It’s true.
One of my blood relations, my seventh great grandfather, Dominicus Jordan, was slaughtered in 1703 by blows to the head with a hatchet.
This month, in the King’s Town Players production of Blood Relations, I am playing the role of Andrew Borden who, in real life, suffered the same fate.
Andrew Jackson Borden, Lizzie’s father.
Andrew is the more famous of the two, having been found dead, along with his wife Abby, in their Fall River, Massachusetts home on the morning of August 4, 1892. The only people who had been in the house that morning were the maid who was out washing windows and the Borden’s daughter Lizzie. Lizzie’s was charged with the murder and her trial drew the same kind of widespread attention that O.J. Simpson got in 1995 and the out come of “Not Guilty” was received with the same skepticism. Lizzie Borden has become a bit of a legend since that time with the assumption being that she was the one who viciously murdered her parents despite the fact that there was and is no concrete evidence to prove her guilt. 
She got off on the “reasonable doubt” claim and to this day that verdict would have to hold. As a gruesome piece of evidence, the coroner had decapitated both Abby and Andrew and their skulls were submitted as evidence at the trial.
I remember skipping to the rhyme “Lizzie Borden took an axe. Gave her mother 40 whacks. When she saw what she had done, she gave her father 41” when I was a youngster. Her notoriety is of epic proportion.
Photos of Dominicus Jordan’s musket – Maine Historical Society
My seventh great grandfather’s death is well documented too. Dominicus Jordan was born in Spurwink, Cape Elizabeth, Maine in about 1655. In 1675 his family had to leave the district because at the beginning of “King Phillip’s War” their family home was destroyed by the Indians. Dominicus became known during that time as the “Indian-killer” and he fiercely defended his family and property. He was known for carrying a six-foot long rifle slung over his back wherever he went.
That rifle, with some of the barrel later sawn off, is now in the Maine Historical Society Museum in Portland. Gradually peace returned and Dominicus and his wife, Hanna Tristram, returned to Spurwink. Dominicus’ reputation with his native adversaries, however, remained with him. On August 10, 1703, under the guise of wanting to buy some goods, a small band of Indians fell on Dominicus, one of them striking his head with a hatchet and killing him. With Domincus murdered, his wife and six children were all “led through the wilderness to Canada” and kept as prisoners in what is now Quebec. After several years all but one made their way back to Maine.
There are no skipping rhymes about Dominicus but lots of legend. And I do actually carry some of his DNA. I know from DNA testing on Ancestry that my brother, my kids and I all share some segments of DNA with other Dominicus Jordan progeny. I am wondering if my DNA will help me to live the role of the unfortunate Andrew Borden.
So…did Lizzie do it? Come out to Blood Relations to see what. you think. The show will be at the Domino Theatre and runs Wednesday to Saturday for two weeks – March 21-24 and 28-31. Tickets will be available online and at the door. I hope my friends will be supportive of this production. And my enemies? Well they might be excited to see me get hacked.
Rehearsing for Blood Relations.
Last night I went to see Rhinoceros at the Bader Centre for the Arts. I knew several friends who were in it but had no idea what it was about. I was a bit disoriented at first, not sure where it all was heading or why. Tied together by the notion that there were a few rhinoceroses seen about town and they presented both curiosity and perhaps even threat, the rest of the night was a series of vignettes – monologues and poems and dance and music – that were largely written and performed by local people.
As the actors called out that they had spotted a rhinoceros on the street, I was reminded of a trip to Uganda in 2013 with my friend, Dave Kay. We went to a rhino sanctuary where we were out with a guide looking for a few of the (huge) rhinos that lived in the forest there. We came across a few. Dave was more brave than I was to get a look at them. I hung back with my camera – if the rhino charged it would get Dave first. And our instructions were, if the animal charged to climb a tree. Can you imagine me scrambling up an acacia with a rhino snorting down on me? The guide said that when they charged it was usually a false charge and they would stop short. Usually was the operative word in that sentence for me. We survived.
And to fit the diversity theme, this happens to be Pride weekend in Kingston. Today there was a parade down Princess Street with lots of colour and gaiety in the old sense of the word.
johnageddes 