All the Suck you want (and all the Lingua Franca, too)

A month or so ago, around the time that my friend Laura Secor’s amazing piece on Iranian dissidents came out in the New Yorker, I poked around the web to see if I could find old Lingua Franca articles, including hers. It turns out that many such articles are available, through the Internet Archive’s Wayback Machine. Type www.linguafranca.com into the search bar, and you can download the magazine webpage as the archive’s spider captured it on dates between 28 January 1998 and 31 March 2005.

2005 may strike some of you as rather late, given that Lingua Franca ceased publication with its November 2001 issue. In fact the captures after December 2001 are of announcements that the magazine is no more or of the homepage of the rival who purchased its remains (a more triumphalist way of saying the same thing). This could, someday, be a problem. On New Year’s Day, Paul Collins complained, in an aside, that he couldn’t link to an article in the defunct web magazine Suck.com, because “the domain’s owned by a pornster now.” I thought I’d impress him by pulling it out of the Wayback Machine, but I discovered that if the current owner of a domain name doesn’t want the site indexed, none of the content published by the domain’s previous owner is accessible, either. When I checked on New Year’s, the Wayback Machine wouldn’t let me see any of Suck.com‘s old issues.

When I checked today, though, Suck.com seems no longer to be owned by pornsters—or, if they are pornsters, they’re pornsters who are posting old articles from Suck. And Suck is accessible once more through the Wayback Machine. But wait, there’s more. There is, in fact, a mirror of the whole Suck site, available independently at suck.mirror.theinfo.org.

The mirror seems to be the creation of Aaron Swartz, who describes himself as “a teenage writer, hacker, and activist.” He co-authored the specs for RSS feeds when he was just fourteen and has written a lot of other software that goes entirely over my head. More important, in addition to these qualifications, he’s a Lingua Franca fan, and thanks to him there’s now a live web archive for LF at linguafranca.mirror.theinfo.org. (For the completists: Feed is still in the Wayback Machine, under www.feedmag.com, but Swartz’s mirror of it seems to have been undone by a server crash.)

Neither new nor rare

Historians have debated at length the question of when certain ideas about homosexuality came into currency. Here’s a piece of evidence, not previously reported to my knowledge:

In the Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts on 11 December 1868, a young man named Samuel M. Andrews was tried for murder. He pleaded not guilty by reason of “transitory insanity.” He was driven mad, he said, by Cornelius Holmes’s attempt to have sex with him.

It was a strange, sad case. According to the prosecuting attorney, Cornelius Holmes was not like other men. He was fifty-three years old at the time of his death and weighed 225 pounds. A bachelor, he lived alone in a boarding house. Though he had no occupation, he was said to be worth $20,000. The prosecution claimed that “The only person with whom he was at all intimate was the prisoner,” Andrews, who had killed him. The defense more or less agreed with this characterization of their relationship. Andrews “was almost the first young man Cornelius Holmes had ever met, who had not slurred him, & hooted at him,” Andrews’s attorney said. He added that Holmes “was not an idiot; . . . He was rather slow; played in childhood with children younger than himself.”

How intimate were they? The lawyers tried to bring this out. There was a telling exchange during the examination of a witness named Lysander Bartlett, a ship’s carpenter:

Question. Were Cornelius & Andrews intimate friends?

Witness. Mr. Andrews can tell you better than I can.

Chief Justice. You should not say to counsel that Andrews can tell you that better than I can. It is improper.

Witness. ‘Tis, eh? I knew they were intimate. . .

After Andrews was arrested for the murder, witnesses saw him kiss Holmes’s body.

In court, Andrews had a difficult task: he had to establish the nature of Holmes’s interest in him, and he had to make it sound plausible that he had resisted Holmes’s advances despite their persistence. He didn’t quite manage. He testified that “about nine years ago one stormy evening,” he and Holmes had shared a bed. “After talking awhile he turned towards me, & tried to put a part of his person between my legs, behind. I left the bed.” Though Holmes made other advances, the friendship continued. In fact there were hints that Holmes had thought of leaving his money to Andrews.

The murder came about one day when Holmes beckoned Andrews to follow him off the road and into the forest. Once they were alone, Holmes threw him down, tore open his pantaloons, put his hand in a relevant place, and said, “Now I’m going to have some, this time.” In a panic, Andrews grabbed a stone . . . That, at any rate, is what Andrews claimed in court, though he also claimed, confusedly, that he was “entirely unconscious of what took place.”

In summing up, the defense stressed how common Holmes’s tendency was:

Nor, gentlemen, is this any new crime. Go to our soldiers & sailors, inquire of our naval officers & see whether it is a new crime. The government would have you believe that this is an improbable story, because the crime is rare; gentlemen, this story is more than probable, for it is a crime which has always existed.

The prosecution, on the other hand, stressed how unlikely it was that Andrews would have had to kill Holmes in order to defend himself from rape. “Rape,” the prosecution insisted, wasn’t even the right word; in fact, the proper word didn’t exist, because the thing was impossible. The whole question of sex between men, the prosecution suggested, was probably a red herring: “There was in the present case no adequate evidence of any voluntary acts of indecency between the parties,” the prosecution argued, “but even if such existed, these had no tendency to prove an attempt to commit this act by force.”

In his instructions to the jury, the judge observed that Andrews had taken Holmes’s earlier advances quite calmly and had remained his close friend despite them. Taking the hint, the jury found Andrews guilty of manslaughter, and he was sentenced to twenty years.

(Source: Report of the Trial of Samuel M. Andrews, Indicted for the Murder of Cornelius Holmes, before the Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts, December 11, 1868, including the Rulings of the Court upon Many Questions of the Law, and a Full Statement of Authorities upon the Subject of Transitory Insanity. By Charles G. Davis, of Counsel for the Prisoner. New York: Hurd & Houghton. Cambridge: Riverside Press, 1869.)

Two Georgia peaches forever Clinging

According to a post on the History of Sexuality listserv, Simon Stern of Harvard Law School has discovered a depiction of gay marriage in an 1840 book of dialect sketches, Augustus Longstreet’s Georgia Scenes. (Hat tip to Leaves of Grass.)

The telling is remarkably free of panic and judgment. Maybe that’s because it appears in a joke: Just before they turn in for the night, two humorous gentlemen tell three old gossips that “George Scott and David Snow: two most excellent men, . . . became so much attached to each other that they actually got married – . . . And they raised a lovely parcel of children.” The puzzle of two men engendering children keeps the gossips up late speculating. “I reckon that one of them men was a women dress’d in men’s clothes,” one of the women proposes, but it isn’t so. The solution, revealed the next morning, is that the men “were both widowers before they fell in love with each other and got married.” (The complete text is available at the University of North Carolina’s Documenting the American South.)