Smyrna times., 1927-09-21
REAL CAVE MAN Of NEBRASKA
W|[DS THRILLS OMAHA FOLKS
HERMIT WHO HAD NEVER HEARD
OF RADIO, MOTORS OR AIRPLANE
His Cave on the Banks of the Platte
River in Nebraska, Was One of
Solitude and Isolation

hlf6T Ill NtUIdShd, was One Oh
Solitude and Isolation
Omaha, Neb.-Sixty minutes from
the Stone age to the Jazz age. That is
the gap that separates the primitive
world of Henry f. Morris, Nebraska
cave man, from the complex world of
modern, living, teeming Omaha. It is
the gap between the Twentieth cen
tury and 10000 years ago. A short
one as minutes go, but infinitely great
when measured on the social scale.
On the one hand the intellectual
development of centuries; on the
other an atavistic reversion to the
early, confused and muddled groupings
of man as we find him at the dawn
of history. Like visitor from a
strange planet, Morris, blinking as
much as an owl when out Of his ele-
ment, recently came to Omaha after
more than forty years away from civil
lization. His coming boldly pro-
claimed how easily can be lost the
veneer of social amenities and graces
that separate the gentleman Of 1926
from his rude. uncultured forebear of
the Neolithic age.
Morris, who is now about seventy,
was induced to quit his wooded re-
treat at the solicitation of a news
paper man anxious to parade him from
the headlines of his paper. He was
first discovered" several months ago
after he had lived away from all con-
tact with the world for more than
four decades. He had never heard of
the radio, electricity, the automobile,
airplanes or any of the other modern
devices.
His Cave Is His World.
His cave, also his world and empire,
is on the banks Of the Platte river, In
the solitude Of wild, oyergrown and
desolate stretch of marshes and
wasteIand. The hermit OF the Platte
rarely encounters human beings.
When he does they do not see him.
His eyes are sharp; his step too light
for that.
The hermit's visit to Omaha was his
first trip to a city, for even before he
| quilted civilization he had spent his
| life in the backwood clearings. The
visit was not without thrills, however,
and he saw for the first time many Of
the wonders of the Twentieth century.
When he heard the human voice over
the radio, 'the spiritsl' - he shrieked.
When the lifting music commenced,
Morris stood by In awe and wonder
ment. The only music he had heard
| In forty years was that Of the birds
and the wind-blown trees.
But while the hermit enjoyed
| Omaha, Omaha enjoyed still more the
hermit. 1t is doubtful who was most
struck by the peculiar mannerisms of
the other-Morris or his hosts. Every
where the queer, strange individual
went large crowds followed him. For
| the children he was a super-attraction,
a colossal side show, and many tired
/ mother walked block upon block so
Willie or Johnny might see the "funny
man."
Morris doesn't walk; he shuffles,
and it has been years since he has
Strengthened himself to the full length
| Of his six feet two. He walks with a
stoop, giving his massive, knotted
shoulders a monstrous appearance,
which is heightened by long and
sinewy arms that dangIe to his
| knees.
Occasionally, to show his prowess,
Morris, with the simplicity and
naivete of a child, would chin him
self on awning bars, do a spread
eagle or perform acrobatic antics that
a man of thirty or forty cannot be-
| gin to attempt. Pop-eyed crowds
watched him start to climb a light
pole at Sixteenth and Farnam street,
| Omaha's busiest intersection.
The cave dweller's face Is covered
with a heavy beard that had been dis
turbed only occasionally in forty
years by a crude, handmade razor
welded by the hermit himself. Rag
ged and grimy, It added to his gen.
orally unkempt appearance. Small
piercing eyes that perpetually blinked
in the strong sunlight were deep set
beneath high obital ridges and peered
through heavy, overhanging eyebrows
His crowning glory was his hair. A
| matted, snarled mass 1t was, closely
grown and heavy. Like his eyebrows,
it was steel gray of hue and resem-
bled manila hemp much more than
human hair.
Out of Place Among Guests.
A tatterdemalion outfit was hung
loosely about his gaunt figure. Re-
sembling a scarecrow, Morris easily
might have been mistaken for an au-
tomaton; but never for the human
being that he is. His complete outfit
consisted solely of a pair of khaki
trousers. Of ancient vintage, and
shirt, patched beyong recognition. His
trousers were supported by a rope
tied about his waist; his shirt was
barred at the breast.
Bareheaded, barefooted and bare
legged to the knees, Morris was
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