 The wars of the 20th century were prophesied in 1788. Carnival does not mean a celebration. An orchestra uses two cannons for base. Can you imagine that? This is Lindsay McHarrie back with another gathering of out-of-the-way news articles and facts with which to make you say, can you imagine that? And until we all return in one minute and a half, we hope you'll be waiting. Keep yourself on the lookout for confidence operators, whose nefarious vocation comprises the bilking of unsuspecting victims out of as much money as they can bilk. Modern police methods and radio have probably done more to reduce the number of victims of con games than anything else during the past few years. But time was when these gentle grafters really plied their trade with the vengeance. For instance, well, I ran across a situation that occurred in San Francisco in the month of March, 1917. One day in police headquarters. Okay, who's next, sir? I'm the next. I've got to tell you about it. Wait a minute, one at a time. All right, you, what's your trouble? Me, I'm a loser money. This is a man. Here, come to my start. Now, wait a minute. What's your name? Abela, John Abela. This is a man. He's a come into my fruit store on a San Bernard Avenue. He's a come in on a Wednesday. He's a buy one dollar and a five cents worth of fruit. And he's to give me a check. This is a check right here. Yeah. He's to give me this check for $19.75. Now, I look into my money drawer and I've got the $8.70 a cash. He says, oh, that's all right. I come back tomorrow for another $10. Then he's to go away. I think to myself he's a fine fella. He's a very nice man. He trusts Abela for $10. He's a nice fella. Yeah. You sent the check to the bank and it came back marked insufficient funds. Is that it? Yeah, sure. That's it. That's what happened. Now, I want you to find this man and get my money. Okay, we'll see what we can do. Now, what's your trouble? Well, I'll tell you, Sergeant, I want you to find a gypsy for me. A gypsy? Yeah. You see, well, a couple of months ago, I went to this gypsy fortune teller up on Howard Street and she told me that I was going to have a run of good luck and that pretty soon in about eight weeks, I was going to get married, inherit $500 and get established in business. She told me I should leave all my valuables with her for safekeeping. Oh, my gosh. Yeah, well, I gave her my gold watch and my purse. Oh, well, how much was in the purse? $225. Well, I went back eight weeks later and she was gone. Yeah, and I thought she would be. All right, what's your name and where do you live? Well, my name is Gus Harris and I live at a coffee shop. Can you imagine that? Poor Gus Harris and John Abello reported their losses in the same police headquarters in San Francisco on the same day. I think it's probably safe to assume that John Abello posted a sign in his fruit store reading, no checks cashed and that Gus Harris assiduously avoided any future contact with gypsy fortune tellers. Well, that certainly sounds like someone is having a high time, doesn't it? In fact, it sounds like a carnival and just what do you think of when someone mentions the word carnival? Of course, you think of gay revelry of mysterious masked and glamorous ladies whose eyes shine laughingly through the holes in their masks. You think of streamers of colorful serpentine streaming from windows, showers of confetti getting into your mouth and eyes. But do you know what the word actually means? Well, it comes from two Latin words. The first is carne, meaning meat. The second is valet, meaning farewell. Literally then, carnival means farewell to meat. Carnival was first used to denote the days of merrymaking, feasting, and general hilarity that preceded the Lenten fast days. It was a period when the people let off steam in a riot of fun and frolic that had to last them through the 40 days of self-denial and reverent living before Easter. The famous New Orleans Mardi Gras is exactly the same thing, for it precedes the period of Lent. Today, of course, we use the word carnival for any celebration where costumes are worn. So just remember that when you say you are going to a carnival, that what you really say is that you are going to a farewell to meat party. Can you imagine that? Our next little item we submit as neither for nor against, soothsaying, fortune-telling, nor astrology. I'm going to report it just as I read it. It was in October of 1937 that Maurice Piva, the French seer, cast a horoscope for the year 1938. Among other things, he said, and mind you, he said this in October of 1937. He's in the stars. I can read them and tell you the future. And what I see for 1938 is baleful, evil. For here I can read the signs that tell of disaster. In particular, do I read the sad fate for the nation, Austria? I see her laws, her independence in 1938 during the first quarter of the year. On March the 14th of next year, 1938, she will have reached the climax of her affairs. She will no longer exist as a nation. Thus wrote the French seer, Maurice Piva, in October 1937. And on March 14th of the year 1938, Hitler's troops and Adolf Hitler himself marched into Vienna. Can you imagine that? But that isn't all I've dug up in the way of prophecy. Kept in the Viennese University Library under the catalog number I-246341 is a little book that I'll brochure. It is mellowed and yellow with age for it was first published in the year 1788. A Polish monk was the author. Well, can we imagine the old monk gazing out into the limitless expanse of the sky, watching a star's flicker, his senses attuned to some weird mysterious influence. At his feet sits a neophyte, listening in breathless wonder as he hears the voice of the old monk, deep, vibrant, calling off the prophecies he has seen. My son, there will come to pass many things. I see in the year 1793, I see a man who was once a king mounting a scaffold to feel the merciless cold knife of an instrument of execution. His name, his name is Louis, Louis the 16th of France. But Father, how can you see those things when this is about 1788? I know not, except that it is given to me to tell. Then I see a bloody war between France and Austria in 18005. Then I see plague sweeping all Europe. I see carts and tumbles carrying away the dead. That will be in 1889. And then what, Father, after that? My son, be glad you live now. Be glad that God has not given you life in the 20th century. For that will be the accursed century when brother shall kill brother, when terror shall reign from the skies and sweep all the earth, when men shall kill, kill, kill. Never satisfied until they have driven each other like beasts of the field into savagery and bloody agony. God help them. Father, tell me, does your prophecy seem no peace? No peace at all? Someday man will know that to kill and make war is not to correct the ills and evils of the world, but that he shall not learn until far into the 20th century until the year 1986. Thus in the year 1788 wrote and prophesied an old Polish monk in a solemn monastery. He foretold the murder of King Gustav III of Sweden. He prophesied the partition of his own country, Poland, in 1793 by Prussia and Russia. The French revolutions of 1830 and 1848, the burning of Moscow in 1812. Well, we leave it to you. Was the old monk astute and politically shrewd enough to realize cause and effect upon the human race? Were his prophecies based on cold calculations arrived at through a brilliant deduction? Did he base future happenings on the happenings of the past? Or did the stars whisper these things to him as he gazed up at the inscrutable sky? At any rate in 1788, he accurately and positively foretold the future. Can you imagine that? Now for our sally into the musical world for this part of Can You Imagine That. This time I've dug up a novelty which I think will amuse you. It doesn't have to do with the writing of a certain song nor does it concern itself with how a popular song may sound like one of the classics. Instead it's all about a house party and a house warming that was given by Mr. Jacob Lease at Yarba Buena, California on July 4th, 1836. The details were very kindly furnished to me by the Bancroft Library of the University of California at Berkeley. Mr. Lease hurried the building of his house which was one of the first two to be erected at Yarba Buena and helped to form the beginning of the city of San Francisco. To the house warming were invited the most prominent families. To it came the stately Spanish dons, the Castro family, the Martinez and the famous Mexican general, M. G. Vallejo. In gay colorful costumes they came. They marveled at Mr. Lease's house which the records say was 60 feet long and 25 feet broad and in those 1836 days it was a very giant of a structure. But I guess you're wondering where the musical portion comes in. Well it seems that Mr. Lease's partner Captain Hinckley commanded the American barc Don Quixote which was lying at anchor in the cove. The men from the barc came ashore and with them they brought an orchestra. Where did they get the orchestra? That's easy. Captain Hinckley had a passion for dulcet sounds and he always carried an orchestra with him that consisted of a clarinet, a flute, a violin, a drum, a pipe and a bugle. It was possibly the most stylish orchestra ever heard in California after that time. But to make it even more imposing Captain Hinckley borrowed two small six-pound cannons from the Presidio to form the base. Can you imagine that? Now it puzzled us, no little, to try to find out just what piece it would be that required two six-pound cannons for the base. We weren't able to find out, but we've used our imaginations and we've concocted what we think is a good imitation of that early Yerba Buena orchestra playing. Well, you listen and see if we haven't made a good choice of a number. Yes, sir. Pop Goes the Weasel does seem the logical song to need six-pound cannons for its base. Well now it seems time has come for me to turn you over to your own announcer and until we see you again soon. Until then this is Lindsay McCurry saying goodbye now.