My Favorite Places… The Houdini Of St. George
The late Bart Anderson was a storyteller and his favorite stories were of the history of Dixie. In his honor we will be printing past articles of his that tell the stories of his adopted home.
It was on Thursday, December 30, 1915, more than 7,000 people had gathered in Denver to witness the “Great Houdini.” Two policemen meet Harry Houdini on special platform, high above the crowd that had been erected for the occasion. Officers then cuffed the hands while Houdini was strapped into a straitjacket. Harry asked the two detectives to let him down in fifteen minutes if he not freed himself.
When the jacket was cinched as tight as the lawmen could pull it, a huge crane’s line was lowered from the top of the building. Houdini’s feet were coupled to its hook end. With a jerk, the stuntman went flying some thirty feet into the air, swinging above the pavement.
Being a showman, nothing happened. The upside man didn’t move. Was it an act? Had he meet his challenge? Then, as the audience gasped, high above, he began to gyrate. The hung man commenced to thrash and twist. Like a banana skin, the straitjacket rolled off. It fluttered to the ground as the crowd cheered. Houdini had made another escape.
What has Houdini to do with the folklore of Southern Utah? Well, uniquely, we had our own comical escape artist. His name was Burnmeister. He was one of the many transplants, being a Swede, that was living in Silver Reef during its wild years. He had a drinking problem. It was during one of these drinking and fighting periods, that Burnmeister was arrested and taken to St. George. Sheriff Hardy had him placed in jail, which was in the basement of the old courthouse. To start with he was placed in the middle basement cell which was locked tight. But within hours he was seen walking the streets of St. George.
Sheriff Gus then captured the Swede. This time he was placed in the “dark cell,” which was maximum security. Again, as at first, within a short time, Burnmeister was out again. Now, this time, Gus Hardy was mad and with his son, Ernest, got a large iron cage which was placed in the middle of the courthouse basement. The Swede was again captured and then shackled, both hands and feet to the cage. All doors to the building were locked. The sheriff damned Brunmeister as the prisoner said, “I’ll be over for breakfast.”
Next morning at 7:00 am there was a knock on the sheriff’s door, and there stood the prisoner. He was given breakfast and then turned lose. I guess Hardy learned that this was one man he could not lock up.
Freedom departs when we are no longer worthy of possessing it.
