Dive Bars of Manhattan

From the diary of Felix Jeremiah:

Dear Dr. Armitage,

I am happy to inform you that the next meeting of the Arbiter's Society will take place on February 1, 1926. The meeting will be held at Happy Harry's Bar, conveniently located behind Mushnik's Flower Shop on the corner of 15th Street and 9th Avenue. RSVP before January 25 to Jolly Roger.

So, this was the message that Dr. Henry Armitage had to show us. What kind of crap was that? And after a relaxing Christmas and New Year's? What about my political career? Anyway, we were treated to a real dinner the week before. Actual food, none of that tea shit. And cheese with tawny whatever. He had apparently been at two of the meetings of the "Arbiter's Society". So what was the arbitration? I guessed we'd find out in New York. He did insist on telling us the following:

The meeting is at Happy Harry's Bar, located on 45th and 9th, at 9PM. The Arbiter's Society is a very special society, and it caters to many individuals in North America with "special" interests. The Arbiter's Society was founded in New York in 1713 to engage in various odd issues. The society meets every year, at least once, but occasionally when need arises. This is an ordinary annual meeting, though. Then Armitage stressed:

- The society is very tightly knit. Bad things happen to those who talk about the society.

- The society meets in places that may be, well, odd. Armitage has seen some things that he cannot explain at the meetings of the Arbiter's Society.

- The meetings are held on neutral ground. Violence or threats will be treated in a most unpleasant fashion.

Of course, there was also the issue with Hell's Kitchen. A really unsavory fucking place. Even I tend to avoid that impossible part of Manhattan. But what the fuck, strength in numbers and all of that:

Initially there were pockets of German, Italian, and Jewish immigrants, but the Irish took ownership of the neighborhood, for lack of a better term. Work often consisted of building railroad lines, slaving in tanneries, and working the docks on the West Side; not exactly jobs for the faint of heart. After a gruesome set of murders and riots in 1881, the Hell’s Kitchen name stuck.

Various criminal gangs made names for themselves, such as the Hell’s Kitchen Gang, the Parlor Mob, and the Gopher Gang. They shook down businesses for protection money and ran gambling operations, among many other vices. This led to many people spending their last moments face down in the Hudson River if they dared challenge one of the gangs.

The shipping docks were prime real estate for organized crime. The classic movie “On the Waterfront” starring Marlon Brando depicted what life was like working on the docks under the influence of organized crime figures. Gangs competed for control of two things at the docks. Firstly, gangs wanted control of the goods illegally offloaded from cargo ships. Secondly, they wanted control of the labor unions. That fight escalated in the first half of the 20th century.

With Prohibition underway, violence over control of the docks and railroad only intensified. How lucrative was control over all of those elements? Well, Mobster Owney Madden was so successful at bootlegging, extortion, and even murder during Prohibition, that he invested in an uptown Harlem nightclub; it became the infamous Cotton Club.

From the diary of Mackenzie MacNamara:

Oh, what a joy to stay at the Waldorf for a bit! I am going to ask the staff for everything, from finding my slippers to opening my bubbles. Far too much time spent in the countryside. And there we were, just like that. I get to sit my suite and order room service. And then there was Armitage's meeting. Oh yes, the Arbiter's Society. Onwards!

Some initial asking around indicated that the location was weird. Nobody had heard of Happy Harry's although Mushnik's Flowers was a sub-par florist. This did seem to be a little odd, but we had, frankly, handled worse. We did make it to Mushnik's Flowers without any altercations, and we were led into a small passage behind a sliding door by some odd bouncer. The narrow passage seemed to convey a whiff of queasiness, something we all experienced, but then we entered a sizeable bar space. 

Happy Harry's Bar was pretty packed. It reeked of smoke, spilled beer, and some strange and much more exotic odors. The attendants were many and varied. There were two bartenders working the bar, but not too many people ordering. There was a din of steady conversation, and a few familiar faces: 

The Collector. Who is he, really, besides ridiculously tall?

Professor Timothy Harper, the herpetologist. I didn't know him, but he made a point of introducing himself.

Emily, Anna and Dorothy Gnospelius. They see the past, the present, and the future, especially through art

Dorothy Gale is no longer working with Nefertiti studios, and she is now running a small PI office on the Upper East Side. Still endless hours of fun, and the best guide to the city.

Victor Aymes, seemingly still obsessed with Mackie.

Sun Ra attends the meetings for the sake of art.

Lao Wan is a Taoist priest that the Intrepid Investigators met in Chinatown battling Jiangshi.

Slimy Mike Polvo. Jules knows this guy from way back when. Polvo is a small-time crook who happens to be left-leaning. He looks like shit, sweaty, stressed, and with blemishes,

This guy is apparently named Carnegie Bob. He is supposed to be a "Time Traveller".

Zara Conforto is stunning but rumored to be lethal.

This guy was called Korbel. Rumors claimed that he's an expert on "magical things". He assisted Henry the Speaker during the proceedings.

Happy Harry himself. He ran the bar together with Meg and Heather, two jaded bartenders, as well as two enormous but unnamed bouncers. He may not be of this dimension, but that may also apply to the bar itself.

Jacqueline DuPlessis. She had no clue how she ended up here, but she asked around for Howard Lake.

Henry the Speaker is said to be a sprightly 152-year old. He has been chairing the Arbiter's Society since 1842. He has one interest: to keep up good order at meetings and to do arbitration. 

Some observations from a member of the public:

What an interesting meeting! Well, the meetings are always interesting, but look at the guests! The person who calles itself Victor Aymes is hitting on... Dr. Mackenzie MacNamara, the famous Egyptologist? Why would a Justified and Ancient High Priest of Mu hit on an Egyptologist, unlesss...wait, forget about it. And there's The Collector having a conversation with Franz Alter, the infamous drug dealer. He's made more people feel like stars than the silver screen itself. So they know Aymes? Interesting.

And yes, it seems as if many of the attendees are talking about a "Joker", some crazed criminal that has been doing some spectacular bank heists. Smiling like aclown, and using soem strange gimmicks to subdue guards and, actually, anyone who crosses his path. Not from New York he aint! It seems as if perky miss Dorothy Gale is interested in the case. She's talking to some folks from out of town, including MacNamara and Alter, as well as Felix Jeremiah, that little snitch. I'll have to tell Master that he's in town.

And what about that lowlife, Slimy Mike Polvo. What a fucking cretin, skulking around, looking really sick, and approaching Jules Pollock, the dealer of weird antiques that brought back so many interesting things from the Carib bean. My master would be really interested to talk to him about that. So, they sit down in a booth, order drinks, and it seems as if Polvo hands Pollack something. I wonder what it might be?

It's nine pee-em, and the arbitration is about to begin. The main issue at this meeting is the inheritance of one Prudence V. van Wyck. Prudence  was "New York's grandmother", but if only the tabloids knew a even the slightest about her more, well, Hunnish practices, they would have used a different tone. She had a fairly extensive library that is claimed by, on the one hand, her son, Walther van Wyck, and, on the other hand, her daughter, Veronica van Wyck. They are represented by their respective attorneys. Walther van Wyck is a spoiled brat, and frankly, more than a little daft. But he's a greedy bastard, a real child of thew gilded age. Veronica, on the other hand, is sharp as a tack, and really drop-dead gorgeous, Master says he's fucked her, but it almost cost him both his dick and his life, or at least life expectancy. Master is full of shit, though.

Look, they're all voting. I am voting for Master. And what did The Collector tell Alter? That they didn't have a knee? What does that even mean? Did I not hear correctly? Ok, so Henry the Speaker is counting the votes for arbitration. Look at Gnospelius sisters! One is twerlig her hair, one is chewing her fingernails, while one is pulling her ear lobe. They are really into this. Aaaaand, it is decided. Veronica gets the stuff. But wait, Walther's attorney pulls out a gun and protests the arbitration. Oh no, that won't do. What a stupid piece of shit! And he is of course promptly thrown out the front door by the bouncers. Well, won't see him for another ten thousand years or so. Time to go. Oh, Slimy Mike follows Jules and friends. Interesting.

Death, The Devil, and the Mexican Wrestler

Tuesday, November 3, 1925. Drs. MacKenzie "Mackie" MacNamara and Henry Armitage are having evening tea in Dr. Armitage's study.

"Of course weird things happen on Halloween!" Mackie lit a cigarette in her excessively long cigarette holder. To Dr. Armitage, the cigarette holder seemed to get longer and longer for every time he met Mackie, Perhaps a bit like Pinocchio's nose? "Well, actually, Halloween used to be quite devoid from 'weird things' until the early 1920s. Consider what we spoke about just about a week ago." Mackie did recollect their conversation about a strange increase of strange events dating back to June of 1923.

"So, tell me more about what you found out about poor Picky Barnett?" Dr. Armitage poured Mackie some tea. Still the mid-Qing dynasty tea service. "Well, I have been spending some time in the library now, and it does seem as if Professor Thornton Smythe actually read the Beatus Methodivo and the Daemonolatreia last winter after his wretched son started dabbling in certain arts, leading to the tragic death of a student at the Hoover School, a certain Gregory Goyle. He then proceeded to borrow and read the Unaussprächlichen Kulten by von Juntzt, although he used his premier Ph. D. student, Eric Carlyle, as a proxy. Now, you do know that Thornton Smythe is a rather astute mathematician, which I am not. Nevertheless, I believe that he figured out a way to use old Graeco-Roman augury, sifting through organs and all of that in search of divine signs, to contact extra-dimensional forces and to ever so slightly bend time with one horrific purpose: to predict the stock market." Dr. Armitage almost dropped his teacup, and he had to put it down on his desk. "That is indeed interesting. You see, the Economics Department has been spending lavishly on some rather questionable projects, and we were just wondering where they might have been getting their funds. These questions mostly ceased once Thornton Smythe more than doubled his contributions to Miskatonic University, of course." Mackie had suspected this to be the case, but she did light another cigarette before continuing. "I am not at all sure of the details of Thornton Smythe's ritual, but research conducted by my friends, Mr. Pollack, Mr. Lake, Mr. Alter, Mr. Jeremiah and Miss Baker did indicate that initial tests were conducted on two vagrants some time ago. This required a visit to the Arkham PD Morgue, and a lengthy and unsavory conversation with Archie, the rather revolting mortician's assistant that delves in the morgue. Fortunately, we have some connections with Dr. Hubert Cline, the head of the Arkham PD Morgue." Dr. Armitage nodded as he was taking notes. His legal pad was already marked by concentric circles of spilt tea. "One man, a Joe Marx, did not survive, while the woman, Mary Kruss, did survive, although at quite some cost to her mental health. They also investigated the earthly remains of Picky Barnett, and it turned out she had the following marks and bruises:

- slight bruising around left wrist

- scratches on left lower arm.

- Bruised knuckles on right hand, two broken nails.

- Sewn together opening from pubic area to rib cage. Professionally and carefully done."

Archie

Mackie continued after a long drag on her cigarette: "So, as it turned out, miss Barnett was abducted on her birthday, and it seems as if the augury had been conducted on her birthday, October 24. According to my calculations, the next date to perform an augury would on Halloween, which this year even coincided with a full moon for extra effect. Now, to find a person whose birthday would be October 31?"

Mary Kruss

Joe Marx

Eric Carlyle

"Dr. MacNamara, I did mention the rumors of some form of new Greek society on campus. What did you make of that?" Dr. MacNamara helped herself to another cup of tea, even if she really was longing for a cold glass of champagne right now. Dr. Armitage could not help notice Mackie's scarred right forearm as she reached for the tea pot. He'd have to inquire about this at some later date.

"The rumors were very difficult to trace, though, but there were also rumors of a great big celebration, once again without being substantiated. We thought that this might refer to the Halloween celebrations, possibly excluding the President's ball. Further research and plain snooping around did find mention of a club, association or fraternity with the motto or name 'Opec ac Felicitatem', or 'Wealth and Happiness'." Professor Armitage smiled. "Yes, Dr. MacNamara, I do know some Latin, but please do continue."

Mackie chuckled. She actually did enjoy the company of Dr. Armitage, as formal as he might be, and Mackie did not mind snark at all. "Picky Barnett, or Veronica Astor, was probably abducted by two men claiming to be from the provost's office. Messrs. Jeremiah, Lake and Alter did of course find out that this was not at all the case, and they did speak to several witnesses, one of whom claimed that one of the gentlemen escorting miss Barnett bore a striking resemblance to someone from the Economics Department. We can only speculate in what happened next, but my friends believe that Picky Barnett was sedated and used for the augury. She was supposed to have survived the ordeal, but she did not. Was there a pre-existing condition, or did something go wrong? We'll probably never know."

"There are three major Halloween events at Miskatonic: The President's Ball, which is a fancy masquerade ball. It is held at the University Exhibit Museum. Then there's the Medical College Nightmare, at the college itself and featuring costumes and a dance, and finally the Young Economist's Halloween Spectacle at the Jonathan Edwards Hall. My friends thought this would be a perfect spot for an augury. There were a few students with birthdays on October 31, but they were difficult to find during the hectic week leading up to Halloween. Afterwards, the victim may, and I say may, have been a Paul Coffee from the Medical School. He is one of Dr. Herbert West's protegees, you know."

"Dr. MacNamara, do we know anything on the ritual Thornton Smythe had devised for this...stock market augury?" Mackie shook her head and shrugged. "It is difficult to say. Look here." She opened her briefcase and took out a folder filled with what seemed random notes, some of them seemingly written by a deranged person, or just Mackie. She placed several sheets of paper in front of Dr. Armitage. They were covered with exotic formulae, some quite weird illustrations and diagrams, and generous amounts of Mackie's wavy handwriting. "I believe that the ceremony included Thornton Smythe to access whatever lies beyond our dimension, and his helper, Fritz Rickman, to do the augury. Then the ceremony might need a sufficient amount of chanters to amplify the transdimensional contact (I think), and one or more guardians to make sure that forces from beyond our dimension do not enter the ceremonial space - and our world. My friends did not realize this at the time, though, and these are my reconstructions after speaking to Lake, Jeremiah, and Alter afterwards."

Fritz Rickman

"These three gentlemen managed to get invitations to the Halloween Spectacle without further a due, and they even dressed up. Howard Lake was a Mexican wrestler. Felix Jeremiah a little devil, and Franz Alter dressed up as Death, scythe and all. They entered Jonathan Edwards Hall, and eventually they noticed Thornton Smythe dressed as Napoleon Bonaparte, something he seems to have a penchant for. He eventually left for the basement together with a matador that we assumed was Friz Rickman. My friends managed to get down into the basement by discreetly picking a lock or two, but there were no signs of Napoleon and the matador. There was, of course, a secret passage leading further down into the bedrock, and soon enough my friends started hearing dronelike chanting. The ritual, or augury, was taking place in what almost seemed like a small amphitheater, or perhaps a medical theater. A person, presumably Mr. Coffee, was just about to be carved upon by the matador, while being surrounded by four masked and robed individuals that were stretching out their arms in each direction of the compass. Theye were some 30 or 40 yards away, the theater being at the end of a dark hallway, and there was only light in the actual theater itself. Mr. Lake decided to open fire with his Luger at one of the individuals stretching out his or her arms, and his aim was true. The individual toppled over, and mayhem ensued. These guardians, or whatever they were, did seem to have served a purpose, as four or five horrifying headless creatures emerged from what seemed to be tears or rifts in our very own reality. They growled and wailed as one grabbed a chanting student and forcibly dragged the student into a featureless black void. The student's terrified screams were instantly cut off as the rift in time and space closed with the snap of a vacuum seal being broken, which sent a wave of pain into the eardrums of everyone present. Two of the beasts ran up towards Thornton Smythe, while one ran towards Lake, Jeremiah, and Alter, who attempted to flee the scene. Yet, they were too slow, but mortal weaponry seemed to have some effect on the monstrosity. Lake emptied his Luger, Jeremiah his high-gauge shotgun, and the beast was eventually finished off by Alter's scythe. While Thornton Smythe conducted some gruesome chant, my friends ran up the stairs and pulled the fire alarm before leaving the building. The party was over."

Paul Coffee

"So, what's next?" Dr. Armitage had been listening intently perched at the edge of his chair." "I do not know. According to the Arkham Advertiser, two students were killed in a fire at the Jonathan Edwards Hall. Professor Thornton Smythe will have the board of the Economics Department do a review of inhouse celebrations, and the Arkham PD is conducting a full investigation. in other words, very little."

Proof of Thornton Smythe's augury. Note the date.

Maine Mayhem!

Howard Lake arrived just before nightfall on a dreary Thursday evening, which was October 15, 1925. He was greeted by a solemn crowd in the stately hunting lodge. Well, more like a hunting mansion. The exception of was of course Jacqueline du Plessis, who launched herself at Howard in an outrageous display of extravagant gestures and champagne while attempting to look coy. This was her preferred style of big game hunting, and she was going to land a prize steer tonight, or so she hoped. To Howard Lake, the crowd, or to be more precise Ella B. Cocker, Bridget Duvall, the musician Henry Craig, and the banker Teddy Monroe as well as the Intrepid Investigators. They were all eager to share what had transpired over the course of these last couple of days, but they did so in hushed voices, as if the dark woods outside were eavesdropping. The guests did not seem to be able to figure out if they were going to stay and hunt whatever was causing the strange events, or if they should return to Arkham. Howard was already considering a game of spin the bottle with Jacqueline.

It was eventually decided to stay for another couple of days, but the Intrepid Investigators decided to shop for some additional supplies, such as ammunition and dynamite. They also paid a visit to Monsignor Philippe Bloch, hoping that he would be able to elaborate on some of the weird events and sightings that they all had experienced over the last couple of days. Monsignor Bloch was more than eager to talk. It seemed as if he was so glad that someone inquired about his special hobby. Folklore in rural Maine tended otherwise not to be in great demand. And yes, there were some strange tales about the hills, but such tales were exceedingly rare. The priest closed the door to the rectory and even pulled the curtains. He then produced a small key to tall bookshelf, which the Intrepid Investigators had assumed to be a closet or cupboard. He then took out a well-read copy of Nameless Cults, in this case the 1909 Golden Goblin Press Edition, but a second printing which included an addendum on North American cults. Monsignor Bloch had bookmarked several of the last pages in the book, which he gently opened. "Look, this a poor map of what seems to be Phillips. There's Sandy River, and over there you can see Daggett Rock. As you can see, the text summarizes several legends from this part of Maine, legends about strange beings in the mountains and how they are connected to moonless nights in particular. There are tales of abductions and doppelgangers, but most are simply fragments. And yet, there seems to be odd similarities to what you are telling me and some of these fragments. I wish you the best of luck, but do be careful!"

Next day it was decided to split up and have a final go at hunting before returning to Arkham during or after the weekend. The weather was gorgeous, and the guests had all enjoyed an uninterrupted night's sleep, which improved their moods. Jules, Franz Alter, and Felix decided to head up the hillside in the direction of Daggett Rock. It was quite a hike, and after an hour or so Jules, Franz, and Felix started noticing weird signs indicating that something disturbing was corrupting the very essence of nature: leaves that were misshapen, and colored in unnatural hues, strange and noxious lichens, insects that were far too big for the Maine forests, and carcasses with bizarre growths and mutations. Meanwhile, Howard had become separated from Henry Craig and Teddy Monroe. He was still enjoying the company of Jacqueline, though, with a hunting rifle in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. They suddenly heard first one, and then another gunshot, followed by horrifying shrieking. Howard was getting increasingly worried and frustrated by not being able to find his way in the dense forest, but Jacqueline assured Henry that she could find her way back to the house. Despite being quite buzzed, Jacqueline did find her way back to the house, albeit without Teddy and Henry.

Franz, Jules and Felix did almost make it all the way up to Daggett Rock, but the nature was almost devastated around the rock itself. Therer were also remnants of a sizeable camp site, perhaps for 20 or so individuals, and there were clear signs that the site had been evacuated in some haste.It was then decided to avoid this eerie desolation, and the Intrepid Investigators headed back towards the hunting lodge. Teddy was found some time later by the three gentlemen. He seemed to be in a state of shock, and he had clearly walked aimlessly through the forest. He was not violent, but he did not react to any stimuli. Felix decided to hitch a ride on the burly Teddy Monroe, and off they went towards the house, where they were met by tragedy. Henry Craig was dead, mutilated by some kind of fierce predator. There was a sense of urgency bordering on panic in the air, and it was decided to leave as soon as possible next morning. But where was Mackie?

"You must understand." Franz Alter looked at Jules in a most serious fashion. "You must understand that Mackie might very well die if we do not bring her back to civilization, Dr. Mackenzie MacNamara had spent a good 48 hours in her room while her friends had been trying to gain some level of understanding of the strange, strange events that had befallen the Maine countryside. She was now almost entirely covered by some strange orange jelly-like substance that seemed to be held together by nerves or webs that were slightly darker in their color. Mackie's skin was clammy, and to Franz it seemed as if the archaeologist was in a state of deep shock. The strange orange matter seemed to be particularly tightly attached to the wounds Mackie had suffered while fighting the giant rat several days ago. The intrepid investigators brought up a tarpaulin to transport Mackie to a car and subsequently to Phillips and whatever medical aid could be found in that little town.

Jules Pollack drove his automobile down the narrow country road as fast as the vehicle and the road would allow him. It was a jolty and unpleasant ride through what seemed to be an increasingly eerie landscape, or it might just have been the imagination of the muted passengers. The dreadful beast that all of a sudden attacked the vehicle was however not a figment of imagination. It seemed to be some form of infernal parody of a deer and a humanoid, or perhaps some other unholy and unknown mix of wildlife. The baying from the beast was ear-shattering, while it emitted a foul, unwholesome stench that rapidly permeated Jules's automobile. Gunfire erupted as the beast attacked the passengers in the back seat, and Jules Pollack had to struggle to keep the automobile on the road in between screaming, unnatural animal sounds, and clips being emptied at the beast. The intrepid investigators eventually managed to lose the dreadful beat after what seemed an eternity, but what only may have been a minute or two. The only things left were holes from gunfire, the lingering unwholesome stench, and splotches of garish orange ichor. Mackie survived the auto ride down to Phillips, but only barely.

From the diary of Franz Alter:

Heading back from Phillips together with county sheriff Carlton Stears. Mackie will recover. We had claimed that there was a wild bear in the vicinity. Plausible. It was around noon when we returned to the enormous hunting lodge, and I was carrying a Winchester carbine. And my medical bag. Must remember to send a telegram to mother. That cat is strange. 

We approached the building. The sheriff was first, followed by Lake. Sheriff Stears opened the door very, very carefully, but he was drawn into the lounge by some unwholesome abomination that simply tore him to shreds. Very fine shreds, I was told. The monstrosity was really quite strange and very unpleasant to look at. It was probably treif. I shot it in the head with two rounds. Then we set fire to the hunting lodge. We forgot to remove Mr. Theodore Munroe, called Teddy. Stupid. I wanted to go back to Arkham, but there was an investigation, which was tedious. Left for Arkham on Friday one week later. Must work on pharmacy. Soda fountain?

Saturday, October 25, 1925. Back in Arkham.

Dr, Emmett Brown looked up from his microscope. He was dressed in his ubiquitous lab coat, sturdy rubber gloves, pajama pants and a pair of very worn slippers. "Great Scott! The orange matter you have here is composed of a completely unknown matter! I have only noticed one familiar isotope: a trace of what seems to be Cobalttorium-G. But I have never heard of this exceedingly rare isotope occurring naturally. But then, the orange substance seems to be quite...err, unnatural in itself." He resumed looking into the microscope, goggles on his forehead and his hair, as usual, on end. "Fascinating, just fascinating..." Jules Pollack let himself out from Dr. Brown's laboratory. Dr. Brown was completely absorbed.

Sunday, October 26, 1925.

Dr. Henry Armitage, the head of the Miskatonic University Library as well as a Ph.D. in Early American history, received the Intrepid Investigators on a particularly dreary fall morning. He poured hot tea into small cups, and Jules Pollack could not help noticing that the cups were original Chinese, probably from the mid-Qing dynasty. Early 1800s, perhaps? Dr. Armitage took a sip from his cup before speaking: "My dear friends, I have two items to raise. First of all, let us talk about the increasingly long chain of very strange events that have befallen you all. You see, these events - I typically call them extradimensional activities - have been exceeding rare, with perhaps one or two cases per year world-wide that can be properly attributed to extradimensional activities. Most of these cases are also quite minor incidents, and they can easily be shrugged off as natural disasters or such. However, there has been a vast uptick since approximately June of 1923. You wouldn't have anything to do with that, would you? Please do ponder what might be behind this spate of the bizarre."

Now, I do also have a more pressing issue, an issue that is both tragic and, well, inconvenient. I know that you can act with utmost discretion, and that is what I need right now. The Arkham PD found a dead student in the Vogler Wildlife Park, early on Saturday morning. The body was found by Ms. Emma Cornelius, who was walking her dachshund early that morning in the northeast corner of the park, not far from East Saltonstall Street. The Arkham PD was immediately notified, and a Officer Walther McLean notified the Miskatonic University. The student's name was Picky Barnett, although this was only a pseudonym for her real name which happens to be Veronica Astor, as of the New York Astors. She was doing her undergraduate degree anonymously here at Miskatonic, and she was doing a double major in history and mathematics at Professor Ferdinand C. Ashley's Department of Ancient History. According to Professor Ashley, Ms. Barnett was a very good student, although rather quiet. I have also notified Major Barton the Head of Security and Inspections at the university. now, as you understand, poor "Picky Barnett's" parents will have one or two questions, and it would not benefit the Miskatonic University if the investigation would be botched in one way or the other. Would you kindly look into this matter, just to make sure that there aren't any oddities, and that miss Barnett's true identity isn't revealed? The tabloids would be all over campus if they found out that a millionaire heiress would have been found dead here in Arkham. Oh, and by the way, the contract between Miskatonic University and J. Pollack Fine Antiques was just extended through 1926.

Attched: Miskatonic Staff Roster.

Picky Barnett

Officer McLean

Henry Armitage

A conversation between Ella B. Cocker and Jules Pollack at 638 Elwood Lane, Phillips, Maine

 Thursday evening, October 15, 1925

"Jules, what is going on here?" Ella B. Cocker had cornered Jules Pollack in the empty kitchen as Jules was looking for yet another bottle of wine. Jules turned to Ella, looked guilty, and yet reached for a fine bottle of Bordeaux. "The birds, falling dead on the roof. The strange giant rodent that you performed an autopsy on just last afternoon, its innards consisting of such dreadful contents. The weird rabbit. Prentice's strange manners. I just wanted to have a fun and interesting week out here in the countryside, but everything seems like it's turning increasingly insane. Why can't we just write and tell stories, hunt a bit, and enjoy each other's good company?" Jules looked at the distraught author for just a bit before pulling out a corkscrew. She had clearly made a few passes at Jules, and he had not really made up his mind on how to proceed with the situation. "Jules, I know you've been around the block and a bit more, but do you have any idea what might be going on?" Jules Pollack had yet to reply to Ella's questions, and this time he decided to hand her a glass of the Bordeaux. He sniffed at the wine, found it most promising, and took a generous gulp before smiling towards Ella. He briefly thought about the information from that French farmer, Pierre Duvall, the one that lived up the road. The grumpy farmer had claimed that there'd been several dozen government men, including armed guards, digging for something up by the Soule Cabin, and whatever it was, was bad. Jules cleared his throat and looked firmly at Ella: "Listen, we - me and my esteemed friends - have had one or two odd experiences throughout recent years, and I can assure you that we have everything under control. There is no cause for concern whatsoever, even if the well-nigh primordial wood in here in Maine might hold a secret or two." Jules was, of course, mostly clueless. What about the crazy man in the cabin, Henri Chartier, that Sheriff Carlton Stears had warned Jules about? And then we had the son, Prentice. To Jules, the young man seemed like a full-blown psychopath, harassing his younger half-brother Tommy and maiming Biscuit the Cat, while talking to his imaginary friends "Dammie Culchon" and "Mr. Daviessss", the name always drawn out into a long, unpleasant hiss. However, Mackie was actually claiming that young Prentice Wilkes was simply a smart and misunderstood child, neglected by his father and never taking to his stepmother. 

The rat with the odd innards

Insane Henri Chartier

Farmer Duvall

Then we had the mother, Bridget Duvall, who happens to be Ella's sister. The poor woman was perhaps a victim of her own isolation and boredom. She seemed to be interested in, of all people, Franz Alter. "Alter!" Jules had said the name out loud, but Ella seemed unruffled. She clinked Jules' glass, looking at him seriously, and declaring "here's to all the wonderful freaks in the world!" before emptying her glass. She beckoned towards Jules for a refill, and Jules obliged.

"But Jules, you and your friends may be resolute and determined, just like you, but I worry about my other guests. Well, not Teddy Monroe, he is built for the great outdoors, but think of dear Henry Craig. He is a musician, for God's sake, and definitely not used to the forests of Maine. And poor, dear Jacqueline, my best friend in the world! Oh, Jules, did you see that she made a pass at Mackie last night?" Jules nodded and finished his wine. It was then he noticed that he's poured the wine in a beer glass, but he really didn't care. "Are you going upstairs to retire?" Ella looked at Jules with her head tilted to one side. 

The strange rabbit that Mackie saw

Main Street, Phillips

Prentice Wilkes

Henry Lake was driving up to join his friends up in Maine. He had left early that Friday morning, and he was looking forward to spending time in gorgeous Maine and simply enjoying himself. He had started off with his usual breakfast: a couple of slices of toast with grape jelly, coffee, and a cigarette, all accompanied by the morning edition of the Arkham Advisor. This morning, he had noticed something unusual, yet interesting. Miskatonic University reported that someone had stolen a experimental piece of equipment from the library, namely a so-called C-beam detector, a device invented by Dr. Emmett Brown of the physics department. He was going to pick up Moira Baker on his way to Maine, and they would definitely have to have a chat about this. 

 

 

 THE ARKHAM ADVERTISER

Friday, October 9, 1925

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DUNFORD DECEIVES DEMS

Con-man Candidate Flees Arkham

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Mayoral Candidate Dunstan Dunford (D) attempted to make a hasty escape from Arkham early Thursday morning when he found his political plans thwarted. Paul "Country Breakfast" Cox, a member of a rag-tag carnival act from Tennessee confessed that he had been hired by Dunford together with Kurt "Ozzy the Clown" Wegener and Dorothy "Scheherazade" Fleur to terrorize Mayor Jonathan Bryce in an attempt to make the incumbent end his run for a fourth term as Mayor of Arkham. Dunford's real name was revealed to be Jebediah Oakley, a notorious local politician, carnival barker, and Klan member from Nashville, Tennessee, who fled the state five years ago after having shot and injured a Nashville police officer. Dunford was found in Kingsport later on Thursday morning after police stopped his automobile. His accomplice, Albert Moore, opened fire at the police officers and managed to escape the scene. Mr. Wegener and Ms. Fleur remain at large.

Mayor Jonathan Bryce will now face Democrat George Hinchliffe in the November 3 mayoral and town assembly election that Mayor Bryce is expected to win by a wide margin. 

Dunstan Dunford a. k. a. Jebediah Oakley

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Apothecary Apprehends Crook. Mayor Saved!

Following the harassment of Mayor Jonathan Bryce by Dunstan Dunford's travelling freaks, Manhattan apothecary Mr. Franz Alter volunteered to help Mayor Bryce protect the mayoral mansion and its inhabitants. Alter, with the assistance of celebrated Egyptologist Dr. MacKenzie MacNamara, fine antiques purveyor Mr. Jules Pollack, and renown antiquarian Mr. Howard Lake, did manage to disable and capture Paul "Country Breakfast" Cox by using a special knock-out syringe applied to the buttocks of Cox after the trio of carnival miscreants had been causing mayhem on and around the mayoral residence. Mayor Bryce expressed his sincere gratitude next day: "This is indeed a display of all the very best qualities of Arkham's citizenry. Bold, determined and resolute, Dunford and his menagerie of crooks did not stand a chance against fine Arkhamites such as Dr. MacNamara, Mr. Alter, Mr. Lake and Mr. Pollack. Independent candidate Mr. Felix Jeremiah took the opportunity to convey his gratitude that the mayor was safe and sound and that Dunford's shenanigans had been stopped.

Mr. Franz Alter

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The news regarding Dunstan Dunford's bogus candidacy broke that Thursday morning. Jules Pollack could not help feeling rather good about himself, having helped the elderly mayor together with his friends, the Intrepid Investigators. However, things had to be taken care of. Burlington Jones was working his last week while Jules and friends visited Maine, and he had yet to find a decent replacement. That was when the little bell attached to the front door rang as young woman stepped into J. Pollack Fine Antiques. Jules recognized her as she folded her umbrella and placed it in an umbrella stand that was almost entirely filled with sword-canes, regular canes, a small crutch, a .22 rifle, a small taxidermied alligator and one or two umbrellas. The woman was Carrie Brown, the campaign aid of Dunstan Dunford. She walked up to Jules, who was standing behind the counter. "Mr. Pollack, I am in a bit of a pickle." Jules could not help smiling just a bit. The developing story was definitely a bit more than a pickle. Was Ms. Brown wanted by the Arkham Police? Carrie Brown continued. "You see, Mr. Pollack. Dunford's revolting campaign was my first serious employment opportunity after Harvard, and I was looking forward to adding significant, if local, political work to my CV. This turned out to backfire, as you noticed yesterday, and I am featured in newspapers all over the Eastern seaboard together with that despicable Dunford character. To be blunt, Mr. Pollack, I need a job until all of this blows over, perhaps longer. Would you have an open position? I did minor in fine arts in college, and I have been told that I have a keen eye for antiques." Jules Pollack smiled again and took out a small cigar from underneath the counter. "Ms. Brown, let's talk." 

Carrie Brown

Meanwhile, Felix Jeremiah was feeling frustrated. His own political campaign was getting decent coverage, but mainly due to Felix's stature. "The fools," Felix thought, "The voters are missing an opportunity to vote on the very best political campaign in Arkham. He really did not know what to do. Should he drop his campaign and support the mayor, or should he support one of the candidates running for town assembly? Questions, questions... 

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Arkham, October 4, 1925.

Dear Jules,

I am sending you this note as an invitation to you and your dear friends to come up to Maine over the course of the week of October 12. My sister, Bridget Duvall, has together with her husband Edgar Wilkes recently acquired a small hunting lodge in the quaint old village of Phillips in northwestern Maine. I have invited an eclectic group of friends for the week or so, and they include Henry Craig, who's a wonderful musician, Teddy Monroe, and of course my inseparable companion, Jacqueline. We will swap stories, write stories, and even go out hunting for those who are so inclined. Bring suitable clothing for a real New England fall!

I am very much looking forward to seeing you all in a bit more than a week.

Sincerely, your friend, 

Ella     

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 THE ARKHAM ADVERTISER

Wednesday, October 7, 1925

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Tommy the Prize-winning Terrier Amputated; Leg found on Lawn

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A brutal act of animal cruelty has left the mayoral dog Tommy without a left back leg. Arkham's favorite pooch was found whimpering on Mayor Bryce's front lawn early on Wednesday morning. The Arkham Police Department subsequently received a tip to search a neighbor's house for the cruel culprit. and a brutally severed canine leg was supposedly found. At least one suspect was arrested, but the Arkham PD has not shared any further details.

Tommy the Terrier

Daring Escape from the Arkham Sanitarium

Peter Maxwell, M.D. escaped from the High Security Ward of the Arkham Sanitarium just before midnight on Tuesday. Maxwell managed to strangle a warden, Paul Blakeley, after feigning to be securely immobilized in his cell, and he managed to break out of the sanatorium after securing some medical equipment and certain experimental chemicals. Maxwell was committed to the Arkham Sanitarium after the Topsfield Power Plant explosion in April this year, when he was found running around in then forests north of Arkham in a state of acute mental distress. He had no memories whatsoever, and he was dressed in a full surgeon's outfit, including facemask, gloves, goggles, and a scalpel.  

Dr. Maxwell graduated from the Miskatonic University Department of Medicine in 1924. He was a recipient of the Francis B. Peabody prize for Academic Achievement together with Mr. Herbert West that same year. Dr. Maxwell was subsequently left in the caring hands of Dr. Herbert DeVos and Head Nurse Abigail Dawson at the Arkham Sanitarium.  

Dr. Maxwell

Feds Close up Pleasantville - Population Relocated

Federal troops have closed the mining community of Pleasantville, located in the Halliburton Hills in northern Massachusetts. According to Federal representatives, the site is deemed too contaminated to be inhabited by humans, and the population has been relocated to Boston, Gloucester, and Arkham. Anton Szypczyk, one of the miners, told the Arkham Advertiser that he was glad to finally have a modern apartment and access to a good public school for his eleven children.

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Campaigns and Rallies

That Monday, October 5, was spent catching up on sleep after the ordeals of the weekend. The horrific events that occurred at Miskatonic University Library had been "taken care of" by Professor Armitage and some highly trained professionals. The only mention of the events was an article in the Arkham Advertiser that told a reader of a case of suspected arson in which a car exploded. The Arkham police, was, of course, investigating.

Next day the Intrepid Investigators assembled at Jules Pollack Fine Antiques for a hearty breakfast and to discuss the invitation from author Ella B. Cocker to got to Maine for a little vacation. As they were finishing up their delicious breakfast, Jules heard Burlington Jones arguing with someone out in the store. Jules, being curious, walked into the store only two find three individuals talking to Jones: a tall, handsome man, a very attractive woman, and a very heavy-set gentleman who seemed to be looking around while sweating profusely. The handsome man excused himself from Burlington Jones and extended his hand towards Jules. "Hey there, you must be Mr. Pollack. I am Dunstan Dunford and the next mayor of Arkham. These are my associates, Ms. Carrie Brown, and the big fella is Country Breakfast. Say, Mr. Pollack, are you a registered Democrat?" And then the political discussion was on, with heated arguments between Jules non-conformist viewpoint and Dunford's campaign. The discussion was only briefly interrupted when Mackie entered the store, wielding a cigarette holder and a cocktail while yelling "Fuck off!" 

That exclamation also led to Howard Lake sliding up to Ms. Carrie Brown. Howard was in pursuit of information about Dunford and his campaign, but also of any fringe benefits that might be the result of charming Ms. Brown. However, Ms. Brown turned out to be the commensurate professional, and Lake's advances were meat with leaflets and flyers proclaiming the virtues of Arkham's next mayor, while pointing out that the current mayor, Jonathan Bryce, really hadn't contributed anything to the betterment of Arkham. Meanwhile, the man simply referred to as Country Breakfast had a nice conversation with Mrs. O'Flaherty and some mincemeat pie. 

Dunstan Dunford

Ms. Carrie Brown

Country Breakfast

Dunford and his associated eventually left, and none of the Intrepid Investigators were too impressed. A Democrat? In Arkham? And what was so wrong with Mayor Bryce? Felix Jeremiah decided to share the medical journal that he had taken care of in Dr. Queeg's office during the weekend:

Some highlights from Dr. Queeg’s treatments of Mayor Jonathan Bryce

 

May 1, 1925

I am really feeling stressed, worn out and empty. I do not know if I even should run for another term. I have honestly really tried to be an honest and hard-working mayor, and I can point out all kinds of success stories, but it is so tiring to just go from one disaster to another. And now we had the power plant explosion, and I have been accused of causing it due to ineptitude!

 

July 17, 1925

I have tried the new medications you gave me, and although I feel less stressed, I have been suffering from some problems sleeping. I have occasionally been in a state where I am really not certain if I am awake or not, and sometimes I’ve seen strange things, often through the windows, like figments of dreams.

 

August 30, 1925

I am really so glad that you could see me at so short notice. My wife is sick, and I am so worried. You know, it runs in her family, and I have dreaded this moment for so long.

 

September 14, 1925

It feels as if these dreamlike visions are becoming more persistent, and recurring. I thought I was sleeping soundly and dreaming when I saw this grotesque naked woman leering at me through my bedroom window. It was terrifying, but as I turned on the light, she was gone.

 

September 22, 1925

Dr Queeg, I saw her again, in the middle of the night! This time I was returning from an excursion to the restroom, so I am almost entirely certain that I wasn’t sleeping. She has dark, wavy hair, and she is covered by grotesque patterns, like messages from an inmate at the Arkham Sanitarium! She smiled crazily at me again before disappearing, just like that! I am really stressed again, and I feel my heart pounding just as I think about it. How will I have the energy to meet my constituents tomorrow?

 

September 24, 1925

This time there was music, music that played all night, it seemed. My poor wife couldn’t hear it, but I heard it: repetitive, monotonous music. Am I losing it? Am I overworked? Should I just retire?

 

September 29, 1925

There were several of them this night. The grotesque woman, some form of really strange and frightening animal, and something that looks like a pierrot or something similar. I am so glad that you encourage me to remain in the mayoral race, but I am feeling so exhausted. 

Mayor of Arkham Jonathan D. Bryce

It was a strange read, and yet difficult to figure out what was going on. Lake pointed out that there were no indications that Dr. Queeg had tried to influence Mayor Bryce in the way the nefarious psychotherapist had experimented on Lake and perhaps even Moira Baker. Yet, the circumstances were starting to make the Intrepid Investigators more than a little curious.

As morning became afternoon, Felix Jeremiah went out to gather the signatures necessary for his mayoral candidacy, included knocking at the door of Psilander House, Dr. Queeg's luxurious mansion. The staff had no clue whatsoever as to where Dr. Queeg had disappeared to, but Felix had a nice chat with the butler and the head maid while explaining his candidacy and political program: "Standing Up for the Little Guy." He did manage to gather the required signatures for his candidacy just before City Hall closed, and as Felix handed in his immaculately completed paperwork, he could not help feel quite satisfied with himself. 

Howard Lake had managed to arrange a meeting with Ms. Carrie Brown. Unfortunately, the meeting was not as fruitful as Lake had hoped. Ms. Brown remained completely professional, and clearly a very dedicated campaign worker. So far, there seemed to be a potential campaign rally as part of the future for Lake and Ms. Brown.

Jules Pollack had to deal with the impending resignation of Burlington Jones, while Mackie took care of Karen as she pretended to grade some essays. Some further inquisitiveness on behalf of the Intrepid Investigators revealed that Dunstan Dunford was an attorney, and that he'd been in Arkham for five years. There was little information to be found on his background, so Jules and Mackie decided to place telephone calls to the Massachusetts Bar Association first thing Wednesday. They also decided to call a contact at Harvard to ensure that Ms. Carrie Brown was an actual graduate from the prestigious collage.

The following morning turned out to be rainy and windy, the first fall storm of 1925. Telephone calls were placed, and Harvard did have a graduate by the name of Carrie Brown, class of 1920. The Bar Association did have a Dunstan Dunford registered as having passed the bar exam, but apparently he had never practiced law, neither in Boston, nor in Arkham. There was one other thing though: all the records of Dunstan Dunford were registered as being copies of originals. There might be a perfectly plausible explanation to this, but it nevertheless seemed odd, and a further telephone call was placed by Mackie to Boston State College (BSC), where Dunford was claimed to have earnt his degree.

Mackie was apparently a known quantity on Campus, and a couple of undergraduate students had actually only recently transferred to the Miskatonic University archaeology program, so the registrar and bursar were more than happy to share some information. Bottom line, there was no Dunstan Dunford amongst the BSC alumni. A further telephone call to City Hall in Boston revealed that all of Dunstan Dunford's original documents had been destroyed just about five years ago. He was also the only child of deceased parents. Mackie nodded slowly to Jules as he hung up the receiver. This was indeed getting curious, and the clock was not even ten in the morning!