THE MYSTERY OF VICTORIAN PURPLE DYE

The Victorian era was one of science and innovation. Cameras, cars, electricity and evolution were heralded in under the reign of Queen Victoria. In the world of Chemistry, Dalton and Faraday were making discoveries in atomic theory and electricity. One of the most famous chemists of this era was William Henry Perkin.

In 1856, an 18-year-old William Perkin, Hofmann’s assistant at the Royal College of Chemistry, was tasked to create a chemical synthesis of quinine. Quinine is found in tonic water and used as an anti-malarial. Perkin made several attempts at the synthesis over the Easter vacation in his home laboratory, using coal tar as a source of aniline. Oxidizing the aniline with potassium dichromate gave a black sludge which didn’t contain aniline: it contained something far more exciting. Perkin noticed whilst cleaning out a flask with ethanol that a purple solution had formed – an observation which led to Perkin becoming one of the most celebrated chemists of the Victorian era.

William Henry Perkin

The purple substance – initially named aniline purple – was one of the world’s first synthetic dyes: mauveine. Mauveine’s significance as a dye is its elusive colour. Throughout history, purple clothes have been worn almost exclusively by the richest in society due to the expense of creating purple dyes. Phoenician dye, known as ‘Purple of the Ancients’, is a famous example made from predatory sea snails.

Perkin was encouraged by his family to test the purple substance for colouring clothes. A sample was sent to Messrs Pullar of Perth who gave their approval. Finding success, he quickly patented the method. He set up a factory with his brother, funded by his father. In doing so, he brought purple to the Victorian mass market.

Purple became the height of fashion in Paris and London in the late 1850s to early 1860s, and the frenzy over mauve became known as ‘mauveine measles’. Even Queen Victoria was not exempt from the excitement, appearing in 1862 at the International Exhibition wearing a silk dress colored by mauveine. Wife of Napoleon III, Empress Eugenie wore mauveine-dyed dresses to stat functions.

Piece of silk dyed by Sir William Henry Perkin in 1860

But within this story there lurks a curious mystery. Closer inspection of Perkin’s synthesis method reveals that he may have been hiding something. There are eight bottles of mauvine alleged to have been made by Perkin left in the whole world, spread across six museums in four cities: London, Manchester, Bradford and New York. Museum-stored mauveine was tested in the 1990s and is rich in two main components – the chromophores of mauveine known as mauveine A and mauveine B.

Dr. John Plater at the University of Aberdeen repeated Perkin’s synthesis as it was written in the original patent, and here’s where the curiosity begins. The synthesis produces not two chromophores of mauveine, but four: A, B, B2 and C.

John Plater obtained his BSc in Chemistry from Loughborough University in 1986 and his PhD in heterocyclic synthesis from Imperial College of Science, Technology and Medicine in 1989. He was awarded his DSc from The University of Aberdeen in 2009 where he is currently Senior Lecturer.

Did Perkin miss something out when he patented his method? Or are the samples in these museums not genuine Perkin’s mauveine? To solve this mystery, Dr. Plater began investigating the synthesis of mauveine. Perkin’s starting material was aniline extracted from coal tar, and later made commercially from coal-tar, which would also have contained two impurities, ortho- and para-toluidine, which have a similar chemical structure to aniline.

A bottle of original William Henry Perkin (WHP) mauveine from the WHP factory in Greenford.


Dr. Plater’s attempts to make mauveine from different combinations of aniline and toluidines were always unsuccessful – he never managed to create a product with only the A and B chromophores. Every synthesis created four chromophores of mauveine. Removing the B2 and C chromophores was also impossible.

In the search for more information, Dr. Plater was given access to analyze three samples of Perkin’s mauveine. These samples were stored in museums: one in Manchester, Bradford, and the other in Sudbury, the London borough where Perkin built both his family home and his factory. One sample is accompanied with a letter, addressed to Prof Henry Armstrong Fellow of the Royal Society, from William Henry Perkin’s son, Frederick Mollwo Perkin. The ‘Mollwo’ letter, as it is now known, provides evidence that the museum-stored mauveine samples are from Perkin’s factory.

An example of a Victorian mauveine dyed silk dress, Science Museum London.

Dr Plater used liquid chromatography-mass spectrometry (LC-MS) to identify the chromophores present in these mauveine samples. In LC-MS, liquid chromatography is used to separate compounds by running them along a long column filled with reverse phase silica gel. The different chromophores reach the end of the column at different times. Mass spectrometry can then be used to identify the structure of each chromophore from its molecular mass and the way it fragments. This revealed that the Bradford and Sudbury mauveines, like the Manchester mauveine, are highly rich in mauveine A and B.

Museum-stored mauveines match each other in their compositions, and the Mollwo letter provides evidence that the samples originate from Perkin. However, the synthesis described by Perkin doesn’t produce mauveine with the correct composition. Dr. Plater deduces from this that Perkin actually used a different synthesis method from the one he said he used.

Perkin’s mauve was used to colour 6d postage stamps from 1867-1880.

A final clue in this mystery comes from six pence stamps. Victorian postage stamps printed using mauveine dyes are available to purchase online. Dr. Plater analyzed the mauveine in 15 six pence stamps using LC-MS. Each stamp had a slightly different composition, generally of all four chromophores. A fluctuating composition of mauveine provides further evidence that the method for synthesizing mauveine changed over time. Dr. Plater believes that his method is actually more similar than the method in Perkins patent to the method actually used by Perkin.

Purple became the height of fashion in Paris and London in the late 1850s to early 1860s, and the frenzy over mauve became known as ‘mauveine measles’.


One question remains: why would Perkin patent one method for making mauveine, but use another? An answer may be to do with the yield of product. Dr. Plater notes that mauveine is actually very difficult to make. The yields are low – about 1 per cent. The method proposed by Dr. Plater increases the yield to about five per cent. Perkin discovered this synthesis by accident, but clearly understood the chemistry well enough to understand the need for research and development.

But there may be another answer to this question. In a lecture in 1896, Perkin revealed his concerns about his competition: other manufacturers of mauveine were using copper chloride as an oxidizing agent in place of Perkin’s potassium dichromate. Dr. Plater has strong evidence now that Perkin never revealed his true method. Perkin may well have done this intentionally: as the demand for synthetic dyes grew, Perkin wanted to avoid his competition getting hold of his secrets.

Perkin was the first person to mass produce a synthetic dye, but this research uncovers a new aspect to Perkin’s achievements. Analysis of mauveine stored in museums, Victorian stamps, and Perkin’s original patent provides evidence that Perkin iterated and improved his method of making his dye, making him one of the first chemists to realize the value of research and development. Because Perkin never revealed his true method, we may never know how he did it – but with Dr. Plater’s research we are one step closer to the truth.

History of Medicine: The Incubator Babies of Coney Island

It took a war, famine, and poultry to develop the technological breakthrough responsible for saving thousands of premature infants. The Franco-Prussian war in 1870-1871, along with a concomitant famine, had contributed to a significant population decline in France. To increase the growth rate, the French needed to start having more babies, as quickly as possible. But one obstetrician realized that if he could find a way to reduce infant mortality, then the population growth rate problem could be solved far sooner.

Dr. Etienne Stephane Tarnier

That French obstetrician was Dr. Étienne Stéphane Tarnier, who, having observed the benefits of warming chambers for poultry at the Paris Zoo, had similar chambers constructed for premature infants under his care. These warm air incubators, introduced at L’Hôpital Paris Maternité in 1880, were the first of their kind. Dr. Pierre Budin began publishing reports of the successes of these incubators in 1888. His incubators had solved the deadly problem of thermoregulation that many premature babies faced.

Dr. Budin wanted to share his innovation with the world, but few in the stubborn medical establishment would listen. Many doctors viewed the practice as pseudo-scientific and outside the realm of standard care. But Dr. Budin was convinced that the Tarnier incubators would save so many lives that he enlisted the help of an associate, Dr. Martin Couney, in exhibiting the new incubators at the World Exposition in Berlin in 1896.

Dr. Pierre Budin

Apparently blessed with skills in showmanship as well as medicine, Dr. Couney took the assignment perhaps a step farther than what Dr. Budin has originally anticipated; Couney asked the Berlin Charity Hospital to borrow some premature babies for this experiment, and they granted his request, thinking that the children had little chance of survival anyway. When he managed to hire a cadre of nurses to fully demonstrate the capabilities of the incubators, he was ready to take the show on the road.

Nestled between exhibits of the Congo Village and the Tyrolean Yodelers, “Couney’s Kinderbrutanstalt,” or ‘Child Hatchery,’ became a wild success. Remarkably, all six babies in the Tarnier incubators survived. From there, Couney took his entourage to the United States where he went on to share his show at virtually every large exhibition and at the World’s Fair. He ultimately settled at New York City’s Coney Island amusement park and connected parents eager to save the lives of their premature newborns with circus sideshow visitors willing to pay 25¢ to view the uncannily tiny babies. It was an odd connection indeed, but a brilliant one that kept the warming glow of the incubator lights on for over 40 years, and saved thousands of babies in the process.

Modern Incubator

The babies were premature infants kept alive in incubators pioneered by Dr. Martin Couney. The medical establishment had rejected his incubators, but Couney didn’t give up on his aims. Each summer for 40 years, he funded his work by displaying the babies and charging admission — 25 cents to see the show.

In turn, parents didn’t have to pay for the medical care, and many children survived who never would’ve had a chance otherwise. Lucille Horn was one of them. Born in 1920, she, too, ended up in an incubator on Coney Island. “My father said I was so tiny, he could hold me in his hand,” she tells her own daughter, Barbara, on a visit with StoryCorps in Long Island, N.Y. “I think I was only about 2 pounds, and I couldn’t live on my own. I was too weak to survive.”

She’d been born a twin, but her twin died at birth. And the hospital didn’t show much hope for her, either: The staff said they didn’t have a place for her; they told her father that there wasn’t a chance in hell that she’d live. “They didn’t have any help for me at all,” Horn says. “It was just: You die because you didn’t belong in the world.”

But her father refused to accept that for a final answer. He grabbed a blanket to wrap her in, hailed a taxicab and took her to Coney Island — and to Dr. Couney’s infant exhibit.

(Dr. Martin Couney holds Beth Allen, one of his incubator babies, at Luna Park in Coney Island. This photo was taken in 1941. Courtesy of Beth Allen)

“How do you feel knowing that people paid to see you?” her daughter asks. “It’s strange, but as long as they saw me and I was alive, it was all right,” Horn says. “I think it was definitely more of a freak show. Something that they ordinarily did not see.”

Horn’s healing was on display for paying customers for quite a while. It was only after six months that she finally left the incubators.

Years later, Horn decided to return to see the babies — this time as a visitor. When she stopped in, Couney happened to be there, and she took the opportunity to introduce herself.

“And there was a man standing in front of one of the incubators looking at his baby,” Horn says, “and Dr. Couney went over to him and he tapped him on the shoulder.”

“Look at this young lady,” Couney told the man then. “She’s one of our babies. And that’s how your baby’s gonna grow up.” After all, Horn was just one of thousands of premature infants that Couney cared for and exhibited at world fairs, exhibits and amusement parks from 1896 until the 1940s. He died in 1950, shortly after incubators like his were introduced to most hospitals.

At the time, Couney’s efforts were still largely unknown — but there is at least one person who will never forget him. “You know,” she says, “there weren’t many doctors then that would have done anything for me. Ninety-four years later, here I am, all in one piece. And I’m thankful to be here.”

Lucille Horn and her daughter Barbara on a recent visit to StoryCorps in Long Beach, NY (StoryCorps)

The Crime of the Century: The Lindbergh Baby Kidnapping

Although this incident happened over 90 years ago, it still intrigues me.  This was one of the first mysteries I ever read about in high school and it’s stuck with me.  March 1 is the 91st anniversary of the event, so I am bringing the tale to you from the All That’s Interesting website. (I have added some pictures because some of the pictures in the story would not post for me.)

The Tragic Story Of The Lindbergh Baby Kidnapping

By Katie Serena

On May 12, 1932, the tiny body of one-year-old Charles Augustus Lindbergh Jr. was discovered in the woods outside of Trenton, New Jersey. The coroner’s report stated that the child had been dead for over two months. The child’s skull had a hole in it as well as several other fractures, and the coroner ruled the cause of death as a blow to the head. Several of the baby’s body parts were also missing.

The Lindbergh baby, the son of Spirit of St. Louis pilot Charles Lindbergh Sr., had been missing for roughly three months after being kidnapped from his crib at the Lindbergh home.

The child had been put to bed by the nurse at 7:30 PM. Two hours later, Lindbergh Sr. heard a noise coming from that he assumed to be a wooden crate, snapping in the kitchen. At 10:00 PM, the nurse discovered that the child’s crib was empty.

After discovering that the child was not with the nurse, or with his mother, Lindbergh Sr. discovered a ransom note on the windowsill and a broken ladder outside the window. After reading the note, Lindbergh Sr. fruitlessly searched the house and the grounds before calling the police.

For three months, the Lindbergh family, along with the FBI, searched for the child, even fulfilling an enormous ransom request and interviewing countless suspects and witnesses.

In the end, the official culprit named was Richard Hauptmann, an immigrant from Germany who had a criminal record back in his homeland. Police discovered Hauptmann in possession of $14,000 of the original $50,000 used to pay the ransom after tracking him through one of the $10 bills he had spent at a local gas station.

Hauptmann was arrested and charged with capital murder of the Lindbergh baby, a charge that allowed the death penalty as a possible option. The trial was dubbed the “Trial of the Century,” with one reporter even claiming it was the “biggest story since the Resurrection.”

As big as the trial was, the jury was surprisingly quick to return a guilty verdict. He was immediately sentenced to death and his two requests for appeal were both denied. On April 3, 1936, four years after the kidnapping, Richard Hauptmann was executed via electric chair.

The Official Investigation Of The Lindbergh Baby Kidnapping

Though the case seemed open and shut on paper, the investigation was far from. Between the media frenzy, the mysterious ransom letters, and the numerous side investigations happening, it’s a miracle anyone was convicted.

When the Lindbergh baby kidnapping was first reported, hundreds of loyal Lindbergh fans and concerned citizens descended upon the Lindbergh estate. While the media attention helped to boost the case and help spread the word about the missing toddler, the high levels of traffic on the estate effectively destroyed any footprint evidence that might have been found outside the home.

It also encouraged hundreds of false reports of sightings and information. Military officials and investigators all offered their services, claiming to have expertise in kidnappings and law enforcement. However, only one of them truly did.

Herbert Norman Schwarzkopf, superintendent of the New Jersey State Police Department, along with Lindbergh, theorized that the Lindbergh kidnapping was part of an organized crime ring rather than a single perpetrator seeking the ransom money. Following that lead, they reached out to mobsters, both in and out of prison, hoping one of them would have information on the Lindbergh baby.

Al Capone himself even reached out to Lindbergh, offering his services in exchange for an early prison release, though he was quickly denied. Similarly, it was decided that mobsters were likely to be less than helpful when it came to offering up information for free.

Due to the media circus and the high profile of Lindbergh, President Herbert Hoover was notified of the kidnapping the morning after it happened. Though kidnappings were usually dealt with among local authorities, Hoover assigned the entire Bureau of Investigation (not yet Federal) to the case and authorized them to work with the New Jersey police.

As a reward for information pertaining to Charles Lindbergh Jr.’s case, the police department offered up $25,000. In addition, the Lindbergh family offered another $50,000 of their own.

The Unofficial Investigation

While the New Jersey Police were investigating alongside the Lindbergh family, a retired New York school teacher was also taking an interest in the Lindbergh baby case.

John F. Condon, who was at the time a well-known personality in the Bronx, wrote a letter to a local newspaper offering a reward of $1,000 if the kidnapper would return “Little Lindy” to a Catholic priest. Surprisingly, Condon received a letter back from people claiming to be the kidnappers, asking Condon to be their intermediary between them and Lindbergh.

Lindbergh, desperate to find his son, agreed, allowing Condon to fulfill the letters request. Condon placed a classified ad in another newspaper and arranged a meeting with one of the kidnappers to take place in Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx.

The meeting did indeed take place, though under cover of darkness, so the culprit’s face was never clearly seen. However, the man said his name was John and claimed he was part of an escaped Scandinavian gang. He claimed to have the toddler in his possession in a boat off the coast and would return it for the ransom. When Condon doubted the man’s story, the man promised to return the baby’s pajamas.

Indeed, a few weeks later, Condon received a toddler’s sleeping suit in the mail. Lindbergh confirmed that the pajamas were his sons and asked Condon to continue communicating with the kidnappers and fulfilling their requests.

The Ransom For The Lindbergh Baby

Over the course of the Lindbergh kidnapping investigation, the Lindberghs and Condon received a total of seven ransom letters. The first was found by Charles in his son’s room immediately after discovering the boy was gone. It outlined the Lindbergh baby kidnapping and asked for $50,000 to be delivered to a yet-undisclosed location in small bills.

The first note was signed with a “signature,” a hand-drawn symbol comprised of three circles and three punched out holes. The second and third notes, delivered to the Lindbergh home and local investigators, carried the same symbols. The rest of the notes were delivered to Condon and did not carry the notes, though their authenticity was confirmed.

After the delivery of the seventh note, the Lindberghs and the police authorized Condon to orchestrate a drop off of the funds. The ransom money was comprised of gold certificates, chosen because they were about to be withdrawn from circulation, placed inside a handmade box, specifically designed so that it would be easy to recognize in the future. The bills were not marked, but each bill’s serial number was recorded so it could be tracked in the future.

Condon met with “John” on April 2, 1932, to hand over the money. He was told at the meeting that Charles Lindbergh Jr. was in the custody of two innocent women but provided no further information.

the ransomer’s “signature”

Having no leads besides “Cemetery John,” the police began tracking the serial numbers of the ransom bills.

A pamphlet was distributed to businesses in New York containing the serial numbers and providing information for what to do if they were found. Some of the bills turned up, though most went unseen. Most of the bills that appeared showed up randomly and in scattered locations such as Chicago and Minneapolis, though the people who had used them were never located.

A break in the case came on the day that the gold certificates, which made up a large sum of the ransom, were ordered to be turned in for other bills. A New York man brought $2,980 into a Manhattan bank, hoping to exchange them. It was only after he left the bank that it was discovered that the serial numbers matched those of the ransom bills.

Over a period of 30 months, police noticed that many of the bills had started popping up, specifically in the upper east side of Manhattan. Even more specifically, they were being spent along the Lexington Avenue subway route. After a local gas station called and said they had one of the ransom bills in their possession, police were led to Richard Hauptmann.

Other Suspects

Though Hauptmann is considered the official kidnapper of Charles Lindbergh Jr., that hasn’t stopped conspiracy theorists from coming up with their own version of what actually happened during the Lindbergh kidnapping.

Defenders of Hauptmann’s are quick to point out that his fingerprints were never found on the ladder or any of the ransom notes. They also attest to the fact that the crime scene was a mess from the start and that any evidence available was quickly compromised by the media circus it became.

Some experts — both self-proclaimed and legitimate — have theorized that Hauptmann was a scapegoat and that Lindbergh knew who the real kidnapper was but was either in on it or too afraid to say anything.

In fact, one of the most popular, and some might say substantiated claims is that the kidnapping was perpetrated by Charles Lindbergh himself. Some say that he accidentally killed his son while attempting a practical joke and staged the kidnapping to cover up his crimes, pointing the finger at Hauptmann to cover his own deeds.

Some believe that Lindbergh orchestrated the kidnapping as a publicity stunt and that after the hired kidnappers didn’t get whatever it was Lindbergh had promised them, the stunt went horribly wrong.

Lindbergh, his family, and the New Jersey police have argued against the theories that he was responsible for the kidnapping, insisting that everything they knew about the case suggested it had been legitimate and that the toddler’s death was simply the result of the kidnapper snapping under pressure.

Whatever the case, though it is closed, the Lindbergh baby kidnapping has become one of the most controversial and conspiratorial cases to ever be discussed by the American public.

Outside of pop culture and media, the case broke ground when it pushed Congress to pass the Federal Kidnapping Act, which made transporting a kidnapping victim across state lines a federal offense. The law is commonly referred to as the “Lindbergh Law.”

SOURCE: https://allthatsinteresting.com/lindbergh-baby-kidnapping

M*A*S*H Farewell

Today is the 40th anniversary of the M*A*S*H series finale.  The Mental Floss website has a list of 17 interesting things we might not know or remember (from an article dated February 28, 2018.)

In 1968, surgeon H. Richard Hornberger—using the nom de plume of Richard Hooker—collaborated with writer W.C. Heinz to create the book MASH: A Novel About Three Army Doctors, based on his experiences with the 8055th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital during the Korean War. Two years later, Robert Altman used the book as the basis for a movie about the fictional 4077th unit (he cut the number 8055 in half). Two years after that, M*A*S*H came to life again in the form of an 11-season television series. And 35 years ago today, that show culminated in the most-watched series finale in television history. Here are some facts about the show that won’t get you a Section 8.

ALAN ALDA AND JAMIE FARR SERVED IN THE U.S. ARMY.

Alda (Hawkeye Pierce) was in the Army Reserve for six months in Korea. Farr enlisted, and was stationed in Japan when Red Skelton requested his services on his USO Tour through Korea. Wayne Rogers (Trapper John McIntyre) joined the U.S. Navy for a time as a ship navigator. Mike Farrell (B.J. Hunnicut) served in the U.S. Marine Corps.

MCLEAN STEVENSON AUDITIONED FOR HAWKEYE, AND COMEDIAN ROBERT KLEIN TURNED DOWN THE ROLE OF TRAPPER JOHN.

Stevenson was convinced to take the role of Lt. Colonel Henry Blake instead. As for Klein, he denied a claim that he lived to regret the decision.

LARRY GELBART WROTE THE PILOT IN TWO DAYS FOR $25,000.

The veteran screenwriter had been living in London after growing tired of Hollywood, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to try to adapt Robert Altman’s movie for television audiences.

KLINGER WAS ONLY SUPPOSED TO BE IN ONE EPISODE.

He was also supposed to be gay. Jamie Farr’s character was changed to a heterosexual who cross-dressed to try to get himself kicked out of Korea. Allegedly, the Klinger character was influenced by comedian Lenny Bruce’s claim that he got discharged from the Navy for claiming to have “homosexual tendencies.”

ONLY THE NETWORK WANTED THE LAUGH TRACK.

Gelbart and executive producer Gene Reynolds were against the canned laughter; unfortunately, CBS knew of no other way to present a 30-minute “comedy.” Gelbart and Reynolds did manage to get the network to agree to take out the laughing during the scenes in the operating room, and as the seasons progressed, the track got quieter and quieter. In the U.K., the BBC omitted the laugh track entirely.

CBS DIDN’T WANT ONE “UNPATRIOTIC” EPISODE.

An episode where soldiers stand outside in the freezing cold so that they can make themselves sick enough to be sent home was rejected by CBS. That soldier tactic was apparently actually used during the Korean War.

THE WRITERS CAME UP WITH AN INGENIOUS WAY OF DEALING WITH SCRIPT COMPLAINTS.

After growing tired of having to listen to cast members’ notes about their scripts, M*A*S*H writer Ken Levine and his fellow scribes changed their script on two occasions so that the actors were forced to pretend it was parka weather on 90- to 100-degree days on their Malibu ranch set. They took the hint and the “ticky tack” notes stopped.

WAYNE ROGERS WAS ABLE TO LEAVE THE SHOW BECAUSE HE NEVER SIGNED A CONTRACT.

Rogers was threatened with a breach of contract lawsuit. The problem was that he had never signed a deal, objecting to the standard contract given to TV actors when he had started playing Trapper John, particularly the “morals clause,” which he considered antiquated. Rogers said that aside from missing the cast—and his friendship with Alda in particular—he had no regrets about leaving the show after season three.

ALDA WAS THE ONLY ACTOR WHO WAS AWARE OF HENRY BLAKE’S FATE UNTIL MOMENTS BEFORE SHOOTING THE FINAL SCENE IN “ABYSSINIA, HENRY.”

Gelbart and Reynolds used the opportunity for McLean Stevenson wanting to leave after the third season to “make a point” about the “wastefulness” of war, and decided to kill off Henry Blake. After distributing the script without the last page and shooting all of the scenes written therein, Gelbart asked the cast to wait a few minutes before the start of the end-of-season wrap party and gave them each one copy of the final page, where Radar enters the O.R. and announces that Henry didn’t make it.

Larry Linville (Frank Burns) immediately remarked that it was “f***ing brilliant.” Gary Burghoff (Radar) turned to Stevenson and called him a son of a bitch, because he was going to get an acting Emmy for the episode. (He didn’t.) They then shot the scene in two takes. Gelbart and Reynolds claimed they received over 1000 letters from people upset over the ending. Reynolds also claimed that CBS was so unhappy with the decision that in at least one repeat airing, they cut out the final scene.

THE WRITERS RAN OUT OF NAMES.

During season six, there’s an episode that features four Marine patients named after the 1977 California Angels infield. Throughout season seven, the patients were named after the 1978 Los Angeles Dodgers. Ken Levine didn’t just use baseball players’ names though; in “Goodbye Radar,” Radar’s new girlfriend was named after one of Levine’s former lady friends, Patty Haven.

THE SERIES LASTED MUCH LONGER THAN THE ACTUAL KOREAN WAR.

The series spent 11 years telling the story of Army doctors and nurses dealing with a three year, one month, and two day war.

ALDA CO-WROTE 13 AND DIRECTED 31 EPISODES OF THE SERIES.

That 31 count includes the series finale. Alda was the first person to ever win an Emmy for acting, directing, and writing on the same program.

A METRIC TON OF FUTURE STARS MADE GUEST APPEARANCES.

Ron Howard played an underage Marine. Leslie Nielsen played a Colonel. Patrick Swayze portrayed an injured soldier with leukemia. John Ritter, Laurence Fishburne, Pat Morita, Rita Wilson, George Wendt, Shelley Long, Ed Begley Jr., Blythe Danner, Teri Garr, and even Andrew Dice Clay also all visited the 4077th.

THE SERIES FINALE IS STILL THE MOST WATCHED EPISODE OF TELEVISION IN AMERICAN HISTORY.

Seventy-seven percent of the people watching television in the United States on the night of Monday, February 28, 1983 were watching the two-and-a-half-hour series finale, “Goodbye, Farewell and Amen.” That was 121.6 million people. A company only had to pay $30,000 to run a 30-second commercial when M*A*S*H got started in 1972. For the series finale, a 30-second spot cost $450,000.

THERE WERE THREE SPINOFFS.

Trapper John, M.D., aired from 1979 to 1986 and was about Trapper John McIntyre’s present-day tenure as chief of surgery back in San Francisco (it didn’t star Wayne Rogers). AfterMASH featured Col. Potter (Harry Morgan), Father Mulcahy (William Christopher), and Klinger (Jamie Farr) working at a veterans’ hospital in Missouri right after the events of M*A*S*H; it was cancelled in its second season as it was unable to compete with The A-Team. W*A*L*T*E*R followed the new adventures of Walter “Radar” O’Reilly (Burghoff again), who became a St. Louis cop after losing the family farm and his wife (not Patty Haven) and attempting suicide. The pilot wasn’t picked up, and only aired once, and only in the eastern and central time zones, on CBS on July 17, 1984.

RADAR’S TEDDY BEAR WAS SOLD AND RETURNED TO BURGHOFF.

Burghoff said Radar’s teddy bear had been lost for 30 years until it suddenly turned up at an auction in 2005. A medical student bought it for $11,500, and promptly sold it back to Burghoff.

A CONSTRUCTION WORKER FOUND THE SHOW’S TIME CAPSULE ALMOST IMMEDIATELY.

In the series’ penultimate episode, “As Time Goes By,” the characters bury a time capsule under the Fox Ranch. Two months later, the land was sold. Soon after, a construction worker found the capsule and got in contact with Alan Alda to ask what he should do with it. After he was told to keep it, Alda claimed the construction worker “didn’t seem very impressed.”

Happy Farewell Anniversary M*A*S*H!

ETYMOLOGY OF WORDS AND PHRASES, PART 12

“Every word carries a secret inside itself; it’s called etymology. It is the DNA of a word.” — Mary Ruefle,”Madness, Rack & Honey”

“Etymology” derives from the Greek wordetumos, meaning “true.” The practice of etymology is uncovering the truth by tracing the root of a word. If you’re interested in language, it can be quite exhilarating. Like being a linguistic detective. There will be few pictures in this one so settle down….this will take you a few minutes!!!

1. Disaster

  • “anything that befalls of ruinous or distressing nature; any unfortunate event,” especially a sudden or great misfortune, 1590s,
  • from French désastre (1560s),
  • from Italian disastro, literally “ill-starred,” from dis-,
  • from Latin astrum,
  • from Greek astron “star”.

The origin of the word points to unfavorable events being blamed on certain planet positions. Destiny is written in the stars – in some conceptions of fate in mythology, the universe is fixed and inevitable.

2. Muscle

A far cry from World’s Strongest Man, the origin of the word ‘muscle’ is perhaps the most surprising.

  • “contractible animal tissue consisting of bundles of fibers,”
  • late 14c., “a muscle of the body,”
  • from Latin musculus “a muscle,” literally “a little mouse.

Rather than relating to strength and brawn as we understand it, ‘muscle’ is derived from the appearance of a muscle under the skin. Particularly biceps, which were thought both in Latin and in Greek to resemble a mouse running beneath the skin.

3. Nice

Perhaps you’ve been told by an English teacher in the past to avoid using the word ‘nice’. This is because the word is so commonly used in our language that it’s not highly descriptive or imaginative. Many English teachers consider it a cop-out. Yet its origins are far more interesting than the word appears.

  • late 13c., “foolish, ignorant, frivolous, senseless,”
  • from Old French nice (12c.) “careless, clumsy; weak; poor, needy; simple, stupid, silly, foolish,”
  • from Latin nescius “ignorant, unaware,” literally “not-knowing,”

4. Cloud

  • Old English clud “mass of rock, hill,” related to clod.
  • The modern sense “rain-cloud, mass of evaporated water visible and suspended in the sky” is a metaphoric extension that begins to appear c. 1300 in southern texts, based on the similarity of cumulus clouds and rock masses.
  • The usual Old English word for “cloud” was weolcan (see welkin).
  • In Middle English, skie also originally meant “cloud.”
  • The last entry for cloud in the original rock mass sense in Middle English Compendium is from c. 1475.

The origins of the word ‘cloud’ are surprising. You wouldn’t automatically associate their wispy appearance with the solidity of rocks. The etymology explains that it refers to the mass it accumulates and thus appearing similar to earth formations.

5. Oxymoron

This is a great example of the word being an example of itself.

  • in rhetoric, “a figure conjoining words or terms apparently contradictory so as to give point to the statement or expression,”
  • 1650s, from Greek oxymōron, noun use of neuter of oxymōros (adj.) “pointedly foolish,”
  • from oxys “sharp, pointed” (from PIE root *ak- “be sharp, rise (out) to a point, pierce”) + mōros “stupid” (see moron).

Now, it’s used more broadly to denote a contradiction in terms. Originally, though, it was a clash of terms around sharpness and dullness.

6. Quarantine

The origins of ‘quarantine’ may interest you.

  • 1660s, “period a ship suspected of carrying disease is kept in isolation,”
  • from Italian quaranta giorni, literally “space of forty days,”
  • from quaranta “forty,” from Latin quadraginta “forty,” which is related to quattuor “four” (from PIE root *kwetwer- “four”). So called from the Venetian policy (first enforced in 1377) of keeping ships from plague-stricken countries waiting off its port for 40 days to assure that no latent cases were aboard. Also see lazaretto.
  • The extended sense of “any period of forced isolation” is from the 1670s.
  • Earlier in English the word meant “period of 40 days in which a widow has the right to remain in her dead husband’s house” (1520s), and, as quarentyne (15c.), “desert in which Christ fasted for 40 days,” from Latin quadraginta “forty.”

We understand ‘quarantine’ as a period of isolation to prevent the spread of an illness, but the background on this is very interesting. The root of the word is more specific to the period of time elapsed.

7. Tragedy

Without the word ‘tragedy’, we wouldn’t have one of the greatest songs by the Bee Gees. But there is also an interesting word history to be grateful for.

  • late 14c., “play or other serious literary work with an unhappy ending,”
  • from Old French tragedie (14c.), from Latin tragedia “a tragedy,”
  • from Greek tragodia “a dramatic poem or play in formal language and having an unhappy resolution,”
  • apparently literally “goat song,” from tragos “goat, buck” + ōidē “song” (see ode), probably on model of rhapsodos (see rhapsody).

Although the specificity of the goat connection is debated, the connection to goats, in general, is accepted. There are a few different possibilities as to why. The etymology includes the literal translation “goat song”. Tragedy as we know it has its roots in ancient Greece, where it’s thought people dressed as goats and satyrs in plays. There are other theories surrounding goat sacrifices. Either way, who knew goats were involved at all?

8. Surprise

What would a list of surprising etymology be without the word ‘surprise’ itself?

  • also formerly surprize, late 14c.,
  • “unexpected attack or capture,” from Old French surprise “a taking unawares” (13c.),
  • from noun use of past participle of Old French sorprendre “to overtake, seize, invade” (12c.),
  • Meaning “something unexpected” first recorded 1590s, that of “feeling of astonishment caused by something unexpected” is c. 1600.
  • Meaning “fancy dish” is attested from 1708.

When you think of the word ‘surprise’ today, you might think of smiling faces. In history, though, it had a much more violent origin. The word is rooted in an invasion in having the element of surprise as an advantage. It is also interesting that it has root words meaning “grasp”. This can also be related to words like “comprehend”.

9. Comrade

It is interesting how the word ‘comrade’ is considered a non-neutral term. Whether it’s a veteran recalling time spent with his old army comrades, or used among the political left. Its origins point to it being more widely applicable.

  • 1590s, “one who shares the same room,” hence “a close companion,”
  • from French camarade (16c.),
  • from Spanish camarada “chamber mate,” or Italian camerata “a partner,”
  • from Latin camera “vaulted room, chamber” (see camera).
  • In Spanish, a collective noun referring to one’s company.
  • In 17c., sometimes jocularly misspelled comrogue.
  • Used from 1884 by socialists and communists as a prefix to a surname to avoid “Mister” and other such titles.
  • Also related: Comradely; comradeship.

With this considered, you could call any of your cohabitants “comrade”. And it’s perfectly acceptable to use it for your partner, no matter what your politics are.

10. Clue

To end where we started, with the spirit of investigation, let’s have a look at the word ‘clue’.

  • “anything that guides or directs in an intricate case,” 1590s, a special use of a revised spelling of clew “a ball of thread or yarn” (q.v.).
  • The word, which is native Germanic, in Middle English was clewe, also cleue; some words were borrowed from Old French and Middle but these later were reformed, and this process was extended to native words (hue, true, clue) which had ended in a vowel and -w.
  • The spelling clue is first attested mid-15c.
  • The sense shift is originally in reference to the clew of thread given by Ariadne to Theseus to use as a guide out of the Labyrinth in Greek mythology. The purely figurative sense of “that which points the way,” without regard to labyrinths, is from 1620s.
  • As something which a bewildered person does not have, by 1948.

The word origins rooted in old stories like this are the most fascinating. A clue could be any object now. But, once upon a time, it was explicitly a ball of yarn a character used to find his way.

8 Crazy Facts About the Washington Monument

In honor of George Washington’s birthday, I am bringing an article, written by Dave Roos, called 8 Crazy Facts About the Washington Monument. Enjoy!

The National Park Service calls the original design plan “audacious, ambitious and expensive,” which explains why all but the obelisk was eventually scrapped.

On Sept.19, 2019, the Washington Monument reopened to the public after a three-year renovation. Eager tourists got in line early to experience the zippy new elevator and take in one of the best views East of the Mississippi.

The Washington Monument is an impressive structure dedicated to an American icon, but its construction was less than smooth (it was actually derailed for decades by a political coup). Here are eight surprising facts about America’s favorite obelisk.

A Memorial for Washington Was Planned Way Before He Died

It’s hard to overstate how much Americans loved George Washington. As early as 1783, when Washington was very much alive, plans were in the works for erecting a large statue of the first president on horseback near the Capitol building. In fact, the architect of Washington, D.C., the French landscape engineer Charles Pierre L’Enfant, left an open place for the statue in his drawings. And that’s almost exactly where the Washington Monument sits today.

Congress failed to act on the equestrian statue, and even after Washington died in 1799, legislators couldn’t agree on what kind of monument best suited the national hero. Frustrated with congressional feet-dragging, a private organization called the Washington National Monument Society was formed in 1833 to raise money and solicit designs for a large-scale homage to America’s beloved first president.

The Original Design Was a Mashup

In 1836, the Washington National Monument Society announced a design contest for the future Washington Monument and the winning sketch was submitted by 29-year-old architect Robert Mills, who would go on to design the U.S. Post Office, the Patent Office and the Treasury Building.

Mills’ original design was a mashup of architectural references. First, there was to be a 600-foot obelisk with a flattened top, a nod to the Egyptomania that had captured the early 19th-century imagination. (Note that soon after Washington’s death, the House of Representatives proposed the construction of a marble pyramid, 100 feet on each side, to serve as the first president’s mausoleum. The pharaohs would have approved, but Congress didn’t.)

In Mills’ original sketch, the giant Egyptian obelisk was to be encircled at its base by a neoclassical temple with 30 towering columns. On top of the circular temple would be a statue of Washington on a chariot, and in between each of the 30 columns would stand statues of 30 different revolutionary war heroes.

The National Park Service called Mills’ original plan “audacious, ambitious and expensive,” which explains why all but the obelisk was eventually scrapped.

There’s a Zinc Time Capsule in the Cornerstone

An estimated 15,000 to 20,000 crowded the National Mall to witness the laying of the Washington Monument’s cornerstone on July 4, 1848. But first the 24,500-pound hunk of pure white marble had to be dragged through the streets on a cart with bystanders grabbing lengths of rope to help the cause.

After a droning two-hour speech by the Speaker of the House, the assembled dignitaries placed mementos in a zinc box that would be sealed in the monument’s cornerstone for eternity (or until an alien race plucks it from the ruins of Western civilization). Included in the zinc time capsule were copies of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution, a portrait of Washington, an American flag, all the coins in circulation and newspapers from 14 states. The laying of the cornerstone was performed by a grandmaster of the masonic lodges and its actual location apparently is still a mystery.

Construction Was Stalled by the Pope’s Stone Saga

The unfinished stump of the Washington Monument, as it looked for over 25 years. During the U.S. Civil War, the site was used for the grazing and slaughtering of government cattle, earning it the nickname Beef Depot Monument.

By 1856, after eight years of slow and painstaking construction, the obelisk stood 156 feet high and would remain that way — an unfinished eyesore that Mark Twain called “a hollow, oversized chimney” — for the next 21 years. The reason, weirdly enough, had to do with the Pope.

In 1853, the Washington National Monument Society was dangerously low on funds, so they came up with a scheme whereby large donors could have a commemorative stone placed in the interior of the obelisk. One of those donors ended up being Pope Pius IX, who shipped over a 3-foot piece of marble from the Temple of Concord in Rome.

The Pope’s gift really ticked off members of the new “Know-Nothing” party, who were virulently anti-immigrant and anti-Catholic. On the night of March 6, 1854, a gang of men locked the night watchman in his shed and stole the Pope’s stone, allegedly tossing it in the Potomac.

The controversy over the stolen stone brought donations to a standstill. But even worse was what happened next; a contingent of Know-Nothings staged a coup and overthrew the leadership of the Monument Society. Donations dried up entirely and the Know-Nothings only managed to add 20 more feet to the obelisk by the outbreak of the Civil War, when construction was halted altogether.

Yes, the Monument is Three Different Colors

After the Civil War, during which the grounds of the stubby Washington Monument were used as a cattle yard and slaughterhouse, Congress finally decided to take over. On July 5, 1876, in time for the centennial celebration of the Declaration of Independence, Congress appropriated $2 million for the completion of the monument and construction resumed in 1877.

The first task of the new chief engineer, Thomas L. Casey, was to reduce the total height of the obelisk to 555 feet, exactly 10 times the width of the structure, and to spend years reinforcing the foundation with concrete.

The next issue was the masonry. The original quarry in Baltimore had shut down, so Casey tried shipping down rock from Massachusetts. But after placing only a few layers of this stone, it was clear that it was a different color and of poorer quality than the original. So, the builders changed tack yet again and brought in stone from another Baltimore quarry, which was used to finish the final two-thirds of the obelisk.

The result is that the Washington Monument is nearly white on the bottom, a tannish-pink on the top with a thin belt of light brown in the middle. Classy, Casey.

The Priceless Capstone Would Cost a Few Bucks Today

Construction of the obelisk was finally completed on Dec. 6, 1884, more than 36 years after the first cornerstone was laid, with the ceremonial setting of the capstone. When you think of precious metals befitting the capstone of a 555-foot monument dedicated to the nation’s greatest hero, you think of gold, maybe silver, but certainly not aluminum.

Yet back in the late 19th-century, pure aluminum was a very rare commodity, and it was chosen for this important feature, as the metal would not tarnish. (In 1884, aluminum cost $1.10 per ounce or $26 per ounce in 2019 dollars; in 2019, aluminum cost around 78 cents per pound.) The 100-ounce aluminum capstone for the Washington Monument was the largest single piece of cast aluminum in the world. The final cost of the Washington Monument was $1.18 million in 1884 or nearly $30 million in 2019 dollars.

Before the capstone was shipped to Washington, D.C., it went on exhibit on the showroom floor of Tiffany & Co. in New York City, where visitors could say they “jumped over the Washington Monument.” Yay!

For Five Glorious Years, It Was the World’s Tallest Manmade Structure

And then Eiffel built his silly tower in 1789, which at 1,063 feet is nearly twice as tall as the Washington Monument.

But the Washington Monument is — and probably always will be — the tallest structure by far in Washington, D.C., although not for the reasons you might have heard. It has nothing to do with city planners who didn’t want any building to block the view of the Capitol Building or the Washington Monument. That’s actually a myth.

The height limits on buildings in the District of Columbia were established by the Height of Buildings Acts of 1899 and 1910, which were primarily concerned with the fire safety of new construction methods that allowed buildings to be raised to incredible new heights. The laws, which are still on the books in D.C., restrict the height of buildings to the width of the street in front of them, which is 130 feet in most places and 160 feet on Pennsylvania Avenue.

Half a Million Tourists Ride Up the Monument Every Year

The Washington Monument is one of the most popular tourist destinations in Washington, D.C., and untold millions of people visit the monument grounds every year. But given that there’s only one elevator that zips people to the observation deck, only 55 people can be admitted into the monument every half hour. That means that around 500,000 people enjoy the spectacular view from the top of the Washington Monument every year.

The newly installed elevator system will only take 70 seconds to carry visitors to the 51-story observation deck, where they will take in panoramic views of the National Mall, the Capitol Building, the White House and the wilds (suburbs, actually) of Virginia and Maryland up to 25 miles in all directions on a clear day.

Now That’s Cool

The first tourist elevator was installed in the Washington Monument in 1889, just five years after its completion.

SOURCE: https://adventure.howstuffworks.com/destinations/landmarks/places-of-interest/washington-monument.htm

Happy Birthday George!!

Show Me the Benjamins!

I was poking around on the internet and discovered this article about Benjamin Franklin.  It seemed too good to pass up. 

33 Facts That Capture The Strange And Salacious Life Of Benjamin Franklin

He is well known for his bifocals and quippy cartoons, but these facts about Benjamin Franklin reveal a much more eccentric man.

Benjamin Franklin is a crucial figure in the history of the founding of the United States. His accomplishments are so well known that he’s often referred to as the “only U.S. President to have never been U.S. President.”

But Franklin was more than a politician. His inventions — which range from the odometer to his own alphabet — show the great grasp of his mind. He also made a name for himself as a talented writer and publisher.

From his political triumphs to his scientific breakthroughs to his colorful and eccentric personal life, these are some of the most surprising facts about Benjamin Franklin, America’s favorite renaissance man.

Benjamin Franklin Was Once The Richest Person In America…

By 1785, Benjamin Franklin had become the wealthiest person in the newly formed United States. They didn’t put his face on the $100 bill for nothing — his estimated net worth in today’s money is around $10 billion.

… But He Could Have Been Richer If He’d Patented His Inventions

Benjamin Franklin decided not to patent his many inventions because he believed that it was enough to help others with his creations. This would also allow other inventors to tinker with and build upon his ideas.

He Played A Crucial Role In Achieving American Independence

Benjamin Franklin was present for many important moments throughout the American Revolution. Not only did he sign the Declaration of Independence in 1776, but he also signed the Treaty of Alliance with France in 1778, the Treaty of Paris in 1783, and the United States Constitution in 1787.

He was also the oldest person to sign the Declaration of Independence at the age of 70, and the oldest to sign the Constitution at the age of 81.

Benjamin Franklin Almost Died Trying To Electrocute A Turkey

Benjamin Franklin was famously fascinated by electricity. He performed a number of experiments with it, including using it to cook food. Eventually, he created a method of using electricity in order to kill and cook turkeys.

In a letter to his brother, John, Franklin detailed how he decided to show off this method at a party. He brought out the doomed turkey and started setting up the charge when, all of a sudden, the attendees saw a bright flash of light engulf him. Franklin had accidentally electrocuted himself — though in the letter he confessed that his ego sustained the biggest injury.

Surprising Fact About Benjamin Franklin: He Published A Lot Of Obscene Writing

Despite his studious reputation, Franklin did not shy away from the salacious. He once wrote a letter titled “Advice to a Friend on Choosing a Mistress,” which was considered obscene at that time and wasn’t published when his collection of papers was made available during the 19th century.

The controversial letter contained many sexual references and basically touted the virtues of choosing an older mistress over a younger one.

Franklin Also Wrote About Farts

Franklin penned an essay called “Fart Proudly” in 1781, which he sent to the Royal Academy of Brussels, a respected scientific organization.

“It is universally well known, that in digesting our common food, there is created or produced in the bowels of human creatures, a great quantity of wind,” Franklin wrote. He also sincerely suggested that the scientists invent “some Drug wholesome & not disagreable, to be mix’d with our common Food, or Sauces, that shall render the natural Discharges of Wind from our Bodies, not only inoffensive, but agreable as Perfumes.”

In other words, the founding father implored the researchers to find ways to make his farts — and other people’s farts — smell better.

He Published One Of The First Famous American Political Cartoons

Concerned about the aggression of the French and the lack of a strong colonial alliance in America, Benjamin Franklin published his famous “Join or Die” cartoon on May 9, 1754, in his Pennsylvania Gazette. In addition, he wrote an op-ed that argued for a more unified colonial government.

This wasn’t Franklin’s first political cartoon — he’d published another one in 1747 — but it was his most enduring. Ten years later, his snake emblem resurfaced when colonists protested the Stamp Act. It would also be used during the Revolutionary War, and even by both sides during the Civil War.

Shocking Fact About Benjamin Franklin: He Was A Womanizer

Benjamin Franklin wrote in his autobiography that “the hard-to-be-governed passion of my youth had hurried me frequently into intrigues with low women that fell in my way.” Indeed, he was quite the womanizer.

As a young man, he made advances toward his friend’s mistress and also fathered an “illegitimate” child. And even when he reached his 50s, Franklin spent little time with his wife in Philadelphia. Instead, he chose to gallivant around London and Paris in order to satisfy his urges.

He Invented The Odometer

Tasked by the British government with improving the colonies’ postal system, Franklin worked tirelessly to streamline mail delivery — and invented the first odometer. He measured the distances between postal stations with a geared device fitted to the back wheel of his carriage.

The machine clicked ahead by one mile with every 400 revolutions of the wheel, which allowed Franklin to accurately measure the early colonial roads — and thus thoroughly improve postal routes in the system.

He Suggested Something Similar To Daylight Savings Time

While Benjamin Franklin did not invent what is now known as Daylight Savings Time, he did propose a pretty similar system. Franklin was also the first person to have such an idea in recorded history.

This happened in 1784 when the 78-year-old Franklin was serving as an ambassador to France. After being rudely awakened by the summer sun at 6 a.m., he penned a satirical essay that suggested Parisians could save money through “the economy of using sunshine instead of candles.”

Since time wasn’t standardized back then, his idea had no way of being implemented. But years later, in the early 1900s, William Willett of England led the first campaign to do what Franklin had previously suggested.

Benjamin Franklin Was The 15th Of 17 Children

Born on January 17, 1706, in Boston, Massachusetts, Benjamin Franklin was one of 17 children. His father, Josiah, had married twice. Josiah had seven children with his first wife and 10 more with his second, Franklin’s mother Abiah Folger. Franklin was the 15th of 17 kids and the youngest son.

He Was An Early Proponent Of Inoculation

Benjamin Franklin was one of the earliest supporters of vaccination — specifically for smallpox. The outbreaks in Boston in 1721 and 1730 left an impression on him and he preached to everyone, including his wife, that the preventative method of inoculation made scientific sense.

But Franklin’s wife didn’t believe that injecting fluid from an infected person into a healthy person would create immunity and so she chose not to inoculate their son, Francis. Unfortunately, Francis died of smallpox in 1736.

Franklin Invented The Flexible Urinary Catheter

When Benjamin Franklin’s brother John experienced painful bladder stones, the resourceful inventor set to work on finding a solution for him.

Franklin designed the flexible urinary catheter in 1752, the earliest of its kind. It was made of metal parts and hinged together with a wire, which was thoroughly enclosed so that there was enough rigidity during its insertion.

He Had Only Two Years Of Formal Education

Benjamin Franklin learned to read at a young age and was a promising student at the Boston Latin School. But Franklin’s father had a failing candle and soap shop that needed all the help that it could get. So, at the age of 10, Franklin dropped out of school to help in the shop full-time.

Unstimulated by his work, Franklin spent his free time reading books. He also honed his memory skills by reading essays and then rewriting them without looking. And despite his lack of formal education, Franklin earned honorary degrees from Harvard, Yale, and several other top institutions.

He Published His Early Writing Under A Female Pseudonym

After working in his father’s shop, Benjamin Franklin became an apprentice at the print shop of his older brother, James. Though he learned a lot about newspaper publishing, Franklin was routinely beaten by his brother, who also refused to publish any of his writing in The New-England Courant. So, Franklin submitted his work as a “woman” named “Silence Dogood.”

“Dogood” became wildly popular and Franklin only revealed the writer’s true identity after “she” started receiving marriage proposals.

Eventually, Franklin grew tired of his brother’s “harsh and tyrannical” behavior toward him. He decided to flee Boston in 1723, breaking his contractual obligation to his brother as his apprentice in the print shop.

Astonishing Fact About Benjamin Franklin: He Was Briefly A Fugitive

By fleeing his brother’s print shop, Benjamin Franklin became a fugitive. This was illegal since he was contractually obliged to be his brother’s apprentice.

But it also helped Franklin to strike out on his own. In 1728, Franklin and a friend opened a print shop. They published books and pamphlets, and Franklin was named the official printer of Pennsylvania in 1730.

He purchased The Pennsylvania Gazette and transformed it into the most popular newspaper in the colonies. Franklin also launched his popular Poor Richard’s Almanack, which set him on the path to immeasurable riches.

Franklin “Retired” At The Age Of 42

Starting in 1733, Benjamin Franklin published the widely successful Poor Richard’s Almanack once a year for 25 years. It contained weather predictions, poems, recipes, advice, trivia, and proverbs.

It was such a huge hit in the colonies that Franklin eventually accumulated enough cash to retire from the printing business. He became a “gentleman of leisure” at the age of 42 and focused on his studies and inventions.

He Had His Doubts About The American Revolution At First

At the signing of the Declaration of Independence, Benjamin Franklin allegedly quipped, “We must all hang together, or, most assuredly, we shall all hang separately.” But the founding father wasn’t always so gung-ho about the idea of revolting against Great Britain during the American Revolution.

He once wrote, “Every encroachment on rights is not worth a rebellion,” and called the Boston Tea Party an “act of violent injustice on our part.”

Benjamin Franklin’s Son Was A British Loyalist

Benjamin Franklin was close with his “illegitimate” son William — until the American Revolution. Then, William remained a loyal Tory and refused to resign from his position as the royal governor of New Jersey.

For that choice, he’d eventually spend two years in colonial prison. And Franklin would ultimately cut him out of his will.

He Started The First Volunteer Fire Department In America

In articles published in the Pennsylvania Gazette, Franklin expressed the need for better fire prevention methods. This led to the formation of the Union Fire Company in Philadelphia in December 1736. Unofficially, the department became known as Benjamin Franklin’s Bucket Brigade.

Interesting Fact About Benjamin Franklin: He Was A Champion Chess Player

Benjamin Franklin was a prolific chess player who introduced the board game to America and wrote the famous essay “The Morals of Chess.” He was eventually inducted into the Chess Hall of Fame in 1999.

He Was Never The President…

Franklin is often referred to as the “only U.S. President to have never been U.S. President.” But he was the governor of Pennsylvania and the ambassador to France and Sweden. And Franklin was close with some men who did become president, including John Adams and Thomas Jefferson.

… But He Was The First Postmaster General Of The United States

In 1753, the British Crown made Benjamin Franklin the postmaster of all 13 colonies, a post he held for two decades. And in July 1755, the Continental Congress made Franklin the first postmaster general.

Little-Known Fact About Benjamin Franklin: He Was A Great Swimmer

Franklin loved the water and even invented hand flippers to go faster. He later earned a spot in the International Swimming Hall of Fame in 1968.

He Became A Fashion Icon While Living In Paris

When Franklin went to France in 1776 to rustle up support for the Revolution, he played up the rustic American look with a fur hat and plain clothes.

The French loved it. Women across the country could soon be seen in fur caps and big wigs in a style dubbed “coiffure à la Franklin.”

Fascinating Fact About Benjamin Franklin: He Perfected The Glass Armonica

By the 1700s, Europeans had devised a way of filling glasses with wine and rubbing the rims to make music. But Franklin took this idea and ran with it. He invented the glass armonica in 1761, which was made of 37 glass bowls.

“Of all my inventions,” Franklin declared, “the glass armonica has given me the greatest personal satisfaction.”

He Became An Abolitionist Later In Life

Benjamin Franklin once owned slaves at his print shop, but he later became convinced of the gross inhumanity of the practice.

Franklin presented an abolitionist petition to Congress shortly before his death at age 84 in 1790, and he also included a provision in his will that his daughter had to free her slave in order to receive her inheritance.

Franklin Left Huge Sums Of Money To His Favorite Cities

Benjamin Franklin left $2,000 sterling to his birthplace (Boston) and his hometown (Philadelphia). However, Franklin also stipulated that the money had to be placed in a trust for 200 years. So by the time the cities gained access to the gift, it was worth a total of $6.5 million.

He Lived His Life According To 13 Virtues

Benjamin Franklin wrote down 13 virtues when he was 20 years old — and sought to practice them throughout the rest of his life.

They included: Temperance, Silence, Order, Resolution, Frugality, Industry, Sincerity, Justice, Moderation, Cleanliness, Tranquility, Chastity, and Humility.

But even Franklin admitted that he couldn’t always live up to them.

“On the whole, tho’ I never arrived at the Perfection I had been so ambitious of obtaining but fell short of it,” he wrote of his failure to follow his own virtues all the time. “Yet as I was, by the Endeavor, a better and a happier Man than I otherwise should have been if I had not attempted it.”

Franklin Thought He Could Improve The Alphabet

Benjamin Franklin came up with many enduring ideas during his life. But one of his inventions that didn’t stick had to do with trimming down the alphabet. In his version, there was no C, J, Q, W, X, or Y.

Startling Fact About Benjamin Franklin: He Liked To Take Air Baths In The Nude

In Franklin’s time, cold baths were considered to be good for health. But Franklin found them uncomfortable. Instead, he liked to take “air baths.”

“I have found it much more agreeable to my constitution to bathe in another element, I mean cold air,” he explained in a letter. “With this view, I rise early almost every morning, and sit in my chamber without any clothes whatever, half an hour or an hour, according to the season, either reading or writing.”

Benjamin Franklin Enjoyed Discussing Philosophy Over Drinks

Benjamin Franklin founded a group known as the Junto in 1727. Initially consisting of 12 members with different backgrounds, the group would meet in taverns, have a drink, and discuss philosophical matters. Eventually, Franklin would also start to discuss social issues of the time.

“Our debates were to be under the direction of a president, and to be conducted in the sincere spirit of inquiry after truth, without fondness for dispute or desire of victory,” he wrote. “[To] prevent warmth, all expressions of positiveness in opinions, or direct contradiction, were after some time made contraband, and prohibited under small pecuniary penalties.”

At these meetings, Franklin would come up with some of his best civic ideas like founding a public hospital, a lending library, the first American volunteer fire department, and even the University of Pennsylvania.

The Remains Of 10 People Were Later Found In His Basement

From 1757 to 1775, Franklin lived in a four-story home on 36 Craven Street in London. And when it was renovated into a museum in 1998, construction workers made a disturbing discovery — human remains.

At first, it seemed as though there was only a thigh bone sticking out of the dirt floor. But after the authorities were called, officials found a whopping 1,200 pieces of human remains belonging to 10 people, including six children. The remains were all more than 200 years old.

Fortunately, the reason these skeletons were stashed in Franklin’s house wasn’t as grisly as it may seem. Franklin had allowed William Hewson, a former anatomy student, to use his basement for practice. It’s unclear whether Franklin knew the young man was working on cadavers.

SOURCE: https://allthatsinteresting.com/benjamin-franklin-facts

ETYMOLOGY OF WORDS AND PHRASES, PART 11

Murphy’s Law

If anything can go wrong, it will. This expression appears to have originated in the mid-1900’s in the U.S. Air Force. According to an article in the San Francisco Chronicle of March 16, 1978 (cited in the Random House Historical Dictionary of American Slang), during some testing at Edwards Air Force Base in 1949, Captain Ed Murphy, an engineer, was frustrated with a malfunctioning part and said about the technician responsible, “If there is any to do things wrong, he will.” Within weeks his statement was referred to as “Murphy’s Law,” and by about 1960, it had entered the civilian vocabulary and was attached to just about any mistake or mishap. In succeeding decades, it became a cliche.

If the shoe fits, wear it!

If something applies to you, accept it. This expression is a version of an older term, if the cap fits, put it on, which originally meant a fool’s cap and dates from the early 18th century. This version is rarely heard today. It’s replacement by a shoe probably came about owing to the increased popularity of the Cinderella story and, indeed, an early appearance in print, in Clyde Fitch’s play “The Climbers” (1901), states, “If the slipper fits,”

Pennies from heaven

The first time that the expression “Pennies from heaven” came into the public consciousness was on the release of the 1936 film, starring Bing Crosby. It wasn’t coined by the film’s writers though, having been used in print a few years earlier, in Abraham Burstein’s book “Ghetto Messenger,” 1928.

A country mile

The complexity of what a mile actually is, or more to the point was when this phrase was coined, is more confusing than enlightening. Each country that has used a mile as a measurement of distance, has defined it differently from all the others, and most of them have changed the measurement at some point. What may help is a look at some documentary evidence. An early expression in print is in a poem by the Cornish seaman Frederick de Kruger – “The Villager’s Tale,”1829:

“The travelling stage had set me down
Within a mile of yon church-town;
‘T was long indeed, a country mile.
But well I knew each field or style;”

It’s reasonable to assume that the expression originated in the UK. The expression crossed the Atlantic in the 19th century and is still widely used there. Hardly any early 20th century report of a baseball game fail to use the expression when a ball is hit out of the ground. The expression is used in pretty well every English-speaking country and many have their own variants of it. People also speak of a ‘Welsh mile’, ‘a Scottish mile’, ‘Irish’, Dutch’, ‘German’ and so on.

Back to the drawing board

This term has been used since WWII as a jocular acceptance that a design has failed and that a new one is needed. It gained common currency quite quickly and began appearing in US newspapers by 1947, as here in theWalla Walla Union-Bulletin, Washington, December 1947: “Grid injuries for the season now closing suggest anew that nature get back to the drawing board, as the human knee is not only nothing to look at but also a piece of bum engineering.”

A drawing board is, of course, an architect’s or draughtsman’s table, used for the preparation of designs or blueprints. The phrase originated as the caption to a cartoon produced by Peter Arno (Curtis Arnoux Peters, Jr.), for the New Yorker magazine, in 1941. The cartoon shows various military men and ground crew racing toward a crashed plane, and a designer, with a roll of plans under his arm, walking away saying, “Well, back to the old drawing board.”

Know the ropes

The first known use of the expression in print is a figurative one, that is, one where no actual rope is being referred to. It comes in James Skene’s travel mémoire “Italian Journey,” 1802: “I am a stranger and… I beg you to show me how I ought to proceed… You know the ropes and can give me good advice.”

Clearly, ‘know the ropes’ must have been in use in some context where real rope was being used before Skene wrote his diary, but it seems that no one wrote it down. The first printed example of ‘knowing the ropes’ which alludes to a context where actual rope would be present is in Richard H. Dana Jr’s “Two years before the mast,” 1840: “The captain, who had been on the coast before and ‘knew the ropes,’ took the steering oar.”

That clearly has a seafaring connection, although it appears to be using the figurative meaning of the phrase, that is, ‘the captain was knowledgeable’, but without any specific allusion to ropes.

Bag and baggage

The phrase is of military origin. ‘Bag and baggage’ referred to the entire property of an army and that of the soldiers in it. To ‘retire bag and baggage’ meant to beat an honourable retreat, surrendering nothing. These days, to ‘leave bag and baggage’ means just to clear out of a property, leaving nothing behind.

The phrase is ancient enough that the earliest citation isn’t in contemporary English. Rymer’s”Foedera,” 1422, has: “Cum armaturis bonis bogeis, baggagiis”. The earliest reference in English that most would understand is in John Berners’ ‘The firste volum of John Froissart’, 1525: “We haue with vs all our bagges and baggages that we haue wonne by armes.” Shakespeare later used the phrase in “As You Like It,” 1600:

“Let vs make an honorable retreit, though not with bagge and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage.”

Yada-yada

This phrase is a modern-day equivalent of ‘blah, blah, blah’ (which is early 20th century). It is American and emerged during or just after the Second World War. It was preceded by various alternative forms – ‘yatata, yatata’, ‘yaddega, yaddega’ etc. One of the earliest of these is from an advertisement in an August 1948 edition of the Long Beach Independent:

“Yatata … yatata … the talk is all about Chatterbox, Knox’s own little Tomboy Cap with the young, young come-on look!” All of those versions, and including ‘yada yada’, probably took the lead from existing words meaning incessant talk – yatter, jabber, chatter.

Yellow belly

The term ‘yellow-belly’ is an archetypal American term, but began life in England in the late 18th century as a mildly derogatory nick-name. Grose’s “A Provincial Glossary,” with a collection of local proverbs, and popular superstitions, 1787, lists it: “Yellow bellies. This is an appellation given to persons born in the Fens, who, it is jocularly said, have yellow bellies, like their eels.”

The usage wasn’t limited to the Lincolnshire Fens. In the same year,”Knight’s Quarterly Magazine” (London) published an account of life in the the Staffordshire Collieries. It began by describing the region as “a miserable tract of country commencing a few miles beyond Birmingham” and went on to recount a lady’s attempts at guessing the nick-name of a local resident: ‘Lie-a-bed, Cock-eye, Pig-tail and finally Yellow-belly.’

Up shit creek without a paddle

This slang phrase, like most street slang, is difficult to date and determine the origin of precisely. What we can say is that it, or at least the ‘shit creek’ part of it was known in the USA in the 1860s as it appeared in the transcript of the 1868 Annual report of the [US] Secretary of War, in a section that included reports from districts of South Carolina: “Our men have put old [Abraham] Lincoln up shit creek.”

Australia

In Lincoln’s day, as now, ‘shit creek’ wasn’t a real place, just a figurative way of describing somewhere unpleasant; somewhere one wouldn’t want to be. The ‘without a paddle’ ending is just an intensifier, added by later wags for additional effect. This dates from the middle of the 20th century. The American novelist John Dos Passos used the phrase in”Adventures of a Young Man,” 1939:

“They left the store ready to cry from worry. It was dark; they had a hard time finding their way through the woods to the place where they’d left the canoe. The mosquitos ate the hides off them. ‘Well, we’re up shit creek without any paddle’.”

Missing from the History Books

Plenty of historic events have taken place in Nebraska over the years, but not all of them have made it into common knowledge. Some are so obscure or unusual that they aren’t even found in most history books. These six things are so crazy that it’s almost hard to believe they happened right here at home.


1. A Nebraskan “won the war” for the US.

Andrew Jackson Higgins

Andrew Jackson Higgins, born in Columbus in 1886, would grow up to manufacture boats that the US Navy found instrumental in winning WWII (though his company was not based in Nebraska). In fact, more than 96 percent of US Navy boats were “Higgins boats” at the end of the war. Then-General Dwight Eisenhower referred to Higgins as the man who won the war for us.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andrew_Higgins

2. Early Nebraska maps featured six “ghost counties” that never existed.

Just after Nebraska became a state, mapmaking company Colton printed maps containing six counties in western Nebraska that were entirely nonexistent. The mistake came about because the mapmaker referenced an early legislative bill which showed an alternate version of the county lines. By the time the county lines were finalized, the maps were already printed. Other mapmakers copied the incorrect map, and the error was not corrected on new maps for more than a decade.

3. Nebraska was hit by a Japanese balloon bomb in WWII…and no one said a word.

Japan sent out balloon bombs during WWII, then tracked where they ended up so they could perfect the technique for hitting their targets from such a far distance. One such bomb exploded over the Dundee area of Omaha in 1945. In the interest of thwarting the Japanese efforts to chart the bomb’s trajectory, the incident was kept completely out of the news until after the war ended. Today, a historical marker stands on the site where the bomb exploded.

4. A tiny Nebraska town voted itself out of existence.

Seneca, NE

The Thomas County town of Seneca, which was incorporated in 1888, dissolved in 2014 after a year of disputes and acrimony. The incident which began the disputes was regarding an ordinance that barred residents from keeping horses within town limits. Over the course of several months, bickering and bitterness led to the village board voting to dissolve Seneca. The motion won by a single vote. Seneca officially became an unincorporated community in mid-2014.

5. The first self-propelled vehicle west of the Mississippi was debuted in Nebraska.

In the mid-1880s, an entrepreneur named Joseph Renshaw Brown saw the opportunity to introduce steam-powered vehicles to the prairie. His contraption caused a lot of excitement in Nebraska City where its journey began. After its payload was attached and the vehicle started to chug toward Kearney, it unceremoniously died seven miles into the trip. Although it didn’t achieve its mission, the vehicle still made history.

6. A “volcano” once existed in Nebraska…before it was washed away.

In northeastern Nebraska, a mysterious hill right on the banks of the Missouri River used to release heat and steam of such power that people assumed it was a volcano. In reality, it was a chemical reaction within the hill causing these events. In 1878, a flood washed the “volcano” away forever.

Lucky Penny

The very first U.S. one-cent coin debuted in 1787, before the U.S. Mint was formed.

This coin was called a Fugio cent, and it served as the first official circulation coin of the United States.

Ben Franklin designed the coin.

The only year the Fugio cent appeared in circulation was in 1787.

In 1793, the U.S. Mint introduced the large cent.

These early pennies were huge… practically the size of a half dollar! 

Large cents were in circulation until 1857, and there were several designs throughout the years.

In 1856, the U.S. Mint introduced the small cent.

The small cent coin was the first U.S. penny made in a size that is similar to the pennies of today.

The Flying Eagle design was the first to appear on a small cent.

In the United States, the one-cent coin is not officially called a penny.

Even though most of us refer to the U.S. one-cent coin as a “penny,” the coin is technically called a “cent” in the United States.

Yep, the U.S. Mint officially named the coin a “cent.” And the U.S. Treasury officially called it a “one cent piece.”

It was during the Colonial period (when people used a mixture of coins from other countries) that a coin known as the British penny became popular. It was in 1857 that Congress asked the U.S. Mint to make the one-cent coin smaller.

The penny is not the lowest face value coin ever produced in the U.S.

From 1793 to 1857, the U.S. produced half cents. These coins are quite scarce today!

Other coins with denominations the U.S. used to make that we haven’t used in many years include:

the 2-cent piece

the 3-cent piece

the half-dime

Abe Lincoln was the first real person to have their face appear on a U.S. coin.

His face appeared for the very first time when the penny was redesigned in 1909.

The 1909 Lincoln penny also marks the first time that a U.S. president appeared on a U.S. coin.

Lincoln’s face is the only one on a U.S. coin that looks to the right.

All other portraits of people on U.S. coins face to the left.

Some U.S. pennies stick to a magnet, while others do not.

The 1943 steel penny does stick to a magnet. (More than 1 billion of these coins were made.)

The few 1943 copper penny error coins that were made don’t stick to a magnet. (Approximately 40 were made and only 27 are known to exist.)

Some 1944 pennies were accidentally made from steel, and these do stick to a magnet. (Only 30 or so exist today.)

The most valuable U.S. penny is a 1943 cent that’s worth $1.7 million.

Of all the modern-era pennies (those made since the introduction of small cents in 1856), the 1943-D copper Lincoln penny is the one with the highest value. It was accidentally made on a copper planchet that was intended for 1942 pennies — instead of being made on the steel blanks used for 1943 pennies. Only one of them exists!

Copper pennies from 1944 to 1946 were made of shell casings.

The public didn’t much like the 1943 steel pennies. They were often mistaken for dimes, they rusted pretty quickly, and they just didn’t look like the copper pennies everyone knew.

In 1944 the U.S. Mint began striking pennies from copper blanks made from reclaimed ammunition shell casings. They continued doing so through 1946. They look virtually identical to regular copper pennies.

The odds of finding a wheat penny today are about 1:200.

You would need to search through approximately 200 pennies in your pocket change and/or in coin rolls from the bank to find at least one Lincoln wheat cent.

In the case of these mid-1960s pennies, you can’t tell a Philadelphia penny from a Denver penny from a San Francisco penny. If you come across 1965, 1966, or 1967 pennies with no mint mark, that’s totally normal.

The 1974 silver penny is actually made of aluminum.

More than 1.58 million of the 1974 aluminum pennies were struck — merely as a test. At the time, the U.S. Mint was experimenting with different materials to reduce the cost of making pennies.

There were no 1974 aluminum Lincoln cents released into circulation, as the 1974 aluminum penny was immediately recalled for melting.

The majority of them were destroyed — including hundreds that were given to members of Congress and other officials.

However, not all of the coins were returned. There is a small number of unaccounted 1974 aluminum pennies that are still out there today!

It is illegal to own a 1974 aluminum penny.

1974 aluminum Lincoln cents are considered government property. They are, therefore, illegal to own.

Some 1992 pennies have the wrong design.

The U.S. Mint was in the process of reducing the spacing between the letters “A” and “M” in “AMERICA” for circulating 1993 pennies. But somehow a few 1992 and 1992-D Close AM pennies were struck and released by accident.

These rare pennies show virtually no gap between the bases of the letters “A” and “M.” These extremely rare 1992 pennies are worth thousands of dollars.

Most Lincoln Memorial pennies are pretty common (especially in circulated condition), and they are easily found in pocket change these days.

National One Cent Day occurs every year on April 1st.

Approximately $62 million worth of pennies are lost in circulation each year.

That’s a lot of pennies removed from circulation!

How are they “lost?”

They’re either dropped on the ground (while paying for items at outdoor events or drive-thru windows), tossed (into fountains, trash, or the ground), lost (in sofa cushions, car seats, etc), or saved (in coin collections, piggy banks, and coin jars).

It is illegal to melt U.S. pennies.

It is currently illegal in the United States to melt pennies. Anyone who melts pennies to profit from the metal could serve up to 5 years in prison and pay as much as $10,000 in fines.

By the way, it’s also illegal to export U.S. coins for the purpose of melting them.

However, if legislation should pass to end production of the one-cent coin, it would likely become legal to melt pennies in the United States after that.

Travelers may legally carry up to $5 in pennies out of the United States.

You shouldn’t clean your pennies, but if you must… here’s how.

If you really want to clean your dirty pennies, the best way is to use this 2-step method:

First, smear ketchup on the penny. Then, take a toothbrush and lightly scrub the penny — working the ketchup into all of the fine areas, and rinse the penny under warm water. Most likely, your penny will look dull and have a pinkish color at this point.

Second, combine baking soda and a little bit of water — to form a paste. Rub this mixture all over the penny with your fingers. Doing so should bring the shine back to it! (You could also dunk your penny in bowl containing 1 part baking soda and 4 parts vinegar — instead of making the baking soda paste.)

This 2-step cleaning method can strip away dirt and grime from coins — and it works especially well on pennies.

However, it completely strips away the coin’s original patina, making it a worthless coin in the eye of collectors!

It costs 2.06 cents to make each U.S. penny.

So, for every penny the U.S. Mint makes… we, the taxpayers, effectively lose one cent!

Sourcehttps://coins.thefuntimesguide.com/us-penny-facts/