Goldfish Swallowing Craze Of The 1930s Is Finally Explained

Lothrop Withington, Jr., a Harvard freshman in 1939, was named after his grandfather, who had perished in the sinking of the Lusitania. He had heroism in his blood. His family valued grit and valor above anything else, so when they saw their son's name in the newspaper, they definitely didn't expect it to be accompanied by the most absurd photo.

It all started with a bet. One day, Withington boasted to some college friends about consuming a live goldfish. His friends were either impressed or skeptical, because they wanted to see it happen in person. For $10, a bet was established, hands were shaken, and a goldfish was procured.

Withington's friends didn't think he could redo his infamous aquatic act, so Withington accepted the bizarre challenge. On March 3rd, the stage was set for his friends to expose him as either a liar or as an "exceptional" future Harvard alumnus.

With bated breath, the gathering crowd watched — and Withington's ancestors probably rolled over in their graves —as Withington clutched the slimy goldfish in his fist. He dropped it into his mouth and grimaced, the crowd egging him on. The fish didn't exactly go down easily.

"The scales caught a bit on my throat as it went down," Withington later stated. But with a few chews, he swallowed the doomed 3-inch goldfish. As cheers went up through the crowd, he realized that he wasn't only surrounded by his friends and classmates. At least one individual from the Boston press was there, too.

Thanks to the photo taken by the press, the $10 bet became a national sensation. The photo also became responsible for the countless imitators that followed. It was unclear, at least at that time, what exactly motivated these kids to re-create Withington's strange achievement, but they did, and they didn't just gulp down a single fish.

Swallowing goldfish began as a pseudo-championship competition at Harvard in March of 1939, and then it moved over to the University of Pennsylvania. There, an intrepid student swallowed twenty-five of the little fishies. Over at MIT, there was the "New Intercollegiate Goldfish Swallowing Champion" with a gag-inducing record.

MIT’s school paper, The Tech, included its own incident: “Albert E. Hayes, Jr., ‘42, gulper of fish—42—last night claimed the new world’s record...Hayes broke the record of 36 established yesterday afternoon by a Northeastern student when he swallowed his 37th at 6:58 P.M."

Like Withington, however, Hayes discovered a little too late that live goldfish don't exactly taste like fish sticks. "The first few fish went down rather easily — with the aid of dashes of salt," The Tech reported. "After about the first ten, Hayes had more trouble, and resorted to copious drinks of his chocolate soda chaser."

Joseph Deliberato, a Clark University student, quickly surpassed that high record by swallowing up to 89 goldfish in one sitting. Shockingly, that wasn't the end of the challenge, either. The playing field was open to anyone with a strong enough stomach to participate, including women.

When University of Missouri student Marie Hensen joined the competition, the goldfish-swallowing went from a regional fad to a national craze. Rivalries between schools got more intense, and as the kids competed, all the baffled spectators could do is wonder why Withington ate that goldfish in the first place. Was it all for notoriety?

For some, the fad wasn't about betting money so much as bragging rights. Plus, it was not exactly a school sanctioned activity; swallowing a live goldfish was completely ridiculous, daring, and a laugh in the face of authority. Mainly, though, it was just stupid enough to give you 15 minutes of fame...which Withington was banking on.

Withington certainly hoped the fame would last him for longer than 15 minutes, but not only for bragging rights. He later admitted that the only reason he went through with the stunt was so he could gain visibility during the class election, which he'd hoped to win. He'd never expected the stunt to spiral out of control...

But it did, and soon enough, word of the sweeping craze reached the doors of the Massachusetts State Senate. Senator George Krapf was instrumental in writing up an unusual bill. According to The Harvard Crimson, the goal was "to preserve the fish from cruel and wanton consumption." It was the government vs. hungry college kids.

With that, another collegiate society was born: the Society for the Prevention of Goldfish Eating. This may not sound like much of a threat, but the society actually succeeded in squashing some of the enthusiasm for the fad. It helped that exam season arrived at around the same time, which kept many students busy.

The Animal Rescue League also came to the rescue of the poor little goldfish. At Harvard, where the absurd stunt began, one student made her disapproval known. In The Harvard Crimson, Eva Williams Raymond wrote, "To end this paranoiac prank, O Harvard, how I wish you’d put the students in a tank and graduate the fish!”

Withington may have caused a resurgence of the goldfish-swallowing craze, but he didn't invent it. Some believe a theory that the whole "swallowing goldfish" stunt began at bar counters. During a totally different decade, it was a common crowd-gathering stunt for bartenders to swallow goldfish, though the spectacle may not have been as real as people thought.

Like other fads from last few decades, the goldfish fad actually began in 1920s, and maybe even earlier. It was rooted in seeing how long someone could withstand a certain level of discomfort. Similar to this was another fad from the '20s, which tested the pain tolerance of anyone brave enough to try it...

By sitting on elevated perches for days at a time, Alvin "Shipwreck" Kelly turned flagpole sitting into a phenomenon throughout the '20s and '30s. Kids would spend hours seated atop their neighborhood flagpoles, and competitions were even held to see who could stay up the longest. A different fad went to dangerous lengths to test someone's stamina.

Dance marathons were all the rage in the '20s and '30s, and brave couples would dance for hundreds of hours. Somewhere along the way, though, people decided no amount of money was worth doing the Lindy for 6 days straight. In fact, some people discovered that fads like goldfish swallowing may not have been real at all.

The college students who stomached dozens of live goldfish may have been chumps all along. The bartenders from a decade before didn't actually swallow goldfish, but chunks of carrot! One witness was left feeling quite foolish after the fact, and gave his thoughts to The New York Times.

"I am a believer in education. Although fish, as a food, has had the reputation of being an exceptional brain builder, I understand that this reputation has been proved false," the observer said. Despite getting banned, the future of goldfish-swallowing is bright, if legendary stuntman's Steve-O's goldfish-guzzling antics are any indication.

Besides, there were plenty of other crazes in the olden days that would get the heart racing. In the '50s, Las Vegas and other Nevada cities became home to so-called "bomb viewing parties" whenever a government bomb would be detonated. Some groups would make an event out of the detonation and would even bring along mushroom-cloud cakes.

College kids are known for their crazy antics, (see "goldfish swallowing" above), but this '50s fad takes the cake. Instead of sitting or standing, you would squat on tables, chairs, or anything else you could think of. We can feel the burn from here. Top that, planking!

During the '60s and '70s, thousands of kids became "pet owners" when they forked over their allowances for colonies of sea monkeys. Imagine their disappointment when they realized these fantastical undersea creatures were just boring, good-for-nothing brine shrimp.

During the mid-1800s, Victorian London was swept up in "pteridomania," otherwise known as "fern fever." Young women were especially caught up in the collecting of ferns, with the plant coming to symbolize the inhibited sexual passions of women of the era.

Before true-crime podcasts were a thing, Victorian Londoners collected "murder figurines." These ceramic tchotchkes depicted some of the most infamous murders and gruesome deaths of the age — the perfect addition to any curio cabinet.

Uncle Alfred kicked the bucket back in '42? No problem! Victorian picnickers would actually pack lunches and dine alongside the headstones at their local cemeteries, guaranteeing 'ol Al would never miss a helping of Aunt Petunia's famous potato salad.

People have always been fascinated by things that glow in the dark, which is why when several glassware companies began incorporating uranium into their products, the public couldn't get enough. Sure, each sip from that uranium drinking glass was poison, but, boy, did it look cool!

Where there are deadly, multi-ton chunks of metal hurtling by at breakneck speeds, there are always a handful of people eager to climb on top of them. Train surfing has lessened with the advent of more modern locomotives, though don't be surprised if you hear footsteps above you on your next railed ride.

A mid-20th-century trend, bed pushing saw thousands of people wheel beds for tens, hundreds, even thousands of miles for fame, glory, and occasionally, charity. Then, once you arrived at your destination, you could simply hop into bed and sleep it off.

In 1864, the morgue behind Notre Dame Cathedral was opened to the public in an effort to identify unknown remains. Apparently, the good people of Paris were a big fan of dead bodies, and the morgue soon became an attraction for droves of tourists.

Speaking of France, the Victorian Era also saw the country swept up by the Graces craze. This game, in which a small hoop was tossed between wooden rods, evidently taught young ladies how to be more "graceful."

What's better than surfing trains? Why, crashing them, of course! This craze was big in the late 19th century, and crowds would gather by the hundreds to watch two steam engines collide in a fiery display of smoke and flying shrapnel.

Watching a bunch of ants go about their daily lives doesn't seem quite as boring as watching sea monkeys float around in a tank. That's probably why during the '60s, thousands of these educational habitats found their way into American homes.

Quackery has long been a part of the medical field, and during the early 1800s, phrenology was all the rage. This pseudoscience asserted that the human brain was broken up into individual areas that pertained to certain personality traits; by measuring these areas, a phrenologist could allegedly determine your tendencies, strengths, and weaknesses.

What better way to remember a lost loved one than with an actual piece of them? Once again, we have the Victorian Era to thank for the invention of mourning brooches — pieces of jewelry that typically contained a lock of the deceased's hair.

Speed walking has settled into being a niche of the track & field world, though in 19th-century Britain, it was one of the country's most popular sports. People would even bet on the races — "Walk faster, Bobby! Faster!"

Today, when you're sick in bed, you might pull out a laptop and blow through a few seasons of a TV show on Netflix; in 1935, you pulled out your bed piano and knocked out a few afternoon symphonies.

During the drug craze of the late 1960s, one popular rumor held that the peels of bananas contained "bananadine," a chemical that, when smoked, would get you really, really high. Not only was "bananadine" totally made up, but smoking a banana peel just made you look really, really stupid.