The story below comes from the June 6, 1893, issue of the Chicago Times, but feels oddly relevant in light of recent, strange claims making news headlines. In the southeast corner of the fairgrounds of the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition, two men overwhelmed by the great windmill exhibit encounter a sober Columbian guard who offers sage advice. When the World’s Congress on Temperance opened on June 5, many newspapers responded by offering commentary on drinking, though usually lacking in sensitivity toward the disease of alcoholism.
Millions of Whirling Windmills
Two men came up the line of the intramural road yesterday afternoon. They had the appearance of suffering from suppressed excitement, and their manner of getting over the ground suggested a smack thrashing to windward in a heavy sea way. As soon as they saw a Columbian guard they surrounded him, or at least one of them did, while the other was engaged in deftly brushing some dust from his coat sleeve.
They clamored to have the guard ring for the ambulance and hinted that delay was dangerous. They said they were both men accustomed to cut up rough long before they arrived at their present stage and that it was a mystery that they didn’t turn to and kill him. After what they’d seen, they said, they couldn’t understand what made them act so mild and friendly toward him, and if he’d kindly be quick about the ambulance, they’d sit down while it came and try to think about their childhood’s happy home and keep their minds off shedding his blood.
The guard here interposed a query as to what they’d seen that excited them so.
“What had they seen?” they yelled in concert. Glittering angels, what hadn’t they seen! They’d seen windmills, that’s what they’d seen.
Windmills till you just couldn’t believe it. All the way in size from a pinwheel to a Krupp gun, and colored up so an aurora borealis would feel sick beside them. There were millions of ’em, all going at once, an revolving in different directions, and standing on their own and each other’s heads, and running along the ground. They’d seen snakes and centipedes and rats before now by the roomful, but when it came to a sky full of windmills it made ’em dizzy just to think of it, and if they were going to see such things when they ought to be seeing the manufactures building they wanted an ambulance and to go to Dwight* afterward when they were able to be moved.
The guard assured them that it was all right; said the windmills were really there. The mistake you made, said he, was coming round by the big-tree restaurant, and the Old Times, and the Kentucky whisky cabins. You go round the other way next time and you see the windmills first and it won’t affect you so.
* Dwight, Illinois, was home to the famous Keeley Institute, known for its so-called “Keeley Cure” to treat alcoholism using injections of gold(III) chloride solutions and various concoctions.
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