 A black cat does bring bad luck. An attorney wins an impossible case. A strange lawsuit is never actually heard. Can you imagine that? Once again, ladies and gentlemen, this is Lindsay McCarrie speaking to you from my laboratory of amazing news stories, strange facts, and little-known historical incidents. In just a moment or two, my cohorts and I are going to be back with you. And until then, we hope you'll wait for us. We act to all the old superstitions that have been kicking around this world of ours for centuries. Are you aware of that? Are you afraid to walk under a ladder? Do you always knock on wood when telling a piece of good luck? And do you avoid allowing a black cat to walk across your path? Do you know the origin of that particular superstition? Well, in the old days, when people actually believed in witches, it was thought that any witch could change herself into any sort of animal form. And that the favorite animal form of most witches was a black cat. First, because a black cat was difficult to see at night. And second, because a cat had nine lives, and the witch could make nine changes without losing her own life. But nowadays, we're not superstitious. Who says a black cat brings bad luck? I do. Count me in on that, too. Well, those two assenting voices might be W.G. Benton and James E. Spragans of Atlanta, Georgia. And why are they so emphatic about black cats bringing bad luck? Well, it was on the 16th day of February 1939 that Mr. Benton and Mr. Spragans decided that... Sure. That stuff about black cats being bad luck is just a lot of superstition in old wives' tales. Well, there's nothing in it at all. And just to prove it, Jim Spragans and I are going to take a black cat for riding our car. Isn't that right, Jim? Sure. It's silly to think a little animal like a black cat could do any damage. He can't help it if he's got a color that's supposed to be dismal. So hopping in their car with a black kitty going along for the ride, Mr. Benton and Mr. Spragans defied the tradition of black cats and bad luck stringing along together. How's the cat, Jim? Enjoying the ride. She used to be getting a Greek kick out of it. Hey! Hey there! Look out! Yes, Mr. Benton and Mr. Spragans defied bad luck and black cats by taking a sable feline for a ride. The two scoffers landed against a pole and later landed in a hospital. And the cat? Well, with a scornful flick of his tail and perhaps a wise leer, he jumped from the wreckage unharmed. Can you imagine that? Whether true or not or deserved or undeserved, the gypsy has a rather evil reputation when it comes to honesty. In other words, everyone expects the sons and daughters of Romany to be a little light-fingered. Even they themselves have a habit of distrusting each other, which does add color to their already tinted reputations. For when a band of gypsies are entertaining with music or in some other way, they usually pass a bowl to collect money at the end of the performance. Now, here's the odd part. The gypsy to whom is given the honor of making the collection from onlookers is required to hold a live fly in the closed fist of the hand not occupied with the bowl. This effectively prevents him from helping himself to some of the proceeds with his free hand. For when he returns the money to the leader, he must open his fist and show that he still has the fly. If he has, it's a sure sign that he didn't filch a little for himself from the collection, for opening even one finger of a fist in which is enclosed a live fly is a pretty hard thing to do without the fly escaping. Thus do some gypsies protect themselves against themselves. Can you imagine that? Some years ago, a popular song extolled the joys of ten little fingers and ten little toes waiting for someone in 1010 Tennessee. Well, from a newspaper of December 3rd, 1910, comes the story of twelve fingers, still in the south, but in Atlanta, Georgia. It was in a court there that Charles Tanner stood trial for larceny, charged with stealing a suit from a pawnbroker known as Uncle. Judge, jury, and courtroom audience listened to the prosecutor question, Uncle. Now, is a man who stole that suit from you sitting in this courtroom? Sure, sure he is. Could you point him out to his uncle? Right there. That man they call Charles Stannell. You wouldn't mistake him anywhere, would you? Anybody that steals something from me, I shouldn't mistake in a hundred years. That's him. Thank you, Uncle. That'll be all. Does the defense counsel wish to cross-examine? Yes, I do, in just a moment. Your Honor, may I speak with my client for a moment before questioning, Uncle? You may, Mr. Dorsey. Thank you. Mr. Dorsey, defense counsel had something up his sleeve. For while Uncle fidgeted on the stand, along and earnestly with his client, Charles Tanner, and with another man who sat at their table. And then... I am ready, Your Honor. Thank you. Order. Order. Uncle, you said you could never mistake Mr. Tanner for anyone else. Is that so? In a million years I shouldn't call myself a liar. He is the one. He's the one who stole the suit with the plaid. It was Mark... Yes, yes, Uncle. Now, let me ask you this. Did you get a good look at his face? A good look? I shouldn't need a good look. Oh, you wouldn't need a good look. And why not? Because... because the man that stole the suit, I didn't have to look in his face. He had six fingers on each hand. Twelve altogether. Well, there you are, Your Honor. Your Honor. Yes, yes, Mr. Dorsey. I should like to ask Mr. Cass Jones Turner to take the stand. Come on, Mr. Dorsey. I don't think Mr. Turner need to take oath for this, nor need he get on the stand. Mr. Turner, hold up your hand. Sure. As a man of the jury, count them. Mr. Turner also has six fingers on each hand. Your Honor. Your Honor. Mr. Foreman, what is it? As foreman of the jury, I say, not guilty. Case against Charles Turner, dismissed. So came the sudden climax to the trial of Charles Tanner. It seems as though the sight of 24 fingers on two men was too much for a judge and jury. But just enough for Mr. Tanner and his Wiley Defense Counsel, Roy Dorsey. And here's another strange case at law. Listen. In the Supreme Court of the Commonwealth of New York fall session in the year 1905, Anno Domini, the civil case of Low versus Lipkins, will now be heard. But will it be heard? This case is one of the strangest on the records. It seems that Jacques Low, a native of Austria, living in the United States, was telling his friend William Lipkins, a native of Germany, how his skill in the working of leather and plush had been magnificently recognized by Emperor Franz Joseph following Low's exhibit of his work at the ENX position in 1873. Well, the reaction of William Lipkins to this statement wasn't particularly flattering to Jacques Low and his handiwork. As a matter of fact, Lipkins gave Low reason to believe that he, Lipkins, doubted that the Emperor had ever recognized the leather and plush work of his friend Low. This served as the first breach in a long friendship. Perhaps you're wondering why I doubted that this case was ever actually heard. The reason for that doubt lies in the fact that both Low and Lipkins were deaf mutes. And therein lies the motivation for the rest of this amazing story. Not long after the first misunderstanding, another deaf mute, Rudolf Jannick, arrived from Germany to attend the World's Congress of Deaf Mutes in St. Louis. Just about this time, Jacques Low and William Lipkins started rival clubs for those without speech and hearing. Jannick, after the convention, tried to join the society founded by Lipkins and was refused membership. Thereupon, Jannick and Low got together, talked it over in sign language, of course, and decided that William Lipkins had slandered them in their lawsuits. Lipkins countered with suits against each of the others, and this strange chain of circumstances had begun. One of the most surprising angles to this whole story is this. More than 50 witnesses were called to testify. All of them deaf mutes. Some of them unable to speak or understand English, so that in order that the court reporter might be able to make a transcript of the proceedings, not only was it necessary to interpret sign language, but also to interpret sign language in German. Can you imagine that? Comes now the time for you to get your Sherlock Holmes cap, your musical dictionary, and go to work finding clues to another musical mystery. You remember the minute waltz composed by Frederic Chopin? Well, there's a selection from a very famous musical comedy, which very closely resembles the middle part of the minute waltz. Just in case you've forgotten how that particular part of Chopin's composition goes, here it is again, and while you're listening to it, rack your brains and search your musical memories for the musical comedy that contains a selection very similar to this. Did you get it, or are you going to give up so easily? Well, we're not the ones to keep you in breathless suspense, or are you? Nevertheless, listen to Castle of Dreams, the number that charmed everyone when it was played and sung in that colorful, sparkling musical comedy, Irene. Listen to it and see if it doesn't sound like the middle portion of Chopin's minute waltz. That was easy, wasn't it? And now that we've had a little fun with playing musical sleuth, it's time to turn you back to your own station announcer, and until the next time we get together and you imagine that, this is Lindsay McCowery saying, goodbye now.