The Strange 'Hamlet' Scandal that Wasn't
When a malicious rumor about a local politician’s past as a failed actor spread across the territory, the press had to step in to set the record straight.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
An absurd and silly story, originating with the Detroit Post, has been going the rounds of the press, to the effect that C. S. Voorhees, Delegate-elect from this Territory, was formerly an actor, had undertaken to play Hamlet and failed, had joined John McCullough's company and played minor parts, making a dismal failure of that also, and finally, quitting the stage, had gone to Detroit, where after leading a generally useless life for a few months, he had married a pretty young lady of that city. All the items that go to make up this choice romance are given with such charming particularity as to names, dates, etc., that it is almost a pity to spoil it. But in justice to Mr. Voorhees, who is made the victim of this miserable fabrication, and to whom by reason of its character, the tale is especially cruel, we wish to emphatically say to the press and to the public that there is not a scrap of truth in the entire story; that C. S. Voorhees was never married, never was in Detroit in his life—nor has he ever at any time made any effort to play Hamlet. Mr. Voorhees is a lawyer by profession, and, with the exception of about four years, while, during Clark Adams' term, he was Assistant Chief Clerk of the House of Representatives, at Washington, has always followed his profession, in which he has gained marked distinction for one of his years. The people of Washington Territory have made no mistake in their selection of a Delegate. They have chosen a gentleman who, by education, experience and temperament is well fitted to discharge the duties of the office.
“All the items that go to make up this choice romance are given with such charming particularity as to names, dates, etc., that it is almost a pity to spoil it.”
Long before viral social media misinformation, historical politicians faced 'absurd and silly' fabrication campaigns that spread through the print press. Much like today, these tall tales were often designed to mock a target's professional legitimacy, forcing the subject to rely on reputable outlets to reclaim their public image.
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