WITS GONE AWRY;
POLICE GATHER 'EM IN.
FIVE MEN OF FREAKY IDEAS
PICKED UP IN ONE DAY.
Unfortunate Who Believed Sparrows
Were Nesting in His Hair -- An-
other Held Up Twelfth
Street Traffic.
The holdover at police headquarters yesterday resembled an insane ward in a hospital. Before the day had closed five men, some a bit more "off" than others, were incarcerated there. One of the men who gave the name of Shea was found on the street sitting in a shady place. At intervals he was seen to shake his head and then spat the back of one hand with the other. When asked what he was doing he said: "The sparrows are pulling hairs from the back of my hands and building nests in my head. Shoo. Shoo." Then he would shake his head again. "Wrestling with 'Old John B.' " was the comment of the officer who took Shea to the station.
Another man, apparently suffering from the same trouble as Shea, gave the name of Baylay. He was a little more active than his brother in distress. Seeing turkeys wearing straw hats and little yellow goslings with plug hats and red neckties on, Baylay was busy chasing them about the street. He was really interested in his chase as he said he had "never seen the like before in all my life."
An aged man by the name of Nolde was picked up by a patrolman on Twelfth street and Grand avenue. He had stopped many street cars by waving his cane and had attracted quite a crowd. The old man believed that he was a motorman and that it was his duty to stop traffic as he was doing. He was booked for Colonel J. C. Greenman, who looks after the insane for the city and county.
The next unfortunate to arrive gave the name of "Robinson Crusoe" and said he was 103 years old. With his long, unkempt hair dangling about his shoulders, he almost looked the part. He finally gave the name of Farbis Foster. The old man was picked up at 1415 Main street. He had been wandering aimlessly about the streets for days. He was also booked for the attention of Colonel Greenman.
After "Robinson Crusoe" had been stowed away the most picturesque member of the quintette of "offs" arrived in charge of Patrolman G. M. Russell of No. 7 station. He was bareheaded and barefooted, with his trousers rolled to his knees. Around his neck was a piece of heavy string, to which was attached a quart tincup, somewhat battered. In the cup was a match. In the man's mouth was a small twig, at which he puffed as if smoking a cigarette. To add to the picture, the man was gently fanning himself with a weed. When searched the police ran upon what they at first took to be a "billy," but when brought to the light it was seen to be nothing more than a red corncob -- a big one, too, probably ten inches long.
"Don't throw that away," said the man, who gave the name of L. H. Miller; "I have just had that patented at great cost."
"Is that so? What's it used for?" asked Lieutenant James Morris.
"It's the finest thing in the world to kill mosquitoes, flies and the like," he said. With that Miller took the big cob and whacked away at a fly on the desk, and, of course, missed it. "See that?" he added gleefully. "Can you beat that? Put that in the safe until I call for it, and don't let anyone see how it's made, either."
Colonel Greenman will also look after Miller and his patent combination destroyer of insects.
