#crownshield

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Church Prowler Is Remanded Week," Border Cities Star. June 7, 1933. Page 3. ---- Charles H. Crownshield, Belleville man arrested last week in the basement of Immaculate Conception Church by Constables Graham and McInnes, was remanded a week in Windsor police court this morning. He is accused of "breaking into a place of worship." Fr. R. H. Dignan's attention was attracted by a noise at the church window and he summoned police immediately.

Crownshields, known under several aliases and possessor of a lengthy criminal record, had a large number of matches, a flashlight and a pair of wire cutters on him when taken into custody and, in addition, was wearing a pair of gloves.

[jacelightbourneart]

The Crossover no one asked for, but I did anyway. The Crown Shield as a Nighthunter from Nightbound. #choicesstoriesyouplay #theroyalmasqueradekayden #crownshield #nightboundchoices #nighthunter #pencildrawing https://www.instagram.com/p/CDRDT1nMSiB/?igshid=6nfx9ecbnxkc

[contentabnormal]

This week on Content Abnormal we present Bret Morrison in The Shadow adventure “The Terrible Legend Of Crownshield Castle”!

The Box Of Goodies We Got From Dracula’s Kung-Fu Theatre

[britishassistant]

Tom Walker and the Devil

S’funny. Even after the whole business with the apple in Eden, even after Sodom ‘n Gomorrah and Herod and the Crusades and the entirety of the fourteenth century, the human capacity for willful blindness still amazes me.

Hm? Oh, don’t start on their supposed “capacity for goodness and optimism” again, angel. Look—look, don’t you dare start going off about the “ineffability of His plan” or I’m taking the wine and finding somewhere else to have a nice drink. What? Oh, so it’s proof you want, eh? Well, I was in the New World recently, and you wouldn’t believe the rate at which humans made deals with me, then tried to weasel out of them once they got cold feet!

Names? Well…there was Deacon Peabody, Absalom Crownshield… oh, and then there was Tom Walker. He was a riot, Tom was. The others, they at least had a reason for making deals with me; Deacon thought he was ensuring that his offspring would continue to live comfortably and have plenty of influence by swindling the natives out of their land, and Absalom became a buccaneer and displayed great riches to impress the mousy daughter of a fishmonger. Tom was only ever interested in how much money he had in his own pocket, a proper miser through and through! He never spent any money on firewood, nor on repairs for his shack, not even of food for his horse! …Yes angel, but the horse died eventually, so at least it wasn’t suffering very long. The only woman to ever marry him was just as miserly as he, and she had a fearsome temper! Attacked anyone who vexed her with fingernails and teeth and— …yes, angel that is how I got these scratches. Stop sniggering.

Anyway, going back to Tom Walker—I thought I’d told you to stop sniggering. Thank you. Where was I? Oh, right. I met Tom Walker when he decided to stray from the path, if you’ll pardon the pun, and managed to stumble into my neck of the woods where I was sheltering in an old fort the natives had abandoned. No it wasn’t very comfortable, I was miserable and wet half the time, but it had atmosphere, you see? Dark, dangerous, inconveniently hard to reach, really lets people know what they’re dealing with, doesn’t it? I even went through the trouble of starting a few rumors about it being a sacrificial alter to demonic spirits.

So old Tom sits down to catch his breath, and he manages to unearth a skull which he then kicks. Taking that as my cue, I appear, with my axe and half-native garb and dark skin all covered with soot and—what? No, I don’t know why I was covered in soot. It’s based off of what scares him, remember? Maybe he was scared of blacksmiths, or an honest day’s work. Anyway, we get to talking, and I show him this new system for remembering my victims that I created; I carve their names into a tree, the interior of which rots in accordance to how rotten their souls are, and I count down the days until I can collect them by hitting each tree with my axe until they die and the tree falls down. What? Oh, what d’you mean “poor, innocent trees?” Trees aren’t capable of moral action, let alone innocence or guilt! No, look—look, forget about the trees for a second, and let me carry on with my story, will you?!

Where was I…so I show him my remembering system (not one word about trees if you want to keep those feathers) give him the sales banter about how I’m responsible for all human evils, blah de blah de blah, and he guesses that I’m “Old Scratch” as they call my lot over there. We get to talking, and I mention that I know where the treasure of the pirate Kidd is buried and that only those in my favor can get at it—complete lies of course, anyone could get at the stuff, though there’s not much left to get at now—and Tom begins salivating. I mean, drool dripping down his chin and everything, the entire works. Of course he clams up a bit when I mention the conditions of the bargain being selling his soul. Of course, I’d sort of expected that; he’s a miser, and misers never want to give away anything that they perceive as having value to other people, even if they don’t value it themselves. No—no he didn’t angel, otherwise why would his soul be in poor enough condition for me to take an interest in the first place? Haven’t got an answer for that one, have you? Thought not. I tell him to go home and think on it for a few days and I brand him with my thumb as a sign of good faith and partly because it heightens the experience. No, he didn’t feel a thing, and besides it’s not like your lot are any less dramatic.

So I wait. The next day, to my surprise, a grouchy woman comes along at about twilight and demands that I give her the same deal I gave her husband. No, I wasn’t happy. What d’you mean why?! Because I’m meant to choose souls that will cause the most collateral generation of evil! Take Deacon Peabody for instance. He swindles those natives off of their land. Those natives then have to go find somewhere else to live. They don’t trust settlers anymore, so they may attack any lone merchants that they come across. That merchant, if he isn’t dead, is likely to be more surly and rude to his coworkers and distrusts the natives more than ever, so he drives harder bargains when dealing with them. And the cycle continues on and on until low-level evil accumulates into something really horrifying. Like Salem. Now, this only works if someone in a position of relative influence is able to do something that effects a group on a wide scale, and I ask you, what kind of influence does a housewife have in this day and age? Absolutely none. Forming a contract to get her soul when it’s obviously going down there anyway would be a complete waste.

So I decide to mess with her a bit, and tell her that if she wants to make a deal with me she has to bring me every portable thing she considers valuable in her house. Of course, she looks very put out about that, but she goes home and comes back the next evening with her apron laden with the stuff. I tell her to take it off and give it to me, which she does unwillingly. Then I go “see ya!” and start running. You should’ve seen her face!! It was hilarious. Practically priceless… yeah, it stopped being funny when she sprung on me like a mountain lion and began clawing my face off.

I didn’t even know what was going on at first. One moment she was standing there, the next she was mauling me! So I throw her off of me, but I didn’t really look where I was throwing, and she ended up sort of impaled…well, more like split in half by one of the trees’ branches. Oh, don’t give me that look! It was an accident and you know it! Why did the trees even have branches like that—obviously they need to look intimidating! Have you ever tried to make a tree look scary? It’s next to impossible! You’ve got to make the trunk all gnarled and knotty and the branches look like they’re curling down to grasp you! And—fine, I’ll get on with it. Well, since the body was just there and not really doing anything so I, uh, took its organs, and wrapped them up in her apron, and left them for Tom to find. His scream was pretty hilarious too, now that I think about it.

So a few evenings later, Tom comes back and agrees to the deal. We haggled a bit, him refusing to be a slave trader no matter what, funnily enough. Eventually we settled on him being a usurer, which he was very eager to start with. He started out small, creating a good reputation for himself and began to drive people to bankruptcy during a recession. The poorer the person, the harder his terms, and he was soon able to afford himself a fine house and carriage with horses to pull it. Of course, he let the house and carriage fall into disrepair because he was too lazy to pay for its upkeep. The horses starved, like usual. I, for my part, was just hanging around, waiting for the perfect moment to strike down the tree with his name on it. I made some deals with other mortals, even getting this minister to leave his congregation to become a slaver with the excuse that pagan peoples deserved a life of servitude to Christian masters. But none of them were ever as entertaining as Tom. He got extremely paranoid about me collecting my due. To try and trick me out of it, he became an avid churchgoer, praying louder than the pious, carrying around a small bible in his coat and keeping a huge one on his desk in his counting house. You should’ve seen that thing. It was bigger than a whole human baby. I measured.

Anyway, one afternoon during the dog days of summer, Tom was doing what he did best—turning away some poor sot who had made the mistake of borrowing money from him. But what sets this speculator apart from the others is that he’s persistent, and he eventually frustrates Tom to the point where Tom exclaims “The Devil take me if I ever made a farthing!” Those, of course are the words I was waiting to hear. I appear with a pitch black horse, and tell him in my deepest voice that he’s come for. He goes really pale, and his eyes bulge like a toad’s stomach, but there’s nothing he can do because his two bibles are upstairs and well away from me. I fling him onto the horse and set it galloping down the street at such a pace that his clerks have to stick their pens in their ears to dull the noise of hooves. The horse took Tom out of the town, back into the woods where he first met me, and bucked him off into a ravine that was the resting place of what remained of Kidd’s treasure. He broke his neck, and his body was never found, as a thunderbolt set the entire forest ablaze that night. When the trustees tried to take charge of his property, nothing was found except cinders and wood shavings. In his stable there were skeletons instead of horses and his great house also burned down. Such was the end of Tom Walker.

Hm? Oh, what d’you mean, this wouldn’t have happened but for me? Look, he and his wife were going down there anyway because of how miserly they were. All I did was provide him an opportunity to tap into his greater potential for evil. Even then, he took his job to extremes that my suggestions barely covered. If he’d wanted to, he could have just lent out money at a reasonable rate, since all usurers, good or bad, belong to my lot. He was the one who delighted in driving others to bankruptcy, willingly and knowingly. Sooner or later your people are going to have to open their eyes and see that maybe the Father’s precious little creations really aren’t so perfect after al—! W-wait, h-hold on a minute, angel, b-be reasonable and put the bloody holy water down—!

[geographicusrareantiquemaps]

A rare and fascinating c. 1899 chromolithograph view of the proposed Nicaragua Canal by Julius Bien. The development of an intercontinental canal connecting the Caribbean (and therefore the Atlantic) with the Pacific in Central America was one of the major engineering goals of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. While the French were focusing on the Panama Canal, Americans were looking to Nicaragua. As early as 1899, United States Navy Bureau of Navigation Captain A. S. Crownshield visited the region and published a defense of the Nicaragua Route as the only reasonable intercontinental. It was perhaps general interest spurred by Crownshild's article that inspired Bien to create this view. https://www.geographicus.com/P/AntiqueMap/nicaraguacanal-bien-1899 #geographicus #raremap #raremaps #antiquemaps #antiquemap #nicaragua #nicaraguacanal #panamacanal (at Geographicus Rare Antique Maps)

[fittoembark]

The Crowninshield-Bentley House was built in 1727 for fish merchant and ship captain John Crowninshield. What an interesting last name! This Georgian home is owned by the Peabody Essex Museum, and you can take a tour of it and three other homes to show the changes in architectural styles in Salem from 16:00 to 1900. It’s a fascinating tour and free with admission. (at Crownshield-Bentley House) https://www.instagram.com/p/B9AnBGFhk_w/?igshid=nzx9bqpdmcle

[joaquinspatial]

Alexander Calder ‘Frank Crownshield’

Alexander Calder’s Frank Crownshield explores the linear form through the use of a flat object being wire. Although this work is a three dimensional sculpture, the singular material used to make the sculpture gives the work the appearance of a flat drawing. The sculpture also appears to be created from a singular line which resembles a continuous contour drawing No matter the angle the viewer looks at the work, the sculpture will always appear as if it were a flat drawing on paper. Calder does this through the restriction of detail and simplifying the form of a face in order to rid of any sense of dimension.

[jazzevangelist]

Patrick Dougherty's "Stickworks" art installation in Salem, in front of the Crowninshield-Bentley House built 1727. This was one of the few actually "witchy" looking things in Salem that wasn't tacky. (at Crownshield-Bentley House)

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Prowler Is Given Term," Border Cities Star. June 22, 1933. Page 3. ---- Man Caught in Cellar Of Church Sent To Penitentiary --- Draws Two Years ---- Plea for Leniency Spurned By Court as Record Is Offered ---- Charles H. Crownshields, 31, native of Belleville, whose police record dates back to 1916 and covers a wide range of jails - city, state, federal, American and Canadian - was sentenced this morning to a term of two years in the penitentiary at Portsmouth for breaking into the Immaculate Conception Church here. The sentence was meted out by Magistrate Brodie in city police court.

BEGS FOR LENIENCY Crownshields, who insisted he had only forced his way into the church basement for a night's lodging, that course being recommended by a fellow-traveler on the highway as a comfortable place, put up a strong plea for leniency in view of his promise to a girl to go straight. The promise was given, he explained, during a five-year stretch in Portsmouth. He had been sent away on that occasion for shopbreaking in the Town of Essex and for carrying dangerous weapons.

While appreciating the possibility that a man, some time in life, despite a long criminal career, may suddenly decide to reform, Magistrate Brodie was doubtful of the outcome if he sent the defendant to the Guelph prison farm. He suggested Crownshields, despite good intentions, would yield to an impulse and break custody again. His record, dug up from Supt. Wilkinson's files, showed he had broken away from an industrial farm many years ago and later from the town jail in Elkhart, Indiana.

HAS LONG RECORD Crownshield's record, international and varied in scope, revealed convictions for driving away automobiles, burglary, holdup, shopbreaking, breach of the American immigration laws. carrying guns, and breach of promise to marry a girl in Lockport, New York.

When arrested, Crownshields was wearing black gloves and carried a flashlight and a jackknife which was missing from a certain dwelling which had been entered just after the defendant's arrival in Windsor from the west.

ASKS PROBATION Crownshields asked for five or 10 years' probation "on his personal honor" but Magistrate Brodie said he couldn't do much for him in view of his remarkable record for getting into trouble.

Crownshields served terms in the U. S. prison at Leavenworth, Kansas, and in the Ohio State penitentiary. And, according to Detective-Inspector Renaud, he had anticipated at least seven years on the latest count.

[AL: Crownshields was 32, single, 'sallow' and known also by the aliases Charles Luftman, Henry Davink, and Henry Miller. He was born in Picton, Ontario, of German immigrant ancestors, but lived at times in Detroit and Windsor. His record was indeed long, including a stint in Leavenworth prison, Elmira reformatory, Mansfield prison farm, and a previous term as #674 at Kingston Penitentiary. He was convict #3104 this time around at Kingston Penitentiary. Crownshields worked in the Coal and Wood gang, shoveling coal off of delivery ships, weighing it, hauling it to storage, and distributing it to the boiler plant. Tough, sweaty, dirty work, though it afforded some freedom outside the walls. In July 1933, he signed a petition with the other inmates in his work crew:

“…We are working under conditions worse than any other gang….we are working in stifling heat and suffocating dust…[this] work is no play, we would gladly prefer a change of work to continuing under the present conditions...You [meaning the warden] have said that we are not entitled to fresh air and exercise. We do not know because we have no rules and regulation…all men working inside are entitled to it…we are working inside a building inside!” “We believe that our request for consideration in just…”

This apparently worked and they were granted more exercise and recreation in line with what the other inmates had won after the riot in 1932. He was released March 1935.]

[jacelightbourneart]

The prompt for Day 18 of Inktober 2021 is Moon. This is represented in two definitions: Moon, in reference to our natural satellite, and perhaps the most usual take on it, and Moon the verb, where one thinks or muses deeply on a thought, shown in the figure seated on the ground. #inktober2021day18 #inktober2021day18moon #inktober2021moon #inktober2021 #inktober #inkdrawing #inkart #inked #ink #penandink #penart #pencilart #artwork #art #artistsoninstagram #artofinstagram #artoftheday #artist #artistsupport #illustration #lineart #drawing #draw #moon #mood #choicesgame #choicesstoriesyouplay #crownshield #theroyalmasquerade #theroyalmasqueradechoices # https://www.instagram.com/p/CVIsXyEpTY0/?utm_medium=tumblr