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A maritime disaster cloaked in mystery.
INTRES: It took no time at all
for the boat to burn down to the waterline.
A lawman who harbors a damning secret.
TARR: It's going to be quite a shock to the people
when they find out what happens.
And a prospector's sparkling scheme.
This was as intoxicating as it could possibly be.
WILDMAN: Within the walls of great institutions
lie secrets waiting to be revealed.
These are the "Mysteries at the Museum."
-- Captions by VITAC --
Closed Captions provided by Scripps Networks, LLC.
Topeka, Kansas.
Established in 1842 as a ferry crossing along the Oregon Trail,
this city is now the state capital.
And here, visitors will find an institution
dedicated to safeguarding the region's rich history:
The Kansas Historical Society.
Inside are such unique items as a 1950s mini-diner
and one-of-a-kind furniture crafted by local artists.
But among the lively and novel designs
is one object that is as common as it is deadly.
TARR: This artifact has a walnut wood stock,
and attached to it is an iron barrel.
The overall length of the object is about 42 inches.
WILDMAN: As Blair Tarr,
the museum's curator, can attest,
this firearm triggered a shocking chain of events.
TARR: This artifact is an example
of where the line got crossed in the old West
between what was lawful and what was lawless.
WILDMAN: Who owned this gun,
and what role did it play in an act of pure treachery?
July, 1882, Caldwell, Kansas.
This rough-and-tumble cattle town
is plagued by uncontrollable violence.
It was not a safe place for a lot of people to be.
Cowboys came into town.
They usually let off steam,
and they usually did it with firearms.
When a lawman would go to settle the matter,
he would be the one on the losing end of the firearms.
[ Gunshot ]
WILDMAN: And when the latest city marshal is gunned down,
the town is left scrambling to fill his shoes.
So, when a former Texas lawman
rides into town looking for work,
he is quickly hired on as Deputy Marshal.
His name? Henry Brown.
TARR: He has some interesting characteristics.
He's a man that seemingly has no vices.
He doesn't smoke, he doesn't drink, he doesn't gamble.
WILDMAN: Brown seems like the perfect man for the job,
and he quickly gets to work.
In a very short period of time,
big changes are noticed in Caldwell.
WILDMAN: Residents are so pleased
with Brown's performance
that they present him with a Winchester rifle,
the same one on display at the Kansas State Historical Society.
TARR: It has a little plaque on it that reads,
"Presented to H.N. Brown
for services rendered to the city of Caldwell."
WILDMAN: For the next 16 months,
Brown further endears himself to the townspeople.
TARR: He seems to be settling down in their community
by taking a bride.
He has every appearance of someone
who is going to be in Caldwell for a long, long time.
WILDMAN: A month after tying the knot,
Brown requests a few days' leave.
He explains that he is hunting down an outlaw
with a $1,200 bounty on his head.
And it's going to be quite a shock to the people in Caldwell
when they find out what happens.
WILDMAN: April 30, 1884,
Medicine Lodge, Kansas.
At 9:00 a.m., citizens of this small town
70 miles west of Caldwell notice four strangers
approaching the Medicine Valley Bank.
Two of them enter through a side door of the bank.
A third man enters through the front door.
Fourth man is behind the bank with the horses.
WILDMAN: Inside, the men pull out their guns
and order everyone to throw up their hands.
But the bank's president, Wylie Payne, has another plan.
He reaches for his gun, but before he can fire,
a robber shoots him down, unleashing a wave of violence.
TARR: The outlaws turn their attention to the cashier,
who is standing near the vault,
and they immediately shoot him as well.
[ Gunshot ]
WILDMAN: But before the cashier collapses dead,
he reaches for the safe door and locks it,
denying the outlaws the loot.
TARR: They don't have any money,
which means this has been an absolute failure,
but they're now trying to get out of town.
WILDMAN: A posse quickly forms to track them down,
and just a few miles out of town,
the robbers make a critical mistake.
They wind up in a ravine with only one way in and out.
TARR: By that time, the posse is right behind them.
They're blocking the exit from the canyon.
WILDMAN: The robbers have no choice but to surrender,
and when they arrest the outlaws,
the members of the posse are shocked.
There's a great surprise
because one of the men is immediately recognized
as the city marshal of Caldwell, Henry Brown.
WILDMAN: After his arrest,
Henry Brown is shot dead while trying to escape
and his accomplices are hanged by an angry mob.
As details of the incident become public,
the residents of Caldwell are shocked to discover
that the weapon they had gifted their once beloved marshal
played a central role in his crimes.
TARR: The Winchester rifle that had been given
to their great city marshal has now been used in a robbery
which has killed two people.
WILDMAN: So how did this respected marshal
end up on the wrong side of the law?
Soon, the press discovers that before he became a lawman,
Brown rode with one of the most notorious outlaws
in the country.
TARR: Brown had been running with Billy the Kid.
He'd been stealing horses,
and he was wanted for two charges of ***
in New Mexico.
WILDMAN: But after reforming his desperado ways,
why did Brown return to a life of crime?
Some argue that he struggled to cope with the pressures
of his new lifestyle.
TARR: Since he'd gotten married
he had bought a house,
and he had now accumulated a bit of debt,
and it appears that worried him.
WILDMAN: So he embarked on a risky plan
to pay off his creditors, but it backfired.
Today, Henry Brown's Winchester rifle
remains on display at the Kansas State Historical Society,
where it serves as a paradoxical symbol
of the lawman who couldn't escape his outlaw ways.
Located at the picturesque confluence
of the James River and the Chesapeake Bay,
Newport News, Virginia, is a city
with a proud tradition of ship building and seafaring,
and this nautical legacy is celebrated
at the Mariners' Museum.
On display is a collection of navigational tools
dating back to the 17th century,
the salvaged propeller from the USS Monitor,
and a set of miniature ships
made by craftsman August F. Crabtree.
But as chief curator Lyles Forbes tells it,
sitting among these storied objects
is an item that looks more like ocean flotsam
then museum treasure.
FORBES: It's made of plastic.
It has tubing.
It's yellowed.
It's crumpled up.
It's not in top condition.
WILDMAN: But despite its weathered appearance,
this artifact was once a functional device
with a crucial purpose.
What is this bizarre contraption?
What role did it play
in an unbelievable quest for survival?
It's January 1982 in the Canary Islands,
just off the western coast of Africa.
Since childhood,
29-year-old Steve Callahan has been an avid sailor.
For the past two years,
he's devoted all his energy
to creating a vessel of his own design,
a small sailboat christened Napoleon Solo.
Now he's setting out on an adventure of a lifetime.
FORBES: He wanted to live out a dream he'd had
to sail solo to the Caribbean.
WILDMAN: On January 29th,
with his boat full of provisions,
he sets off from the Canary Islands
en route to the island of Antigua.
He expects the nearly 3,000-mile journey
will take less than a month.
FORBES: Over the first week of Steve's trip,
the weather was actually pretty good
and Steve was hoping to shorten the amount of time
that he was actually going to be sailing towards Antigua.
WILDMAN: But on the sixth day,
Callahan's luck takes a turn when the weather shifts.
Storm came up from the South Atlantic, a gale.
WILDMAN: Callahan remains calm.
He knows that the best thing he can do is wait it out,
so he lowers the sails
and climbs into his bunk for the night.
FORBES: When Steve goes to bed,
he's really hoping that the storm will play itself out.
WILDMAN: But Callahan is awoken by a terrifying thought.
When he looks down, he discovers a terrible sight.
His cabin is rapidly filling with water.
Callahan grabs as many supplies as he can.
He then jumps aboard his sailboat's life raft,
takes shelter under its canopy,
and drifts away from the sinking Napoleon Solo.
FORBES: So when dawn breaks, the storm has dissipated.
Steve moves from panic to,
"Okay, I need to figure out what I'm going to do."
WILDMAN: Callahan takes inventory of his supplies:
a small amount of food,
a speargun he can use for fishing,
and three solar distillation kits that produce fresh water,
one of which is now on display at the Mariners' Museum.
But the kits barely produce enough water
for Callahan to survive.
Steve realizes that he needs to limit himself
to about a pint of water daily.
WILDMAN: Callahan reckons
that he's 450 miles west of the Canary Islands,
and with no sail, he is at the mercy of the sea.
All he can do is wait and pray for rescue.
FORBES: Steve's now hoping the life raft
will drift into the major shipping lanes
so that larger cargo ships will actually see him.
WILDMAN: After 14 long days,
an exhausted and dehydrated Callahan
finally spots a ship in the distance.
FORBES: He is elated,
and he tries to signal to attract the ship's attention,
but it all goes for naught because the ship passes him by.
WILDMAN: Weeks pass,
and Callahan realizes the current
has taken him well beyond the major shipping lanes.
His prospects for survival look bleak.
FORBES: On March 19th,
Callahan has now been adrift in his raft
in the Atlantic for 43 days.
WILDMAN: That morning begins like any other.
He readies his speargun to fish for breakfast.
He fires at a dorado and hits his target,
but as the fish struggles in the water,
it drags the spear,
puncturing the bottom tube of the raft.
The chilling sound of escaping air stops Callahan cold.
Will this be the disaster that finally spells his doom?
It's March, 1982.
After his boat sinks on a solo attempt to cross the Atlantic,
amateur sailor Steven Callahan
finds himself adrift on a life raft hoping for rescue,
but when that raft springs a leak,
his chances for survival are shrinking.
So, will this captain go down with his raft?
Callahan makes a desperate attempt
to fix the raft's punctured tube.
With fishing line and a seat cushion,
he creates a plug to seal the leak,
then reinflates it with a manual pump,
and amazingly it works.
But the spear he's relied on for fishing has been damaged,
and now he faces starvation.
FORBES: He's still adrift in the ocean,
he's still not seeing ships,
he's still in this predicament
as much as he was before the leak began.
WILDMAN: Then, miraculously, on his 75th day in the raft,
he spots some twinkling lights on the horizon,
and with incredible excitement,
he realizes they are on a shoreline.
For the first time,
Callahan falls asleep on the raft
with a glimmer of hope.
FORBES: The next morning,
after he's been adrift for 76 days,
Steve awakes to find a small boat approaching him.
WILDMAN: After 76 days and an incredible 1,800 miles,
Callahan is rescued by fishermen
and taken back to the island of Guadalupe.
After recovering from his journey,
Callahan goes on to write a book about his remarkable experience.
And today, his solar still
on display at the Mariners' Museum
helps tell his unbelievable story
of survival against all odds.
The third largest metropolis in Ohio,
Columbus was once called
"the most brilliantly illuminated city in the country"
when it installed a series of festive arches
down its main thoroughfare,
and shedding light on this luminous past
is the Ohio History Center.
On display is a 19th-century bicycle,
a two-headed calf,
and the skeletal remains of a mastodon.
But one item speaks to the state's more sinister side.
HOLBROOK: It's rather plain looking.
It's just a series of beads on a chain.
There's a crucifix attached to it.
It's not really that striking.
WILDMAN: But according to museum manager Mark Holbrook,
the owner of these sacred beads was far from saintly.
HOLBROOK: This artifact is actually connected
to one of the most notorious crimes in the state of Ohio.
WILDMAN: So who did these rosary beads once belong to,
and how are they linked to a heinous *** spree
that shocked the nation?
August 1, 1937, Colorado Springs, Colorado.
Doctors at Beth-El Hospital
are struggling to help a 67-year-old patient
in excruciating pain named George Obendorfer.
HOLBROOK: They can't figure out what is wrong with this gentleman.
They're searching for some clue as to why he's ill.
WILDMAN: But their efforts are in vain.
At 6:30 p.m., Obendorfer takes his last breath.
Doctors were rather befuddled as to what caused his death.
WILDMAN: In fact,
hospital officials fear this may be a case for the police
and quickly contact the authorities.
HOLBROOK: When they began to track
the history of this gentleman, an interesting thing pops up.
WILDMAN: Detectives learn that Obendorfer
was a visitor to the city
and had come to the hospital from a local hotel.
And that same establishment has just filed a report
of stolen diamonds.
HOLBROOK: So the police began to wonder
if there's possibly a connection between the death of the visitor
and the theft of the diamonds at the hotel.
WILDMAN: And though he had died alone,
Mr. Obendorfer had not been traveling alone.
HOLBROOK: The hotel staff tells the police
that the gentleman had been with a young woman and her son.
WILDMAN: Using the hotel registry,
they identify the woman as Ms. Anna Hahn,
a resident of Ohio.
Hoping she can provide some insight
into Obendorfer's death or the robbery,
investigators track Anna down in her hometown of Cincinnati.
An attractive woman in her early 30s,
Anna had emigrated from Germany a few years earlier
and was soon joined by her young son.
Under questioning,
the seemingly pleasant mother
explains her connection to Obendorfer.
HOLBROOK: She admitted that she met him on the train
on the way to Colorado Springs.
They got along very well,
and they decided to share a room together while on vacation.
WILDMAN: But, she says, shortly after arriving at the hotel,
George became ill and went to the hospital.
Anna claims to have had no further contact with him
and asserts that she knows nothing of the robbery.
Investigators are vexed.
But then there's a break in the case.
Back in Colorado,
investigators question a local pawn shop
about the missing diamonds and make a critical discovery.
HOLBROOK: One pawn shop owner does tell the police
that he did have a young woman and her son
come in and try to sell diamonds.
He identifies her from her photograph as Anna Hahn.
WILDMAN: Soon, investigators begin digging into her past
and discover there is more to Anna Hahn than meets the eye.
It's 1937, Colorado Springs.
When an otherwise healthy man dies of mysterious causes,
police suspect he was killed by his traveling companion,
a woman named Anna Hahn.
The attractive mother adamantly denies
any involvement in the case.
But as police dig into her past,
they soon discover that Anna is not who she seems to be.
HOLBROOK: The police discovered
that she had been a caregiver for the last several years,
primarily to older gentlemen.
WILDMAN: In May of 1937 in Cincinnati,
Anna had begun looking after a fellow German immigrant
named Jacob Wagner.
But within weeks under Anna's charge,
the 78-year-old was dead.
The cause was listed as heart disease.
Now investigators in Ohio
aren't so sure the death wasn't ***.
HOLBROOK: Police have his body exhumed
so an examination can be held.
WILDMAN: And when the results come back,
they reveal the horrendous truth.
HOLBROOK: The toxicology reports indicate
that his body contained an excessively large amount
of arsenic -- enough to kill four men.
WILDMAN: With probable cause,
police search Anna's house
where they make a shocking discovery.
They find arsenic in the basement,
and they're fairly convinced
that Anna Hahn has murdered Jacob Wagner.
WILDMAN: But that's not all.
Police now suspect he wasn't her only victim.
Over a span of four years,
a total of eight elderly individuals,
including George Obendorfer in Colorado,
died shortly after they were taken under Anna's care.
On August 16, 1937,
Anna Hahn is indicted in the *** of Jacob Wagner,
and at trial, the motive behind her vicious actions
becomes painfully clear.
HOLBROOK: Anna Hahn was the beneficiary
of Jacob Wagner's will.
She did so simply for money.
WILDMAN: She garnered her elderly victim's trust,
elicited funds,
and then heartlessly poisoned the very food she served him.
The jury takes less than two hours to deliberate
and find Anna Hahn guilty of ***.
They recommend no mercy.
That means execution.
WILDMAN: On December 7, 1939,
Anna takes hold of this rosary,
now on display at the Ohio History Center,
and says a prayer.
Then, at 8:00 p.m.,
Anna Hahn is sent to the electric chair.
And today this rosary serves as a stark relic
of America's first female serial killer
to die in the electric chair,
driven there by murderous, unrelenting greed.
Along the western shore of the Mississippi River
lies the historic town of Marion, Arkansas,
whose namesake,
the Revolutionary War general Francis Marion,
is known as the father of guerrilla warfare.
The region's storied past is on display
at the Crittenden County Historical Museum.
Here, visitors will find a pristine Confederate uniform,
an antique pump organ,
and an assortment of period farm tools.
But according to historian Louis Intres,
there is one easily overlooked object here
with a disturbing tale to tell.
INTRES: It's just a simple man-made brick,
grayish in color, showing a few little burn marks on it.
But the artifact tells the story
of one of the great moments in American history
pertaining to the Civil War.
WILDMAN: What is this rock-like shard,
and what part did it play
in the worst maritime disaster in American history?
April, 1865.
As the Civil War draws to a close,
the states of the Southern Confederacy
have been reduced to ruins.
But amidst the devastation are stirrings of hope,
as thousands of Union prisoners of war
are now free to commence their long journeys home.
They knew they were going to go home.
Their spirits must have soared.
WILDMAN: But with railroads across the South
systematically destroyed by warfare,
there is no easy route north.
To solve the problem,
the federal government conscripts
dozens of Mississippi River steamboats.
INTRES: The government would pay $5 per soldier
and $10 per officer for passage on these boats going north.
Many of the boats now had an opportunity for a big payday.
WILDMAN: At the helm of a luxurious riverboat
called the SS Sultana
is 33-year-old captain J. Cass Mason.
When his boat arrives in Vicksburg, Mississippi,
Captain Mason meets with Northern officers
in the hopes of striking it rich.
INTRES: This was a one-time opportunity.
Captain Mason knew that he had quite a bit of competition
in carrying these soldiers north.
If he didn't act fast, he would lose everything.
WILDMAN: On April 24th,
Mason packs 2,000 soldiers aboard,
well beyond the Sultana's capacity of 400,
and heads up the Mississippi.
But on April 27th, at approximately 2:00 a.m.,
the quiet tranquility of the journey
is shattered by a tremendous explosion.
INTRES: A conflagration of heat and fire,
it took no time at all for the boat to burn down
to the waterline.
WILDMAN: When the sun rises on the Mississippi,
more than 1,600 passengers have perished,
including the Sultana's captain, J. Cass Mason.
With no explanation for this tragedy,
and with postwar tensions running high,
rumors begin to swirl.
Is an accident to blame,
or has the Sultana been the victim of Confederate sabotage?
It's the close of the Civil War.
Packed with newly freed Union POWs,
the steamship S.S. Sultana
is heading north up the Mississippi
when it's rocked by a thunderous explosion.
Over 1,000 lives are lost
in what is the deadliest maritime disaster
in the history of the young nation.
So who or what is behind this terrible tragedy?
In the wake of the disaster,
maritime officials search the Sultana's wreckage for clues.
Small fragments of the ship,
like this furnace brick
housed at the Crittenden County Historical Museum,
are found scattered for miles in every direction,
and they seem to offer a plausible explanation.
The principle reason for the explosion
was deemed to have been the inadequate boiler
and a lack of water within the boiling system.
[ Explosion ]
WILDMAN: This finding is lent credence
when a Vicksburg shipyard worker
claims a local inspector discovered a rupture
in the Sultana's boiler,
just prior to her taking on passengers.
INTRES: Both men said that the boat was not seaworthy,
but within a matter of a few hours
they changed their minds
and signed off on allowing the boat to leave,
provided a small patch was placed over the ruptured area.
WILDMAN: Investigators claim
that rather than risk his payday
by waiting for a replacement boiler,
Mason ordered the hasty repairs to be made.
The commission concludes
that the shoddy workmanship was to blame.
This was the accepted truth until a few years later.
An article in a newspaper brought up the idea
that there might have been some Southern sabotage.
WILDMAN: According to the account,
a confederate spy named Robert Louden
brought down the Sultana.
Louden claimed that he snuck on board the Sultana
while it was docked in Memphis, Tennessee.
With him, he carried a bomb
designed to resemble a large lump of coal.
Louden allegedly placed the device
in the Sultana's coal storage bin,
where later that night,
an unsuspecting fireman
shoveled it into the Sultana's furnace.
[ Explosion ]
But is there any truth to Louden's extraordinary tale?
INTRES: There's been a lot of people who've looked at this story.
The testimony of the survivors
and the actual physics of the explosion
don't meet with the story surrounding sabotage.
WILDMAN: But to this day,
many are still convinced
that the explosion was an act of revenge,
perpetrated by the vanquished Confederacy.
Today, this rough fragment
at the Crittenden County Historical Museum
is a solemn memento of an epic tragedy
that rocked America during its most painful conflict.
Elizabethtown, Kentucky.
This quiet hamlet was established on July 4, 1797,
and was once home to Thomas Lincoln,
father of our 16th U.S. president.
And in the heart of this historic town
is an institution that showcases the region's pioneering spirit,
the Hardin County History Museum.
On display is the cabin door from Abe Lincoln's boyhood home,
a replica of an early 1930s general store,
and letterpress plates used to print the Elizabethtown news.
But among these quaint artifacts
are five stones that are linked to a land of unforeseen riches.
ELLIOTT: They are tiny little --
what look like bits of glass,
but when the light hits them just right
they glimmer and they flash green and red and blue.
WILDMAN: As author and historian Ron Elliott asserts,
these gems hypnotized
some of the most powerful men of their day.
ELLIOTT: These stones are the stuff that dreams are made of.
WILDMAN: What role did these gemstones play
in a glittering tale of discovery, power, and greed?
San Francisco 1870.
Nearly two decades after the California Gold Rush,
the region is still rife with speculators
trying to strike it rich,
and on December 1st,
a mining and drilling veteran named Philip Arnold
arrives at the office of a former associate and investor,
George Roberts, with a favor to ask.
ELLIOTT: He had concealed beneath his coat
a small buckskin pouch which he told Mr. Roberts
he would like to store in his safe.
WILDMAN: Naturally curious,
Roberts presses him to find out what's inside,
and what he discovers is a bag full of raw, uncut gems.
He saw not only diamonds,
but rubies and emeralds and sapphires.
WILDMAN: Then Arnold reveals the surprising story
of where he found them.
ELLIOTT: He told him,
"I found them in the Northwest corner of Colorado."
WILDMAN: And Arnold explains
there are more where these came from.
These diamonds just laying on top of the ground,
waiting to be picked up.
WILDMAN: The pair agrees to a partnership
in a mining operation,
but Roberts doesn't want to subject himself
to unnecessary risk.
So he calls on
one of the most knowledgeable jewelers in the country,
Charles Lewis Tiffany, the founder of Tiffany & Co.
After examining the stones,
Tiffany estimates the gems' value
at a staggering $1.5 million.
A giddy Roberts immediately reaches out
to wealthy investors for financing.
This was as intoxicating as it could possibly be.
The investors were dreaming of the riches that was to be had.
WILDMAN: Now the eager financiers
want to see the bounty with their own eyes.
So Arnold guides them on a grueling four-day trek
through the mountains of Northwestern Colorado,
until they finally reach a plateau.
ELLIOTT: Philip Arnold pointed out
where he had found those diamonds.
WILDMAN: The wealthy speculators immediately begin searching,
and within minutes excited shouts rise up.
They soon unearth from the dirt
handful upon handful of diamonds and other precious rocks,
several of which are now on display
at the Hardin County History Museum.
ELLIOTT: By dark, they had gathered
approximately 500 carats of gemstones.
WILDMAN: The men are convinced
that their new operation can extract up to $1 million
in precious minerals every month.
But just before the real work begins,
Arnold announces that he wants a quieter life
and moves back to his home state of Kentucky.
He sells his stake in the company for $350,000,
pulling out of a venture
that could have made him a millionaire.
The investors were happy to get rid of him.
Now that he was out of the way,
they could take 100% of the profits.
WILDMAN: But soon, some begin to argue
that this discovery is nothing more than a flash in the pan.
So is there more to this land of countless riches
than meets the eye?
It's 1870.
A miner named Philip Arnold
claims to have discovered a huge field
strewn with diamonds in the mountains of Colorado.
But after selling his stake to eager investors,
many begin to doubt
if his glittering tale is too good to be true.
So, has Arnold really discovered the El Dorado of diamonds?
In November of 1872,
the head of the U.S. Geological Survey, Clarence King,
approaches the mining company with despairing news.
He believes their gem field is a sham.
ELLIOTT: Clarence King was enough of a geologist
to know that diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires
would not possibly occur in the same location.
WILDMAN: And after analyzing bedrock and soil samples,
he concludes the field was deliberately littered with gems,
a practice known as salting.
The fraud is publicly exposed,
and devastated investors
lose hundreds of thousands of dollars.
ELLIOTT: The San Francisco Chronicle said
that this was the most gigantic and barefaced swindle
of our age.
WILDMAN: Soon, suspicion falls
on the man who discovered the field, Philip Arnold.
But how could he have so masterfully manipulated
these titans of industry?
The answer seems to emerge
when Arnold's former manager at a drilling company
comes forward with surprising information.
He recounts that Arnold was intrigued
by the similarity between industrial diamonds,
used in drill bits, and pre-cut, jewelry-quality gems.
ELLIOTT: He and his boss were discussing the fact
that most of the people in America
were so ignorant of diamonds
that they wouldn't have any trouble
passing off these industrial and low-grade diamonds
as gem-quality stones.
WILDMAN: It is soon discovered
that Arnold acquired industrial diamonds
and other uncut gemstones from a London jeweler for $37,000,
significantly less than the appraisal of Charles Tiffany.
But how did the noted jeweler get it so wrong?
Although he was an expert in cut diamonds,
Tiffany had little experience
assessing the rough, unfinished variety.
Despite the evidence against him,
Arnold is never charged with a crime.
It seems his victims
simply want this humiliating story to go away.
For his part, Arnold strenuously maintains his innocence
until he passes away in 1879.
And today, these diamonds,
on display at the Hardin County History Museum,
remind visitors of the epic hoax
that fleeced some of the world's shrewdest investors.
Staten Island, New York.
A third of the residents in this New York City borough
claim Italian heritage,
more than any other county in the U.S.
And it's this culture that's on display
at the Garibaldi-Meucci Museum,
an institution that celebrates the Italian general
Giuseppe Garibaldi and inventor Antonio Meucci.
Tucked away among army regalia from the Italian Revolution
and aging 19th-century photographs
sits two seemingly plain objects
that are more than just ordinary pieces of wood.
LEONINI: They are light tan in color,
and they are about five inches along
and an inch and a half in diameter.
They come in a pair.
WILDMAN: According to historian Louis Leonini,
these devices gave rise to an invention
whose impact resonated around the globe.
LEONINI: These instruments represent
one of the most important developments
of the 20th century.
WILDMAN: So what are these objects,
and how are they linked to one of the most ubiquitous items
in modern life?
It's 1849 in Havana, Cuba.
Italian émigré Antonio Meucci and his wife, Ester,
work in the city's premier opera house.
But in his free time,
Meucci follows his true passion, science.
And like much of the world,
Meucci is transfixed by the seemingly limitless power
of electricity.
LEONINI: One of the things
that fascinated Antonio Meucci was electrotherapy,
how electric power can help
even in a therapy for certain maladies.
WILDMAN: So when a patient comes into Meucci's lab
complaining of a toothache,
he sets up a rudimentary device he hopes will ease the pain.
LEONINI: He takes a wire to send an electric shock to the tooth.
WILDMAN: Meucci feeds the wire
to an electromagnet two rooms away
and delivers a powerful 114-volt shock.
Rather than sooth the ache, the patient cries out in pain.
But Meucci is struck by something different.
He can hear the patient's cries clearly
as if they're sitting in the same room.
[ Screaming ]
LEONINI: All of a sudden he realized
that sound traveled over that wire.
WILDMAN: Riveted by the discovery,
Meucci is convinced that if he can refine his contraption,
it will allow people to converse across vast distances.
A year later,
Meucci and Ester move to the U.S.,
where he hopes to improve and patent
his groundbreaking device,
which he calls the speaking telegraph.
LEONINI: The Meuccis settle on Staten Island
in New York City.
WILDMAN: For years,
Meucci sinks all of his resources
into perfecting the contraption
and employs a magnetized coil to amplify the signal.
To focus the sound,
he crafts a mouthpiece and rudimentary speakers,
like these on display at the Garibaldi-Meucci Museum.
Then, in 1860,
he unveils his invention to a group of American businessmen,
but things do not go smoothly.
LEONINI: Meucci had a problem. He spoke only Italian.
So everything had to go through a translator,
and that takes away some of the nuances.
WILDMAN: Without commercial backing,
he can't afford to patent his invention,
and it languishes in obscurity for ten years.
In a last-ditch effort to validate his creation,
Meucci takes his prototypes and blueprints
to a prominent Manhattan telegraph lab for testing.
The endeavor seems promising.
The man in charge of the lab was intrigued,
and he said, "All right, leave everything here.
"We want to continue looking at this,
and we'll get back to you."
WILDMAN: But for the next two years,
the lab refuses to allow Meucci to conduct the tests.
Frustrated and nearly penniless,
he finally asks for the immediate return
of his notes and original devices.
He goes back to the lab.
Well, at that point they come out and they say they're lost.
WILDMAN: With the fruits of his labor having vanished,
what will become of Meucci and his groundbreaking invention?
1877 --
Antonio Meucci is perfecting an invention
that he's convinced will transform the world.
He calls it the speaking telegraph.
But the aging inventor can't afford to patent the device,
and his prototypes mysteriously go missing
from a New York City lab.
Despite these hardships,
Meucci's biggest setback is about to come on the line.
Later that year, Meucci receives stunning news.
A young inventor has just filed a patent on a device
that transmits sound over telegraph wires.
His name is Alexander Graham Bell,
and he calls his invention the telephone.
Meucci was in a state of stunned shock.
He was shocked.
WILDMAN: Outraged by the similarities
of Bell's device to his own,
Meucci does some digging,
and what he discovers is stunning.
LEONINI: Alexander Graham Bell had actually worked
at the very lab that had lost Antonio Meucci's instruments.
WILDMAN: Convinced the young inventor has stolen his work,
Meucci sues Bell.
But with no patent or prototypes,
Meucci has little evidence to support his claim,
and the judge rules in favor of Bell.
The case is appealed to the Supreme Court,
but before it reaches trial,
Meucci passes away at the age of 81.
With no estate to sustain the legal battle,
the case dies with him.
But in 2002,
113 years after his death,
the U.S. House of Representatives
passes a special resolution
aimed at addressing the inventor's work.
LEONINI: It said, The life and achievements of Antonio Meucci
"should be recognized,
"and his work in the invention of the telephone
should be acknowledged."
WILDMAN: And here, at the Garibaldi-Meucci Museum
in Staten Island,
Antonio Meucci's early telephone models
pay tribute to the lasting impact of a brilliant inventor.
From duplicitous diamonds to an oceanic survivor,
an outlaw marshal to an overlooked inventor...
I'm Don Wildman,
and these are the "Mysteries at the Museum."