I like to write junk…

The Thomas Jefferson Hotel, an enduring symbol of Birmingham’s Gilded Age, stands as a testament to the city’s ambitions in the early twentieth century. Located in the heart of downtown Birmingham, Alabama, this grand hotel was envisioned as a premier destination for travelers, dignitaries, and locals alike.

Construction on the Thomas Jefferson Hotel began in 1925, at a time when Birmingham—often dubbed the “Magic City” for its rapid industrial growth—was eager to showcase its prosperity. Designed by the architectural firm Holabird & Root, along with local architect William Lee Stoddart, the hotel was built in the Beaux-Arts style, featuring ornate details, a limestone façade, and elaborate interior spaces. When it opened its doors in 1929, the Thomas Jefferson Hotel soared 19 stories high, making it one of the tallest buildings in Birmingham at that time.

The hotel quickly became the social epicenter of the city. Its luxurious ballrooms, lavish dining facilities, and richly decorated guest rooms attracted celebrities, business leaders, and even United States presidents. It was especially renowned for its vibrant rooftop ballroom and the iconic zeppelin mooring mast, a distinctive architectural feature that crowned the building and became a recognizable part of Birmingham’s skyline.

As the decades passed and the city’s fortunes shifted, the Thomas Jefferson Hotel experienced a gradual decline. Changes in travel patterns, the rise of highway motels, and urban renewal contributed to the hotel’s closing in the early 1980s. The once-grand halls stood empty, and the building became a haunting reminder of Birmingham’s former glory. Homeless people saw it as a shelter out of the storm while also trashing the interior.

Despite years of neglect, the hotel’s architectural significance and enduring charm kept hope alive for its restoration. In the 2000s, preservationists and developers rallied to save the building, recognizing its historical value and potential for revival. After extensive renovations, the hotel reopened in 2017 as the Thomas Jefferson Tower, featuring modern apartments, event spaces, and commercial venues while carefully preserving its historic elements.

Today, the Thomas Jefferson Hotel—now Thomas Jefferson Tower—remains a cherished landmark in Birmingham. Its storied past, architectural grandeur, and successful revitalization symbolize the city’s resilience and dedication to preserving its unique heritage. The building continues to watch over downtown Birmingham, linking the city’s illustrious history with its vibrant present and future.

An old postcard of the hotel from the 1940s shows this stately building before being turned into apartments. A man named Vernon sent the postcard to Mrs. Nina Rhoades in Springfield, Ohio. The postmark date is July 15, 1944. It was mailed from Birmingham.

“Hi Hon,

Don’t think I’ll be back these babes are tops some pumpkins I’d say. Don’t you all wish you was a southern belle. I will probably go on to New Orleans. I got a honey with me from there. bye, bye don’t worry.

Vernon”

Vernon Wesley Rhoades would’ve been 38 when he sent this postcard to his wife, whom he’d been married to for 13 years. Was it a cruel joke, or were they fighting? I tend to believe the former—and I’d bet Mrs. Nina Alice Rhoades had a good laugh over it. After reading Vernon’s bio, he does not come across as a Casanova.

Vernon served two years in the US Army and worked as a machinist for Kelsey-Hayes for most of his life. He belonged to the Knights of Pythias Lodge for 49 years. This is described as a secret organization. It seems reasonable that Vernon was attending a meeting of this group in Birmingham.

Vernon and Nina wed on August 15, 1931. They stayed together until Vernon died in 1987, with Nina passing away in 1991. The couple had one daughter and a son, Judith and James.

A postcard that I recently snagged was mailed from Tanana, Alaska, on February 10, 1911, to Mrs. J.T. Hoover in Pasco, Washington. On the front of the RPPC (real picture postcard) is a picture of US Army Corporal Gust Mihleder in full Arctic gear, standing beside a pair of tall snowshoes, while smoking a pipe.

The message on both front and back is most informative. Corporal Mihleder was assigned to Company “A” – 16th US Infantry.  The card was mailed from Tanana, Alaska. Corporal Mihleder was stationed at Fort Gibbon near the Tanana village in the Yukon-Koyukuk area near the Yukon River. The following message was handwritten in perfect cursive and flawless spelling on the back:

“8/8/11

Dear Mrs. Hoover: Your card and letter rec’d. Was much pleased to hear from you, and hope you will like your new home, and that the climate way cause Mr. Hoover’s complete recovery. Will write as soon as I can find a moment to myself. What do you think of the Alaskan style of clothing and would you know me in this outfit. All the boys are well and send their kindest regards. Will write in a few days. Sincerely.

Gust Mihleder”

On top of the photo of Gust was written the following:

“Ready for a “hike” on snow shoes at Fort Gibbon, Alaska, 58 below zero. How does that suit you for cold?”

Mrs. J.T. Hoover and her husband were undoubtedly very close friends of Gust Mihleder, and Gust was probably a longtime pal with J.T., as they both lived in Franklin, Pennsylvania, and went to school there. Both the Mihleder parents and Hoover descendants were born in Germany. J.T. Hoover’s mom, Minta,was a school teacher at one time.

Mr. and Mrs. Hoover had only lived in Pasco, Washington, for a short time, one year, having relocated there from Littlerock, Arkansas, because of John Thomas Hoover’s health.

John Thomas Hoover was a successful businessman as well as being involved in the banking industry. He was a senior officer with the German Bank of Littlerock. John married Elizabeth “Lizzie” Ellen Knox on January 29,1899. She chose to go by Mrs. J.T. Hoover, taking her husband’s name as many married women often did back then.

After John T. Hoover passed away on May 6, 1911, at the young age of 39, the body was sent from Pasco to Arkansas, where it lay in the state capitol rotunda until the service. Mr. Hoover’s funeral was attended by a good number of family, friends, and business associates.

Mrs. J.T. Hoover, now a young widow, moved from Arkansas to Oregon to be close to her sister and three brothers. There, she married a much older man named Willis E. McElroy in 1917. He was the music director for the Portland Symphony Orchestra.

That marriage lasted one year before she divorced him for being unfaithful. Elizabeth told the judge that he began cheating on her two weeks after they tied the knot. It would’ve been a short-lived marriage even if they stayed together, as Willis McElroy passed in 1927 from a sudden heart attack.

Having changed her name back, Mrs. J.T. Hoover died in Gilchrist, Oregon, in 1942, at the age of 59. She was buried in Portland with her tombstone saying: Elizabeth Ellen Hoover.

Gust Mihleder lived an adventurous life, staying in the military almost his whole life. He never married. Not only did he serve his country in Alaska, but he fought battles in the Spanish-American War, in Panama, the Philippines, and ultimately, in WWI. With further research, I believe I’d find he received many rewards during his extensive service.

Lieutenant Gus Mihleder began his military career as an enlisted private, was promoted to corporal, then sergeant, first sergeant, and ultimately became a lieutenant. Not many soldiers advanced from enlisted to officer rank without having an exemplary record.

During his foreign assignments, he wrote many lengthy letters to his father, who shared them with a local newspaper. Gust Mihleder was an accomplished writer and storyteller, as his letters attest. Someday, when time allows, I’ll transcribe and print them all.

Passing away on June 22, 1952, at the age of 75, Lieutenant Gust Mihleder is buried with honors at Antietam National Cemetery in Maryland, amongst other war veterans, including those killed during the Battle of Antietam during the American Civil War. It appears that Lieutenant Mihleder’s life is one worthy of a book or movie.

I’ve never heard of Shasta Retreat, California, until I found a postcard with a picture of the railroad stop on it. A caption under the photos says: Train Arriving At Depot. Shasta Retreat, California. A steam locomotive is pulling up with passengers ready to board.

Shasta Retreat was a place that a person named Annie was visiting. I make this judgment based on a short letter written on the back of the card by her.

“Shasta Retreat   6/26/1911

Dear Will,

Re’cd Ma’s and Henry’s postels. Tell ma not to worry about the river for swimming, it’s out of the question. Send me ten dollars by Wells Fargo that is a money order. Address it to Shasta Retreat, Siskiyou Co. Cal. I can cash it at the post office here. Having fine time!

With love from

Annie”

The card was addressed to:

Mr. Will Nickel

912 Potrero Avenue

San Francisco

Calif

It took me a bit of sleuthing to find out who the Nickels were. They hailed from Germany, moving there from Oregon, and then to San Francisco, where the head of the household, Henry J. Nickel, was a cabinetmaker. Johanna was his wife, while William E. and Henry Jr. were Annie’s brothers.

One of the young men, William, worked as a machinist. Henry Jr. took up cabinetmaking like his father. In Annie’s mentioning Henry in the postcard, this person was undoubtedly her younger brother and not her father.

Ten dollars in 1911 is equivalent to $340.05 today, so Annie was asking for a substantial amount of cash. She worked as a dressmaker, so it seems reasonable that money was no problem.

I assume she was staying at some resort or getaway in Shasta. The river that Annie’s mom was so concerned about was most likely the Shasta River. It was a popular swimming spot at that time.

Henry Nickel Sr. passed away in 1922. Oddly enough, his gravestone says: Henry Nickels. Perhaps the stone maker made a mistake? His wife, Johanna, died on August 8, 1945, at the age of 90.  She was living with her daughter and a son.

William E. Nickel died in 1969 at the age of 85. Anna “Annie” lived to be 87, dying in 1974. Henry Jr., the youngest, died in 1973. I could not find that Annie, Henry Jr., or William E. Nickel ever married.

This family, like most German people were back then, was hardworking, industrious, and very close to each other. The old English saying, “Blood is thicker than water!” seems to hold true for Henry Nickel Sr., Johanna, and their children.

I could not find that Shasta Retreat still exists. Perhaps it too faded off into eternity!

I’ve come across many unusual postcards during my project, with some of them unreadable, while others seemingly contained secret coded messages that I couldn’t decipher. I’ll look over these types of cards and then pass on writing anything, viewing it as a waste of time.

This unusual card is one of those, except that the message a man sent from Alaska to a single girl in Chicago gets an award for being tasteless, although the sender probably didn’t see it as such.

The card, postmarked in Saint Michael, Alaska, shows a flock of white seagulls on a beach with the caption: “A Northern Convention” or a Family Reunion. Sea Gulls in Alaska.

I believe what the gulls are actually doing is mating. Miss Vera Lamb undoubtedly saw things the same after reading the letter, written by someone with the last name of Mohring.

“March 7, 1910

The seagulls reunion is here. A chance for us? At least I hope so.

Yours

Mohring”

Mr. Frederick J. Mohring was the person sending this card, with a 1910 census showing him as a soldier with the US Army stationed at Fort Saint Michael. He was 24 at this time—married—with a child. Rejection is a terrible thing, yet in this case, the single lady made the right decision.

Private Fred Mohring had wed Lillie May Agnew in 1905. A daughter came soon after. Lillie was a native of Wichita, Kansas, and from a good family. Frederick Mohring enlisted in 1904 and was discharged from military service in 1933. Fred must’ve got his act together for them to have stayed hitched to the end. They’re buried together in Pennsylvania.

If Vera had good friends in 1910, they undoubtedly steered her clear of married men. Miss Vera Maude Lamb eventually found a Frederick, but not Frederick Mohring. She became Mrs. Frederick Ralph Corbett on March 10, 1917, and they spent the rest of their lives in sunny southern California.

Almost every state has a ghost town, with some having hundreds, like Texas. The Lone Star State tops them all with over 500. Kansas isn’t far behind Texas, with 308 such locations.

Alaska has approximately 100 ghost towns, with me having visited the most recognizable, Iditarod. Add to that Phoenix, Alaska, and Susitna Landing, two sites that most Alaskans don’t know existed. The 100 former Alaska ghost towns also include villages, fishing and cannery sites, military posts, and mining locations.

An old postcard I stumbled across isn’t from Texas or Alaska, but rather from Kansas. Englewood, Kansas, still exists, but most of the buildings are vacant or uninhabitable. A video I watched on Englewood shows things to be quite forlorn and void of people. The population in 2025 was recorded as 49, with a yearly decline.

The town organizers of Englewood in 1884 had high aspirations for its success, having “Veritable New Chicago of the Great Southwest” printed in the local newspaper. At one time, there were four dry goods stores located there, three drug stores, two lumber yards, and The Leader-Tribune newspaper. Part of that success had to do with the railroad passing through.

During the early years, crime was kept quite low, even though Englewood was only four miles from the Oklahoma border. That section of Oklahoma, known as no man’s land, had zero law enforcement, with criminals often coming across state lines to raise havoc in Englewood. They were sometimes sent home in a pine box or strung up by vigilantes.

On July 4, 1885, a drunken cowboy fired his pistol off as part of the celebration. John Sconce was eventually tracked down by the Englewood sheriff, and after an exchange of gunfire, Sconce was shot dead.

During a social dance in Englewood on August 6, 1885, a few women with their chaperones, Charles and W.G. Peck, decided to leave the event around midnight. An inebriated cowboy, Philip Scannon, not wanting to see the ladies go because he still wanted to dance, tried to stop the party from leaving.

When a fracas broke out, the liquored-up cowboy struck Charles Peck over the head with his pistol, inflicting a nasty wound. Philip Scannon was immediately shot dead by the Peck brothers. The Pecks must’ve been found not guilty later on because newspaper articles have them still buying and selling property soon after.

Getting back to my postcard, times were probably not as rough and tumble in Englewood in 1909 as they were in the 1880s. Someone named Leonard sent Miss Margaret Rusco in Great Bend, Kansas, this card from the Englewood post office on August 19, 1909.

A one-cent Benjamin Franklin stamp was hand-cancelled by Thomas Todd, the acting postmaster. Leonard’s short letter reads as follows:

“Englewood, KS 8/18

Dear Margaret

This town is worse than nowhere. Not much of a buy. Am going by coach in morning and drive across to Pratt and will work the R.I. the rest of week. Leonhard”

Research shows that one month later, on September 9, Margaret Rusco became the bride of Leonhard Adler. Despite Leonard’s lack of writing with a romantic flair, the couple stayed together until both passed away in 1966 and 1967.

The R.I. that Leonard mentioned in the postcard is the Rock Island Railroad, which was built through various Kansas towns but not Englewood. A different railroad stopped there. Leonhard Adler was evidently traveling for business when he wrote Margaret.

Leonhard and his wife owned Adler Elevator and Grain Company and were well-to-do financially. Leonhard served as Mayor of Goddard, Kansas, for several terms. They had no children.

The couple lived normal and respectful lives based upon newspaper accounts, which include their obituaries. Those two cowboys, Philip Scannon and John Sconce, along with other desperadoes, would have lived much longer had they merely stayed away from the bottle.

Unfortunately, nothing has really changed where excess drinking and deaths are concerned. The major difference today is that unruly cowboys generally drive pickup trucks rather than ride horses.

I’ve come across many postcards that were never stamped, thus they were never sent through regular mail. Someone either hand-carried a card to the recipient, or it was never delivered. In one of these cases, the sender was killed standing outside a post office. Archived newspaper accounts from back then prove this.

One unique card I came across made me chuckle out loud, especially after researching the sender and recipient. It took significant time and research just to decipher the names, as the sender’s handwriting is shaky at most.

The front of the postcard shows a man sitting at a small table with a towel wrapped around his head. It appears he’s in great pain. A bottle of what appears to be wine is seen on the table along with a glass. Underneath the picture, printed by the postcard manufacturer, the following statement is written: The Morning After. Underneath that in smudged ink, most likely written by the sender, “Has 7 glasses.”

The card is addressed to C.E. Owen in Frankfort, Kansas. The sender goes by the initials, E.J.H. Cephas E. Owen is the name of the recipient, while Eliza Jane Harp was the sender. Both Frankfort residents were senior citizens, with Eliza in her late 80s at the time she wrote her shaky message. Eliza composed her letter in reply to one that Cephas sent her. I transcribed things exactly as written.

“Dear Friend – the card you sent me I did not need to keep your memory because it was certinly all sight first. Regards from one and all again thank, E.J.H.”

Cephas was around 65 when he received it. I make these age assumptions based upon Eliza’s death on November 17, 1909. The card had to have been written up to that time.

Records indicate that Cephas Owen attended the Presbyterian Church in Frankfort, while Eliza Harp worshipped at a Methodist Church. This postcard would’ve been considered risqué or offensive by some church members, yet I tend to believe Eliza or Cephas’ ministers would’ve seen candor in it, especially being sent from an almost 90-year-old woman. I know my pastor would think so today.

Eliza had a sense of humor much like my wife. Joleen loves to send funny cards to family and friends, especially certain cousins, during birthdays. Eliza Harp’s friend, Cephas, must’ve thought the postcard funny; otherwise, it wouldn’t have survived.

For me, this card proves that not all old folks back in the day were stick-in-the-mud or fuddy-duddy, as people often think. They were smart enough to know, “Laughter is the best medicine!” It worked for both of these Frankfort residents as they each lived a full life.

When I first saw a couple of strange names on a 1917 postcard from Canyon Diablo, Arizona, my mind immediately conjured up a law firm. Finckel & Wigglesworth has a good ring to it.

Canyon Diablo is an interesting place in itself. Researching things, the former town was in Coconino County near a canyon called Canyon Diablo. In Spanish, that means “Hells Canyon.” I traced the town’s roots back to a railroad bridge being built over the deep canyon. The railroad community was well and alive in 1880, but died off by the early 20th century. It’s now a ghost town with a few building foundations remaining.

Canyon Diablo is considered one of the most wicked and dangerous Old West communities to ever exist. It had a fair share of saloons, brothels, and gambling houses. Crime was everywhere with no lawmen available, while Main Street was actually named Hell Street.

The first sheriff who put on a tin badge in Canyon Diablo only wore it for perhaps five hours before he was killed. Four others followed him to the grave in a little over two years. It’s claimed that murders were a daily occurrence and that the cemetery quickly filled to capacity. Corpses were then buried wherever open ground could be found.

On April 5, 1905, two bandits, John Shaw and William Evans, held up some gamblers in the Winslow, Arizona, Wigwam Saloon. Shaw and Evans escaped with what’s believed to be around $300 in silver dollars.

Three lawmen, Pete Pemberton, Bob Giles, and Chet Houck, immediately picked up their trail, discovering silver dollars accidentally dropped along the trail. The trio eventually came across the robbers standing outside a trading post in Canyon Diablo.

Telling John Shaw and William Evans that they needed to be searched, the criminals drew their guns first and began firing. The sheriff and his marshals were faster on the draw, with William Evans injured, with John Shaw killed. Sheriff Chet Houck was only slightly injured, with a bullet grazing the outside of his stomach.

William Evans was taken back to Winslow, with John Shaw buried in a wooden coffin in Canyon Diablo. When word reached a group of cowboys about the killing of Shaw, and knowing that he didn’t get to finish his shot of whiskey the night of the robbery, they left Winslow and decided to go to Canyon Diablo and give him one last drink.

Exhuming Shaw’s body from its coffin, the cowboys lifted him out, stood him up, and then proceeded to give the dead man his final shot of liquor. Photos were taken before John Shaw was reburied with the open bottle placed beside him.

There’s much more history to Canyon Diablo, enough so to fill a book. I’ll leave my research at that, moving on to those names written within the old postcard. Before leaving, though, a postmark from the Canyon Diablo post office is quite rare, as it was only open for a few years.

In compiling this story, I picked up the vintage, giant cactus postcard for only $4.29. The person selling it did not know the value of rare postmarks. I only mention this because you, too, can find these bargains by diligently looking at cards on eBay. I don’t mind if you beat me out of one, as it’ll save me a few dollars and make for one less story to write.

My card was sent to Mrs. G.S. Finckel in Washington, DC. The person mailing it from Canyon Diablo was either named Al or those are their initials. Al mentions meeting up with Mrs. Dr. Wigglesworth in Fort Defiance. Dr. Wigglesworth is a person of unique significance in Arizona history. The letter on the front of the postcard is as follows, with no corrections:

“Canyon Diablo, Ariz – Nov 7

Just left Fort Defiance last night, where found Edna Wright, now Mrs. Dr. Wigglesworth & formerly with me in E’ Central High in 1892 + 3. Your neighbor’s sister you know. Maybe we didn’t have a good old Washington talk. Love to all

Al”

Edna Wright went to Central High School in Washington, DC as did her husband, Matthew Albert Wigglesworth. Mrs. G.S. Finckel (Gertrude Seaver Finckel) went there as well. Gertrude’s husband, Paul Finckel, was a patent attorney in Washington, making my prediction right on target for assumed attorneys, Finckel and Wigglesworth.

Paul Finckel was an esteemed musician as well, with Paul playing the cello in many Washington concerts. His wife, Gertrude, was a social butterfly in the community, knowing many distinguished people.

Dr. Albert Wigglesworth was a pioneer doctor and one of the first to devote his medical knowledge to American Indigenous Indians from 1900 – 1925. In his own words, he said the following: “I was the only physician for some 30,000 Indians on a reservation of 16 million acres—almost double the area of Connecticut and Massachusetts combined.”

Fort Defiance, as mentioned by the postcard writer, was one of the Navajo communities where Dr. Wigglesworth practiced medicine. In 1870, the first government school for Navajo children was established there.

There’s so much more to be found regarding Canyon Diablo, Dr. and Mrs. Wigglesworth, as well as the Finckel family. I’ll leave things at this point, believing I’ve given a brief synopsis on all three. Plans for this winter are to visit Canyon Diablo and bring along my metal detector, of course. Perhaps some of John Shaw and William Evans’ stolen silver dollars still wait to be found!

Outlaw John Shaw (middle)