Author: fishkindj

Interesting Facts From Our Past — by John Devoti

Often, horror fiction tells of mad scientists who experiment on themselves, usually with dreadful consequences. Possibly the most famous of these is The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson. Sometimes, real-life scientists will also try this. Many probably fail and end up in obituaries. But when scientists succeed, they can make major advances. For example, Jonas Salk worked on a polio vaccine with funding from the March of Dimes. He developed a vaccine that used dead polio cells to boost immunity. When experts balked at human testing, despite success in lab animals, Salk conducted his own tests. In 1953, he administered the vaccine to volunteers, himself, his wife, and his children. No one contracted the disease, and all developed anti-polio antibodies. He then conducted a larger test with over a million subjects a year later, and announced the success in 1955; by 1957, the vaccine was widely available.

Dr. Evan O’Neill Kane liked to operate on himself. This was not because of masochistic tendencies, but because he needed to prove a point that local anesthesia was safe and could be used instead of the more dangerous general anesthesia. In 1919, one of his fingers developed a dangerous infection, and using a local anesthetic, he amputated it. Two years later, he performed a more serious operation, removing his own inflamed appendix, using only Novocaine to numb the area. In both cases, an experienced surgeon oversaw the operations. The surgeries proved that general anesthesia was not the only way to numb a patient. Kane operated on himself again in 1932 at age 70. An inguinal hernia suffered after a horse ride six years earlier had worsened. Having performed operations on himself several times, he saw no reason not to do it again. During the surgery, he joked with his assistants but grew serious as he approached the most critical part of the repair, saying, “The risk is here, and I have to deal with it.” He then finished the operation with minimal help.

Three hundred and twenty-five years ago, on October 9, 1701, the Collegiate School of Connecticut, which would later become Yale University, was chartered in Old Saybrook. The General Court of Connecticut created the school “wherein Youth may be instructed in the Arts and Sciences who [through] the blessing of Almighty God may be fitted for employment both in Church & Civil State.” Nathaniel Lynde deeded a building and ten acres to the school in Saybrook. However, in 1716, despite protests from Saybrook residents and a deed stipulating that the school must remain there, the trustees decided to relocate to New Haven. In 1718, Elihu Yale donated a large amount of books and money to the school, prompting the trustees to rename the institution Yale College. It was renamed Yale University in 1887.

Three hundred years ago, on October 28, 1726, Jonathan Swift published the novel Gulliver’s Travels. It had a subtitle of Travels into Several Remote Nations of the World. In Four Parts. By Lemuel Gulliver, First a Surgeon, and then a Captain of Several Ships. While children usually read the book today, that was not Swift’s original intent. He meant the book “to vex the world rather than divert it.” Swift was a social critic who enjoyed pointing out society’s ludicrousness, especially in politics. The Travels mocked military powers that fought wars over trivial issues, the aristocracy that treated others as insignificant, and scholars whose projects often led to nothing. Even today, terms from the book for societies Gulliver encountered, like Lilliputians and Yahoos, are still used to describe certain groups.

One hundred and twenty-five years ago, on October 12, 1901, President Theodore Roosevelt changed the name of the president’s official residence from the Executive Mansion to the White House on all documentation. Over the years, the residence was called the “President’s Palace,” the “President’s House,” and the “Executive Mansion.” The building was originally whitewashed in 1798 to protect the porous sandstone in intense cold. After the War of 1812, in 1818, lead paint replaced the whitewash. The house was often called the “White House” because of its first painting. Roosevelt’s official renaming was part of a larger remodeling effort he initiated. In 1902, with funds allocated by Congress, he oversaw construction of two additions: a west wing to house the executive offices, and an east wing that originally served as the visitor’s entrance. Later, the First Lady’s offices were added.

Seventy-five years ago, on October 20, 1951, the “Johnny Bright incident” occurred. Johnny Bright, an African-American star football player for the Drake Bulldogs in Des Moines, Iowa, was playing against Oklahoma A&M (now known as Oklahoma State University). During the game, Bright handed the ball off and then was violently hit by guard Wilbanks Smith, resulting in a broken jaw. This was one of three attacks by Smith in the first seven minutes. Bright completed a 61-yard TD pass, but later left the game due to the injury. Bright’s play for the rest of the season was limited, playing with a wired jaw and facemask. Oklahoma A&M denied that Smith intentionally targeted Bright. Still, a series of photos published in the Des Moines Register captured the brutality of the hit and were later featured nationally in Life Magazine. Because neither Smith nor A&M received any sanctions, Drake withdrew from the Missouri Valley Conference. In solidarity with Drake, Bradley University of Peoria, Illinois, also left the conference. This incident prompted the NCAA to implement changes to limit violent blocking and mandate face guards for players. Years later, in 2005, Oklahoma State University finally apologized to Drake University, more than two decades after Bright’s death.

Finally, we discussed a scientist who was willing to vaccinate his entire family, and a doctor who performed surgery on himself. But would a scientist willingly infect himself to prove a point? Barry James Marshall was that scientist. For many years, doctors believed that ulcers were caused by excess stomach acid from an improper diet or excessive stress. In 1979, pathologist J. Robin Warren discovered that patients with ulcers had distinctively curved bacteria in their stomach biopsies. In 1982, Marshall joined Warren in a study of the bacterium Helicobacter pylori at Royal Perth Hospital in Australia. Warren and Marshall submitted a paper with their findings, but the Gastroenterological Society of Australia rejected it. In 1984, to prove the point, Marshall drank a culture of the bacterium. Three days later, he developed nausea and achlorhydria (a lack of stomach acid) and began vomiting. An endoscopy and biopsy showed the development of gastritis. After two weeks, Marshall began taking antibiotics and bismuth, and the infection disappeared, as did the gastritis. Further research showed that certain ulcers, presenting as duodenal ulcers, were actually distal pyloric ulcers and treatable with antibiotics.

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About the Author

In the early 1990s, John Devoti had a midlife crisis. He did not want a motorcycle (those things are dangerous) or a new wife (his was very cute). Instead, he quit his auditing job and returned to school for his history doctorate. He wrote The Patriotic Business of Seeking Office: James K. Polk and the Patronage. It was not a bestseller. He taught college history for almost twenty years before retiring, and still dabbles by volunteering as a docent at the Roebling Museum in South Jersey. By the way, his wife and editor, Judy, is still very cute.

📖 John’s columns are collected in Tidbits of History: 25 Years of Historical Morsels — available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and at the Roebling Museum.

Interesting Facts From Our Past — by John Devoti

Goosey, goosey, gander,
Where shall I wander?
Upstairs, downstairs,
And in my lady’s chamber.
There I met an old man,
Who wouldn’t say his prayers;
Take him by the left leg,
And throw him down the stairs.

Goosey, goosey, gander dates back to the English Civil War and the reign of the Lord Protector Oliver Cromwell (1653–1659). Cromwell was a Puritan and prohibited Roman Catholicism. The key to the rhyme is the second stanza, mentioning the old man. The old man was a priest who would not say his prayers in English. His use of Latin marked him as a priest who should be punished. The belief was that Catholics favored their left foot while Protestants used their right. Whether this belief was correct or not, Catholics acquired the nickname “left-footers.” So, in the rhyme, the priest was grabbed by his left foot. The execution by tossing him from a height is self-explanatory.

Rock a bye baby on the tree top,
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock,
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall,
And down will come baby, cradle and all.

The rhyme comes from England’s Glorious Revolution of 1688. The heir to the Stuart throne was James Francis Stuart, son of James II, born in that year. Protestants who wanted reform feared the birth of the prince, believing it would lead to the continuation of the Stuart anti-Protestant laws. Many even thought Prince James was not a legitimate offspring. After ten miscarriages, they believed the prince was another stillbirth and that another child had been substituted. Opposition against James II grew (“the wind blows”). Finally, the king was overthrown and replaced by the Protestant Mary II, James’s firstborn, and her Dutch husband William III (down came the baby along with the king).

One thousand, two hundred and twenty-five years ago, on September 25, 801, the world’s oldest republic, the Most Serene Republic of San Marino, was founded by Saint Marinus. San Marino can also claim to be the world’s oldest sovereign state. After rebuilding the stone walls of Rimini on the Adriatic coast, the stonemason Marinus founded a monastic community on Mount Titan, about ten miles inland. The land was gifted to Marinus by its owner, Donna Felicissima, in recognition of his miraculous cure of her son. Although the monastic community and the later surrounding city-state were run by an elected council, there is debate about the country’s independence and democracy. The state was under the de facto protection of the Papacy until it declared independence in 1291, and the republic itself was not codified until 1600.

Two hundred and fifty years ago, on September 22, 1776, Nathan Hale was hanged for spying. As a spy, Hale was not a great success. After the American Revolution began, Hale volunteered as a first lieutenant in the Continental Army. For about six months, he saw no fighting and, in frustration, volunteered as a spy behind enemy lines. General George Washington desperately wanted to know about the British plans for Manhattan. Unfortunately, Hale arrived in Brooklyn from Connecticut two days after the British had already occupied Manhattan, rendering the mission moot. He was ordered to return to Connecticut, gathering information along the way. His questioning methods were too open, leading to his capture on September 21. His famous line, “I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country,” was almost certainly apocryphal. The line seems to be a paraphrase from the 1713 play, Cato, by Joseph Addison: “How beautiful is death, when earned by virtue! Who would not be that youth? What pity is it that we can die but once to serve our country!” The quote attributed to Hale does not appear in the histories until the mid-nineteenth century.

One hundred and twenty-five years ago, on September 6, 1901, Leon Czolgosz shot President William McKinley at the Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo, New York. The president died eight days later. Czolgosz, the son of Polish immigrants from Detroit, had worked as a steelworker from a young age and developed a strong belief in anarchist philosophy as an adult. He justified his actions by claiming that McKinley’s assassination would help dismantle a corrupt government. Convicted of murder, Czolgosz was executed less than two months after the attack. At the time of the shooting, Vice-President Theodore Roosevelt was attending a fish and game event at Lake Champlain in Vermont. Initially reassured by doctors that McKinley was recovering, Roosevelt left for a planned excursion to climb Mount Marcy in northeastern New York. During this climb, he received the devastating news of McKinley’s death, prompting him to hurry back to take the oath of office.

One hundred and twenty-five years ago, on September 7, 1901, the Boxer Protocol officially ended the Boxer Rebellion in China. For decades, European countries had forced trade and political concessions from the weak Chinese Qing Dynasty. In early 1900, the Chinese secret society, Yihetuan (Righteous and Harmonious Fists), initiated a peasant rebellion against the foreigners. The group practiced a martial art resembling boxing, so foreign powers began calling the insurgents “Boxers.” In June 1900, the violence forced Europeans into the Legation Quarter of Peking (Beijing), and they sent out a distress call. Eight countries sent a 20,000-man force to relieve the Quarter. The force advanced quickly, but disease and heat cut their numbers in half. Despite the weakened army, a 55-day siege eventually led to the occupation of Peking. At that point, the Empress Dowager, the nominal head of the dynasty, ordered her ministers to negotiate a peace. The humiliating defeat eventually led to the dynasty’s fall ten years later.

Twenty-five years ago, on September 11, 2001, coordinated terrorist attacks by al-Qaeda killed almost 3000 people in the United States. Nineteen terrorists hijacked four airplanes and flew them into the twin towers of the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. The fourth plane, bound for the White House or Capitol, crashed in Pennsylvania after passengers wrested back control. For years, the hijackers, led by Saudi national Osama bin Laden, planned the attack. They learned to fly the jets at American flight schools, and by the time of the hijacking, most had overstayed their visas. Several members of the intelligence community warned of a possible attack, but leadership dismissed the concerns as either far-fetched or too vague to follow up. The attacks eventually led to heightened security in the United States and two wars in Afghanistan and Iraq.

Finally:

Here we go round the mulberry bush,
The mulberry bush,
The mulberry bush.
Here we go round the mulberry bush
On a cold and frosty morning.
This is the way we wash our face,
Wash our face,
Wash our face.
This is the way we wash our face
On a cold and frosty morning.

The rhyme first appeared in Nursery Rhymes of England, written by James Orchard Halliwell-Phillipps in 1842. Although similar games and rhymes are found in England, the Netherlands, and Scandinavia, this specific version refers to the women’s prison in Wakefield, England. The women’s punishment came in three stages. First, the women were separated into solitary confinement, and then forced into solitary labor. Finally, they were put in a communal facility. The rhyme refers to the prison’s exercise program. Each day, the women would be forced to dance with children around a mulberry tree in the yard. The second stanza refers to the educational program required of all women to train them to be responsible women. The tree referred to in the rhyme died in 2019.

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About the Author

In the early 1990s, John Devoti had a midlife crisis. He did not want a motorcycle (those things are dangerous) or a new wife (his was very cute). Instead, he quit his auditing job and returned to school for his history doctorate. He wrote The Patriotic Business of Seeking Office: James K. Polk and the Patronage. It was not a bestseller. He taught college history for almost twenty years before retiring, and still dabbles by volunteering as a docent at the Roebling Museum in South Jersey. By the way, his wife and editor, Judy, is still very cute.

📖 John’s columns are collected in Tidbits of History: 25 Years of Historical Morsels — available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and at the Roebling Museum.

Interesting Facts From Our Past — by John Devoti

The Tudor and Stuart period of the British monarchy (1485-1714) was a rich time for nursery rhymes. Often, opponents to the king or queen would compose these rhymes as disguised criticism of the monarchy.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With silver bells and cockleshells
And pretty maids all in a row!

One popular theory suggests this rhyme refers to Mary I, also known as "Bloody Mary," for her habit of killing Protestant ministers. After the reigns of Henry VIII and Edward VI, which promoted the Anglican Church, Mary, a Catholic, condemned anyone who subscribed to the newer religion. Anyone who disagreed with her contrary views would be planted in her "garden" or graveyard. Before that, the accused would be tortured with "silver bells" (corkscrews) or "cockleshells" (genital presses). Then the "pretty maids" (the condemned) would be lined up for beheading. Remember that the next time you say this cute little rhyme.

Three hundred twenty-five years ago, on August 4, 1701, the Great Peace of Montreal, ending the Beaver Wars between New France and the North American First Nations, was signed. The Beaver Wars were a sixty-year conflict that involved three European nations and two indigenous nations. Responding to European demand for beaver pelts, the Haudenosaunee, or Five Nations (Seneca, Cayuga, Onondaga, Oneida, and Mohawk), used guns supplied by first the Dutch and then the English to expand westward. Meanwhile, the Western Algonquians (Miami, Ottawa, and Ojibwe tribes), helped by their French allies, resisted the expansion. Eventually, the Algonquians settled in the west, in present-day western Ontario, Michigan, and Illinois. However, tired of the long struggle, the Haudenosaunee offered to negotiate a peace, which was worked out between the two nations and the French. With the agreement, many Algonquians could return to their homes along the Ohio River.

One hundred seventy-five years ago, on August 22, 1851, the yacht America won the first America’s Cup. The competition coincided with England’s Great Exhibition of 1851. Five members of the New York Yacht Club financed a new schooner designed to compete with England’s best. The ship sailed from the East River in New York to France, where it was repainted and repaired after the transatlantic journey. The owners then challenged the best British yachts to a race. No individual owner accepted, and America raced against fifteen yachts of the Royal Yacht Squadron around the Isle of Wight. Queen Victoria and Prince Albert watched from her royal yacht. The race was not close. When America rounded the island, Victoria asked, which boat was second. Her attendant replied, "There is no second." The second-place finisher, Aurora, was 22 minutes behind, and the third-place finisher was over an hour behind. Since then, the "America’s Cup" has been held periodically, with the New York Yacht Club successfully defending it until 1983, when it lost to an Australian team. The America’s Cup is the oldest trophy in organized sports. Since 1851, American teams have won 30 times, New Zealand 5 times, Switzerland 2 times, and Australia 1 time. The next scheduled challenge will be in Naples, Italy, with the defending champion, New Zealand. The challenger is still to be determined.

One hundred twenty-five years ago, on August 14, 1901, Gustave Whitehead flew the first powered airplane…or did he? Today, most historians credit the Wright brothers with the first flight in 1903. Whitehead was a Wright competitor. For years, he tested gliders, much as the Wrights did, and worked on a steam-powered engine. On August 18, the Bridgeport Sunday Herald reported that witnesses observed Whitehead take off in the Number 21 aircraft. The airplane flew a half mile about fifty feet above the ground and landed lightly. Whitehead also reported that he repeated the flight four times. So why is Whitehead not the "first in flight"? The only evidence of any of his flights is the eyewitnesses. They were either family members or Herald reporters, both groups with a stake in a positive report. No one thought to take pictures of any of the flights. Whitehead was never able to replay any of his flights before an unbiased group. Also, the airplane has been lost. With the Wright brothers, their first flight was witnessed by unbiased observers, photographs were taken, and the Wright Flyer now resides in the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum.

Finally,
Jack and Jill went up the hill
To fetch a pail of water.
Jack fell down and broke his crown,
And Jill came tumbling after.

One theory holds that this rhyme refers to King Charles I’s use of what we call today "shrinkflation." The modern practice is most apparent when producers shrink the size of a product, such as a candy bar, while keeping the price the same. This way, the consumer supposedly does not notice that the price per unit actually went up. In 1625, Charles tried to raise taxes ("up the hill") on liquid standard measures of a "jack" (a quarter pint), and a "gill" (twice the volume of a jack), but Parliament rejected the proposed taxes. Instead, Charles reduced the standard volume of a jack, symbolized by a crown, and a gill. Thus, the jack fell, breaking the crown, and the gill followed.

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About the Author

In the early 1990s, John Devoti had a midlife crisis. He did not want a motorcycle (those things are dangerous) or a new wife (his was very cute). Instead, he quit his auditing job and returned to school for his history doctorate. He wrote The Patriotic Business of Seeking Office: James K. Polk and the Patronage. It was not a bestseller. He taught college history for almost twenty years before retiring, and still dabbles by volunteering as a docent at the Roebling Museum in South Jersey. By the way, his wife and editor, Judy, is still very cute.

📖 John’s columns are collected in Tidbits of History: 25 Years of Historical Morsels — available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and at the Roebling Museum.

Interesting Facts From Our Past — by John Devoti

Many nursery rhymes refer to past events, some of which, if parents knew their meanings, would never be taught to children. In the next few columns, I will talk about some of these rhymes and their origins. Remember that most of their origins are obscure, so the explanations I offer could easily be challenged, especially for the earliest examples.

London Bridge is falling down,
Falling down, falling down.
London Bridge is falling down,
My fair lady.

This rhyme could refer to several events. As you may know, the London Bridge has actually been rebuilt several times, the first as early as 43 CE. One bridge was built around 880 during the reign of Alfred the Great. That bridge was attacked by Vikings in 1014. Although the bridge was not destroyed, it may have been severely damaged, leading to the rhyme. The best evidence for this interpretation is a similar Scandinavian rhyme that emerged in the 1200s, referring to an attack by Olaf Haraldsson.

London Bridge is broken down. —
Gold is won, and bright renown.
Shields resounding,
War-horns sounding,
Hild is shouting in the din!
Arrows singing,
Mail-coats ringing —
Odin makes our Olaf win!

The British nursery rhyme did not appear in print until the 1700s, so the rhyme could refer to any number of fires or other incidents that happened on this bridge or subsequent bridges.

Baa, baa, black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes, sir, yes, sir,
Three bags full.
One for my master,
One for my dame,
And one for the little boy
Who lives down the lane.

This rhyme did not appear in print until 1731, but it may refer to a wool tax imposed by King Edward I of England in 1275. After returning from the Crusades, Edward needed funds to replenish the treasury. Black sheep were highly prized and worth more because the wool required no dyeing to make dark clothing. The rhyme refers to the tax, which awarded a third to the king (master), a third to the church (dame), leaving only a third for the commoners (the little boy), hardly enough to make a living. Other versions enforce that meaning with "none for the little boy who cries down the lane."

Three hundred fifty years ago, on July 30, 1676, Nathaniel Bacon issued the "Declaration of the People of Virginia," beginning Bacon’s Rebellion against the rule of Governor William Berkeley. Bacon is usually portrayed as an early rebel against the British Crown. However, the reality is not so cut-and-dried. Although the rebellion is usually portrayed as a struggle between poor farmers and the landed aristocracy, Bacon himself was a member of that aristocracy, a cousin of Governor William Berkeley, who arrived in Virginia in 1675 with a large bankroll and a substantial land grant from the governor. In March 1676, the House of Burgesses declared war on the indigenous population, but most of the Burgesses wanted a defensive war to protect western planters, not a war to take land. Bacon saw the war differently. He asked for a commission to lead troops against the western tribes. He was denied that commission, but still assembled a band of farmers and began raiding indigenous villages. The royal government labeled him a traitor, but he was elected to the House of Burgesses by a western county.

When he arrived in Jamestown, the House would not seat him until he renounced his actions, which he did. He again asked for a commission and was denied. He then issued his "Declaration of the People" against the rich landowners, more specifically Berkeley, and was again labeled a rebel. In September, he and his followers started a fire in Jamestown, destroying much of the capital city. However, in October, Bacon died of dysentery. At that time, the king issued a royal proclamation to put down the rebellion, which lasted a few more months. Berkeley was removed as governor and recalled to England, where he died the next year.

Fifty years ago, on July 2, 1976, North Vietnam annexed South Vietnam. The United States ended American involvement in the Vietnam War with the signing of the Paris Peace Accords in January 1973. President Nixon promised to support South Vietnam in the event of new northern aggression. Despite this, North Vietnamese troops (NVA) began a new attack against the south at the end of 1973. Because of the American public’s war fatigue and the beginning of the Arab Oil Embargo, Nixon decided not to send American troops. Emboldened, the NVA started a major final offensive in 1975, occupying Saigon on April 30, effectively ending the war. A little over a year later, the North Vietnamese officially absorbed South Vietnam, forming the Socialist Republic of Vietnam, and renaming Saigon, Ho Chi Minh City.

Fifty years ago, on July 4, 1976, Israeli commandos raided a hijacked airliner at Entebbe airport in Uganda, rescuing all but four of the passengers and crew. On June 27, four Palestinian terrorists, armed with guns and hand grenades, took over the aircraft and forced Captain Michel Bacos to fly to Uganda. When they arrived, the hijackers released over 250 passengers who were not Israeli or Jewish, leaving a little over 100 passengers and crew, who were held in a terminal. Soon after the hijacking, the Israeli government, led by Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin and Defense Minister Shimon Peres, directed military and intelligence teams to gather information and plan a rescue operation. They were aided by a Ugandan engineer who supplied plans for the airport. The plan was to approach the plane in a motorcade similar to one used by Ugandan dictator Idi Amin. The Israelis did not inform the Ugandan government of the attack and expected resistance from Ugandan forces stationed at the airport. The raid, commanded by Yonatan Netanyahu, brother of the current Israeli prime minister, was compromised when an Ugandan soldier challenged the motorcade. The resulting gunfire alerted the hijackers, and a gun battle ensued. Israeli commandos stormed the terminal, killing the hijackers and engaging Ugandan troops who responded to the attack. Three hostages were killed during the rescue operation. A fourth hostage, Dora Bloch, who had been hospitalized before the raid, was later murdered by Ugandan authorities. Between 20 and 45 Ugandan soldiers were killed, according to various accounts. The only Israeli fatality was Netanyahu. The operation was renamed Operation Yonatan in his honor.

Finally,
"Rub-a-dub-dub
Three men in a tub,
And who do you think they be?
The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker,
And all of them out to sea."

The modern version of this nursery rhyme was first published in the late 1700s in James Hook’s A Christmas Box. However, the rhyme’s oral tradition dates back to the 1300s. When reading the latest edition, you might wonder how three craftsmen might get stuck in a tub in the middle of the sea. When you look at the original non-bowdlerized version, the meaning becomes clearer:

Hey! rub-a-dub, ho! rub-a-dub, three maids in a tub,
And who do you think were there?
The butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker,
And all of them gone to the fair.

Today, many supermarket tabloids love to headline scandals involving Hollywood celebrities or Washington politicians. This is not new. In the Middle Ages, only aristocrats could afford tabloids, let alone read them. They would really love hearing how their local suppliers were caught at the fair in a nudie show watching three naked "maids" bathing.

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About the Author

In the early 1990s, John Devoti had a midlife crisis. He did not want a motorcycle (those things are dangerous) or a new wife (his was very cute). Instead, he quit his auditing job and returned to school for his history doctorate. He wrote The Patriotic Business of Seeking Office: James K. Polk and the Patronage. It was not a bestseller. He taught college history for almost twenty years before retiring, and still dabbles by volunteering as a docent at the Roebling Museum in South Jersey. By the way, his wife and editor, Judy, is still very cute.

📖 John’s columns are collected in Tidbits of History: 25 Years of Historical Morsels — available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and at the Roebling Museum.

Interesting Facts From Our Past — by John Devoti

For centuries, tourists did not visit Egypt. Several of the Crusades landed at the Nile, but their main goal was the conquest of the Holy Land, not to learn lessons from the ancient lands. Interest in Egypt revived with Napoleon Bonaparte’s Egyptian campaign. Although his main goal was conquest, Bonaparte also brought a group of scientists and historians to explore the region. The second goal of his mission was much more successful, and several artifacts were returned to France. These artifacts included a large basalt slab found near Rosetta in the Nile Delta, inscribed in Hieroglyphics, Greek, and Demotic (a form of simplified Hieroglyphs). The "Rosetta Stone" remained untranslated until 1818, when French linguist Jean-François Champollion (1790-1832) compared the inscription with records from other temples. He looked at the pharaohs’ names written in hieroglyphic cartouches (rope-shaped circles containing their names). He used known pronunciations and spellings of the kings to decipher the words and explain the phonetics of the Egyptian language. For example, he saw that the first syllable of Ramses was represented by the sun disc, which gave him the word for "sun" and its pronunciation (Rah). He presented his findings in Paris in 1824, and his first book, Précis du système hiéroglyphique des anciens Égyptiens, was published that year. He finally visited Egypt in 1827 and had the chance to see the writing firsthand. He wrote notes for a grammar guide and dictionary up until his death, and the book was published posthumously by his brother.

Auguste Mariette (1821-1881) became interested in Egyptology when he inherited the papers of a cousin, Nestor L’Hôte, who had traveled with Bonaparte’s expedition and had made drawings for Champollion during his efforts to translate hieroglyphics. In 1850, he visited Egypt and began researching the Serapeum of Memphis, where he discovered the mummified remains of the Apis bulls, sacred animals kept near the temple of Apis, a creator god. After the bulls died, they were associated with the gods Sokar and Osiris, and were given full burial rites. Mariette found the tombs in disrepair and returned them, as closely as possible to their original state. Once he finished, the Serapeum became one of the major Egyptian tourist destinations.

Two hundred fifty years ago, on June 12, 1776, Virginia adopted the Declaration of Rights, an early constitution, less than a month before the Declaration of Independence. The Declaration of Rights established the framework for a state government and guaranteed several rights to citizens, including freedom of speech and religion. It also provided a section that allowed people to reform, alter, or abolish governments failing to act in the public interest. Ironically, in a colony with thousands of enslaved, there was a section stating "That all men are by nature equally free and independent and have certain inherent rights, of which, when they enter into a state of society, they cannot, by any compact, deprive or divest their posterity; namely, the enjoyment of life and liberty, with the means of acquiring and possessing property, and pursuing and obtaining happiness and safety." James Madison, a delegate to the Constitutional Convention, drew on many of those provisions in the US Constitution and later in the Bill of Rights.

Two hundred years ago, on June 22, 1826, Simón Bolívar convened the Pan-American Congress in Panama City. Beginning in 1810, many colonies in Central and South America revolted against their colonial rulers. Bolívar hoped to unite the new countries into a Latino confederation along the lines of the United States. The Congress was evenly split between those who favored Bolívar’s idea and those who preferred a group of nation-states similar to those in Europe. Unfortunately, larger states like Argentina and Brazil feared that following Bolívar’s dream would weaken them. The Congress collapsed, dooming many of the states to decades of border disputes and internal revolutions.

One hundred fifty years ago, on June 6, 1876, a group of physicians, headed by Édouard Séguin, founded the Association of Medical Officers of American Institutions for Idiotic and Feebleminded Persons. Born in France, Séguin opened a school for the developmentally challenged in Paris in 1840. During the social upheaval of 1848, he emigrated to America, first to Ohio, then to New York, and established schools in various cities. He founded the Association with the goal of training challenged youths to develop intellectual and physical skills so they could live independent lives. The Association still exists but has changed its name over the years to the American Association for the Study of the Feebleminded, the American Association on Mental Deficiency, the American Association on Mental Retardation, and, finally, the American Association on Intellectual and Developmental Disabilities in 2007.

One hundred fifty years ago, on June 17, 1876, Sioux chief Crazy Horse and General George Crook met at the Battle of the Rosebud near Rosebud Creek in Montana territory. Chiefs Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull and their followers, a mixture of Lakota Sioux, Cheyenne, and Arapaho, attacked Crook while his troops were camped by the creek. Crook’s allies, 262 Crow and Shoshone warriors, counterattacked. While their group was decimated, the scrimmage allowed Crook’s troops time to escape. A week later, on June 25, Troops under the general command of Lieutenant Colonel George Custer were not so lucky, as the three columns of his Seventh Cavalry met the same army, with two of the columns facing heavy losses, and Custer’s column was wiped out at the Battle of the Little Bighorn.

Finally, not all the great Egyptologists were men. Amelia Edwards (1831-1892) took a sightseeing trip with a friend in 1873, and they decided to visit Egypt, a trip that changed her life. Already an accomplished writer, she published A Thousand Miles up the Nile, her best-selling book. Today, tourists see the cleaned-up Egyptian monuments. Edwards saw them: the Sphinx half-buried, and the temple and tombs filled with rubble. After her return in 1874, she wrote her account and began writing reviews and articles on Egyptology. She contacted Auguste Mariette to propose using public subscriptions to support his restoration work. She founded the Egypt Exploration Fund in 1882, shortly after Mariette’s death, to continue his work. Today, the fund lives on as the Egypt Exploration Society.

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About the Author

In the early 1990s, John Devoti had a midlife crisis. He did not want a motorcycle (those things are dangerous) or a new wife (his was very cute). Instead, he quit his auditing job and returned to school for his history doctorate. He wrote The Patriotic Business of Seeking Office: James K. Polk and the Patronage. It was not a bestseller. He taught college history for almost twenty years before retiring, and still dabbles by volunteering as a docent at the Roebling Museum in South Jersey. By the way, his wife and editor, Judy, is still very cute.

📖 John’s columns are collected in Tidbits of History: 25 Years of Historical Morsels — available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and at the Roebling Museum.