We were not aware until recently that a contemporary issue of the “New York Times” told the story quite well. Page 2 of the August 5, 1863 issue has over a column headed: “The Fall of Vicksburgh” “Last Words of the Vicksburgh Citizen” “A Curious Relic of the Siege”.

The report begins: “When Grant took possession of Vicksburgh, a detachment of the Fifteenth Illinois cavalry visited the office of the ‘Daily Citizen”. They found the number intended for July 2 in type, and the paper all ready for printing, but circumstances had prevented its issue…the paper was very poor wall-paper. The matter was wholly editorial, with the exception of a column and a half of: “Yankee News from all Points” copied from the Memphis Bulletin, a paper which the Citizen says is ‘edited by a pink-nosed, slab-sided, toad-eating Yankee, who is a lineal descendant of Judas Iscariot…” with much more.

Further on, it explains how the last paragraph of the Vicksburg issue came to be: “The Illinois men who visited the office of the ‘Citizen’ thought that this admirable number ought not to be withheld from the subscribers. They set to work at once to print it off, but as it was now the Fourth of July and some changes had taken place since the original editor made up his sheets for the 2d, they brought up the news to date in the following postscript…” , which is the famous paragraph at the bottom of the page that begins: “Two days bring about great changes…”.

The Times article notes in conclusion: “…The copy from which we print the foregoing extracts was furnished to us by Col. Jas. Grant Wilson, of the Fifteenth Illinois cavalry, according to whose request, we have presented to the New York Historical Society.”

Although there are many issues in the realm of rare newspapers that are curious, unusual, or perhaps exceedingly historic in a very unusual way, rarely are collectors treated to a contemporary account of how they came to be. This is one.

Nearly 150 years later, the United States still contends with systemic corruption that echoes those same structural weaknesses. Transparency International’s 2025 Corruption Perceptions Index gave the country a score of 64 out of 100—its lowest mark on record—ranking it 29th globally and marking a continued slide amid partisan polarization and regulatory capture.

The parallel between Nast’s era and our own is therefore not merely stylistic but substantive. Both periods feature explosive economic growth, technological upheaval, and extreme inequality that lubricate the machinery of graft; historians routinely describe the present as a “second Gilded Age” precisely because corporate-political fusion and fee-based governance have reemerged in updated forms.  Yet important differences exist: today’s watchdogs, independent prosecutors, and digital transparency tools act as faster-acting surrogates for Nast’s allegorical Justice, rapidly exposing and clawing back billions that once vanished into obscurity. The enduring lesson of the cartoon therefore persists undiminished: corruption’s tub still has no bottom to stand on. When accountability is applied—whether by cartoonist’s pen or federal indictment—the contents inevitably spill, reminding every generation that vigilance and impartial justice remain the only forces capable of dismantling rings that otherwise appear impregnable.

Many visitors to the History’s Newsstand Blog are familiar with the Damascus Affair of 1840 — one of the most consequential antisemitic episodes of the 19th century. Far fewer, however, know the name at the center of the storm: Father Thomas. It is his disappearance that lit the fuse, and it is his name that echoed through the newspapers of the day — including the remarkable report shown below, from our original issue of The Times (London), dated May 8, 1840.

Father Thomas: The Disappearance That Shook the World

Father Thomas of Tuscany (c. 1768–1840) was a Franciscan friar and physician serving in Damascus, Syria, then under the control of Egyptian ruler Mehemet Ali. On February 5, 1840, Father Thomas and his servant Ibrahim Amara vanished without a trace. What followed was not merely a criminal investigation — it was a catastrophe for the Jewish community of Damascus and, ultimately, for Jewish communities across the globe.

French Consul Ulysse de Ratti-Menton seized upon the disappearance to level charges against prominent local Jews, alleging that Father Thomas had been murdered as part of a ritualistic killing — the ancient and thoroughly debunked “Blood Libel” accusation, which falsely claimed that Jews used the blood of Christians in religious rites. Under torture, confessions were extracted. Several Jewish men died in captivity. Others faced execution. The affair sent shockwaves from Damascus to London, Paris, and beyond.

What makes the Damascus Affair historically significant — beyond its immediate horror — is the response it provoked. Jewish leaders in Europe, including Sir Moses Montefiore of England and Adolphe Crémieux of France, organized an international campaign on behalf of the accused, traveling to Egypt to appeal directly to Mehemet Ali. Their efforts represent one of the earliest instances of organized, international Jewish advocacy — a precursor, in many ways, to the modern human rights movement.

The report shown in full below offers a remarkable window into how the affair was unfolding in real time. Sourced from private letters arriving via Malta, the account describes how the Jews of Alexandria petitioned Mehemet Ali on April 9th, asking that those accused of Father Thomas’s murder be judged by the Viceroy himself. Seven leading men were received at the Palace, where Mehemet Ali acknowledged he had never encountered such a charge against the Jewish nation in all his years of rule. Crucially, he forbade the use of torture against the prisoners — a directive sent by dromedary to Commander-General Scheriff Pasha in Damascus. The report concludes with a notable observation: “This spirit of liberality and justice on the part of Mehemet Ali is a striking symptom of the progress of civilization in the East.”

As for Father Thomas himself — his fate was never definitively established. The accusations against the Damascus Jews were never formally dropped, though the imprisoned survivors were eventually released following the international intervention of Montefiore and Crémieux later that summer.
History has long since judged the Damascus Affair as a grotesque miscarriage of justice, fueled by antisemitism and political opportunism. The Blood Libel charge had no basis in fact — then or ever. Yet it is the name of Father Thomas that remains permanently linked to one of the 19th century’s darkest chapters: not because he caused it, but because his disappearance became the pretext for it.

This original Times of London report offers readers of today an unmediated glimpse into the unfolding events of 1840 — and is precisely what makes collecting historic newspapers so endlessly rewarding. The news, as they say, never gets old.

The imagery is deliberate and richly layered. Laurel and oak branches evoke endurance and strength, while flowing banners proclaim ideals such as “Truth,” “Perseverance,” and “Justice.” A cluster of books—bearing names like Paine, Voltaire, and Jefferson—anchors the paper firmly in Enlightenment tradition. And perhaps most striking is the phrase arcing confidently across the design: “Hear All Sides — Then Decide.” In an era often caricatured as rigid or dogmatic, here is a publication quite literally engraving open-minded debate into its identity. The Investigator was not merely tolerating dissent—it was institutionalizing it.

That makes the masthead feel remarkably modern—and, in some ways, quietly defiant even now. Its rebellious spirit from the 19th century champions a principle that can feel increasingly fragile today: the willingness to entertain opposing views before forming conclusions. Where much of the present climate tends to narrow discourse and reward certainty over curiosity, this 19th-century newspaper boldly carved intellectual openness into its very banner. So, what’s in a masthead? In this case, everything: a philosophy of inquiry, a commitment to dialogue, and a timeless challenge to think freely.

PS  The Boston Investigator is considered to be the first American newspaper dedicated to the cause of freethought.

If you own an authentic newspaper with a “special” masthead and you would  like to share it with the collectible community, please send a clear photo of the masthead and the description you would like included to me at pqwryte@rarenewspapers.com.

• Colonies in Flux – The Influence of Common Sense (Lead-up to a Nation – E31)

• General William Howe – The Pennsylvania Ledger (Lead-up to a Nation – E32)

• The Siege of Boston – Debate at the House of Commons (Lead-up to a Nation – E33)

• Diverse Voices – Divisions of the Era (Lead-up to a Nation – E34)

We hope you are enjoying this year-long trek to the 250th anniversary of The United States through the eyes of those who were fully engaged, first hand. As mentioned previously, all accounts are rooted in what they read in the newspapers of the day.

“History is never more fascinating than when read from the day it was first reported.” (Timothy Hughes, 1975)

If you’re a boxing enthusiast, you may know the turn-of-the-century “Galveston Giant,” John (Jack) Johnson. Yet far fewer people know the depth of his struggle against bigotry, open hatred, and injustice.

Born in Galveston, Texas in 1878 to formerly enslaved parents, Johnson rose from the rough world of late-19th-century prizefighting to become the first Black heavyweight champion of the world in 1908. In the ring he was brilliant—defensively skilled, confident, and often playful as he dismantled opponents. Outside it, he lived defiantly in an era that demanded Black men show deference. His wealth, fame, and refusal to conform—especially his relationships with white women—made him a lightning rod for racial hostility across America. Authorities eventually targeted him using the Mann Act, widely viewed by historians as a politically motivated prosecution.

His story came back to my attention recently when a collecting friend asked if we had a Los Angeles Times dated July 8, 1990. To be honest, while he often seeks newspapers with Black-American content, I would never have guessed Jack Johnson was at the heart of his quest.

If you are concerned about racism—and are not afraid to confront the warts of the past—spending a little time researching Johnson’s life can be sobering. At the same time, it can also serve as a reminder of how far our society has progressed in confronting bigotry.

Below is a photo of the introduction to the article our friend was seeking. While the lengthy piece may still be available in its original context through the link above, at least for now the Los Angeles Times provides open access to the article’s text at: “80 Years Ago, the Truth Hurt.”