Author Archives: Garry Rodgers

About Garry Rodgers

After three decades as a Royal Canadian Mounted Police homicide detective and British Columbia coroner, International Best Selling author and blogger Garry Rodgers has an expertise in death and the craft of writing on it. Now retired, he wants to provoke your thoughts about death and help authors give life to their words.

THE OLD STONE BUTTER CHURCH

*Note* I originally wrote this piece for the 2018 CBC Short Story Contest.

It called to me—the Old Stone Butter Church. It’ll call to you, too… if you’re ready.

The Old Stone Butter Church called from a rise, where it stands on Comiaken Hill keeping forlorn watch over Canada’s Cowichan River estuary and traditional lands of the Khowutzun First Nations People on British Columbia’s southern Vancouver Island. It’s stood fifteen decades—the Old Stone Butter Church—and it’s built to withstand fifteen more.

They handcrafted the Old Stone Butter Church with local basalt and sandstone—they being Khowutzun workers and Christian settlers paid with churned butter from the priest’s dairy herd. A half-pound of butter for a day’s laying stone. Fair trade, you could say, for those confirmed in Catholic faith and those cautiously caring their indigenous values.

It called to me on a November day when Quamichan winds blew plate-sized, golden maple leaves from soaking-wet branches, and browned evergreen needles fell from hulking firs mixed with over-protective cedars. I parked at the hill’s base along Tzouhalem Road. Step by slippery step over leaf-covered moss, I ascended the flagstone pathway, unsurely gripping the iron pipe handrail and passing a gauntlet of tree-bark faces independently judging my passage.

The Old Stone Butter Church loomed above, silhouetting what’s left of its classic cruciform architecture—masonry walls with embedded buttresses and a high-pitch, split-shake roof matching the backdrop of a gray fall sky. Its tired facade of vacant gothic window frames and a long-gone wooden front door gave a sad look compared to what was a once-thriving, nineteenth-century pretense happily beckoning parishioners within.

Outside, overgrowth of green salal and red salmonberry elbowed the church’s rock structure, inviting that sacred place back within the fold of nature’s harmony. Beyond the church, in a grassy field, a lone concrete cross marked the resting space of an elder in eternity, amid a grazing flock of wet, woolly sheep. And overhead, a ruling osprey screeched, outshouting the mass of raven and crow disciples perched below.

I stopped at the open doorway. It still called—the Old Stone Butter Church. Now louder… and longer… with its clear and definite message.

Shifting foot to foot, I surveyed the open vestibule and peered through cold, lonely dampness beyond the rotting jack arch that once welcomed worshipers to the warmth within. What is it? A move forth. What does the church want of me? With short and calculated steps, I crossed the narthex threshold and passed between the light and the dark.

I shivered, yet sweated. My sixty-year-old eyes adjusted to the dim, and they scanned the nave where bench rows once sat a gathered assembly under the pious approval of a scissor-vault ceiling. The floor—it was solid—like some form of mixed concrete pressed from the earth and emitting a gaseous odor not like old eggs but more as old soul.

Daylight shafted through openings that stained glass once filled and an oak door once barred. In ethereal twilight, I saw how a generation of vandals desecrated the old church making mockery of its teachings through graffiti sprayed in yellow and blue and red and black-upon-white with two offensive letters acting as parentheses enclosing the hallowed entrance—one a block-lettered “S” topped with a circular halo, the other a “B” crowned by devil horns.

I turned, facing the crossing leading to the apse and the altar. More graffiti defaced this sanctuary and some brute force had ripped rocks from the transcept, callously throwing them about with no regard for the past and what this sacristy symbolized.

I hear it shut—the vestibule door. It wasn’t a shove. Certainly not a slam. It was a solid and securing sound coinciding with a reassuring temperature change where the chill subsided as the light manifested from dismal dim to calming clarity. I looked back, and I watched as the circular window space above the now-present, paneled oak door turned from a clearing sky to a marvelous consecrational cross consumed with an enlightened rose-colored glow.

To my right and to my left, the gothic arches morphed into leaded stained glass windows of sun-filtered images showing Christian stories from Testaments new and old. Around me, the pews transformed, becoming clear-grained fir boards waxed to a shine with their backs holding leather-bound books filled with good words. Below, the gritty floor transpired into turquoise and lavender and emerald mosaics telling their version of millennia’s history.

And ahead, a crucifix appeared beyond the crossing, before the chancel, mounted on the east wall above the now-formed, maple-wood pulpit draped in a ruby cloth with virginal white braids. Radiant light illuminated the old rugged cross from the cedar-paneled barrel vault—the full-sized cross supporting an exquisite supernatural figure cruelly spiked through the wrists and ankles—His face a balanced chastity of agony and ecstasy, perfectly representing the sins of the incarnate here on earth and the resurrected world of salvation far beyond our prison of mortal comprehension.

Friend, it’s good to see you. It’s nice to know you care.”

The voice was around me. Not over, not under, not behind, nor ahead. It was everywhere within and without me. It was not male. It was not female. The best I can describe—a neutral voice with the feminine intelligence and majestic confidence of Meryl Streep and the beautiful baritone authority of Morgan Freeman. It was the voice of the Old Stone Butter Church.

 

“You… you called…” Humbly, I responded. I wasn’t scared nor alarmed. Not surprised or astounded. It felt natural to accept and submit, realizing some profound life change was occurring—I was entering an epiphany—and I was duty-bound to listen. “Why? Why have you called?”

Because you are ready.” The voice was matter-of-fact. Straight-to-the-point. Kind of like Spock.

“Ready for… what? I… I don’t understand.” Perplexity stifled my speech.

When the student is ready, the teacher shall appear.” The church’s voice confidently quoted a proverb. “You are ready to accomplish a task for me. I’ve called to instruct you.”

It was instinct to find the mouth—to look at the lips—that uttered my calling. I looked aside, viewing a black cast iron stove now convecting heat waves with the sensual smell of burning coal. Candle flickers accented gas lamps, allowing an ideal taste of comfort with glory. Only a parish remained to assemble, and this virtual reality of a bygone era would be consciously complete.

“How can… What can… I possibly do?”

I need your help spreading a message.” The church was clear and concise, but firm. “To connect with people like yourself who are ready to receive the message. Several messages, actually, wrapped into one.”

“I… I… I’ll do what I can.”

An apprehensive urge overwhelmed me. I’m not Catholic, not baptized or raised in the faith. And I’m not a practicing Christian, but I had an instant respect for this church’s voice. There was something here I’d missed in my life. Now, coming into a period of retirement and retrospection, it was time. Time to listen. Unconsciously, I knelt at the crossing—genuflecting, I’m told they call it—and I opened my mind.

I’ll outline my message…” The church paused, as if reflecting upon itself. “First, a bit of my background… how I came to present the physical state you walked to… how I lost tangible dignity but retained the inner strength and self-respect you see now.”

I stood, turning about and taking in a marvelous blend of tradition, order and décor. How something, someone, of such splendor could be so maliciously neglected seemed incomprehensible. And, how a bastion of civilization like a carefully crafted church could miraculously survive, despite infernal attempts to destroy it. Clearly, there was an answer in the message I was about to pass on.

I had ten years of good run.” The church mused. “My builders were mixed. Local native people and immigrant Europeans. It’s much like how the country, the continent, was civilized… if you choose to use that term. But, like all organizations, there has to be mutual respect for every culture, faith, and belief involved. That’s a grounded principle in every society, regardless if Christian based, traditional native, or any type of religion based on history, doctrine and decent human principles. That didn’t happen with me, now called the Old Stone Butter Church.”

I detected emotion. The voice reminisced as if struggling to resolve the past and conform to, yet help shape the present and future. I listened.

My decline began with a culture clash. Mistrust and suspicion. As you saw, my crafters had considerable skills and built my structure soundly with what they had. Rock. Wood. Mortar. They appointed me with handsome glass and hand-wrought iron. They built me as they saw fit, according to one-sided specifications. That was the Christian spectral view. Not the vision of spirituality from the Khowutzun people who have their own teachings to be respected.”

“What happened?” I was enthralled. “How did you fall into such shamble?”

After ten years, the division between Caucasian settlers and indigenous landowners became unbearably stressed. Intolerance, by some in my Christian congregation, of native beliefs and values… not all by any means… forced my aboriginal followers to evict the parish from their lands. Oh, there were falsehoods spread of me being haunted and possessed by dark forces, but the reason… the truth… remains as often is… cultures are ignorantly disrespectful of each other despite a clear interconnectedness, and universal value, of all humanity.”

“And?”

They stripped me of possessions… leaving me to stand bare… a witness to the world of religious strife and the resilience to represent truth for those wishing to find it. They… the Christian parishioners… took my stained glass windows, my oak doors, my pews, my altar, and my beloved crucifix away to a new location on non-native land and erected a new church to represent their clique. I remained empty… the Old Stone Butter Church… a vulnerable victim to vandals.

“This is a shameful story.” I felt a throat lump, a sense of pity, yet profound curiosity. What do you want me to do?

But, they didn’t take my spirit…

“…no…”

“… and you’re wondering what I want you to do. I need to confide before revealing my message. There is nothing holy about me. I’m just a human-built old rubble block, but I’m symbolic of a timeless truth. You don’t need me as a physical building to worship in or pray to. You can do that anywhere, and that’s what today’s masses are discovering… what they’re seeking. But most haven’t received the message, yet they’re ready. Many describe themselves as ‘Nones’. That being they don’t subscribe to any set religion.”

“Yes.”

These are the ones I want to reach. It’s not that they’re atheist or agnostic, and they’re not so indoctrinated in religious dogma that they can’t be reached. No. Most Nones are too busy with life’s concerns to stop and reflect on what’s really important… what the core truth is in mortal existence and how I… an old relic… can help them ground.”

“I follow your past. And think I understand where you’re going.” I stayed fast, waiting for revelation. “But why call on me?”

Because you are one of the most powerful people in society. Your kind has always been the most influential. The most persuasive force.”

“What? How am I powerful? I’m not an emperor, a politician… business tycoon. And I’m by no means an entertainment or religious icon.”

Remind me of what you do for a living.”

“I’m… I’m a writer. I write books. Articles. Web pages. Do op-eds for the HuffPost. Like, whatever pays the bills.”

Precisely. You’re a scribe. Scribes have always been the most powerful force in humanity. Emperors? Politicians? Tycoons? And religious icons and pop-entertainers? They come and they go and they’re at the mercy of scribes. They beg scribes for exposure… favorable, if they can get it. Otherwise, they fall at the scribes’ peril. Not at a foe’s sword but at a scribe’s quill.”

“You want me to write for you?” I wasn’t sure. “I am… honored… privileged… what is your message… how do you want my approach?”

Getting my word out has never been easier. But The church calculated. “Telling it properly is the challenge. Today, you, the scribe, have unlimited access to the masses. You have your blog and website. You have social media platforms. You have connections with mainstream media you’ve built through years of credibility as a respected scribe. People will listen to you. If you present my message in a way they understand, it will help them function in the world as productive and contributing society members. And they will spread it through word of mouth… rather, today, word of mouse.

“Word-of-mouse…”

It starts with something being in it for them… especially the vulnerable Nones who have limited grounding or conviction in conventional spiritual health and worship-prescribed happiness.”

“What should I tell them?”

Start my message by reassuring people that no religion has a monopoly on truth. But, most of the world’s religions have universal core concepts in their doctrine. Your human nature… it’s the cyclical nature of the universe… like the Khowutzen people knew and taught. You move forward from birth to death, after which you go back where you came from. It’s what you do unto, with, and for others during your earthly life now that matters. Not stocking-up self-important spirituality for some later event. As a side note, the concepts of heaven and hell are what you make for yourself while you exist here in human form.”

I nodded. There was no need for note taking.

There is no limit to your human potential, but there is a limit to the time you have in your ethereal lifespan. It’s incumbent for you to use your precious time as wisely as you can. That means enlightening… knowing… your internal world of health and welfare so you can help others to help themselves. That’s my core message… it’s your purpose. Know yourself and be healthy in yourself. Then help others to help themselves. Build your placid world not with vain material assets… ultimately, build your internal peace with placid external relationships. Doing so… you make yourself and others… happy. And you don’t need a church for that.”

The church said no more. I heard what was in it for the Nones and the Scribes. It was now time to go.

Its candles and lamps extinguished. Its coal stove went out. Its stained glass turned back to open sky, and its oak front door released. Its pews were gone as was its crucifix holding the representation of human divinity. And its smell… the smell of old soul… returned.

I left the Old Stone Butter Church with a purpose—a purpose I suppose was there all along. I’ve new-found happiness and reinvigorated spiritual health. My mission is sharing the message with those receptive to hearing timeless truth. Now, I’m at my keyboard with the power of the internet—billions of interconnected souls potentially at my reach—and I start by scribing these words:

It called to me—the Old Stone Butter Church. It’ll call to you, too… if you’re ready.

DID LIZZIE BORDEN REALLY AX-MURDER HER PARENTS?

On August 4th in 1892, wealthy businessman Andrew Borden and his wife, Abby, were savagely slaughtered inside their home at Fall River, Massachusetts. The murder weapon was a multi-edged instrument thought to be an ax or a hatchet. Suspicion soon fell on their 32-year-old spinster daughter, Lizzie Borden. Lizzie was indicted, tried by a jury, and acquitted of the slayings. Today, the Borden homicide case remains officially unsolved, and some still don’t believe Lizzie Borden really ax-murdered her parents.

On the other hand, many are convinced Lizzie Borden was the sole culprit. They’ve suggested many possible motives and rightly note that judges held back crucially incriminating evidence from the New England jurors. Professional detectives and armchair sleuths alike point out that no one else ever seriously surfaced as a viable suspect. That, they say, tightens the noose around Lizzie Borden’s long-deceased neck.

It’s been 127 years since the Borden family tragedy. Over time, Lizzie Borden’s story elevated to one of the highest-profile killings in American history. There’ve been countless books, articles, movies, plays, songs, and even poems written about Lizzie Borden. One take is a famous skip-rope rhyme that goes like this:

That’s all fun and games on the playground but, the truth is, the Bordens were only struck twenty-nine times rather than the exaggerated eighty-one. Autopsies revealed 70-year-old Andrew Borden received ten hits to his face while 64-year-old Abby Borden suffered nineteen blows to her back and about her head. Regardless of counts, the murders were classic overkill—like the sign of pent-up anger. The question is… who did it and why. Let’s look at the Borden file facts, examine the motive, and determine whether or not Lizzie Borden really did ax-murder her parents.

The Borden Family History

Lizzie Andrew Borden was born on July 19, 1860, at Fall River which was a textile mill town about fifty miles south of Boston near the Cape Cod area of America’s upper Atlantic coast. Her christened name was Lizzie, not Elizabeth, and her middle name honored her father. He was a self-made financier with interests in the mills, real estate, and banking.

Lizzie Borden – Photo Date About 1890

Lizzie Borden’s birth-mother was Sarah Borden who died when Lizzie was two. That left her only sibling—a nine year older sister named Emma—to help care for Lizzie. Andrew Borden remarried in 1865 to Abby Gray who took on the Borden last name and became Lizzie and Emma’s step-mother. They raised Lizzie in a Central Congregational Protestant church environment and valued their heritage of being native-born to New England and not immigrants like the “lesser-class” mass of Irish Catholics and French Canadians who flocked to the area for mill work.

The Borden family resided at 92 Second Street in Fall River which is in the downtown area known as “The Flats”. The location was not as ritzy as “The Hill” which was a not-to-distant region where the wealthy resided. That included the extended Borden family and Lizzie’s cousins who enjoyed a more affluent and upscale life lifestyle with prestige afforded to the rich.

Bridget Sullivan – Photo Date Unknown

It wasn’t that Andrew Borden couldn’t afford to live and house his family in “The Hill”. By today’s currency value, Borden’s estimated portfolio was over eight million dollars. However, Andrew Borden was well known to be a frugal man who valued amassing money over spending it. As such, Lizzie Borden lived with her family in an older house that had no modern amenities like indoor plumbing or electricity.

The Borden family did splurge on having a live-in housekeeper. She was Bridget Sullivan, who was an Irish immigrant without a family of her own. Lizzie and Emma called their housekeeper “Maggie” who was 26-years-old when the murders happened.

The Borden Family Murders

On the morning of August 4th, 1892, Bridget Sullivan rose early to prepare breakfast for the Borden family. That included Andrew Borden, Abby Borden, Lizzie Borden and a house guest named John Morse who was the brother of Lizzie’s biological mother and Lizzie’s natural uncle. Morse had come to Fall River to discuss business dealings with Andrew Borden.

Breakfast was light for the Borden group as they all had come down with sudden intestinal problems over the past two days. Bridget Sullivan was also affected, but she carried on housekeeping duties which involved after-breakfast window washing. Lizzie was not employed, and she remained about the house doing some ironing, wearing a blue dress, while Abby did some dusting.

Borden House at 92 Second Street, Fall River, MS

Andrew Borden and John Morse left the house about 9 am and went on business errands. Emma Borden was not at home. Rather, she was still in nearby Fairhaven where she and Lizzie had gone a week earlier after a family disagreement. Lizzie returned to Fall River, but she’d stayed a few nights in a local rooming house before reconnecting with her folks at 92 Second Street on August 2nd.

According to evidence presented at Lizzie Borden’s trial, Abby Borden was last seen at about 9:30 am. She’d apparently gone upstairs to make-up the spare bedroom where John Morse overnighted. Bridget moved in and out of the house doing windows while it’s recorded that Lizzie stayed inside—her precise whereabouts unknown.

At about 10:30 am, Andrew Borden unexpectedly returned to the house as he was still unwell. Normally, he’d be gone until noon and come back for lunch. Andrew Borden attempted to get in through the formal front entry door which opened into a foyer. Here, a curved staircase led directly from the entryway to an upstairs landing off which was the spare bedroom and the doors to Lizzie and Emma’s private rooms.

Andrew Borden found the front door locked by a bolt from the inside. This was unusual, and it prevented him from accessing the foyer with his house key. He then rang the bell which got Bridget’s attention, and she let her employer inside. Bridget later testified she’d cussed the lock for sticking which prompted an unexpected laugh. Bridget said it came from Lizzie who was above and behind her on the formal staircase, perhaps as high as the upper landing.

Andrew Borden went straight from the foyer into the adjacent sitting room where he sat on a sofa and rested. Bridget left Andrew Borden alone and returned to the kitchen which is to the rear of the house off the sitting room. At this time, Bridget reported that Lizzie suddenly appeared in the sitting room and that she must have come down from upstairs via the main staircase. Bridget overheard a conversation between Lizzie and her father about Abby’s whereabouts. Lizzie told Andrew that a messenger had arrived with a note that a friend was sick and Abby left the house to attend.

Bridget’s testimony then states she had a wave of nausea from her intestinal illness and went outside to vomit. Bridget returned through the kitchen side door and went up the back staircase to her room in the attic for a break. She states the time was about 10:55 am, and she laid down just before the eleven o’clock bell rang at the town hall.

Bridget stated she did not doze off, rather laid and rested. About ten to fifteen minutes later—at approximately 11:10 to 11:15 am—she heard a loud call from Lizzie who was at the bottom of the back stairs. This is the quote from the Borden trial transcript of Bridget Sullivan’s testimony before the jury:

“Miss Lizzie hollered, ‘Maggie, come down!’ I said, ‘What’s the matter?’ She says, ‘Come down quick; father’s dead, somebody come in and killed him.’”

Bridget rushed down and met Lizzie in the kitchen. She did not look in the sitting room and see Andrew Borden’s body which was on the sofa with his top half on the upholstery and his legs extended over the side with his feet on the floor. This is another quote is from Bridget Sullivan’s evidence:

“I went around to go in the sitting room and she (Lizzie) says, ‘Oh Maggie, don’t go in. I have got to have a doctor quick. Go over. I have to have the doctor.’ So I went over to Dr. Bowen’s right away, and when I come back I says, ‘Miss Lizzie, where was you?’ I says, ‘Didn’t I leave the screen door hooked?’ She (Lizzie) says, ‘I was out in the back yard and heard a groan, and came in and the screen door was wide open.’”

Andrew Borden’s Body on the Sitting Room Sofa

Dr. Seabody Bowen arrived within approximately fifteen minutes and was the first outsider to view the scene and Andrew Borden’s body. All the wounds were directed in his head region with most to the left side of his face. Dr. Bowen requested a sheet to cover the body, and Bridget went up through the back staircase to Mr. and Mrs. Borden’s bedroom. She returned with a sheet just as the police and others arrived, including Mrs. Whitehead, who was Abby Borden’s sister, and a neighbor, Mrs. Churchill.

According to Bridget Sullivan’s testimony, when Dr. Bowen left the body aand came into the kitchen where people amassed, the doctor said, “He is murdered; he is murdered.” A discussion then took place about finding Abby Borden and delivering her the news that her husband was dead. Bridget’s evidence continues:

“She (Lizzie) says, ‘Maggie, I am almost positive I heard her (Abby) coming in. Won’t you go upstairs to see.’ I said, ‘I am not going upstairs alone.’ Lizzie says again, ‘Maggie, I am positive I heard her come in. I am sure she is upstairs. Go and look.’”

Abby Borden’s Body in Upstairs Guest Room

Bridget stated that she and Mrs. Churchill went to the foyer and began to ascend the front formal staircase. When they got to the level where their eyeline met the upper floor, Bridget looked to her left and saw Abby Borden’s body lying face down by the far bedside of the spare room. She and Mrs. Whitehead could clearly view the corpse through the gap between the floor and the bedframe. Bridget went into the room, closely observed Abby Borden’s body to verify she was dead, and then returned to the group in the kitchen.

The Borden Murder Investigation

By all historical accounts, the local police were unprepared for a crime of this magnitude. They were slow off the line to investigate, and it took them several days to form a cohesive game plan. One historian commented that, initially, the police were looking for a man as the killer—preferably one with a foreign accent—who broke in. It didn’t occur to them that the killer might be a woman who lived in the house.

Several police officers spoke with Lizzie Borden and Bridget Sullivan at the scene while the bodies were still in their original position. There does not seem to be any record of their conversations such as formal statements or even hand-written notes. However, there are strong references in later documentation that Lizzie Borden offered conflicting accounts of her actions and whereabouts during the period of 9:30 am when Abby Borden was last seen and just after 11:00 am when Andrew Borden was killed at 92 Second Street in Fall River, Massachusetts.

History indicates Bridget Sullivan has been entirely consistent with her statements and evidence. There was no serious suggestion at the time, or over the years, that anyone considered Bridget as the murderess. That’s not the case with Lizzie, and certain people suspected her right from the start.

The police didn’t treat the Borden house like an off-limits crime scene such as would happen today. Once word of this heinous crime hit the Fall River streets, people paraded by in the hundreds. Many—police and public—traipsed through the house to view the gore. It got so congested that local authorities erected temporary fencing around the property.

Dr. Bowen, along with another physician and an undertaker, conducted limited autopsies on the Borden bodies. They brought in mortuary slabs and examined them on the dining room table. These weren’t full dissections as a modern forensic pathologist would do. However, they did open both Abby’s and Andrew’s stomachs because there was already a rumor of poison.

Dr. Bowen knew there was more to this picture than two mutilated corpses in the Borden house. He had a conversation the previous day with Abby Borden when she came to him reporting their intestinal distress and stated she thought someone was trying to poison her family. She told Dr. Bowen her husband had made certain enemies in the business community and she thought their sudden illness was due to intentionally poisoned food.

The doctor dismissed it as common food contamination that might have been in the milk or leftover meat. It was, after all, an exceptionally warm spell even for early August. Now, Dr. Bowen suspected something sinister was going on within the Borden household.

Other people also began believing the murders happened inside the family circle. Alice Russell, a close acquaintance of the Borden girls, told of a strange conversation she’d had with Lizzie two days earlier. Alice Russell testified that Lizzie said:

“Something is hanging over me… I cannot tell what it is. I feel afraid something is going to happen. I want to sleep with one eye open as I feel someone will hurt father as he is so discourteous to people.”

Prussic Acid is Hydrogen Cyanide

Another highly-suspicious incident reached police ears. Two men at a downtown drugstore in Fall River swore that on August 3rd—the day before the murders—Lizzie Borden came in and requested to buy a vial of prussic acid. They asked her for what purpose as it was a restricted substance. Lizzie replied she wanted it for cleaning her sealskin bags, and they refused to sell her any. Prussic acid is a common name for hydrogen cyanide which is a highly toxic substance that’s lethal to humans in minute doses.

Because of Lizzie’s peculiar behavior, and the fact no other suspect surfaced, the police conducted a thorough search of the Borden house on August 6th. Up to this point, they merely asked a few questions, dealt with the bodies, and generally looked about. Now, the police asked Lizzie to produce clothes she was wearing on the morning of August 4th. She provided them with a heavy fabric dress, blue in color, which they visually examined and found no evidence of blood staining.

After a postmortem  on the Borden bodies, physicians’ opinion suggested the murder weapon was a multi-edged instrument like an ax or a hatchet. The police searched the home’s cellar where the furnace and wood supply sat. They found a bin with several axes and hatchets were stored. One implement, in particular, caught their eye.

Shingling Hatchet Found in Cellar

The police seized a small tool called a shingling hammer or hatchet. It had a round head on one end for driving roofing nails and a sharp blade on the other designed for splitting wooden shingles. The handle was freshly broken off and the metal appeared to be recently cleaned but then scattered with ash to intentionally make it appear old. The broken end of the handle was never found.

The police left the house with the hatchet and a few other items. The following day, on August 7th, Alice Russell unexpectedly walked into the Borden house and found Lizzie in the act of burning a blue dress in the kitchen stove. Alice was taken aback, She questioned Lizzie who replied her dress had brown paint stains on it and it was ruined so she was destroying it. Alarmed, Alice Russell went to the police and informed.

The Borden Murder Inquest

With evidence like Lizzie Borden’s inconsistent statements to investigating police officers and civilian witnesses, the burnt dress, the attempt to buy poison, and Lizzie’s generally detached demeanor through finding the bodies and during the following days, the Fall River magistrate ordered an inquest.

Borden Skulls and Presumed Murder Weapon

He also ordered the Borden bodies exhumed and examined by a Boston-based physician experienced with homicide investigations. This doctor beheaded the bodies and physically compared the seized hatchet with the skull wounds. It was his opinion the cellar hatchet was consistent with causing both Borden’s wounds. Therefore, it was likely the murder weapon concealed in the cellar after the Bordens were dead.

There was another medical fact established by the medical examiners. That was time of the deaths. There was no doubt Andrew Borden was killed shortly after 11:00 am. This was supported by Bridget Sullivan seeing him alive before then and that his wounds were fresh. Abby Borden, on the other hand, was dead for some time before she was discovered at approximately 11:30 am. Abby’s blood had congealed, her temperature dropped, and she exhibited early signs of rigor mortis.

The Borden murder inquest began on August 9th and lasted three days. It was closed to the public, but the proceedings were recorded and the transcripts are available online today. Lizzie Borden was the star witness and subject to close examination. Her testimony was inconsistent, exculpatory, and evasive.

Lizzie Borden repeatedly changed her story of her whereabouts within and without the house during the period of 9:30 am to 11:00 am. She wavered between being in the kitchen ironing clothes and reading a magazine to being upstairs folding and mending clothes. After her father returned, Lizzie Borden stated she went out of the house and into the backyard barn’s upper loft on the pretext of finding lead to make sinkers (weights) for a fishing trip she planned the following week.

When the inquest lawyer examining Lizzie Borden tried to pin her to specifics, she became evasive and declined to answer certain questions. The best the lawyer could establish is that Lizzie Borden had an erratic alibi for the period Abby Borden was murdered and she’d spent the approximately 18-minute period—from when Bridget Sullivan went upstairs to her attic room until Lizzie summoned Bridget—rummaging about in a stifling-hot barn loft looking for lead and eating pears.

The inquest lawyer also challenged Lizzie Borden on her details of finding her father’s body. Lizzie claimed to have come down from the barn loft to find the kitchen’s back door wide open. She entered and went to check on her father. Here’s an excerpt from Lizzie Borden’s inquest testimony:

Q. When you came down from the barn, what did you do then?
A. Came into the kitchen.

Q. What did you do then?
A. Opened the sitting room door and went into the sitting room; or pushed it open. It was not latched.

Q. What did you do then?
A. I found my father and rushed to the foot of the stairs.

Q. When you saw your father, where was he?
A. On the sofa.

Q. What was his position?
A. Lying down.

Q. Describe anything else you noticed at that time.
A. I did not notice anything else, I was so frightened and horrified. I ran to the foot of the stairs and called Maggie.

Q. Did you notice that he had been cut?
A. Yes, that is what made me afraid.

Q. Did you notice that he was dead?
A. I did not know whether he was or not.

Q. Did you make any search for your mother?
A. No sir.

Q. Why not?
A. I thought she was out of the house. I thought she had gone out. I called Maggie to go to Dr. Bowen’s. When they came in, I said, “I don’t know where Mrs. Borden is.” I thought she had gone out.

Q. Did you tell Maggie you thought your mother had come in?
A. No sir.

Q. Did you say to anybody that you thought she was killed upstairs?
A. No sir.

Q. You made no effort to find your mother at all?
A. No sir.

Q. Who did you send Maggie for?
A. Dr. Bowen. She came back and said Dr. Bowen was not there.

Q. What did you tell Maggie?
A. I told her he was hurt. I says, “Go for Dr. Bowen as soon as you can. I think father is hurt.”

Q. Did you then know that he was dead?
A. No sir.

Q. You saw him? Saw his face?
A. No, I did not see his face because he was all covered with blood.

Q. You saw where the face was bleeding?
A. Yes sir.

Q. And with those injuries you couldn’t tell he was dead?
A. No, sir.

Q. But you told Maggie, “Come down quick; father’s dead, somebody come in and killed him.”
A. No, sir. I said he was hurt, not dead.

When the Borden murder inquest wrapped up, the magistrate was satisfied of sufficient grounds to believe Lizzie Borden killed her father and step-mother. The issue of motive never came up in the proceedings. However, establishing motive is not an elemental fact in pursuing murder charges. The inquest magistrate ordered Lizzie Borden arrested and held in custody for trial.

Lizzie Borden’s Murder Trial

Lizzie Borden’s prosecution ran according to Massachusetts law of the time. First, a grand jury impaneled. They returned an indictment on December 2nd, 1892, and a preliminary hearing followed where the evidence against Lizzie Borden was found suitable to withstand a jury trial. At no time during the investigation or legal procedures was there any suggestion Lizzie Borden was mentally ill and not suitable to be tried. Even during the trial, neither the defense team nor the prosecution ever raised a sanity issue.

Lizzie Borden could afford the best legal defense possible, and she got it. Because her father had no will and his wife was also dead, the Borden estate immediately fell to the sole survivors—Emma and Lizzie Borden—and they evenly split it. In today’s value, Lizzie Borden had about $4 million in assets to work with.

She hired ex-three times Massachusetts governor, George Robinson, who later billed Lizzie today’s equivalent of a half-million dollars. The District Attorney’s office also put out a heavy-hitter with William Moody leading the prosecution team. Moody went on to be a United States Supreme Court judge. The dueling balance was offset by three panel judges sitting on the Borden trial. One was Justin Dewey—personally appointed to the bench by then-governor George Robinson.

There was a change of venue for the Lizzie Borden trial. To ensure fair and impartial jurors, the trial took place in New Bedford, Massachusetts instead of Fall River. It convened on June 5th, 1893 and ended on June 20th.

Lizzie Borden’s defense team scored two vitally important legal victories. One was having Lizzie’s inquest testimony discarded which they argued was involuntary and taken without legal representation. The other defense win was getting the prussic acid—hydrogen cyanide—evidence ruled irrelevant and inadmissible.

This left the prosecution with a purely circumstantial case. They had no established murder weapon, no eye-witnesses, and a reasonable doubt raised by an unlocked back door. The prosecution did not offer any motive as to why Lizzie Borden ax-murdered her folks, and the defense convincingly argued that a hatchet was a man’s weapon—something a fine upstanding Victorian woman of class would ever use to commit such gruesome crimes.

Lizzie Borden never took the witness stand. She sat in the dock impeccably dressed in flowing black clothes with a fan and a handkerchief. Lizzie stayed stoic when proper, teared at the right time, and fainted when Andrew and Abby Borden’s skulls were brought into the courtroom for a hands-on demonstration of how the handle-less hatchet fit.

At the trial’s conclusion, the defense summed the prosecution’s case as such:

“There is not one particle of direct evidence in this case from beginning to end against Lizzie A. Borden. There is not a spot of blood, there is not a weapon that they have connected with her in any way, shape, or fashion. The state has utterly failed to meet its burden of proving guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.”

The trial judges were also sympathetic towards Lizzie Borden. As one reporter at the time put it, Judge Dewey acted like the senior defense counsel when he told the jury:

“You must take into account the defendant’s exceptional Christian character which she is entitled to every influence in her favor. If the evidence falls short of providing such conviction in your minds, although it may raise a suspicion of guilt, or even a strong probability of guilt, it would be your plain duty to return a verdict of not guilty. Seeking only the truth, you will lift this case above the range of passion and prejudice and excited feeling, into the clear atmosphere of reason and law.”

The jury was out for an hour and a half before returning with a not guilty verdict. Jurors later reported they’d decided fate on the first ballot but stayed out long enough to make it look like they’d fairly deliberated. Lizzie Borden walked out of the courtroom a free woman. That didn’t absolve a cloud forming over her in the public arena.

Lizzie Borden’s Later Years

Within two months of her acquittal, Lizzie Borden changed her name to Lizbeyh Borden. She used her father’s estate inheritance to buy a modern mansion in the heart of “The Hill”. Her impressive home came with all conveniences money could buy as the Guilded Age in America approached the twentieth century. Lizzie Borden now had indoor plumbing with flush toilets and running hot water. No longer did she have to empty a chamber pot or light a wood stove to burn a dress.

Lizzie Borden’s new abode, which she elegantly named Maplecroft, had electric lights and central heating with individual room radiators. She had servant quarters and a dedicated suite for her older sister. Lizzie had an art room for her crafts and a drawing room to entertain friends. However, her one-time friends on “The Hill” and in “The Flats” shunned Lizzie one-by-one.

Maplecroft – Mansion in “The Hills” bought by Lizzie Borden after her Parents Death

Her welcome in the Central Congregational Protestant church dissipated as people talked and realized Lizzie Borden probably got away with murder. She was ostracized and left to sit in a pew of her own. Lizzie’s service groups shut their doors and shops discouraged her visit. Bit-by-bit and little-by-little, she became a social outcast—a moral leper.

Lizzie, or Lizbeyh, retained her magnificent Maplecroft home on “The Hill” but she spent most of her time away in Boston and New York where Lizzie lavishly entertained the Bohemian theater crowd. Eventually, her older sister had enough. Emma moved out and refused to speak to Lizzie for the rest of their lives.

Lizzie Borden died of pneumonia in 1927. She was sixty-six years old and still a spinster—truly an old maid. She bequeathed what was left of her money to animal welfare.

Did Lizzie Borden Really Ax-Murder Her Parents?

The question whether Lizzie Borden really did ax-murder her parents teased public fascination since the day the murders went down. Like a Greek tragedy, or a Victorian melodrama, the Borden murders had all the right elements of intrigue, suspense, and mystery. It was a true who-dunnit that sparked a sensational spectacle not paralleled in United States history.

Lizzie Borden’s case put the Victorian concept of a well-bred and virtuous woman of white Protestant class on trial for its life. The notion that a daughter—anyone of upper society’s daughter—could commit the unspeakable act of ax-murdering patricide was unthinkable. Lizzie Borden’s defense team knew this, and they deprived the prosecution of proving premeditation by suggesting jurors were to foolishly believe the accused before them—facing the death penalty—somehow magically metamorphosed into a maniacal murderess.

Lizzie Borden Trial Jurors – Twelve Good Men

The twelve good men on the jury sympathized with the pious prisoner in the docket holding a flower bouquet. Although she was described by the press as the “sphynx of coolness”, Lizzie had been carefully coached to silently suggest innocence. The jury never directly heard from Lizzie Borden. She exercised her right not to take the stand.

Given what the jurors heard and saw, it’s no surprise they chose acquittal. But, that doesn’t excuse the court of ages from independently assessing Lizzie Borden’s guilt or innocence. A big factor indicating murder-culpable is her inconsistent statements to the police and at the inquest.

Lizzie Borden sometimes places herself upstairs while her step-mother lay dead on the floor beside her and sometimes does not. It’s inconceivable Lizzie was on the upper landing without seeing Abby’s body. Lizzie Borden’s alibi for being in the barn while her father died is nonsense. By any rational acceptance, a woman dressed in Victorian clothing would not stay fifteen minutes in an environment exceeding well over one hundred degrees in Fahrenheit.

But, the jury never heard Lizzie’s alibis or conflicting statements. They never heard about the poison. And, the jurors were never offered any motive why a daughter would cold bloodily hatchet her family members to death.

Lizzie Borden’s Motive For Murder

On the balance of probabilities and totalitarian of evidence, logic proves Lizzie Borden ax-murdered her parents. To think otherwise defies common sense. Lizzie had exclusive opportunity and immediate means to commit the crimes, and there simply was no one else there to do it. But, what motive did she have?

During Lizzie Borden’s trial, her defense cleverly maneuvered around a story that, if known, would have shaken their very foundation. That was the reality of the Borden household being a dysfunctional cold war of family unrest. Lizzie was barely on speaking terms with Abby who, for years, she referred to as Mrs. Borden. Tension in that home was tight.

Andrew Borden was aging fast. He had no legal will and last testament, and he made no provision of setting forth how his estate would divide upon his death. Massachusetts common law dictated that wealth should flow from the husband to the wife and then accordingly down as the immediate benefactor sees fit. Should Andrew have died first, his estate would naturally have gone to Abby. It would be entirely up to Abby to bequeath Andrew’s wealth as she desired. Lizzie might not have been in Abby’s sights a designated recipient.

In the weeks before the Borden murders, Andrew Borden seemed to be making plans of disposing property outside Lizzie’s entitlement. He’d already awarded a house to one of Abby’s family members. Some historians speculate the reason for John Morse’s visit on the eve of the murders was to secure a piece of Andrew Borden’s holdings. Undoubtedly, Lizzie would have been in tune with this.

There was a family blow-out a week before the murders. Lizzie and Emma left the Fall River house and went to New Bedford to cool off. When Lizzie returned on August 2nd, Andrew Borden, Abby Borden, and Bridget Sullivan suddenly became sick from something foul in their food.

That contaminant only made them ill. It can’t be a coincidence that the next day Lizzie went looking for cyanide. When that poison plan fell through, it was time for Plan-B. One way or the other, Lizzie knew Abby Borden had to die before she cut into Lizzie’s inheritance which Andrew was giving away. Once that was done by hatcheting Abby’s head with an ax on the morning of August 4th, 1892, it was a sensible step for Lizzie Borden to finish-off the old man and cash in.

There’s no longer reasonable doubt. Lizzie Borden ax-murdered her parents, and her motive was pure greed. It was all about entitlement and change—from precariously surviving in “The Flats” to securely thriving high on “The Hill”.

*   *   *

Post Note of 07 August 2020: Dark Zone Productions of Los Angeles is doing a 4-Day Live Streaming program on the Lizzie Borden case from August 28-31, 2020. Here’s their press release:

https://wm-no.glb.shawcable.net/service/home/~/?auth=co&loc=en&id=523805&part=2

 

WHAT’S YOUR EMOTIONAL INTELLIGENCE QUOTIENT (E-IQ) SCORE?

There’s strong psychological evidence that your emotional intelligence is more important than your cognitive intelligence when it comes to practical life skills. Repeated clinical studies show your emotional quotient (EQ) score should outweigh your intelligence quotient (IQ). EQ is what you need to build positive relationships, improve personal happiness and achieve professional accomplishments. Having a high EQ gives you a nice advantage in the everyday world. It’s the old people-smarts vs book-smarts thing.

A big cognitive intelligent quotient (IQ) indicates you have an excellent learning ability. However, having an elevated emotional quotient (EQ) suggests your ability to function is strong. It’s like the Force is with you. No doubt you’ve met someone with an apparently high IQ who pretty much pissed off everyone. Then, you probably know someone who isn’t particularly “smart” but is exceptionally popular and prosperous.

The best definition of emotional intelligence is the level of capability you have to recognize your own emotions, as well as those of others, and use this information to guide your thinking, behavior and reactions to positively adapt to your environment and achieve your goals. People with high EQs typically excel in both interpersonal and intrapersonal interactions. Simply put, having a strong emotional quotient lets you interact well within society and within yourself.

I recently read a great little work called The Emotional Intelligence Quick Book — Everything You Need to Know to Put Your EQ to Work. It’s written by two Psychology PhDs, Jean Graves and Travis Bradberry, and it’s endorsed by no less than Brian Tracy, Stephen Covey and the Dalai Lama himself. The book also comes with a credible online EQ appraisal which I took. I’m happy to share my score and offer you the opportunity to do so, too. But first, let’s see how emotional intelligence works in your brain and hear the story of poor, unfortunate Phineas Gage.

Who was Phineas Gage and What Happened to his Brain?

You’ve probably never heard of Phineas Gage. I hadn’t either. He was a construction foreman working on the Burlington Railroad in Vermont back in 1848 when he suffered a bizarre injury during a dynamite mishap. Old Phineas was tamping a charge when his steel bar ignited a spark. The premature explosion blew the bar straight through Phineas’s head. The bar’s point entered his left eye and traversed his frontal lobe, then exited through the top of his skull.

Phineas didn’t die, but the accident sure as hell changed his personality. Before the blast, Phineas was a likeable guy. Afterward, he became so emotionally unstable that he was unable to function with others. Phineas became a vulgar misfit who acted completely inappropriate including exhibiting lewd acts, debauchery, drunkenness and flying into rage fits as well as suffering depression bouts mixed with maniacal highs. Today, we’d say he turned into a complete and utter asshole.

And today, we realize what medically and psychologically happened to Phineas Gage’s emotional state when his left frontal lobe was demolished. As a human, your brain’s hard-wired to experience emotions. It’s what gives you a flight or fight response in emergencies as well as the moderation experience of joy, sorrow and neutrality not to mention keeping your behavior in check.

You absorb environmental information via your brainstem, medulla, pons and midbrain sections. Your sensory input gets processed and delivered through your limbic system where it’s passed to your frontal lobes for fine-tuning. It’s your frontal lobe that helps you decide how you’re going to respond to an emotional stimulus.

It’s the back-and-forth communication between the front of your brain and the base that’s the physical source of emotional intelligence. You can compare this process to an information highway. If your limbic system is a windy, two-lane road you’re likely to have a low score on your EQ appraisal. If your path is an eight-lane superhighway, you’re bound to score high.

With Phineas’s frontal lobe half-gone, he was fueled by raw, unprocessed emotion. He lost his ability to reason about, and react to, his feelings. Everything Phineas encountered resulted in a rash emotional response. He had zero ability to manage his feelings or even understand their presence. Every waking hour, Phineas Gage was overcome with emotions, and he reacted outside social norms. It was like the guy was constantly chased by a mind-frigging tiger.

The Emotional Intelligence Quick Book

Fortunately, you likely have an intact brain even if you do get somewhat emotional from time to time. Emotions are a good thing, though, and I’m happy to report you can easily learn to work them to your advantage. Unlike cognitive intelligence where you’re born with a fixed IQ, your emotional intelligence state is flexible. That’s the message the psychologists deliver in The Emotional Intelligence Quick Book.

This quick book opens by stating that not education, not experience, not knowledge and not intellectual horsepower adequately predict why one person succeeds in life and another doesn’t. The writers say something else goes on in society that doesn’t account for a high cognitive IQ. That’s your emotional intelligence, but it’s much harder to identify and qualify an EQ than an IQ.

IQ tests are objective ventures. They’re quantified processes where you’re essentially examined on how well, and how fast, you figure out challenges with clearly right and wrong answers. If you get every question right within a preset time, then you’re considered to be a pretty bright light. If you don’t, well…

The Emotional Intelligence Quick Book doesn’t call their examination process a test. They refer to it as an appraisal because it’s not locked into right and wrong. Rather, the appraisal offers you multiple-choice selections based on emotional stimuli. It’s sort of an always-sometimes-never type of response they ask you to make.

The book’s opening also points out most of us focus our self-improvement energy pursuing knowledge, education and experience to boost our performance. That’s fine and honorable, but the equation is missing another crucial part. That’s having a full understanding of our emotions, not to mention others’ emotions, and how this mix influences our daily lives.

There’s a gap between the popularity of measuring IQ and the misunderstanding of EQ. Most people don’t know what EQ really is and tend to dismiss it as a personality structure like being gregarious or charismatic—sort of an introvert/extrovert thing. Also, many people don’t understand that EQ is a state that can be improved.

It starts with recognizing how emotional intelligence functions and assessing your strengths and weaknesses. This is what the EQ appraisal does. It helps you manage your life so you can fully leverage your cognitive intelligence qualities. Here’s how the appraisal works.

How an Emotional Intelligence Quotient (E-IQ) Appraisal Works

Appraising your emotional intelligence is a relatively new process in the psychology world. There are several works preceding the EQ Quick Book. The first publication, and still the founding authority, was the 1995 book Emotional Intelligence by Daniel Goleman. Another excellent read is The EQ Edge — Emotional Intelligence and Your Success by Drs. Stein and Book. Both of these are fairly clinical approaches whereas The EQ Quick Book is a short and practical take.

According to Bradberry and Greaves in the Quick Book, there are four basic emotional intelligence skills. They pair into two primary competencies. One is personal competence and the other is social competence. The first two skills focus on you, as an individual, and the second two focus on your contact with other people. Here are the four important emotional intelligence skills you need to know about.

Personal Competence

Self-Awareness — This is your ability to accurately perceive your emotions and remain aware of them. As emotions are fluid responses to ever-changing environmental stimuli, you have to constantly stay on top of your feelings. This includes being acutely aware of your response to specific situations and certain people.

Self-Management — This is using your awareness of your emotions to stay flexible. Being aware lets you positively direct your energy and your behavior. It means taking actions to manage your emotions when dealing with people and situations.

Social Competence

Social Awareness — This is the level in which you pick up on the emotions of other people. Primarily, it’s the empathy you feel for others. It means understanding and appreciating what individuals think and feel even if you don’t view things the same way.

Relationship Management — This is your ability to use your awareness of what’s going on to successfully manage your relationships with other folks. You need to take your emotional awareness and use your intelligence to make things work. Relationship management from an emotional intelligence perspective lets you guide clear communication and effectively handle conflict.

The four emotional intelligence model parts are based on a connection between what you observe and understand and what you do with yourself and others. It’s a case of seeing self-awareness and social awareness and doing self-management and relationship management. Here are practical examples from each category:

Personal Competence — Self-Awareness

  • Self-confidence
  • Awareness of your emotional state
  • Understanding how other people’s behavior influences you and vice-versa

Personal Competence — Self-Management

  • How you handle stress and frustration
  • Knowing when to speak up and shut up
  • Flexibility to roll with the punches and change as the situation demands

Social Competence — Social Awareness

  • Picking up on the room’s mood
  • Empathy with what others are going through
  • Listening and really hearing what another person is saying about a situation

Social Competence — Relationship Management

  • Clearly expressing ideas and information
  • Getting along well with others and effectively handling conflict
  • Using awareness of others’ experience to successfully manage interactions

How Emotional Intelligence Appraisals are Scored

The E-IQ appraisal method used in the Quick Book’s TalentSmart website examination works on a 0–100 point scale. The book’s authors, who developed the scale and the appraisal format, make it clear there’s no such thing as mastering emotional intelligence skills. They unequivocally state you can work and improve E-IQ skills no matter where you sit on the scale. However, they validate the scoring scale and process by using the numbers as relative to a large population they’ve studied and assessed.

Their base-population mass is in the multi-thousands, and the appraisal site on the TalentSmart website works on an algorithm that constantly monitors incoming appraisal scores and places subjects according to their percentage in the overall system. Generally, appraisal scores in the 80-90 percentiles indicate higher emotional intelligence whereas lower scores in the 50-60 percent range indicate an inferior E-IQ makeup compared to the entire population. Their site gives these suggestions according to score:

90-100 % — A strength to capitalize on

80-90 % — A strength to build on

70–80 % — With a little improvement, this could be a strength

60–70 % — Something you should work on

50-60 % — A concern you must address

The TalentSmart web-based appraisal site doesn’t say what you should do if you fall below the 50 percent mark. I’ll leave that, but if you’d like to take the E-IQ Appraisal, here’s what to do. I’ll walk you through my TalentSmart experience and give you the secret handshake. You can go onto the site and read my actual appraisal report. Some parts were pretty good and one area, well… I need a bit of work.

The TalentSmart Emotional Intelligence Appraisal Process

The first thing I have to tell you is if you want to take your own TalentSmart E-IQ appraisal, it’ll cost you money. They’re a business, after all, and businesses need to be profitable. However, it’s not that much and you can economize or even cheat if your emotions allow it.

I bought the hardcover version of The Emotional Intelligence Quick Book. (By the way, it’s revised as Emotional Intelligence 2.0 and written by the same bunch that developed the highly-successful business book The One Minute Manager.) I didn’t pay full pop for the book, though. I found it for ten bucks at a used book store, and it was in pristine shape.

To access the appraisal exam, you need to take a unique code from the inside of the dust cover. My code is 4859BQEU. It’s a one-use-only code, and you can’t pirate it to do your own thing. You’ll have to buy a book to get your own code or find a creative way of getting a pass-code. I’ll leave that to you.

Next, you open TalentSmart web portal at www.eiquickbook.com. Follow the directions, enter the code and you’re in. If you use my code, 4859BQEU at www.eiquickbook.com , it’s easy to follow the prompts and see what I’m emotionally made of. If you do your own appraisal, the process is fairly fast… but it’ll make you think.

Once you’re done, you’ll get a nice pdf printout of your E-IQ assessment and their rating of where you emotionally fit with the world’s population. I think the process is reasonably reliable. Like many things, you’ll get out of it what you put into it. Reading the Quick Book alone is well worth the investment if you’re into self-help and personal development.

Okay, so how did I rate on the Emotional Intelligence appraisal scale? Well, I won’t give you exact numbers in this post, but you’re more than welcome to go onto the TalentSmart www.eiquickbook.com site, enter 4859BQEU and read them yourself. What I will say is I scored strong on the Personal Competence areas of Self-Awareness and Self-Management. I also did quite well in the Social Competence area of Relationship Management.

Where I dropped was the Social Awareness segment. It’s clear that while I’m aware of what others are up to, I could use a little more empathy. Deep down I know they’re right, and it’s true. I have little time for certain people. It’s a leftover cop-thing where my give-a-shit tank runs low.

Anyway, the report let me off nicely with a detailed action plan and some words of wisdom. It told me that improving my emotional intelligence is a flexible skill that I can easily learn. Rather than being a fixed value like my IQ, my EQ is a plastic parameter where I can work on my weaknesses by applying my strong emotional traits.

The process takeaway, for me, was that people build on their character when they’re aware of things like how emotional intelligence affects you and others. It’s a matter of understanding what EI is and how you can use it as a life skill. But to make it work, you need a strong motivation to learn and change. You require consistent practice on your new behaviors. And, it helps to have feedback.

Are you up to the emotional workout challenge and want to find out your E-IQ score? Try it. Let me know what you think about emotional intelligence. If you take the appraisal, tell me how you made out.