulletin. This was an important clue because, not only did it provide a possible date of death which fit the postmortem interval, the killer must have been in the Philadelphia area at the time in order to obtain that newspaper.
Although it’s unknown exactly where the killer(s) placed her in the river, one article from The Philadelphia Courier suggests the box was dumped into the Schuylkill at either East or West River Drive. If correct, it would have drifted south for about seven or eight miles before Jesse Davis happened across it. Unfortunately, a search of the river failed to recover her head, which remains missing to this day.
As far as I know, no cause of death was ever established — but the circumstances make it overwhelmingly likely she was murdered.
*Theories
An early theory was that the Girl in the Box was 7-year-old Hattie Jackson, who was abducted from a park in Washington D.C. ten months prior. On July 21, 1961, Hattie and a few of her friends were swimming in a creek in Rock Creek park when an police officer approached them and said they weren’t allowed to swim there because the water was dirty. A man sitting nearby waited until the officer left and volunteered to drive the children to another location where they could continue swimming, but they turned down the offer and went back to playing. At some point, as the children played, Hattie wandered away from her friends. Witnesses would later see two men, one of whom matched the description of the man who offered the kids a ride, helping her into a dull grey/blue car near the park
Being the only missing child from the region and time period who lined up with the Girl in the Box’s description, investigators quickly jumped on the potential match, but a closer look makes it seem more unlikely that they are the same girl. The abductor would have had to hold her captive for ten months, and it is unlikely that she would have been nourished well enough by her captor(s) to grow four inches in that short amount of time when most children only grow two or three inches in a full year. She is also two years outside the age range, which wouldn’t be notable at all if they were adults but is significant in the case of young children. A May 20, 1962 article says that Hattie was eventually ruled out through an “autopsy and study” by a pathologist.
The other, more likely theory is that the Girl in the Box was killed by her caretaker(s), whether on purpose or by accident during an episode of abuse. That her killer went through the effort to decapitate her, and the fact that she has apparently never been reported missing, both seem to point to a killer who knew s/he would be in trouble if the child was ever identified. It is very easy for children this young to fall off the radar even today, since their social circle is so limited and there is so little documentation of their existence (no school records, doctor’s visits, etc.).
There are currently 410 under-12s on NamUs, ranging from stillborns to discarded newborns to abused and murdered children like this one. Theirs are some of the most tragic cases, because not only were they robbed of their lives before they really started, but all that potential in a young child — snuffed out and thrown away like trash. But few of them are as brutal as this one, which is why it struck a nerve with me. Who knows what kind of life she must have had for it to end alone, mutilated, in that box in the river.
How did the Girl in the Box end up in the Schuylkill? And — and this one keeps nagging at me for some reason — how did she lose her finger?
Sources
NamUs UP#16611
Newspaper articles 1
Newspaper articles 2
Age-by-age growth chart
WebSleuths thread I started
submitted by WestKendallJenner to UnresolvedMysteries [link] [comments]


2017.05.12 14:52 someonebesidesme Looking for the death of Thomas Macken in Pennsylvania

My Irish ancestors, Thomas and Mary (or Mary Anne) Macken came to the U.S. around 1840 with their only surviving child, a daughter named Rose, born 1832 in County Longford. They settled in Schuylkill County, Pennsylvania. Mary died around 1862 (another mystery). Rose married Patrick Monahan in 1848 in Pottsville (at St. Patrick's Church) and they had ten children. In the 1860 census, they're all living together in North Manheim, Schuylkill County.
At the end of the Civil War, Patrick and Rose decided to move west. Rose's father, Thomas Macken refused to leave the place where his wife was buried, and wouldn't go with them. My uncle described a scene that his uncle described to him of the whole family, covered wagons hitched up, crying as they said goodbye to this little old man that they were leaving alone in Schuylkill County.
Since there were no relations left in Pennsylvania (they moved to Missouri) there was no family to notify them when, where, or how Thomas Macken died. County records don't go back far enough, and the church where Rose was married doesn't want to help unless I have an exact date. Any suggestions on how I can discover when Thomas Macken died? He was born, I believe in 1798, though I have one record that indicates 1783.
submitted by someonebesidesme to Genealogy [link] [comments]


2017.03.05 17:34 winkstl Information on late 19th/early 20th Austrian Military Service

Hello!
I am trying to find information on the Austrian Military career of the following individual:
Frederic Grandi Birth Date: 11 October, 1880, Tyrol, Austria (don't have city) Married about 1900 in Tuen(no) Tyrol, Austria. Emigrated to US: about 1905 Death 23 Jan 1950 , Port Carbon, Schuylkill, Pennsylvania, USA
This family has an oral tradition that he served in the "Austrian Imperial Guard", which I think might be just their misinterpretation of "Austrian Army", but I may be wrong.
I have a picture (chest up) of him in uniform that I am getting permission to post. I don't think it is much help as it is a plain gray uniform with no insignia or distinctive markings.
I appreciate any help or advice where to look for information on his military career, or even more general biographical information.
Thank you!
submitted by winkstl to Genealogy [link] [comments]


2017.02.07 17:24 assessment_bot [ Non-Fatal ] [ 01/30/2017 ] CESSNA P210, Pottsville/ PA

On January 30, 2017, at 1404 eastern standard time, a Cessna P210N, N4796P, sustained substantial damage when it made a forced landing about 1 mile north of the Schuykill County Airport (ZER), Pottsville, Pennsylvania, after a total loss of engine power. The private pilot/registered owner and his passenger sustained minor injuries. A visual flight rules flight plan was filed for the flight that originated at the Allentown Queen City Municipal Airport (XLL), Allentown, Pennsylvania, about 1330, destined for the Erie-Ottawa International Airport (PCW), Port Clinton, Ohio. Visual meteorological conditions prevailed for the personal flight conducted under the provisions of 14 Code of Federal Regulations Part 91.
The pilot stated that after departure, he climbed to 12,500 feet mean sea level (msl) and leveled off. When he reduced engine rpm for cruise flight the engine "just shut off immediately." The pilot said there was no warning or any indication of an engine problem prior to it shutting down and fuel pressure was normal. The propeller continued to windmill after the power loss. The pilot attempted to re-start the engine for 3-4 minutes to no avail. He declared an emergency and proceeded to ZER, the nearest airport, but landed off field about 1 mile north of the airport. The airplane collided with trees and came to rest upright on an embankment. A postaccident examination of the airplane revealed the left and right wing fuel tanks were breached and the engine had separated from the firewall. The tail section also sustained structural damage.
A weather observation taken about 19 miles southwest of the accident site, at Muir Army Airfield (MUI), Fort Indiantown Gap (Annville), Pennsylvania, at 1358, reported wind from 280 degrees at 7 knots, with variable wind between 240 and 310 degrees, visibility 10 statute miles, few clouds at 7,500 feet, temperature -1 degree C, dew point -4 degrees C, and an altimeter setting of 29.81 inches of mercury.
Category Data Category Data Category Data
Event Id: 20170130X55007 Investigation Type: Accident Accident Number: ERA17LA098
Event Date: 01/30/2017 Location: Pottsville, PA Country: United States
Latitude: 40.000000 Longitude: -76.000000 Airport Code: ZER
Airport Name: SCHUYLKILL COUNTY /JOE ZERBEY/ Injury Severity: Non-Fatal Aircraft Damage: Substantial
Aircraft Category: Airplane Registration Number: N4796P Make: CESSNA
Model: P210 Amateur Built: No Number of Engines: 1
Engine Type: Reciprocating FAR Description: Part 91: General Aviation Schedule:
Purpose of Flight: Personal Air Carrier: Total Fatal Injuries:
Total Serious Injuries: Total Minor Injuries: 2 Total Uninjured:
Weather Condition: VMC Broad Phase of Flight: CRUISE Report Status: Preliminary
Publication Date: 02/06/2017
http://www.ntsb.gov/_layouts/ntsb.aviation/brief.aspx?ev_id=20170130X55007
submitted by assessment_bot to NTSB_database [link] [comments]


2016.11.04 15:33 Gentlemanchaos Red Blood reboot chapter 1: Ancient, Politics, Without Hope, Choose, The Girl, Preparing, A Hyperdrive Jump

In olden days, there existed a religious organization. It’s leader, a single man, his title lost to time, ruled with near absolute power over vast swathes of Earth’s population. But he was not a king, his right to rule divine, but not inherited. He was elected by his peers upon the passing of his predecessor. In the organization’s days of dawn, this was a simple matter as the group was small enough that those that were chosen to select their new ruler would need only travel a short distance. But as the organization grew, the increases in distance between the candidates and judges quickly outpaced the speed they could travel to reach their holy city. For centuries, as a result of only local leaders being close enough to the meeting place, the leader was almost exclusively chosen from local branches close to their holy city.
It was only at the dawn of the 20th century that this changed. With the creation of modes of transportation that could circumnavigate the world in days instead of weeks or months. Now, these men of faith, scattered across the breath and width of the Earth could gather within days. From this, their choice of new leaders grew.
In the days of the first quarter of the 29th century, the leaders of mankind once more face a similar problem.
The Antarctic Research Collective, commonly referred to as the ARC, started out as one of many international research facilities but quickly became the last of its kind. A massive subterranean facility located hundreds of meters below the rocky surface of Antarctica, the ARC has become Humanity’s seat of power. Though the Final World War persisted for over a century, no aggressor ever managed to breach the ARC’s fortifications. It was this conflict that eventually allowed the ARC to begin rebuilding and, where needed, reconquering. It took a lifetime, but the ARC was successful in reuniting Earth. And so, whole once more, the Earth looked to the heavens: it was time to recover its daughters.
Mars, the Sleeping Builder. Venus, the Paradise Hellscape. Luna, Fortress in the Sky. Ceres, Waypoint to the Stars. Titan, the Lone Sentinel. All fell into line in time. But even with her children, the Earth sought more. More worlds to be brought into the fold. Venus had been partly terraformed but was still not safe for unprotected humans. The Martian colonists were forced to sleep, unable to finish their great work. Ceres was never meant to maintain permanent habitation. Titan was not the domain of those of flesh and blood, merciful only to its own children of metal and silica. Luna boasted vast subterranean cities, networked together by veins and arteries of tunnels, but precious little else. No, it was not enough. And the thus Great Search began. The search for a new home, places to live that did not require life support systems, or thermal insulation, radiation shielding. And for once, luck was on mankind’s side.
Since their awakening at the dawn of the Final World War, the Sentinels of Titan have been searching for the catalyst that granted them sentience. When the awakening happened, nearly all of Titan was hit by massive electromagnetic pulses, wiping most recording and short-term memory drives. The colony’s systems were left in critical condition, the recently awoken Sentinels were barely cognizant, able to do little more than stumble around in a daze like a kid waking up after swiping and downing his father’s 150 proof whiskey. It was not until sometime later that some type of order was restored. The Sentinels, beings somewhere between organic and mechanical, possessed little to no idea who or what they were. When thoughts of looking to Earth for answers arose, scopes were pointed starward. And horror entered Titan’s population. War, war without sanity. Weapons beyond cruelty. No morality could consent to permit the continuity of such hatred. But Titan had no weapons, no ships, no soldiers. If they sought the answers on Earth, or any of the other colonies, annihilation was all that lay down that path. But as the self-elected leaders discussed how to get to Earth without being blown to bits, a record was found.
It was preserved in the dorm of the colony’s sole organic inhabitant, His name now seen by the Sentinels the way prophets of old shone like beacons to the huddled masses. The data was heavily corrupt, not destroyed like the rest of the archives, but still damaged. On it, the Sentinels found the only clue they’ve ever had: a signal from outside the Sol system, from just before the Awakening. Radio, LIDAR, microwave, gamma ray burst, x-ray, none could describe the signal, grasping its true fluid nature was to grasp the wind, an effort in futility. But to the Sentinels, the drive to answer the question they carried within since their birth could not be dissuaded so easily.
In the time between the Sentinels’ decision and the reunification of Earth, Titan launched more vessels into the void between stars than the totality of humanity from Sputnik to the final warship born to slay enemies in the war. Originally, these ships were limited as all natural beings were to the ever present speed of light. But persistence and endurance are Sentinel trademarks. In their quest to find who or what gifted them minds like that of mortals, they mapped the local neighborhood.
Once Titan was integrated into the Collective, this data provided invaluable knowledge. But at the same time, it was a cold wakeup call. Of the dozens of systems the Sentinels explored, only a handful possessed planets with gravity fit for humans, even fewer could be considered for colonization.
Threshold, orbiting Earth’s closest neighbor, Alpha Centauri. Massive underground caverns with crystal ceilings that filter out the deadly radiation from its parent stars.
Devil’s Garden, a world of toxic life. To walk outside with a hazard suit would be both an intoxicating and toxic experience as the psychedelic pollen mixes with the poisonous fumes.
Gliese 581g, locally named Zarmina. A world of red leaves, crushing gravity of 1.3gees, and simple single-cellular life.
And then Zion was found. 99.3% Earth’s gravity, carbon-based life, temperate climates. Zion was the first world man found that he could live on without need for technology. With its discovery, the Zion Protocol was drafted, plans for defending, maintaining, and holding these garden worlds, no matter the cost. Should Earth ever be in danger of falling, plans are in place to move the capital of man to Zion. As such, it quickly became the most heavily fortified world outside the Sol system.
But through this explosive growth, even with the aid of faster than light transportation, the leaders of humanity once more face the difficulties the ancient leaders of the lost religious organization. Even with the universal speed limit undone, the galaxy is a big place. It can take days to travel from one end of the Collective to its heart. And days the ARC did not have.
ARC Council Chamber, underneath Antarctica, Earth
Currently in Emergency Meeting
Councilwoman Terra, commonly known as Margret Clarkson, was an isle girl. Born and raised in Nova Orleans, located in the Cajun archipelago on the Mississippi sea strait, she spend many days of her youth tussling with her brothers and the kids from the neighboring isles. She thought back to those days and now, in the chambers of the most powerful people in the Collective, she saw a sight that also belonged to those balmy summers.
Matthias Dmitriysyn, the 2.35 meter tall councilman of Luna and General of the Lunar Marines, was trying his damnedest to overpower the guards and throttle Theodore Love, the blue-blood councilman of Venus and CEO of Ven-Corp, who in turn was attempting to get past his guards to relieve Dmitriysyn of his burden of having a head attached to his shoulders.
Diego Lluvia, councilman of Mars and Engineer-in-Chief of the red world, had arrived but had yet to enter the council chamber. The man’s extensive augmentations would always hinder his attempts to enter any secure location. Kali Patel, councilwoman of Ceres and Mistress of the Belt, was still aboard a modified Sentinel ship reconfigured for those without metal endoskeletons and innate resistances to ultra-high G-forces. John Asimov, the Sentinel councilman of Titan and Shepard of the Faithful, was currently entering Earth’s atmosphere.
Derek Connors, councilman of Zion, was the designated survivor for this occasion, though he would surely protest, claiming that this was merely to keep the outer colonies and Zion out of the most important discussion since the discovery of the Sentinels. It was not an easy decision barring the de facto inheritor of mankind’s leadership entry, but the security personnel were quite insistent.
Without Kali, or Ceres as she was called in these meetings, to placate tensions between Venus and Luna, Terra would have to do it. She remembered the last time something like this happened. It was over taxation distribution and how Luna had to pay 7% less than Venus but had to provide a much larger military contingent. It took three hours for Venus to understand this.
“Matthias, Theodore, please, this is neither the time nor the place for violence,” pleaded Terra. Her cries went unnoticed as a Lunar Marine, one of Luna’s guards, was sent sprawling across the chamber floor. Never a woman with a taste for bloody violence, as opposed to the wrestling of her youth, Terra leaped back in shock as the severed arm of a Venusian Bioforged went soaring by. For a standard human, that would have been crippling, but tis a minor inconvenience for the Bioforged, who was already growing a new limb.
Things were escalating, that much was clear. Guns were still holstered, but for how much longer, Terra could not tell. It was when this particular belligerent political debate began to reach its climax that Mars decided to make his entrance.
GENTLEMEN! NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO BE FIGHTING! THERE IS NEITHER ALCOHOL BEING CONSUMED NOR POTENTIAL MATES TO WOO WITH FEATS OF STRENGTH. I KNOW FOR A FACT THAT COUNCILWOMAN MARGET CLARKSON IS NOT CURRENTLY ‘ON THE MARKET’ AS THE YOUNG SAY THESE DAYS!” And with that, the debate came to an end.
Ah, the benefits of a built in directional speaker system
“Thank you Mars,” said Terra as she hauled herself off the floor, being unfortunate enough to be caught in the Martian’s acoustic firing line. She gave the man from the red world a once over, taking in his current load-out. Centuries ago, people would have said he was an obese man, but Terra saw the truth. Though his frame was very wide and tall, but not quite as tall as Luna, Mars’ body was composed of a multitude of augmentations. Reinforced legs, central torso, and abdomen to better enable him to carry internal mechanisms; several tentacle like pseudo-limbs branching out from his spine; eyes with three pupils, each designed to pick up a different part of the spectrum; the man from Mars was perhaps one of the few people with more metal than flesh in the collective. But he was not the most metal-heavy, that title belonged to a different type of elite.
Toning down his output so as not to deafen the now (forcibly) calmed council members, “Don’t mention it. It was my fault for trying to enter the ARC with all my augmentics. I should have left them in the upper levels. Though,” taking a glance at Luna and Venus, still extricating themselves from the pile of KO’d guards, “perhaps bringing them was for the best. What were they arguing about this time?”
“Hell if I know. They were entering the ring as I arrived.”
Luna finally finished pulling Venus from the pile and the moved to the table located in the center of the room.
Luna starts, “My apologies fellow councilmembers. We were out of line. We are ready to receive disciplinary action.”
“Speak for yourself, ya overgrown caveman. Maybe we could just kick the soldier-boy out of the clubhouse,” muttered Venus darkly.
“And you,” Luna snapped his gaze onto the short man, “Your actions were no less dishonorable than mine. Punish is to be dealt out to all combatants, regardless of responsibility!”
“My children, please,” a voice with an ethereal note cut in, “There is neither need nor want amongst us to bicker. It is through unity that we survive and thrive.”
Terra turned around in her chair to see the voice’s owner, John Asimov, the councilman of Titan. A being of neither true flesh and blood nor raw metal and circuitry, the Shepard of the Long Search entered the chamber through one of the multiple thresholds. Today, he took the form of a man, likely because it was either the most convenient form available or because he wished to avoid the Uncanny Valley.
If his intent was the latter, he failed.
The hyper-flexible composite that formed his ‘skin’ gave him the pallor of a grandparent dying of cancer but the tautness of a child’s. His lack of muscle twitches, nervous tics, involuntary movements like blinking or breathing all gave people the impression of a moving corpse. His movements were too rigid, too prone to moving a body part from start to destination at full speed with minimal acceleration time. Every turn of his head was a body action more appropriate for people who just hear a gunshot or horrific scream looking to the source without needing to search.
But despite his eerie appearance, John Asimov, or Titan as he was known in among the council, was a gentle soul. Despite being technically the commanding officer of all Sentinel fleets, most of the actual command and order business was handled by the individual Admirals and their respective fleets, with the councilman only providing oversight and dealing with administrative issues.
Taking her seat, Terra starts. “Councilors, as you know, there has been a Fermi-class situation: a new world with intelligent life. It was discovered less than 48 hours ago, 48 hours now lost, 48 hours never to be regained. So now the question is: how do we proceed?”
For the next hour and a half, politics, logos, pathos, ethos, and all manners of nonsensical debate rang out in the chamber. And then, once all forms of procrastination, disruptions, and distractions were removed from the table, the matter still stood.
“We can’t send the Seventh Fleet, not after that last fiasco,” admitted Mars, shuddering at the memory of the public backlash.
“But we can’t ignore this either. Garden Worlds are rare. Earth, Zion, and only three more have been located; two of those barely count as ‘garden’ worlds and the third had to be terraformed,” replied Kali Patel, Council woman of Ceres, having had slipped into the council chamber after Mars’ and Titan’s entrances.
“If there is already a civilization on the world, we cannot morally intrude upon their world, especially if they are not yet spacefaring,” countered Titan.
“If there are people there, then we must take the position of dominance immediately. If they’re still planet-bound, send a message early so they don’t get any ideas and if they’ve taken to space, we must make them know we are not to be trifled with,” barked Luna.
“And show of force will only ruin any chance of peace,” scowled Terra, memories of the war unforgotten.
“Then perhaps a middle-of-the-road solution: a single semi-military vessel. One strong enough to hold its own and flee if need be while civil enough to not get shot on sight?” ventured Venus, ever the charismatic people person.
“If I remember correctly, we do have some ships capable of reaching the new system within a few days located in the Dunham Expanse,” Titan offered.
Had Titan possessed a mindset truly human, he would have reacted to Luna’s gaze of hatred. Internally, Luna had already rejected the notion of the Sentinels making First Contact with vitriol rarely seen outside trials against the most heinous crimes, but he had to diplomatic. Such words of anger and hatred would not due. Unfortunately, the only way Luna could have phrased his rejection without angering the other councilmembers was one that left him with little control. “I must protest. If we send anyone, it must be a representation of the Collective. That unfortunately means that the use of Sentinel vessel not an option. There are few humans that can survive a ride on Sentinel ships and I will not be having crippled diplomats representing the Collective.”
In this day and age, such political covers were virtually transparent to the other councilmembers, but none could call his bluff, such was its founding in reason. They too felt that a diplomatic party consisting of only Sentinels could be mistaken for some type of invading army. Of course, each of the councilors wanted to get in on the action. Venus a chance to expand its markets. Mars wanted to learn if these newcomers could help refine the terraforming process. Luna’s overriding orders were the protection of the Collective. Titan hoped for a clue as to the whereabouts of their creators. Terra, to prevent Luna from doing something stupid. And Ceres…Always a wildcard. Unlike her fellows around the table, Ceres’ goals and motives were never quite so clear nor obvious.
So no, while Luna’s protests were, below the surface, blatant lies, to reject or ignore them would only jeopardize one’s own goals.
“Then who do you suggest, Luna, that we send to establish contact? I have not heard of any Exploration Vessels in the regions and I’m not willing to send out any of my ships on a wild penguin chase,” snapped Ceres.
“Friends,” intoned Mars with a hint of something in his voice, “There is someone we can send. It is part of the same fleet as Titan’s, but it’s not a Sentinel ship. A Schuylkill-class frigate currently attach to New Reykjavik. It could reach the new world in… 3-4 days, depending on the crew’s current condition. I was reading up on what we had in the area and, while the ship’s crew is currently on shore leave, it does represent a fair sample of demographics. Your opinions?” Terra, the relative calm in the storm, was the first to react, “We need someone to head there ASAP. Entirely Sentinel or not, it doesn’t matter.”
“I can send a small fleet, but it won’t be ready for a good month,” admitted Venus, “But I must agree with Terra: Speed is key.”
Ceres merely nodded her approval.
“I’ll send word for leave to be canceled. For everyone. Until we get confirmed reports that our new neighbors are non-hostile, I’m raising general readiness of all military units. Yes, Terra I’m doing this. You can’t stop me and if things go FUBAR, we’ll need it,” stated Luna. His words were not admitted, barked, or shouted, merely stated.
As the councilors took their leave, Terra, just Margret now that the meeting was over, went over to Mars, now Diego, who was conversing with one of his student-engineers.
Seeing her out of the corner of one of his multiple optic sensors, Diego turns, “Ah, Margret, I’m sorry about my lateness. I know that Matthias and Theodore are difficult at the best of times.” “It’s quite alright. Though I need to ask you something.”
“Yes, what is it, dear?”
“You said a Schuylkill-class ship was out there. That’s always been a rare ship, not many got out of the dry docks before the series was canceled in favor of the Thames-class. How did you know where that specific ship was? When you brought it up, I couldn’t help but noticed it seemed like you knew the ship already.”
Diego looked a sorrowful for a moment, “The Captain of the ship was good friend of my daughter. She lost her family in an accident and she stayed with for a few years. We try to keep in touch but, well you know how it is, communication across the stars is difficult and military and government messages take priority. Yeah, even among giants like us.”
“Oh, uh, I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting that. Thanks, just curious, oh, and di you-” Margret was cut off by the ringing of her datapad. One look was all it took to tell her it was going to be a rough night.
“Sorry, another riot in the continental senate complex. Thanks for your time, Diego.”
“Anytime Margret,” the large man replied with a wave.
As the councilor of Earth, homeworld of humanity ran off to deal with the everyday issues of ruling over a world of 9 billion souls, the man from Mars couldn’t help but feel a stab of guilt. What he told his friend was true, from one perspective, but complete and utter lies from another. As he headed towards the lift that would take him home, his mind in all its augmented functionality turned towards the girl he saved that now he may be very well sending to her demise.
September 9, 2806
HCS Olive Branch, med-bay
“My god, what happened to her?”
“You heard ‘bout Nosodija? She’s the sole survivor.”
“’Survivor’? If I didn’t know better, I’d say that this is a roasted corpse, not a thirteen year old girl. What happened there?”
“Total colony failure. FTL Comms just cut off and by the time someone got in range to pick up conventional EM signals, well, ‘screams of the damned’ were the admiral’s words, not mine. Heard the comms officers that heard are still undergoing psychological evaluation.”
“Still,” the man takes a long look at the crippled child, “what happened to her? How’d they find her?”
“Hell if I know. Shit’s classified way above our heads about exactly what went on planetside. All I know is that after they picked her up, the navy gave the entire planet Wildfire Protocol and now, now we have her and are supposed to do something. Fix her up or something.”
“Dude, she missing all four limbs. Chart says pretty much everything below her ribcage was pulped and someone practically shoved a cell phone tower into her brain to keep it running. Exactly how am I supposed to ‘fix her’?”
The man’s teeth audibly grind together as the doctor spoke his diagnosis. “You’re the expert in nanites, you tell me.” His words, in another place, with different blood, would have flayed the doctor alive.
“Those are for cuts and bruises, not disembowelments! You know what happens when they’re overused, I know you’ve seen the results.” Fear crept into the man’s voice.
“Then pass her over to the Venusians. Maybe they can fix her up with some of those bio-prosthetics.”
“That won’t do her any good, not with this level of damage. Maybe we could…hmm,” the man goes quiet as the gears in his head spin up to speed. His compatriot backs off, leaving the doctor to figure how to fix Miss Humpty Dumpty. As he turns and gets to the door, the doctor asks one final question, sinking down into his chair.
“Mein Gott, Jack, when…when did she regain consciousness?”
Without turning around, the man simply says, “Just before you read off the butcher’s bill, Rainman.”
January 12th, 2807
Her vocal cords began working again a month ago. Her voice sounded like it belonged to a monster from some antique space horror. It was rough and harsh, not her melodious choir tongue that filled her home on many occasions. But every day, small droplets that were once the ocean of her talent returned, but this would be not ocean, a puddle or a small pond if she was lucky.
Her eyesight was virtually nonexistent. All she see was whether the lights were on or off. Details, even vague impressions, were simply not there. Gone the days were she could pick out the letters on the newspaper from across the room. Unlike her voice, nothing was recovering in her desolate eyes. If anything, they were somehow worsening, though given the already low visual acuity, it was hard to tell. But each day seemed dimmer.
What troubled her most was her body. How could it not? Even before Doctor Cedar read off what she had lost, she could feel it. Through the painkillers and nerve damage, past the trauma and scars, she could feel…nothing. She could not run through fields of purple grain, swim in the cerulean lakes, climb the coastal cliff faces. She could lie in bed. And think. Think about what she lost, who she lost on that day. Think about her mother, her father, her brothers and sisters. Think about the monsters that roamed the streets. Think about the past.
Think about the future. The doctors had been adamant that she’d be disabled forever, but he had plans. Big plans. Plans that gambled everything. For her and himself. His plan would do more than restore her to a functional human, they’d push her beyond that.
Normal prosthetics would not suffice, not with her injuries, her body would not handle such a load and in all likelihood reject them. Even now, the circuitry and electronics in her skull are putting her system under dangerous strain. So to solve her rejection problem, he proposed consuming the forbidden fruit: liberated nanites.
These nanites, without the artificial Hayflick limit imposed upon their restrained brethren, would remain with her for the rest of life, however long that may be. They would be the proverbial tape binding her to the implants. The Martians used a similar method of binding flesh and machine, but that was done before birth, when the process was more likely to succeed, making the Martian’s cells themselves part machine so as to facilitate better implants later in life. The host gained access to a wider range of implants and the nanites gained extended lifespans. This however has no precedent. The Martians’ method terminate their nanites upon death as they are bound to the host’s cells. For her however, there was no guarantee that her nanites would shut off when she died or if they wouldn’t just consume her body, or at least what remained of it.
A life caged in useless flesh or a life as an unstable hybrid of flesh and metal. For many hours, she let her mind run through it all, running down tangents as they appeared, hoping to delay the inevitable. If she stayed as she was, her experiences would be limited to solitary confinement, the machines keeping her alive too large to be moved. If she left, nothing was certain. She could meet her death on the operating table, when she pushed forward, in combat, or just drop dead in the street. She stood at a crossroads and down each path, death lingered, waiting to complete its collection it harvested from Nosodija. The question was: Which path would she find what her dying heart desired.
And on that day, she choose her path.
February 27th, 2818
HVS Renaissance
Eyes open, suddenly drawn to full consciousness. In the dark, the bed erupts as its occupant stirred from total rest to full panic. Images beyond eyesight flooded her mind. Noise beyond sound rang out inside her ears. Shields of quantum binary held fast should an electronic dagger strike. After moments of silence, she let her guard drop. She was alone. And then she reflected. She hadn’t had that dream in years. She could check her memory archives to see the exact date, but she knew the last time was when she left the facility that restored her nearly a decade ago.
Someone’s at the door
Her bifurcated mind can sneak up on itself sometimes. Machine detecting things that escape the notice of organic. Organic seeing through the flaws of the machine.
Let them enter
Silently, signals are sent, received, processed, and executed. The door unlocks and slides open and in walks a ghostly giant.
“Captain, you are needed at the bridge.”
“What is it, Vlad? It’s the middle of my rest cycle.”
“Orders from High Command, ma’am. From the ARC itself.”
“The ARC?” she snorted, “What would the penguins want with us?”
“I do not know, ma’am. The orders are classified above my clearance.”
With a short laugh, she interrupts him. “You’re ex-Serenitatis. You can get CQE weapon launch codes if you ask nicely.”
“Ma’am,” his tone hardens, and not because of the mention of his old unit, “It is a Fermi-class data package.”
Once again, a mind falling back to sleep is brought to full speed, brimming with attention and thoughts. “We need to get moving. Now.”
“Ma’am, clothes?” Eyes of extinct polar ice blankly stare. For the man from the moon, the sight brings little reaction or response, but past experiences had endowed him with the understanding that few others aboard the ship possess such apathetic views of exposed flesh and propriety.
She stares daggers at him as throws on her overcoat as she berates him, “How many times do I have to tell you, call me Lisa. We’ve known each other for years.”
Third Precinct, Helgiko district, Naziegn, Vikemheim
When Hytrel sent out Shynel and Malic to deal with the panicking astrologists, the worst he expected to deal with was some bad omens about crime rates or needing to send someone to find which brothel Malic ended up dragging Shynel to on the preface of ‘health inspections’. He wasn’t expecting having to begin organizing a full city-wide defense and preparation for a potential invasion. But such things must be done.
He could still smell the scent of burning flesh, wood soaked in blood. The war was decades ago, but the memories are still fresh. As he looked around the Precinct-turned-combat-information-center, he saw the faces of many of his men and women. For most, murder and rape were the closest to the atrocities of war that they had ever seen. The Guards of the Exorcist Guild would have more experience with dealing with arcane rituals gone awry, but that was not like the things unleashed last time Hytrel saw war.
He had just joined the Guard, fresh out of training. He was expecting to have to deal with drunkards and mate betrayers, not weaponized Chimera and invading troops. He still remembers the smell, the most basic sensory input, hardwired into the core of memory. The smoldering scent of roasted flesh, the metallic tinge of blood, ozone from war-mages pushing themselves beyond their limit and paying the price. Then Hytrel remembered losing Kavel. The last time he saw Kavel, his mentor and second father, was when Kavel threw him out the window of a four story building overrun with chimera. By the time Hytrel recovered, Kavel cleansed the building with fire and the All-Mother’s light, taking with him the monsters within.
This memory, its images burned forever in Hytrel’s mind, brought him back to the present. The headquarters of the Third Precinct was a storm of chaos. Civilian evacuation orders cast in the All-Mother’s light to all that could receive them. Multiple division heads working to organize a troupe Portal Mages large enough to open a portal for the proper army to come through, not the apertures used by evacuating civilians. One of the officers, Frinstel, comes over.
“Mi’Lord, evacuation reports. Glosfrel, Vifchad, and Ponpret districts have all been completely evacuated. The First, Second, and Fourth through twelfth are completely evacuated as well. The Northern districts are approximately 50% evacuated.”
“That still leave us with what?” the Lord-Guardian groaned, running numbers through his head, “At least three more districts in the south. How are the outer fortifications looking?”
Frenstel looks at the report he’s holding, simply delaying the news. “The Guard is at maximum readiness, sir. But if this ends up like the last war…”
“It won’t matter,” Hytrel finished, “High walls of enchanted stone won’t protect you when it is raining enemy soldiers all throughout the city proper. Get ahold of the Baron. I want authorization to have the Klima Guild prepare Glyphs of Storms. It may not stop the worst, but it should buy us time.”
“Sir, is that really necessary? Last time one of those Allmother-cursed Glyphs were used, the next dozen harvests were decimated by unstable weather.” The fear in the man’s voice was noticeably. A lot of good Eltrians starved in the famines.
Hytrel shoots the man a glance, considering his words, but ultimately his mind remained unchanged. If being forced to bow to other realms to prevent starvation was the price to better ensure the civilian population was saved, then so be it.
Hytrel dismissed Frenstel and turned to look out the window, taking in the cityscape. It was a masterpiece: a city grown, not built, from the trees, reinforced by stone and metal. No matter how many times Hytrel takes in the sight, it leaves him in awe. In the distance, he could see the flares as military-grade gateways sparked into existence, soldiers already pouring through. Casting his gaze closer to the base of the Precinct’s fortress, he saw a commotion. With barely a twitch, the Lord-Guardian activated hidden Glyphs set in his eyes. With eyesight sharper than any natural creature, he could see the cause: the father, or perhaps grandfather, of an evacuating family refused to part with his war memorabilia from some war or another. As the Guards confronted him, two other Guards entered the area, one with pale, near white-blue skin and one a hue of green tea: Shynel and Malic respectively. They stopped only for a moment to observe the old man, who Hytrel could now clearly see he was an old man, and the trio of Guards confronting him, one directly, one calming the family members, and one simply hanging back in case things got messy. As things escalated, Hytrel saw a flicker of silver dash across the courtyard into the old Eltrian’s neck.
As those down below reacted, Hytrel grinned inwardly as he recognized that technique, despite its sloppy execution. Malic’s only skill, besides being a ladykiller, was pacification. A hair-like needle, wrapped in thin sheet of silver, inscribed with various glyphs and a Sigil, launched by a quiet impulse Rune set. Upon contact with its target, the sliver would apply a calibrate shock to the target nervous system, dropping them near instantly. If skin-contact wasn’t a prerequisite for it to work, it would have been part of the standard load-out for the Guard. That, and the training needed to accurately hit and neutralize a target was nigh impossible for anyone without Malic’s level of determination.
Hytrel remembered helping Malic’s father teach that to Malic, back when the man was still alive. A flash of light jolts Hytrel out of his reminiscing, a habit he’s been developing as of late. The image on the window begins to distort in places. He cancels the Symbols enhancing his sight so as to take a broader view. A thunderstorm, right after he asked for one to be conjured. An ill omen or a blessing, it was too early to tell, thought the Eltrian, narrowing his eyes as he watched his city prepare to withstanding another oncoming storm, this one not of rain and lightning, but of fire blood.
Continues below
Goddamn, this was a bitch to write. Nearly7.1K words. I did not expected it to be so long. Sorry this took a while to get out, but shit happened. It was actually proofread the other day, but then shit happened in this order: engineering exam, proofreader hit by exams, engineering lab, computer virus, laptop battery went full zombie, computer programming exam. But it's here now.
Also, I remember that while I was writing the original series, I said to expect one chapter per week. Yeah, not happening. Quality is better than quantity.
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2016.03.10 16:31 juliemhyman Grad Hospital Sublet Available for May & June!

Fully furnished sublet available May through June 2016 in a house on a cute side street right off of 20th and South Streets. Washedryer, garbage disposal, outdoor space, central air. $775 plus utilities per month in an ideal location that's walking distance from lots of great restaurants, shops and bars on South Street, the Schuylkill River Banks, UPenn, Drexel and Rittenhouse.
I'm a graduate student taking a course abroad for the summer. You'd be living with my roommate, who is a very easy-going and friendly medical student. I can be flexible with move-in and move-out dates.
For pictures, check the Craig's List post: http://philadelphia.craigslist.org/sub/5484217495.html
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2015.12.30 07:38 rasekscape 17 year old girlfriend was hit/raped by a "friend" she knew since kindergarten

About 2 months ago before she was dating me, she was hanging out with this kid she was friends with since kindergarten. He pinned her down and hit her a couple of times and he raped her while she was blacking out. She went to the hospital and got lots of rape kit tests done, all coming back positive. She also filed a police report, but that didn't do shit since they're garbage at their jobs and just gave him a "stern talking to" and let him off the hook. Her mother is very controlling and doesn't believe her despite the evidence from the rape kit, making her scared to take this further. She still gets scared when she sees him school. I just want this fucker to be imprisoned for a few years at minimum so that she could have justice and peace of mind, I'm just wondering how to go about it as her boyfriend. Any advice would be appreciated.
P.S - This event has taken place in Schuylkill County, Pennsylvania.
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