Of course, neither Professor Newcomb’s academic exposé nor the several that followed it received anywhere near the same attention as Hurst’s vaudeville performances. from the 1897 Autobiography of Lulu Hurst/Public Domain Lulu Hurst demonstrating her technique of overpowering three men on a chair. Ingenious variations of the same principles explained the rest of her feats with props such as umbrellas and wooden chairs in each case, Hurst’s opponents were essentially set up to lose, but the set-up and leverage trickery were so artful that only a few astute observers were able to spot them, and fewer still could explain them. If Hurst suddenly shifted the direction of her pressure, her opponents would stagger off-balance as they strained to co-operate in keeping control of the pole another shift could send them tumbling around the stage. While it appeared to spectators-and even felt to the men themselves-as if they were truly exerting all their power in trying to push her backwards, in reality they had been tricked into fighting to simply keep the pole level in space. As they braced their stances and tensed their muscles, Hurst sustained her upward pressure, invisibly deflecting and redirecting their force. Meanwhile, the men were told to press forward in an attempt to push Hurst off her balance. As Hurst’s opponents were being given their instructions by her manager, she would begin to exert a slight upward pressure against the pole. Her secret, Newcomb proposed, lay primarily in the principle of the lever and fulcrum. Although the men appeared to be throwing all their combined strength and weight into the task, Hurst never budged. The “Balance Test,” for example, required Hurst to seemingly resist the strength of one, two or even three large men, all pushing with both hands against a sturdy wooden pole held horizontally, while Hurst herself stood opposite them, one or both hands pressed against the middle of the pole, sometimes even balancing on one foot. Newcomb characterized the success of Hurst’s act as “a striking example of the unreliability of human testimony respecting the phenomena of force and motion.” Professor Simon Newcomb’s article for the February 1885 edition of Science thoroughly debunked the Georgia Wonder phenomenon. A rather fanciful illustration of Lulu’s powers, from the cover of her 1897 autobiography. These had less to do with mysterious electro-magnetic energies and more to do with subtleties of physics and psychology. Miss Hurst invited all in the room to hold the stick she could, by her touch, force them all to dance around.Īudiences flocked to see Hurst exhibit these feats, including skeptics who analyzed her act and drew their own conclusions. Professor Willet took hold of the stick, but was immediately forced to let loose his hold. Brantley, and others endeavoring to hold it all were necessitated to jump about the room like jumping-jacks. She then took a large stick, Professor Battle, Dr. Miss Hurst then picked up the umbrella and it immediately flew to pieces. Miss Hurst then took the umbrella, and, as she touched it, the article flew about the room, and Professor Battle was forced to release his hold. Professor Battle brought in a new umbrella. Battle, the president of the University and a Baptist minister: The audience and participants in this case were members of the Mercer University faculty, including Dr. The following description of some of Hurst’s feats is taken from a report by the Augusta Chronicle. At a time when the standard vaudeville fare largely consisted of singers, dancers, comedians and the occasional juggler or acrobat-and when women were widely believed to be weak and delicate-the spectacle of a teenage girl apparently hurling stalwart men around the stage made for a diverting evening’s entertainment.
Promoted as the “Georgia Wonder” and the “Magnetic Girl,” she soon became a top-billed performer, sometimes earning more in a single show than most Americans made in a year. Within months, Lulu Hurst had progressed from local exhibitions to the vaudeville circuit. She claimed to have gained this seemingly supernatural strength, which she referred to as “the Power,” “the Force” and “the Great Unknown,” during a violent electrical storm.
In late 1883, a 15-year-old girl from Polk County, Georgia began a fast climb to national prominence through her exhibitions of a physical strength that appeared to be entirely out of proportion to her willowy frame. Hargrett Rare Book and Manuscript Library (University of Georgia Libraries)/Public Domain Illustration of Lulu Hurst’s chair act, from Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper, July 26, 1884.