The Bygone Society Show: Recent Episodes
Kate Naglieri
This podcast examines the seedy underbelly of history's forgotten places and people. Each episode is rife with murder, intrigue and a reality beyond our everyday. Requirements to join the Bygone Society include an appreciation for in-depth research and lurid tales of yore. Every third Thursday, our gracious host, Kate, will take you back to a time that refuses to die. This is The Bygone Society Show.
Vampires–they can take many forms: a wolf, a bat, even a tendril of mist curling through a crack in the window. But those are just the shapes we see. The truth is, vampires have always been more than what meets the eye.
Today, we picture the vampire as the refined predator—immortal, elegant, morally conflicted, sinking his teeth into the necks of the innocent… and the willing. But this polished version is just the latest installment in a much older horror story.
Before the vampire became Count Dracula—or for my fellow Twihards, Edward Cullen–this creature haunted the ancient world. He stalked the deserts of Mesopotamia, drained life in the shadowed temples of Egypt, and devoured chi in the misty mountains of China.
His face changed from place to place and throughout time–but his hunger never ceased.
For centuries, the vampire has followed us—shifting into fog and fur, yes—but also into something far more chilling. The deeper you sink your teeth into the story of the vampire, the more you realize his true shape is impossible to pin down.
Scholars like Raymond McNally and Radu Florescu traced the vampire’s many transformations—from the wild animals of the Carpathian Mountains to the fine-featured aristocrat stepping off a ship into the heart of London. He slides between definitions just as easily as he slips between the living and the dead.
What is it about the vampire we can’t seem to escape? Why does he keep coming back, century after century, crossing continents, and finding us through the pages of our novels, across our screens, and deep in our collective nightmares and fantasies?
To understand why the vampire endures, we must trace the lineage of its mythos, beginning with the earliest vampiric figures and continuing with the Slavic legends that established the foundation for the archetype we recognize today.
But here's the rub: whose reflection is actually appearing and changing in the mirror? The vampire’s…or our own?
I’m Kate Naglieri. Welcome to The Bygone Society Show.
Research, writing and hosting by Kate Naglieri
Production and sound by Jamie Eichhorn
Follow The Bygone Society Show on Instagram @thebygonesocietyshow and on Substack @thebygonesocietyshowpod
Let’s set the scene: Strasbourg, Alsace — now modern-day France — July 1518. At this time, Strasbourg was part of the Holy Roman Empire and a bustling, thriving city located on the Rhine River.
The city was a significant center for trade and commerce, with a population of around 20,000 people. Its streets were narrow and winding, flanked by half-timbered houses with steeply pitched roofs.
On any given day, the city would be filled with merchants selling their wares, craftsmen working in their shops, and townsfolk going about their daily business.
But on July 14th, 1518, something extraordinary started to unfold. In a narrow-cobbled street outside her home, a woman named Frau Troffea began to dance.
Not the kind of dancing you might imagine—no music, no rhythm, no joy. Instead, she moved frantically, her body possessed by an unseen force. Her deeply concerned husband tried to intervene, begging her to stop.
But she wouldn’t…. or couldn’t. She danced on, her feet pounding the pavement without pause, for hours, then days.
By the second and third days, crowds began to gather. Neighbors, porters, beggars, even nuns and priests—everyone came to witness this bizarre spectacle.
Was she bewitched? Cursed? Or simply mad? These were the questions we can imagine were on everyone’s lips as they watched Frau Troffea dance without rest, neither eating nor drinking.
By the fourth day, the city council decided to intervene, fearing that this unnatural display might be a sign of something more sinister. They ordered Frau Troffea to be taken to the shrine of St. Vitus, located some thirty miles away near Zabern, now known as Saverne.
St. Vitus was the patron saint of epileptics and dancers, and it was believed that his intercession might cure her of this madness. But as Frau Troffea was whisked away, something remarkable and terrifying happened.
Others joined in the dance.
I’m Kate Naglieri. Welcome to The Bygone Society Show.
Research, writing and hosting by Kate Naglieri
Production and sound by Jamie Eichhorn
Follow The Bygone Society Show on Instagram @thebygonesocietyshow and on Substack @thebygonesocietyshowpod
When you take a look at our longstanding history, mankind can point to endless examples of our march towards progress and daring endeavors.
We’ve risen from the ashes like a Phoenix, emerged from the depths of oppression, and brought in new dawns upon vast empires. The rise of great people and civilizations makes for an uplifting and even ego-affirming tale.
But what of their inevitable downfall?
On the flip side of our ancient coin, we see just as many examples of when humankind couldn’t hack it, for lack of a better term. It’s curious that our retellings of our own declines are distilled into one metaphorical reasoning.
Whether stabbed in the back by a friend, or wiped out by foreign diseases, it would seem that every civilization, every community and every person has their own achilles heel.
Including one of America’s oldest colonies.
The colony of Roanoke, which predates the English settlement at Jamestown, Virginia in 1607, took root on an island off the eastern seaboard of North America, in modern day North Carolina.
This settlement would have become the inaugural English colony in the New World. But it never did.
‘Why?’ You ask. ‘What led them to their end?’
Well, that’s the thing. We don’t know.
I’m Kate Naglieri. Welcome to The Bygone Society Show.
In the misty, rolling hills and deep hollows of Appalachia, is a land steeped in rich tradition and enduring tales.
But make no mistake; these are not mere stories; they are the lifeblood of this place, a deep-rooted connection that transcends time, binding its people to the land and the secrets it holds.
The significance of these age-old tales lies in their power to reflect the hopes, fears, and resilience of a people.
Through storytelling, they've preserved their history, struggles, and dreams. And at times, even their worst nightmares.
I’m Kate Naglieri, welcome to The Bygone Society Show
Picture this…
You’re in a dimly lit room. There’s a hushed gathering of mourners.
The air is heavy with the scent of tears and smoldering incense, its tendrils of gray smoke curling like a restless spirit.
At the center of the room is a solitary figure, he’s cloaked in tattered garments and kneeling beside a crude wooden table.
On it, is a woman, recently deceased. She’s holding a plate of crusty bread upon her chest.
The cloaked, and kneeling man reaches for the bread and eats it. He then reaches for a glass of wine beside him, and drinks it.
In this solemn communion, the man has just absorbed the sins of the departed, taking on her transgressions as his own.
The woman’s soul was set free. But the man remained as he always had— called upon only when the world craved absolution, and then promptly shunned… for being a sin eater.
According to Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase & Fable, sin eaters were poor people hired at funerals in olden days to eat beside the corpse, taking on the sins of the deceased, so that the soul might be delivered from Purgatory.
Commonly practiced in the British Isles in the 17th, 18th and 19th-century, it might be difficult for us to believe there was ever a time where the town pariah could absolve you of all your wrongdoings.
Perhaps even more difficult to believe knowing that 54% of Americans between the ages of 13-38 years old dream of becoming a social media influencer.
But dig a bit deeper, and take a closer look…you’ll find many a modern-day, unsung hero – be it sanitation workers, caregivers, or call center operators – toiling away.
You see, both groups perform gritty and underappreciated tasks for the greater good. Just like sin-eaters of yore, today’s essential workers valiantly navigate irate customers, grueling hours, and chronic stress for very little in return.
It's a painful parallel – the realization that the more things change, the more they stay the same.
Join us as we unravel the tales of sin-eaters, and discover the rituals, beliefs, and profound impact they had on the communities they served.
I’m Kate Naglieri. Welcome to The Bygone Society Show, episode 10: The Bearer of Burdens.
There are certain places that emerge as profound markers in history, anchoring the narratives of generations past and of those yet to come.
These places are more than just geographical coordinates on a map; they’re repositories of memory, vessels of experience, and a type of conduit for the stories of humanity.
Today’s profound marker in history lies in the heart of New York City; The Bowery is not just a well-known thoroughfare; it's a living tome that holds the heartbreak and hope of countless souls.
From ancient ruins to bustling city streets…from serene landscapes to battlegrounds of conflict, places…like The Bowery…beckon us to explore the past.
And when we do, we gain a lot!
We preserve our collective memory, respect identities and cultures, avoid past mistakes, appreciate how far we’ve come and realize that bygone eras rarely stay in the past.
I’m Kate Naglieri…welcome to The Bygone Society Show.
The sea is a captivating and unpredictable force. It offers abundant resources, sustenance, and trade routes to countless civilizations throughout history, fostering prosperity, cultural exchange and reprieve.
But it also demands respect. The sea’s duality serves as a reminder of nature’s power, and the delicate balance between human dependence on its bounty and the need to approach it with humility and reverence.
The two stories I have to share with you today exemplify the age-old saying: The sea giveth and the sea taketh away.
I’m Kate Naglieri. Welcome to The Bygone Society Show.
Women and water. What is it about “women and water” that holds such power over the whole of society?
There’s a mystique that has fascinated us…petrified us…drawn us in.
Water as a traditional symbol of femininity is an ancient theme that dominates literature and the arts in nearly every corner of the earth.
From the Japanese swan maidens to Disney’s lagoon-loving mermaids, tales of women and water abound.
There are three main tropes you’re sure to find if you crack open enough books or watch enough movies:
The first is the tale of the drowning girl. For me, the 2002 American psychological horror film, The Ring, based on Koji Suzuki’s 1991 novel by the same name, comes to mind.
The second trope is woman as a wild and powerful force born from nature. One example is Mera, queen of Atlantis, from DC Comics.
And finally, the alluring and aquatic spirit. I think of The Birth of Venus, an iconic Italian Renaissance painting by Sandro Boticelli, which depicts the beautiful goddess emerging from a half shell, much like a pearl.
She is but one alluring creature to emerge from Earth’s underwater world, a place that holds and hides many of our world’s greatest mysteries.
I’m Kate Naglieri. Welcome to The Bygone Society Show.
In part one of Radium Girls, we found out that U.S. Radium Corporation in New Jersey commissioned an independent study to test the effects of chronic radium exposure, only after hundreds of young women working as dial painters fell ill and died.
The study’s results were clear: The workers were suffering and dying from radium poisoning. But U.S. Radium refused the findings, hiding the results from the public eye, and more importantly, from their own employees.
Instead, they conducted additional studies that ensured different, false findings that claimed radium was safe. They even went as far as to hire a Columbia University industrial toxicologist to pose as a physician and falsify the womens’ medical examinations, formally declaring they were experiencing an outbreak of syphilis.
There was little public and financial support for community health control programs when it came to treating venereal diseases. In America, syphilis was the scarlet letter of the early 1900s, much like AIDS in the ‘80s and ‘90s.
The scheme was meant to shame the women into silence.
But thanks to the tenacity of Grace Fryer and Catherine Donahue, these women eventually found their fighting voice.
I'm Kate Naglieri. Welcome to The Bygone Society Show.
There was a time, exactly 100 years ago, when the naturally occurring radioactive metal — radium — was thought to be a medical marvel that promised restored health, the eradication of cancer and a youthful glow to boot.
Its safety was tested by scientists, its use cases vouched and recommended by doctors. And yet nothing could have been further from the truth.
Today’s story is a cautionary tale against “the end-all and be-all cure.” It shines a light on corporate greed, and exposes the dangers in blind trust.
It’s a tale as old as time. And yet, we still find ourselves trusting, believing. Maybe because it’s easier to believe stories that make you feel safe.
This is not that story.
I’m Kate Naglieri. Welcome to The Bygone Society Show.
Show notes:The Radium Girls: And Illinois Tragedy
https://www.nprillinois.org/equity-justice/2018-01-25/the-radium-girls-an-illinois-tragedy
Brittanica (radium chemical element)
https://www.britannica.com/science/radium
The Radium Girls: A Tale of Workplace Safety
https://sites.law.duq.edu/juris/2019/12/01/the-radium-girls-a-tale-of-workplace-safety/
The National Bureau of Standards and the Radium Dial Painters
https://nvlpubs.nist.gov/nistpubs/jres/126/jres.126.051.pdf
Mae Keane, One of the Last Radium 'Radium Girls' Dies at 107
https://www.npr.org/2014/12/28/373510029/saved-by-a-bad-taste-one-of-the-last-radium-girls-dies-at-107
Radium City documentary (available on Vimeo)
Washington State Department of Health – Office of Radiation Protection - Radium-226 (Ra-226) Fact Sheet
The Hartford Republican news clipping (1926)
https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn86069313/1920-10-22/ed-1/seq-3/#words=Radium%2B%2Bradium%2B%2Bradium%2B
**On May 8, 1902, Mont Pelée, an active volcano that formed the north end of the island of Martinique, erupted, engulfing the city of Saint-Pierre in superheated gas, ash and rock in just three minutes.
The swift and sudden explosion would turn out to be the deadliest in the twentieth century.
To quote Dr. Ian Malcolm (played by actor and certified genius Jeff Goldblum in Jurassic Park): "Life finds a way," even in the harshest conditions, and when all seems lost. Today's story demonstrates that theory, even if how**we survive is a little absurd.
**A warning for listeners: This episode talks about explicit and disturbing material, including murder-suicide and sexual abuse. Please, take care while listening.
One Tuesday night in 2006, 28-year-old Zack Bowen, an Iraq War veteran, stuffed a hand-written note in his front pocket and nervously sipped his drink on the outside terrace of the Omni Royal Orleans Hotel before flinging himself from the rooftop.**
In his note, on his lifeless body, Zack admitted to strangling, sexually violating and dismembering his girlfriend, Addie Hall, two weeks earlier. He also revealed her remains could be found in the flat above a voodoo shop that the couple shared.
At the end of part 1, Winnie Ruth Judd gave her first and only public confession about the murder of her two friends, Anne and Sammy, while awaiting her execution at the Arizona State Prison.
The confession led to her lover, Jack Halloran’s indictment, but as you may recall, Ruth pleaded not guilty due to self defense. When the judge agreed with her, he indirectly nullified Jack’s involvement in the murders and the cover up.
Jack was free to go, but Ruth remained under the hot spotlight of the media and the watchful eye of the state.
And the state remained under the searing, hungry eyes of the entire nation. Too much was at stake to let Ruth walk now. With her death sentence overturned, Ruth was deemed, quote, “mentally incompetent”, and became a lifetime patient of the Arizona State Asylum for the Insane. Or did she?
Today’s story takes place in Phoenix, Arizona / 1931 - two years deep into the Great Depression. Once considered a one-horse-town, the city had doubled in size as it neared 20 years of statehood and withstood economic hardships better than most.
On the surface, the Valley of the Sun was inhabited by tight-laced moralists and virtuous families.
But beneath the thin facade of all things prim and proper, lurked a more sinister version of the law-abiding community.
The burgeoning metropolis teemed with late-night parties, bootlegging, and secret deals forged by powerful business tycoons and politicians - all men, of course - who controlled the rise and fall of the desert tides.
James Halloran, or “Happy Jack,” as he was known around town, was one of those men.
For right or wrong, his name would turn to dust from Phoenix history books, replaced by a rather unextraordinary woman. National headlines dubbed her “The Tiger Woman,” others “The Blonde Butcher.” But no moniker would be so on the nose / as “The Trunk Murderess.”
I’m Kate Naglieri - welcome to The Bygone Society Show.
Sources:
1. The Trunk Murderess: Winnie Ruth Judd, Poisoned Pen Press, by Jana Bommersbach
2. The Big House on the Gila, Arizona Memory Project, by an ex-convict
3. Murder & Mayhem: The Strange Saga of Winnie Ruth Judd, Arizona Memory Project
4. The Velvet Tigress, Vimeo, by Jen Sachs