Source:Williams-in-a-lively-scene/content
Somebody said a storm broke up along Dinwiddie street about 12:20 last night. He was wrong, though—it was a cyclone, with some siesmatic [sic] oscillations which jarred the neighborhood very perceptibly. At least, that is what a score of people habitating in the vicinity of No. 210 Lorraine place tried to tell Magistrate Stewart all at once this morning at Central Station.
It was all on account of a little, diminutive man, as meek looking as Moses, and apparently as incapable of mixing things up for the neighborhood as the humble Uriah Heep. His name is Williams, with William for a front name.
When Metz called Policeman Chase's case, it seemed as though the whole population of the Hill was pouring out to attend some function to which they had looked forward for months and months—even as the street urchins do to get even with the "big cop." And what they didn't say to even up with Williams isn't worth while mentioning.
Williams, who acted as chairman of the committee on noise last night, was as meek as a lamb. He was the very image of docility as he stood up beside the policeman, with Mrs. Williams on the other side, looking very much as though she wished she hadn't come.
"That's my wife," said Williams in a piping voice, pointing to the female at the other side of the policeman. Judge Stewart looked surprised. "Yes, that's my wife," he repeated, and that's about the only fact that Williams could establish which the court took much stock in.
Every witness had a different tale to tell about how Williams started the tornado that lasted for several hours about the premises, because each one had come onto the stage at different times, spoke their parts and either retired or were retired. Mrs. Williams was the only one, according to the story, that was permanently retired. She waited the count and didn't respond for a second round. Some of the other neighbors did. One of the females said that the trouble began when Williams and his wife were shutting some windows about the time it began to rain, stating that Williams began to use horrible language at his wife, from which it might have been inferred that she was anyone's wife on the Hill except Williams'. This kind of compliments did not last long until there were some others that had something to say, and of course they said it. This interference in domestic relations was highly resented by Williams, and he turned his attention to the neighbors, telling them a few things that did not go down very well. Then there seemed to have been a general call to arms—that is, weapons, but the women for the most part were satisfied with the weapons nature had given them—their tongues. Williams siezed [sic] an umbrella. After putting Mrs. Williams out of business, he went after the others, but as far as the reports indicated there were no further casualties.
Annie Braden and Pauline Hecht said that this sort of thing had been carried on on a small scale in the Williams home for some time. The Hecht woman said Williams swatted at her with the umbrella five times, but she is a good dodger, and escaped. As a grand finale to the affair which kept the people awake for several squares, Policeman Chase arrived just as a mob of women and men were chasing Williams at full speed up Dinwiddie street. How things might have ended if the policeman had not come can only be surmised. Williams seemed glad that he fell into the sheltering bosom of the policeman just at that time. Williams said that he lived with a bad lot of people, and whether he was telling the truth or not, Policeman Chase said that numerous complaints had been made to him about the vicinity and intimated that it was high time to strike a truce. As the first move in this direction, Williams was ordered to contribute $10 or give up his residence for 10 days in jail.
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"The Return of Black Kate," was a little one-act drama that might have been a tragedy, enacted at the Hodge home, No. 1302 Crawford street, last night. Kate had been away for about three weeks on a steamboat, and when she got back last night her fond anticipations of entering her happy home and greeting her husband, Floyd, were rudely shattered, when she discovered that Mr. Hodge was not at home. She has a rather violent temper, which blew off in tones about as shrill as a steam-boat whistle when Hodge returned, several hours later.
"She pushed me downstairs," said Hodge, assuming the role of the browbeaten husband. "Then she pulled a knife out of her pocket and scratched me with it on the neck."
"Scratched you?" interrogated the judge. Hodge was wearing a massive bandage of flannel about his neck, and looked a fit subject for a hospital.
"Yes, scratched me," said Hodges [sic], again. "It don't 'mount to much, honest it don't, judge." Kate admitted her breach of family rules, and got $15 fine or $20 [sic] days. Hodge was admonished not to trifle with Kate's wrath, and lest he should forget, he was given a fine of $5 or 10 days.
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Clarence Wood was in trouble, the first time, he said, in two years. Gottlieb Teslik, a German, who said he works in Leetsdale, was robbed on the boulevard above Union Station on June 22. A young man had invited him to take a walk, after drinking with him in a saloon on Grant street, and the unsuspecting German went along. He claimed he was knocked down and relieved of $69. He said he would know the man if he ever laid eyes on him again. Yesterday he was drinking in a saloon on Grant street when he saw young Wood, and told a policeman he was the man.
"Never saw the man in all my life," declared Wood, as the magistrate announced "$50 and costs or 90 days to the workhouse."
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Yesterday was William J. Jordan's birthday and the event had to be celebrated in something out of the ordinary. This morning he was up at Central Station charged with disorderly conduct. It appears that, being a street car conductor himself, he did not like the way Conductor E. A. Betzell was running his car along Wylie avenue. At Fulton street Jordan got so unreasonable in his supervision of things that Betzell called a policeman. Jordan said he had no recollection of the affair at all, as he had been drinking. So Magistrate Stewart was lenient.
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William Foster, who just got out of the workhouse three days ago, will possibly be welcomed back to that institution again today . His vacation may have been productive but had a sad termination. With James Bolger, of Allegheny, he carried out a little hold-up game in Chicken alley, near the Diamond market. They got a watch and chain and about $5 in cash. This morning they got $25 each or 60 days to the workhouse. So it will likely be the prodigal's return at the works, without the fatted calf.
