A menacing tree confounds the most powerful man in the free world.
How Monopoly Solved the Great Train Robbery
This marks my first Video Installment for “History Is Better Than Fiction.” It is located on YouTube:
Christmas Reclaimed
Christmas inspires a widower to hope again, to see the eternal importance of the celebration of Christ’s birth. And with this renewed feeling of joy, the courage to pick up his pen and give the world a gift that lasts for the ages.
The synopsis for a Hallmark holiday movie perhaps? No, this story is not set in a perfectly themed little town, nor does it include a Christmas pageant or a couple sharing their first kiss while standing in swirling snowflakes. This is real history and it’s much better than any Hallmark fiction.
It was July, 1861, barely three months after the Confederates fired on Ft. Sumter beginning what was to be the deadliest war of all other American wars combined. At that time however, the full scope of the war had not taken hold, and many believed, both Union and Confederate, it would be a short and minimally bloody affair. But that summer morning the turmoil between the Blue and Gray was of little concern to Henry, as his entire life was about to go horribly wrong.
Henry was hard at work writing when his study door burst open. His beloved wife, Frances, ran into the room screaming, her dress engulfed in flames. Henry wrestled her to the floor and attempted to extinguish the flames with his hands. That being unsuccessful he grabbed a throw rug and finally smothered the blaze. Frances was burned terribly and sadly succumbed to her wounds the following day, July 11, 1861. Henry, also severely burned, was too weak to attend the love of his life’s funeral. Frances’ death resulted from a freak accident. She simply wanted to preserve a lock of their seven-year-old daughter’s hair in hot wax. A breath of refreshing sea breeze through the window, a lit candle and a dress made of light material conspired to create an unimaginable tragedy.
Henry
Frances
Henry’s physical wounds slowly healed but he was unable to shave for months, which resulted in the beginnings of his trademark beard. His emotional wounds were less responsive to the tincture of time. Six months after Frances’ death, on Christmas 1861, Henry journaled,
“How inexpressibly sad are all holidays."
Near the first anniversary of the accident he wrote, "I can make no record of these days. Better leave them wrapped in silence. Perhaps someday God will give me peace."
The second Christmas after her death, 1862, his journal entry was “A Merry Christmas say the children, but that is no more for me."
The following year the emotional turmoil for Henry and his family continued. In November, Charles the eldest of his five children, and a lieutenant in the Army of the Potomac, was severely wounded. A bullet passed under his shoulder blade and took off one of the spinal processes. Prior to the holidays, Henry retrieved his son from an Army hospital and brought him home to convalesce. Charles did eventually recover, however his service to the Union was finished. Much to his displeasure he was given an Honorable Discharge due to being partially disabled. The third Christmas after Frances’ death, 1863, there was no entry in Henry’s journal.
Though his work continued in the years after Frances death, Christmas, it would seem held no merriment. However, in the latter part of 1864, Henry’s perspective was encouraged by two very important national developments. President Lincoln was re-elected, and the Union forces were on the edge of final victory. Atlanta had fallen in the east, and the Union’s victory at at Nashville in December was the final battle in the western theater.
On December 25th, 1864, Henry’s actions could be interpreted as a man who had found God’s peace, in particular as it pertained to Christmas. Taking pen in hand he wrote the heartfelt poem that, later with musical accompaniment, would become a beloved Christmas carol. The words spoke of his pain, and more importantly, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s hope in our heavenly Father.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
and wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Till ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men."
There are many excellent renditions of this song, but I am partial to the version sung by Old Blue Eyes, Frank Sinatra. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7QIFcALCIws
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
Mark Alan Griffis MarkAlanGriffis.com
What Is A Skutnik?
When delivering the State of the Union address (SOTU), sometimes a President will reference a special guest sitting in the gallery. Generally, these guests are ordinary citizens who exemplify the indomitable American spirit. These people are known as “Skutniks.” Examples include: Lisa Beamer, wife of 9/11 hero Todd Beamer; Civil Rights Pioneer, Rosa Parks; Wesley Autrey, a construction worker who saved a man who had fallen onto subway tracks; and Coast Guard Petty Officer Ashley Leppert who rescued dozens of people during Hurricane Harvey.
Why are they known as “Skutniks?” A better question is, who is Lenny Skutnik?
The tradition began in 1982 when then President Reagan, while delivering his first SOTU, recognized an unassuming man with dark hair and thick mustache sitting next to Nancy Reagan in the gallery. Reagan commented this man represented, “The Spirit of American Heroism at its finest.” At which point the entirety of Congress and all other attendees rose in a non-partisan standing ovation in honor of Lenny Skutnik.
On a frigid day two weeks prior to Reagan’s SOTU address, Air Florida Flight 90 pushed away from the terminal at Washington National Airport (now Reagan National) with a total of 79 passengers and crew bound for Ft. Lauderdale. Due to a winter storm the airport was experiencing delays and closed a number of runways. When Flight 90 eventually made it to the airport’s only usable runway, it was forced to wait 45 minutes for clearance to take off. Not wanting to further delay the flight, the pilot chose not to return for more de-icing, and worse, failed to turn on the plane’s own de-icing system.
Shortly after takeoff Flight 90 plunged into the frozen Potomac River near the 14th Street bridge. As commuters gathered at the bridge rail and along the banks of the river, all that was visible of the 737 fuselage was a portion of the tail. Miraculously, six people were seen clinging to the tail section.
One of those commuters standing along the Potomac was Lenny Skutnik, 28, a husband and the father of two sons. He worked for the Congressional Budget Office (CBO) where he ran errands, delivered mail and made $14,000 a year.
Fire rescue personnel were soon on the scene, but the ice filled river made it impossible to navigate inflatable boats to the survivors. A U.S. Park Police helicopter, not equipped for water rescues, rigged a rope and simple circular life ring, the type found at many hotel pools, to drag four people to the shore.
However, after being in the frigid water for nearly thirty minutes, crash victim Priscilla Tirado was unable to hold on to the ring and slipped off. Exhausted, she floundered and began to sink.
As hundreds of commuters looked on from the bank, Skutnik, the former meat packer, house painter and hamburger cook, shed his overcoat and dove into the freezing waters. Reaching Tirado, he raised her head above the water and pushed her to shore, saving her life.
Skutnik said of his actions, “I didn't have any profound thoughts. I just did it. When I got out of the water, I was satisfied. I did what I set out to do."
After the rescue, as he waited in an ambulance that had run out of blankets, Skutnik gave his coat to Joseph Stiley, a survivor of the crash who had two broken legs. Shirtless and shivering Skutnik was taken to National Hospital for Orthopedics and Rehabilitation for treatment of hypothermia. Initially he was reluctant to go, "I'd heard all these horror stories about hospitals and all the forms. The first thing I said when I got there was 'Is this going to cost me anything?' " He was immersed into the hospital hot tub for 40 minutes, free of charge. However, when Skutnik got out of the tub, he faced reporters--scores of them, frenzied and facing deadlines, all wanting to know what "it felt like."
Before the weary Skutnik could get home, a woman from ABC's Nightline show arrived at his house and told Skutnik's wife that Lenny was scheduled to be on the show that night. Mrs. Skutnik called Lenny, who on his way home from the hospital had stopped off at his father's home in nearby Springfield. She conveyed that Nightline, and 20-million viewers were expecting him for that evening’s show. However, Skutnik was exhausted from the ordeal and the pursuit of the media since his heroic swim and told his wife he didn't want to be on TV. But ever the trooper, Skutnik relented and made the appearance.
Speaking about the Nightline interview, Skutnik said: "I was nervous. I was tired. I didn't know what I was."
Of the 79 passengers and crew on Flight 90, only five survived. One of initial survivors, who made it to the surface, Arlene D. Williams, succumbed to the icy water after deferring to others to be rescued first. Also killed in the crash were Priscilla Tirado’s husband and infant son. Additionally, there were four fatalities of commuters whose cars were crushed by the plane’s landing gear as it skimmed the top of the bridge.
Skutnik retired from the CBO in 2010, and now lives in a senior community in Woodbridge, Virginia, where he spends his time fishing.
Martin Leonard Skutnik, III, was an ordinary government worker of whom President Reagan said, "Nothing had picked him out particularly to be a hero, but without hesitation there he was and he saved her life.” Lenny Skutnik threw off his coat, ignored the risks and dove into history. The first of the “Skutniks.”
Videos of Flight 90 Crash
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JJvFg8gGfHE
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EspDQb9EQkM
President Reagan’s Comments
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PixWSSeKGtI
Could Mickey Mouse have thawed the Cold War?
The late 1950s were a hot time in the Cold War. The U.S. had the bomb, the Soviets had the bomb. Twenty-four seven, planes patrolled waiting only for the command to drop nuclear payloads. The iron curtain had shuttered most of Eastern Europe, and China further complicated the scene by becoming Communist in 1949. The whole world feared the two biggest kids on the block would inevitably duke it out.
After learning that Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev said he was “curious to have a look at America,” President Eisenhower invited him to visit in the fall of 1959. This goodwill gesture was intended to improve relations and also to garner Eisenhower a reciprocal invite to the U.S.S.R.
Nikita Khrushchev was, for my money, the most interesting of all the Soviet leaders. He had animated, boisterous, and emotionally driven tendencies. From the 1956, “We will bury you,” quote referring to the United States to his infamous shoe incident at the United Nations, which there are various eyewitness reports that while he did take it off and place it on the podium, it is questionable if he actually banged it.
Part of his banter was no doubt driven by an inferiority complex, both personal and for the Soviet Union. Born the son of a common laborer he spent his formative years in a peasant village described as practically medieval. After primary school, his education consisted of state run training opportunities and publications. Likewise, the Soviet Union was perceived as backwards and technologically inferior to the West.
The invitation and the attitude of respect he received from the premier world leader endeared Eisenhower to Khrushchev. Eisenhower had led the great crusade to defeat Hitler suggesting that for Khrushchev this invite from “Ike” was similar to being asked to join the cool fraternity. Khrushchev later noted in his memoirs, “I still remember how delighted I was the first time Eisenhower called me, “my friend.”
President Eisenhower incurred significant political risk with the visit. The general opinion in America toward Premier Khrushchev’s impending visit was less than favorable with the animosity aimed not only at Khrushchev but also at Eisenhower. Many citizens were concerned our enemy was getting a free inspection of America. However, unbeknownst to the American public, Eisenhower had been getting a free look into the Soviet Union since 1956 with U2 spy planes. He staunchly believed that Khrushchev’s visit would only improve relations.
The American tour included stops in Washington, D.C., New York, California, Iowa, and Pennsylvania. Khrushchev enjoyed his first hotdog at a meat packing plant in Iowa, saw the Empire State building, but was unimpressed, “If you have seen one skyscraper, you have seen them all,” and he attended a star-studded Hollywood luncheon with such celebrities as Gary Cooper, Frank Sinatra, Elizabeth Taylor, and Marilyn Monroe.
The trip concluded at Eisenhower’s Gettysburg farm where he was introduced to the President’s grandchildren. The Soviet Premier engaged the children and told them their names in Russian. At the end of the visit, he gave them little red star pins. However, the pins were soon confiscated, “My mother wanted those red pins,” Susan Eisenhower said. “She certainly didn’t want us to wear them anywhere.”
To place this in perspective, handing Eisenhower’s grandchildren a red star in 1956, the era of better dead than red, would be the equivalent of a modern day German leader passing out swastika pins to a President’s family.
For all the positives generated by Khrushchev’s trip to the U.S., there was one glaring omission– he was forbidden to visit Disneyland.
The theme park was included in the original itinerary, however, Los Angeles Police Chief William Parker feared Khrushchev’s safety could not be guaranteed. Thoroughly disappointed, and never one to pout quietly, Khrushchev ended his comments at the Hollywood luncheon with a tirade that included shaking his fist, “Do you have rocket launching pads there (Disneyland)? …What is it? Is there an epidemic of cholera or plague there? Or have gangsters taken hold of the place that can destroy me? And I say I would very much like to go and see Disneyland. For me such a situation is inconceivable."
We all know the magic of a Disney park. It has the power to turn us into kids again, and of course its best trick is how easily it separates us from loads of cash. Perhaps it could have separated Khrushchev from the monumental worries of being the Soviet Premier-the cherry on top of the goodwill ice cream Sunday, compliments of Eisenhower.
Picture Khrushchev flying with Dumbo, getting dizzy on the tea cups, experiencing the thrill of the Jungle Cruise and hugging Mickey Mouse. For a man with a penchant for impulsive and immature behavior, would it have made a difference in the tumultuous years that followed? Years that included the crash of a U2 spy plane on Russian soil, the Bay of Pigs, and the Cuban Missile Crises. Perhaps not…but we will never know.
Just imagine, it is the wee hours of the morning and Khrushchev’s plane is far out over the Atlantic. Everyone is asleep, the only noise is the hypnotic drone of the Tupolev 114’s engines. Nikita is curled up in a window seat, with Mickey Mouse ears on his head. As he drifts off to sleep he mumbles, “В конце концов, это маленький мир, это маленький, маленький мир.” Which translates to, “It’s a small world after all, it’s a small, small world.”
To learn more about Eisenhower and Khrushchev:
https://newsinteractive.post-gazette.com/usparks/a-presidents-retreat/
https://www.history.com/this-day-in-history/eisenhower-and-khrushchev-meet-for-talks
https://www.nytimes.com/2003/07/26/opinion/did-he-bang-it-nikita-khrushchev-and-the-shoe.html
http://www.flinders.edu.au/sabs/fjhp-files/2008/ViorelaPapuc2008.pdf
Nikita Khrushchev, Memoirs of Nikita Khrushchev, ed. Sergei Khrushchev, trans. George Shriver
William Taubman, Khrushchev: The Man and His Era
Public Papers of President, Dwight D. Eisenhower 1960
Henry VIII- Archery, wrestling and jousting champion. What really humbled the MVP of the Sixteenth Century?
Young Athletic Henry Not so young or athletic Henry
Mention Henry VIII, and most people would conjure the image of an overweight monarch who was most famous for spousal abuse…to the point of be-heading. Further, he is often portrayed as a gluttonous royal gnawing turkey legs.
But that’s far from the entire story. He truly personified the Renaissance Man, accomplished in every way- physical strength, intelligence, a talented musician and composer, and a lover of science. How did Henry, the sexiest man alive become sick, obese, and very possibly mentally ill Henry?
Young Henry was only seventeen when his father, the king, died of tuberculosis. Assuming the throne, the fragility of the recently established Tudor reign was evident to Henry, and as such there was no room for perceived weakness.
Henry stood 6’1 when the average man was only 5’6. His height enhanced his stunning physique, including his pronounced calves. Apparently, the Medieval ladies were really ga-ga over well-defined lower legs.
A true athlete, the King was recognized as the best archer, wrestler and jouster in the kingdom. It would seem Henry VIII had it all. But like a modern day 30-for-30 bio on ESPN, the tri-fecta of injuries, wives and age took their toll on the once mighty king.
In 1524, while jousting with his visor raised, a lance struck him just above the left eye. Historians theorize this likely resulted in a serious concussion and caused the migraines which plagued him until his death. In the same period Henry developed a varicose vein ulcer, possibly caused by a jousting accident or by wearing “make my calves look sexy” garters. The ulcer refused to heal and based on the official records it is suggested it progressed to a bone infection.
In 1525, while hunting Henry had a “Hey y’all watch this!” moment. Attempting to pole vault a ditch, the stave broke and Henry fell head first into the clay bottom. A footman was reported to have leapt into the water and pulled Henry’s head free of the clay, thus saving him from drowning.
Like an aging football player who doesn’t know when to quit, so it was with forty-five-year-old Henry. In 1536, while jousting he fell from his horse, the horse also fell and landed on the king. It was a tremendous impact when considering the weight of Henry’s armor, plus the weight of the horse and its armor. Henry lay unconscious for two hours, and researchers theorize this was another severe concussion or possibly a bruised cerebral cortex. Records from the period indicate his personality changed after that accident, becoming moody, forgetful and paranoid.
Suspected bouts with malaria, small-pox, acute constipation and Cushing Syndrome also weakened the once athletic king. Binge eating and reduced physical activity resulted in a weight at death of approximately four hundred pounds. A very un-stud-like ending for Henry VIII to be sure.
Henry VIII was not considered a benevolent King, or a well-behaved husband–Six wives between 1509-1543, best remembered with a rhyme, “Divorced, Beheaded, Died: Divorced, Beheaded, Survived.” However, his reign did include a number of impressive accomplishments. He founded the Royal College of Medicine, commissioned England’s first gunship, and was the father of one of England’s greatest queens, Elizabeth I. Further, he established the Church of England, which contributed to the Protestant reformation. And yes, I realize his break with the Roman Catholic Church involved a power struggle with Pope Clement VII and Henry’s desire to divorce Catharine of Aragon to marry Anne Boleyn but if you’re on the Protestant side of the pew, it was a positive shift.
With the current focus on the long-term effects of concussions, it is plausible that Henry’s head injuries had much to do with his bizarre behavior. Without a brain sample it is impossible to confirm this theory, but several recent articles discuss the possibility that the King suffered concussion syndrome or CTE. Arash Salardini, a behavioral neurologist at Yale University, theorizes Henry VIII wasn't born an erratic, cruel monarch -- instead, he thinks Henry's impulsiveness developed thanks to repeated traumatic brain injuries encountered while hunting and jousting.
“It is intriguing to think that modern European history may have changed forever because of a blow to the head,” said Arash Salardini.
Perhaps the next time you hear a reference to King Henry VIII, you will refrain from conjuring the image of an obese, disease ridden, moody monarch, gnawing a turkey leg. But rather you will imagine Dayne “The Rock” Johnson sitting atop an armored clad steed, jousting pole in one hand, and the other hand gesturing to the throng of fair maidens all desiring to be his queen.
History is Better than Fiction MarkAlanGriffis.com
If you would like to read more on this topic:
“Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know: Henry VIII’s Medical History” https://cvhf.org.uk/history-hub/mad-bad-and-dangerous-to-know-henry-viiis-medical-history-2/ History Hub by Robert Hutchinson
“Why a Connecticut Scientist Thinks Brain Injury Caused Henry VIII's Bad Behavior” http://wnpr.org/post/why-connecticut-scientist-thinks-brain-injury-caused-henry-viiis-bad-behavior By PATRICK SKAHILL • FEB 10, 2016
“Did Henry VIII suffer same brain injury as some NFL players?” https://news.yale.edu/2016/02/02/did-henry-viii-suffer-same-brain-injury-some-nfl-players by Bill Hathaway
“Fit to Rule: How Royal Illness Changed History” (BBC special) https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p0176qcw
“I missed D-Day because of my underwear.”
The man standing on the left of this picture is my wife’s grandfather, PFC Walker F. Nall. The setting is an Allied air field somewhere in France. The planes in the background are P-47 Thunderbolts.
Walker’s unit was part of the invasion forces for Operation Overlord, more commonly known as D-Day. However, at the moment he should have been wading ashore, dodging machine gun fire and heavy artillery from the Germans, Walker was in England at an Army hospital.
The troops were sequestered in camps for weeks leading up to the invasion. Very shortly before the invasion forces were ferried to the English coast to subsequently board ships for the crossing of the channel, Walker and a few friends were joyriding in a jeep. An accident occurred and all were taken to the base infirmary. Upon examination it was discovered that Walker and one other soldier were broken out in red spots. Fearful it could be contagious, the two were forbidden to rejoin their unit. Walker’s fellow soldiers proceeded to participate in the greatest invasion in the history of the world, while he lay on a cot in England.
It was later determined PFC Nall simply had a reaction to newly issued woolen underwear. Walker subsequently rejoined his unit in France and remained in the Army until the fall of 1945.
Some may say this was a funky act of fate, but his praying wife, Ruth, knew it was the good Lord’s way of keeping Walker out of harm’s way on that bloody day. Sadly, like many veterans of that era, speaking about their war experiences and how they felt about what they had to do, was simply not done. Somewhat like the Las Vegas mantra, their unspoken motto was “What happened in the war, stays in the war.” As such, exactly how Walker felt about missing D-Day and did he bear any survivor’s guilt for not being with his brothers in arms when they hit the beach, was something he took to his grave.
Wrong Place, Wrong Time: Who’s the man between Muhammad Ali’s legs?
For many sports fans this iconic 1965 photo personified the image of Muhammad Ali. But while a brutal contest was happening inside the ropes, outside the ring another contest ensued, that being the horde of photographers jockeying for the best spot.
It’s said greatness occurs when preparation meets opportunity. The face between Ali’s legs belongs to Herb Scharfman, photographer for Sports Illustrated. Scharfman’s seniority and status gave him first choice of ringside position and he chose to be near the judges table. The man who took the famous picture was 22-year-old upstart Neil Leifer.
Granted, there was certainly an element of luck involved as no one could foresee what direction the boxers would be facing if there were to be a knock-out. But there was strategy involved in how the photographers prepared. Liefer chose to use color film while his counterparts used black and white. In 1965, shooting in color required powerful strobe lights which needed time to recharge between shots. Therefore, unlike his competitors who fired continually as Ali knocked Sonny Liston to the canvas, Liefer was like a sniper– he had one shot.
The upstart Liefer took one of the most famous sports photos of all time, while the established insider became the butt of trivia questions, “Who’s the guy standing between Muhammad Ali’s legs?”
Leifer eventually became a staff photographer for Sports Illustrated before leaving in 1978 to join Time magazine. When Leifer left Time Inc. in 1990, his photographs had appeared on over 200 Sports Illustrated, Time, and People covers—at that point, the most ever published of one photographer’s work in Time Inc. history.
Was it luck, fate or superior planning that allowed a rookie to capture one of the most iconic pictures of all time? No one knows for sure, but the fact that the most accomplished photographer in the boxing world happened to be staring at Muhammad Ali’s backside in the image….well that’s better than any fiction.
Wonder Woman - HA! She’s a lightweight compared to Sacagawea
If you are a parent, you have no doubt experienced what I refer to as “packing for an expedition.” It’s that moment when you survey the pile of gear about to be loaded into the mini-van and wonder why it requires a gross ton of supplies to meet the weekend needs of a fourteen-pound baby.
Diapers, stroller, pack-n-play, blankets, a dozen bibs, formula, wipes, a small cache’ of brightly colored toys, five pacifiers, nine outfits, travel bath tub, etc.
In 1805 Sacajawea faced a similar baby-on-board dilemma. Well, not really similar. Allow me to back up the story a few chapters.
Sacajawea’s history reads like a Greek tragedy. Captured by a war party of Hidatsa Indians when she was only 12, she was taken from her Shoshone tribe in modern day Idaho to North Dakota. There she was sold as a slave to a French-Canadian fur trader named Toussaint Charbonneau. She and another Shoshone girl were later “claimed” as his wives. Though this series of circumstances were horrible by any standards, the experience made her an effective interpreter.
In November 1804, Lewis and Clark arrived at her village, and put in for the winter. A few months later seventeen-year-old Sacajawea gave birth to her son, Jean-Baptiste. Lewis and Clark surmised that when the expedition met the Shoshones, Sacagawea would be able to converse with them and then translate to Hidatsa for Charbonneau. He would translate in French to the Corps’ Francois Labiche who would make the final translation in English to Lewis and Clark. (If you have ever played the campfire game “Telephone” you can appreciate what may have gotten lost in the multiple translations.)
Little Jean Baptiste was less than two months old when the Corps of Discovery departed to continue the trek to the Pacific Ocean. All Sacajawea brought was what she could carry on her back and what would fit in a canoe--No Coast Guard approved flotation devices included. Sacagawea was the only woman to accompany the 33 members of the permanent party to the Pacific Ocean and make the return trip. In addition to translation, her role with the Corps included collecting edible plants, roots and berries which were used as food and medicine.
In May several boats overturned and Lewis noted, “the Indian woman to whom I ascribe equal fortitude and resolution, with any person on board at the time of the accedent, caught and preserved most of the light articles which were washed overboard.”
Four days after that entry, the captains named "a handsome river of about fifty yards in width" the Sacagawea "or bird woman's River, after our interpreter the Snake woman." The Sacagawea River empties into the Musselshell a few miles south of where the latter joins the Missouri in northeastern Montana.
On August 12, 1805, Captain Lewis and three men scouted 75 miles ahead of the expedition’s main party, crossing the Continental Divide at today’s Lemhi Pass. The next day, they found a group of Shoshones. Not only did they prove to be Sacagawea’s band, but their leader, Chief Cameahwait, turned out to be none other than her brother. Through the labyrinth interpreting chain the expedition was able to purchase the horses it needed.
Sacagawea turned out to be incredibly valuable to the Corps when they encountered new tribes. As Clark noted on October 19, 1805, “the Indians were inclined to believe that the whites were friendly when they saw Sacagawea. A war party never traveled with a woman -- especially a woman with a baby.”
On November 24, 1805, when the expedition reached the place where the Columbia River emptied into the Pacific Ocean, the captains held a vote among all the members to decide where to settle for the winter. Because of the respect she had earned, Sacagawea’s vote was counted equally with those of the captains and the men. While there at Fort Clatsop, local Indians told the expedition of a whale that had been stranded on a beach some miles to the south. Clark assembled a group of men to find the whale and possibly obtain the oil and blubber. Sacagawea had yet to see the ocean, and after willfully asking Clark, she was allowed to accompany the group to the sea.
As Captain Lewis wrote on January 6, 1806, “The Indian woman was very importunate to be permitted to go and was therefore indulged. He observed that she had traveled a long way with us to see the great waters, and that now the monstrous fish was also to be seen, she thought it very hard she could not be permitted to see either.”
The Corps returned to the Hidatsa-Mandan villages on August 14, 1806, marking the end of the trip for Sacagawea, Charbonneau, and their boy, Jean Baptiste. When the trip was over, Sacagawea received nothing, but Charbonneau was given $500.33 and 320 acres of land.
Charbonneau Toussaint was not suited to tilling the soil, and, moreover, both he and Sacagawea longed to return to their former lives on the upper Missouri. Selling his land to Clark for $100, he took employment with the Missouri Fur Company. He and Sacagawea departed leaving their son Baptiste in the care of Clark, who would see to the boy’s education.
Sacagawea had endured so much in her life and had been such an amazing asset to the expedition that a happy ending was certainly deserved. But that was not to be. Six years after the expedition, Sacagawea gave birth to a daughter, Lisette. Shortly after on December 22, 1812, the Shoshone woman died at age 25 due to what later medical researchers believed was a serious illness she had suffered most of her adult life.
Eight months after her death, Clark legally adopted Sacagawea’s two children, Jean Baptiste and Lisette. Baptiste was educated by Clark in St. Louis, and then at age 18, was sent to Europe. It is not recorded whether Lisette survived past infancy. Charbonneau remained among the Mandans and Hidatsa along the upper Missouri until his death in 1840.
Sacagawea’s legacy and contribution to the Core of Discovery has been never fully appreciated. Undertaking a 2800-mile journey into the wilds of the American west, with an infant, certainly gives Sacagawea top billing over the fictional Wonder Woman.
To learn more about Sacagawea or the expedition there are scores of books and articles. However, for those who would prefer to watch their history, check out PBS’ Lewis & Clark: The Journey of the Corps of Discovery.
“The Agony of Defeat”: Going Viral in the Dark Ages (The 1970s)
The XXIII Winter Games recently concluded in PyeongChang South Korea. In my opinion, the event that reveals true courage or perhaps true idiocy is ski jumping. Streaking down a ramp at speeds up 60 miles per hour then launching skyward and flying the length of almost three football field seems a perfect recipe for disaster…Which is a perfect segue for this installment of History is Better than Fiction.
Unless you are old enough (and possibly bored enough) to have been watching ABC’s Wide World of Sports (WWS) on Saturday afternoons during the 1970s, you are probably clueless as to the origins of the phrase, “The Agony of Defeat.”
In the prehistoric period before multiple cable stations, and most certainly before there were channels devoted solely to sports, WWS enthralled viewers with events other than the big four - football, baseball, hockey and basketball. One week it was cliff diving from Acapulco and the next it was lumberjack championships. Of course, the Holy Grail of WWS offerings was Evil Knievel attempting, and succeeding most times, to jump his Harley Davidson over a string of buses, trucks or fountains.
Legendary sports caster Jim McKay narrated the opening sequence of WWS, “Spanning the globe to bring you the constant variety of sports, the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat, the human drama of athletic competition. This is ABC’s Wide World of Sports.”
Beginning in early 1970s, the opening scene that accompanied the phrase “agony of defeat” was a ski jumper who just before takeoff loses his balance, flies off the side of the ramp and tumbles violently to the ground. It was a horrible crash but you just had to watch…every week. Who was that ski jumper? Did he survive?
The jumper was twenty-two-year-old Vinko Bogataj, a Slovenian competing for then Yugoslavia. The event was the 1970 World Ski Championships held in Oberstdorf, West Germany, and yes, he survived. The carnage that was enjoyed by weekly viewers resulted in Bogataj breaking an ankle and suffering a concussion. Shortly thereafter, ABC began using the clip for WWS, and Bogataj became famous, albeit anonymously.
In a recent interview with ESPN.com’s Thomas Neumann, Bogataj discussed the ill-fated day. "It was bad weather, and we had to wait around 20 minutes before we got permission to start. I remember that I couldn't see very good. The track was very bad, and just before I could jump, the snow or something grabbed my skis and I fell. From that moment, I don’t remember anything." The fall occurred in March 1970, and Bogataj returned to training that June. "He's a fearless guy," his daughter Sandra added.
In the ensuing years, unbeknownst to him, the fall became an iconic image in America. "He didn't have a clue he was famous," his daughter said. That changed when ABC tracked him down in 1981 and asked him to attend a ceremony in New York to celebrate the 20th anniversary of Wide World of Sports. At the gala Bogataj received the loudest ovation among a group that included some of the best-known athletes in the world. The moment became truly surreal for Bogataj when Muhammad Ali asked for his autograph.
"He didn't take Ali seriously that he wanted an autograph, because Muhammad Ali is a really famous guy," his daughter said. "That was a special moment. Then he realized that he too must be famous."
Now 70, Bogataj lives in Lesce, Slovenia with wife Liliana. He's an award-winning artist, whose paintings have been exhibited in Europe and the United States.
To see Bogataj’s fall https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TtdBiGDmSeE
Who is Francis Stephens: The Sinking of the Lusitania
On the seventh of May, 1915, due south of the Irish coast, a German U-Boat torpedoed and sunk the RMS Lusitania. 1,195 souls were lost including 120 Americans. The event did much to influence U.S. public opinion regarding whether or not we should be involved in Europe’s War.
In 1915, President Woodrow Wilson was staunchly committed to keeping the U.S. out of World War I. However, Britain was one of America’s closest trading partners, both an economic and strategic relationship. The Germans knew the Americans were providing much needed supplies to Great Britain and suspected these supplies included munitions. In light of these suspicions, the Germans announced unrestricted submarine warfare in the waters around Britain.
In early May 1915, the German Embassy placed ads in several New York newspapers warning that Americans traveling on British or Allied ships in war zones did so at their own risk. Incidentally, the ad appeared in one newspaper on the same page as an advertisement for the Lusitania’s return trip to Liverpool. In light of the concerns, the British Admiralty had warned the captain to avoid the area or take evasive action, such as zigzagging to make it more difficult for the U-boats to plot a vessel’s course.
Despite the warnings, the Lusitania left New York on May 1, 1915. Seven days later, due south of the Irish coast, German U-Boat U-20 commanded by Walther Schwieger torpedoed and sunk her.
Francis Stephens was a wealthy Canadian, who despite the warnings, chose to book passage on the ocean liner. She was one of the 1,195 who perished in the frigid waters of the South Irish Sea. Her remains were later recovered but rather than allow her to be buried in Irish soil, the family arranged for passage back to Canada. Four months after the sinking of the Lusitania, Mrs. Stephens’ remains were loaded aboard the RMS Hesperian for the trip home to Canada.
On September 4, 1915, Commander Schwieger was cruising just west of the Emerald Isle in U-Boat 20, when again he spied a British ship in his periscope––the Hesperian. Schwieger fired a torpedo into the ship’s starboard side before descending to the safety of the murky depths. The damaged ship managed to stay afloat until the following day and was being towed to port when the Hesperian, along with the casket containing Francis Stephens, slipped beneath the waves.
Francis Stephens was not a spy, nor a munitions manufacturer, she was simply a Canadian citizen who logged passage on a doomed ship. World War I claimed the lives of over twenty million people. But considering it from all angles, the circumstances of Stephens’ death and her final resting place are facts far better than any fiction.
(For more on the intriguing story of the Lusitania, and her ill-fated passengers, explore Erik Larsons’s book, Dead Wake.)
