Curio Cabinet / Person, Place, or Thing

The muckraker who changed American journalism forever

"A man with every gift except humor and silence"—this is how Time magazine described American writer Upton Sinclair, and it's hard to argue with their assessment. Although Sinclair, born on this day in 1878, won a Pulitzer Prize for his fiction, he's best remembered as a muckraker: a Progressive Era journalist who exposed corruption within powerful industries. Sinclair's muckraking led to significant changes in American life, including a new code of ethics for journalists and even two new laws.  

Born and raised in Maryland, Sinclair's childhood wasn't the easiest. His parents' relationship was fraught—his father was a liquor salesman and alcoholic, while his mother was a strict Episcopalian who was against not only alcohol but even coffee and tea! Although Sinclair and his parents lived in poverty, his mother's family was very wealthy, and Sinclair stayed with them many times. This gave him a unique insight into the standard-of-living gap between the rich and the poor. This insight led Sinclair to embrace socialism, which he believed was the only path to true financial equality. As a teenager, Sinclair began writing in order to pay his tuition. His dime novels and magazine articles earned him enough money to buy his parents a new apartment when he was just 17.
 

After learning several languages and leaving college early, Sinclair married Meta Fuller in 1900, moved to Quebec, Canada, and began to publish novels, (though at the time he mainly considered himself a poet—something he never became famous for.) His first novel, Springtime and Harvest, was quickly followed by four others, all of which received good reviews but were not commercially successful.  

Sinclair created his most famous work in 1906. The Jungle is a novel that deals with themes of poverty, discrimination, and oppression. Its main character is a Lithuanian immigrant struggling to survive in Chicago's meatpacking district. Throughout the novel, Sinclair contrasts the lives of rich company executives with those of poor employees working in unsafe conditions. In doing so, he exposed many unsanitary and dangerous practices in the early meatpacking industry, which he had discovered by working undercover there for over two months. Sinclair wrote The Jungle specifically to sway Americans toward socialist ideals. However, readers were more concerned with the unsanitary food practices he'd exposed. The Jungle even led to the passage of two new laws, the Pure Food and Drug Act and the Meat Inspection Act. Sinclair was disappointed that food safety had overshadowed his book's socialist message, saying "I aimed at the public's heart, and by accident I hit it in the stomach."
 

The world of American Journalism fell under Sinclair's muckraker lens in 1919, with the publication of his nonfiction exposé, The Brass Check. It targeted the dishonest practices of newspapers, the Associated Press wire service, and news magazines. Sinclair took particular aim at William Randolph Hearst, owner of the nation's largest media company. Hearst had popularized the use of yellow journalism, a reporting style meant to increase newspaper sales with sensationalized headlines, dubious reporting, and few to no legitimate sources. Although many newspapers and magazines refused to review the book (for obvious reasons) and several smear campaigns were launched against it, The Brass Check led to the establishment of America's first code of ethics for journalists. No wonder Sincalir called it "the most important and most dangerous book I have ever written."
 

In the 1920s, Sinclair's family moved to California, where he ran unsuccessfully for U.S. Congress twice, as a member of the Socialist Party. In 1934, he ran for Governor of California as a Democrat. However, Sinclair was ultimately taken down by the very sort of propaganda he had always vehemently opposed. Hollywood studio bosses, realizing that Sinclair was not a fan of their industry, opposed his campaign by releasting propaganda films filled with false claims. Sinclair was not given an opportunity to publicly respond, and he lost to incumbent Governor Frank Merriam.
 

Sinclair continued writing for the rest of his life. In 1943, he won the Pulitzer Prize for Dragon's Teeth, a novel examining the rise of Nazism in Germany. He died on November 25, 1968, having published more than ninety books. True to his ideals, he donated the majority of his wealth to socialist causes. Let it never be said that Sinclair wasn't dedicated!  

Famed children's writer, inventor, and government spy.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Matilda, The B.F.G.—these famous children's books are synonymous with beloved British author Roald Dahl. But the legendary writer, born on this day in 1916, had extensive careers as part of the British Royal Air Force, and as a spy with secrets bigger than a gated chocolate factory.  

Dahl was born in Wales to Norwegian-immigrant parents. He learned to speak and write English in school, throughout which he showed no particular affinity for writing. Dahl grew to be a tall kid, standing 6 feet, 6 inches tall, and playing several sports. After graduation, he took a job at the Shell Petroleum Company and was assigned to work in Kenya.  

Dahl's life changed drastically in 1939, with the start of World War II. He joined the Royal Air Force and trained as a fighter pilot. His height made it difficult to fit in a cockpit. Nevertheless, a month after becoming a Pilot Officer, Dahl crashed during an emergency landing. It took him months to recover from his injuries.  

In 1942, he took a job in Washington D.C., at the British Embassy though he found it disappointing and dull. it was in America, though that Dahl would meet several British writers, including C.S. Forester (Horatio Hornblower series) and Ian Fleming (James Bond author), publish his first book, and get his first taste of espionage.  

Ian Fleming introduced Dahl to Canadian spymaster William Stephenson (codename "Intrepid"). Soon, Dahl entered the British Security Coordination, a spy operation within MI6, in which he passed intelligence from Washington to Prime Minister Winston Churchhill. Dahl wrote that his job was to "...try to help Winston to get on with FDR, and tell Winston what was in the old boy's mind." During this same time, in 1943, Dahl published his first children's book, The Gremlins, about tiny creatures who sabotaged planes in the Royal Air Force.  

Dahl's espionage worked in part because of his way with the ladies. He received most of his intel from women whom he charmed with conversation and drinks as they casually revealed post-war plans. He even had an affair with Congresswoman Clare Boothe Luce, perhaps in an attempt to change her lukewarm views on British interests.  

Over the next few years, Dahl made rarified friends, some of whom he spied on. He passed notes to MI6 about his visit to Hyde Park with President Roosevelt. He played tennis with Vice President Henry Wallace and was acquainted with Harry Truman. In 1946, Dahl was invalided out of the Royal Air Force due to his medical issues. He had achieved the rank of Squadron Leader and Flying Ace.  

In 1953, Dahl married American actress Patricia Neal. His young son, Theo, was injured when his carriage was hit by a car, in 1960. Theo suffered from hydrocephalus—swelling caused by a buildup of cerebrospinal fluid in the brain. Dahl worked with hydraulic engineer Stanley Wade and neurosurgeon Kenneth Till to develop the Wade-Dahl-Till, a valve which improved the shunt used to drain the excess cranial fluid. The invention went on to be used on nearly 3,000 children.  

Dahl's most famous books were written first as stories to entertain his children, then as ways to cope with loss, as his daughter, Olivia, died at age seven. He also wrote several lesser-known adult works, which won him three Edgar Awards from The Mystery Writers of America. Before and after his death in 1990, Dahl's literary work—for children and adults—has been adapted into plays, T.V. shows, cartoons, and movies, ensuring that his impact on popular culture will continue to outlive the storied man himself.  

Image credit & copyright: The Roald Dahl Museum and Story Centre

The good trouble of a Civil Rights leader.

The Civil Rights era wouldn't have been the same without the bravery and leadership of Representative John Lewis. While Lewis' most notable effort was during the "Bloody Sunday" march across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama, a closer look at his life leading up to the event sheds light on his incredible determination as a young Civil Rights organizer.

 

John Lewis was born on February 21, 1940 near Troy, Alabama. Growing up, he wanted to become a preacher, having both led his first public sermon and listened to Martin Luther King Jr. on the radio when he was 15. While attending the American Baptist Theological Seminary in Nashville, Tennessee, Lewis began learning about nonviolent protests and organized sit-ins which ended segregation practices at lunch counters in Nashville.
 

In May 1961, John Lewis became one of the first 13 Freedom Riders. They were part of the Congress of Racial Equality's (CORE) "Journey of Reconciliation" program to address racial segregation in interstate public transportation (which was deemed unconstitutional by the Supreme Court decision Morgan vs. Virginia in 1946). As a Freedom Rider, Lewis was beaten for using a whites-only restroom in South Carolina, arrested for breach of peace in Mississippi, and survived a bus firebombing by the Klu Klux Klan in Alabama. Later that year, Attorney General Robert Kennedy, working with the Interstate Commerce Commission, banned segregation in interstate bus travel, marking the success of Lewis and the Freedom Riders' campaign.
 

In 1963, Lewis became the chairman of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) and one of the "Big Six" who organized the March on Washington. At the event on August 28th, Lewis delivered a speech supporting the Civil Rights Act., with reservations about how it insufficiently addressed fair employment practices, police brutality, and voting rights for black people. In a charged voice, he urged others to "get in and stay in the streets of every city, every village and hamlet of this nation until true freedom comes."

 

As the SNCC chairman, Lewis further worked to secure voting rights for African-Americans living in the South. His 1964 "Mississippi Freedom Summer" was a massive voter registration drive which recruited college students from across the country. On March 7, 1965, Lewis and fellow activist Hosea Williams led a group in prayer at a Selma, Alabama church prior to their walk (in pairs) to Montgomery. Some 600 protesters joined in, but at the Edmund Pettus Bridge, they were met by 150 law enforcement and posseemen, who announced a two-minute warning for the crowd to disperse. With 30 seconds left, the 150 attacked, wielding clubs, whips, and tear gas against the peaceful protesters. John Lewis suffered a skull fracture, and images of police beating the young, unarmed pastor spread across the country. The state-sanctioned violence against civil rights activists caused President Lyndon Johnson to introduce the Voting Rights Act to Congress on March 15th. It was passed and Johnson signed it into law on August 6th.
 

In the '70s, John Lewis temporarily served as the coordinator for President Carter's AmeriCorps VISTA program to help those in poverty. In 1986, he successfully ran for Georgia's 5th district, where he would later win 16 elections by 70% margins.
 

In a New York Times op-ed written just days before his passing, Lewis reflected on the recent George Floyd protests, how Emmett Till's lynching led him to pursue nonviolent protests, and the importance of voting as "the most powerful nonviolent change agent [we] have in a democratic society." John Lewis' model of getting into good, necessary trouble remains an effective battle plan for ensuring that equality and justice applies to every American citizen.
 

Below: an image of John Lewis walking across the Edmund Pettus Bridge on Bloody Sunday, and his funeral procession across the same bridge. A video of Lewis speaking at the March on Washington.

 

Image credit & copyright: CNN, The Birmingham News, Timothy Ivy / The New York Times
 

Hawaii's beloved final monarch.

Anyone who has listened to the sorrowful song Aloha Oe has experienced the legacy of Hawaiian royalty—even if they didn't realize it. The tune was written by Queen Liliʻuokalani, born September 2, 1838. Not only was she a gifted songwriter and scholar, Liliʻuokalani was the last living Hawaiian monarch. Much of her reign was spent advocating for her people as American colonizers overtook their land.  

Growing up, Liliʻuokalani attended The Royal School alongside pupils whom King Kamehameha III had declared eligible for the throne. When she was 24, Liliʻuokalani married American-born John Owens Dominis, who was so fond of her that he once escorted her home with a broken leg! She was no stranger to political responsibility, having served as Regent several times during her brother's reign. She even quelled a pandemic of smallpox, closing Hawaii's borders even though doing so was politically unpopular. But Liliʻuokalani's reign as queen didn't begin until 1891, upon the death of her brother, King David Kalākaua.  

Liliʻuokalani's foremost goal as Queen was to undo the damage wrought by a document her brother had signed in 1887: the "Bayonet Constitution," so named because Kalākaua had been forced to sign it at gunpoint by a group of wealthy white colonizers. The constitution tied voting rights to property ownership and shifted governmental powers from the monarchy to a colonizer-friendly legislature. Wealthy American and European sugar plantation owners now held powerful sway in Hawaii's governance. Supported by two-thirds of Hawaiian voters, Liliʻuokalani made efforts to abrogate the Bayonet Constitution.  

Retaliation against Liliʻuokalani's defiance was swift. On January 16, 1893, Charles Burnett, the Marshal of the Kingdom, learned that a coup consisting of white business owners, anti-monarchists, and former cabinet members would soon take place. He rallied around 500 soldiers to protect Liliʻuokalani. However, several companies of U.S. Marines and sailors marched on the Kingdom, clearly serving the interests of American business owners. Liliʻuokalani refused to mount a military response, knowing that she was outnumbered and that fighting would lead to the death of Hawaiian citizens.  

Liliʻuokalani was deposed the following day, on January 17, 1893, and replaced with Sanford B. Dole, ancestor of the Doles who would go on to form the Hawaiian Pineapple Company—and perpetuate the myth that pineapples are native to Hawaii. Dole established a provisional government, but Liliʻuokalani relinquished her throne to the United States, rather than Dole, hoping that the U.S. might restore Hawaii's sovereignty. At the same time, Dole sent a delegation to ask the United States to annex Hawaii, and raised a U.S. flag over the palace. On January 19, Liliʻuokalani wrote a letter to U.S. President Benjamin Harrison, pleading her case. However, Harrison's time in office was nearly over. It was the next President, Grover Cleveland, who found that Liliʻuokalani's overthrow was illegal. On November 16, the U.S. told Liliʻuokalani that she could return to her throne…if she agreed to grant amnesty to everyone involved in the coup. But Liliʻuokalani had no tolerance for traitors, saying that the penalty for treason was property confiscation and death. So, on July 4, 1894, Dole was named President of the Republic of Hawaii.  

Following a failed rebellion meant to restore her to power in 1895, Liliʻuokalani was arrested and imprisoned in her palace. Many of her closest political supporters were also jailed, and she was forced to abdicate her throne yet again on January 24, 1898, in exchange for their release. She made a strong case for her decision, writing that there was a "...stream of blood ready to flow unless it was stayed by my pen."  

Hawaii was annexed to the United States in July 1898 (though it wouldn't become a state until 1959). Aloha Oe, one of over one hundred songs that Liliʻuokalani wrote in her lifetime, immediately came to symbolize Native Hawaiians' loss of their country. Long after her death from a stroke on November 11, 1917, Liliʻuokalani endures as a symbol of "Old Hawaii." Statues and monuments in honor of the Queen dot the Hawaiian Islands. Many buildings, roads, and parks still bear her name. The Lili`uokalani Trust benefits orphaned and destitute Hawaiian children to this day, helping around 10,000 children per year. Talk about a positive legacy!  

The triumphs and martyrdom of a Scottish hero.

Anyone familiar with the 1995 hit Braveheart remembers William Wallace (Mel Gibson) crying "Freedom!" for Scotland. Real-life was quite a bit different from the movies: William Wallace, executed on this day in 1305, was indeed a Scottish warrior and remains a national hero—even if he never really painted his face blue.  

Most of what is known about Wallace comes from an epic poem, The Wallace, by late-15th Century author Blind Harry. Wallace was born around 1270, the son of Sir Malcolm Wallace, Lord of Elderslie. At the time, Scotland was an independent nation—but that all changed in 1286, when the Scottish King, Alexander III, fell off his horse and died.  

Scotland had enjoyed stability and peace under Alexander III's rule. But when his only heir also died, chaos ensued. Several Scottish families tried to claim the throne, leading to the brink of civil war. To prevent this, King Edward I of England was invited to arbitrate the selection of a new king. Things quickly soured when Edward I named himself Lord Paramount of Scotland and invaded the country in 1296.  

It was then that William Wallace began his rise to fame. Believing that Scotland should remain its own nation, he killed the English Sheriff of Lanark in 1297. Other prominent Scotsmen joined Wallace's cause, and he raised a small but effective army. In June of that year, Wallace freed the city of Scone without even showing up—English-appointed officials fled after hearing of his approach.  

Edward I dispatched more soldiers to Scotland, and the First War of Scottish Independence began in earnest. Over the next year, Wallace's army laid siege to English officials and their families—not quite the spotless movie heroics, though completely in line with common genocidal war tactics.  

Wallace's most famous victory came on September 11, 1297, at the Battle of Stirling Bridge. As the English Earl of Surrey's forces crossed a narrow bridge over boggy ground, Wallace's forces stormed the bridge's exit, picking the English off a little at a time. At one point, the bridge became so bogged down with British soldiers that it collapsed, drowning many. In another gory twist, Wallace and his soldiers took strips of skin from the body of a fallen British leader, Hugh Cressingham, as souvenirs of victory. The Lanercost Chronicle claims that Wallace had "a broad strip [of Cressingham's skin] ... taken from the head to the heel, to make therewith a baldrick [belt] for his sword."  

After Stirling Bridge, Both Wallace and his co-commander Andrew de Moray assumed the titles of Guardians of the Kingdom of Scotland. However, Moray died a few days later from his wounds, leaving Wallace to be knighted alone. In November 1297, Wallace went so far as to invade northern England, through Northumberland and Cumberland. His raid was largely successful, and his army returned home with many looted valuables.  

The good times didn't last, however. In 1298, Edward I ordered a second, more aggressive invasion of Scotland. This time, the Scots were quickly overpowered. Wallace was forced to give up his title as Guardian of the Kingdom. Though he fought in several more battles, he no longer led an army, and eventually was forced into hiding.  

Wallace was captured after around seven years, and put on trial for treason and atrocities against civilians. He argued that he was not a subject of England, and therefore couldn't be a traitor. His defense didn't work. He was found guilty, hanged, drawn and quartered, and had his dismembered head displayed as a warning to others at the Tower of London in 1305.  

England might have gone too far in their gruesome execution of Wallace. His death caused more rebellion in Scotland, and battles continued to rage. The country eventually won their independence in 1328, when the Treaty of Edinburgh-Northampton was signed. There's no doubt that Wallace was instrumental in England's defeat, which is enough to ensure that many, Mel Gibson fans or otherwise, remember him fondly.  

The road to near ruin and glory.

The road to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway was paved with good intentions… and a maelstrom of deadly shrapnel. The home of the Indy 500 and Boneyard 400 is a central location in Indianapolis, Indiana, where the American automotive industry shows off its feats of engineering wonder. Yet a string of poor business decisions almost led to the closure of the arena after the inaugural races on August 19, 1909.
 

The Indianapolis Motor Speedway was the brainchild of automotive tycoon Carl Fisher. As a professional cyclist and racecar driver, Fisher's enthusiasm for vehicles was endless. His investments in acetylene gas-powered headlights made him rich (previously cars used kerosene or candles as headlights, which blew out at higher speeds), and he opened one of the first car dealerships in the Fisher Auto Company. Inspired by the Brooklands racing circuit in London, England, Fisher wrote to Motor Age magazine describing his ideal raceway: a five-mile track with grandstands and a supply store for spectators' automotive needs. It would be a place to showcase the speed and innovation of the American automotive industry, modeled after the French and English racing events already taking place at the time.
 

In 1908, Fisher purchased a 320-acre farm north of the city and in the following February, he incorporated the Indianapolis Motor Speedway Company. The next month, construction began on the arena, though with far less grandeur than Fisher's initial plans. Instead of a five-mile track, a two-and-a-half-mile one would be built to accommodate the 12,000-seat grandstand. Rather than lay expensive bricks on the road, a combination of gravel and stone pieces were held together with taroid, a mixture of tar and oil—a shortcut that would prove costly to Fisher and others. The entire structure was finished with a green and white trim.
 

As racers began training at the track, the ground beneath them quite literally came apart. Workers tried to smooth over and restore the pavement, but it was no use. By the start of the three-day inaugural races on August 19th, the turns were covered in ruts, and the tarred rocks acted as high-speed shrapnel. The race leader, Louis Chevrolet, had his goggles smashed in by flying rocks, and a rear axle failure resulted in a car turnover and the deaths of racer Wilfred Borque and his mechanic. By the last day, dozens of spectators were injured and three more people were killed in an accident. The American Automobile Association protested further efforts by Fisher and the Indianapolis Speedway to hold events until issues with road safety were addressed. Over the next year, Indianapolis manufacturers supplied 3.2 million pounds of bricks for repaving the race track—earning the Speedway the new nickname of "The Brickyard." With concrete railings at the turns to protect spectators and one last gold brick donated by Governor Thomas Marshall, things were looking up for Fisher's dream raceway again. Drivers returned in 1910 and safely reached peaks of 110 mph in their vehicles.
 

Fisher's success with the Indianapolis Speedway led him to pave the way for interstate automotive traveling. He developed the Lincoln Highway Association to create a hard-surface road from California to New York—a project that would later inspire President Dwight Eisenhower to construct the Interstate Highway System. Unfortunately for Fisher, a one-two-three punch of real estate busts, a 1926 hurricane in his Florida resorts, and the Stock Market Crash of 1929 caused him to lose an estimated $100 million dollar fortune. As for his creation in Indianapolis, the Speedway has gone on to become what Fisher imagined it would be: a high-octane raceway and the largest high-capacity sports venue in the world, with seating for over 250,000 and a max capacity of 400,000 at major events held by NASCAR and the Grand Prix. Fortunately for everyone involved these days, burning up the pavement is just an exciting figure of speech rather than the disasters of the Indianapolis Speedway's early days!

 

The National Mall where it happens.

East of the Potomac River lies the center of our democracy: Washington, D.C., the 100-square-mile home of the White House, Capitol Building, and Washington Monument, among others. The city's original planner, French-American engineer Pierre Charles L'Enfant, designed the space to marry the best of traditional European city planning with democratic ideals—though his best-laid plans sadly remained lost for over 100 years.
 

Before the passing of the Residence Act on July 16, 1790, the Washington, D.C., area was marshland between Maryland and Virginia once inhabited by Algonquian Piscataway tribes (whom European colonizers pushed out 100 years prior). The Residency Act gave President Washington the power to appoint French emigrant Pierre Charles L'Enfant as a city planner for the new Federal City (later named "City of Washington," then Washington, D.C.). L'Enfant, born on August 2, 1754, was a French emigrant, architect, and Revolutionary War engineer who served under Washington and Major General Lafayette. On March 9, 1791, L'Enfant traveled to Georgetown from New York City to begin his work designing the new federal seat of power.
 

On June 22, 1791, L'Enfant presented Washington with his "Plan of the city intended for the permanent seat of the government of the United States." The hypothetical mapped city was laid out in neat grids, with street names arranged vertically by letters and horizontally by numbers. A "Grand Avenue" lined with gardens and canals was going to be a meeting place for intellectual leisure, and two main buildings would be central to the landscape: the President's House located at the end of Pennsylvania Avenue, and the Congress House, sat on Jenkins Hill (later known as Capitol Hill). L'Enfant called Jenkins a "pedestal awaiting a monument," and purposefully housed Congress, rather than the presidency, on the spot in a move to symbolically centralize the democratic principles at the heart of the nation.
 

L'Enfant's visionary plan for an egalitarian city was met with formidable objections from the Commissioners, whom Washington appointed as surveyors of the Federal City. One in particular was Andrew Ellicott. Ellicott claimed L'Enfant was difficult to work with because L'Enfant had ignored Ellicott's requests to see the engineer's original plans and engravings. Ellicott eventually made his own city map engravings for lot sales, having taken L'Enfant's ideas and modified them without permission or payment. At the behest of Thomas Jefferson, L'Enfant resigned his post, and plans for L'Enfant's Grand Avenue would not see the light of day for over a century.
 

In the 1800s, Washington, D.C., remained a mostly rural landscape with the White House and Capitol Building being the main components completed from L'Enfant's grand designs. In 1901, Senator James McMillan of Michigan, then Chairman of the Senate Park Commission, championed the project of turning the National Mall into a space inspired by L'Enfant's Grand Avenue: a neo-classical space that would incorporate museums, marble terraces, and a Washington Monument at the end of reflective pools. Over the next 30 years, the McMillan Plan transformed the farming landscape of Washington, D.C., into a modern tribute to American history and governing, with all future city planning revolving around the preservation and improvement of the National Mall and its surrounding areas.
 

Nowadays, Washington, D.C., and the National Mall see over 24 million tourists every year. From the Smithsonian Museums to the Lincoln and Jefferson monuments, every structure is a testament to Pierre Charles L'Enfant's belief in what America accomplished by defeating England's crown and pursuing a "more perfect union."
 

Below: a portrait of Pierre Charles L'Enfant.
 

Image credit & copyright: McMillan Watercolor
 

The story of America's top intelligence and security service.

Terrorism, organized crime, corruption. These are just a few of the large-scale crimes that the F.B.I. (Federal Bureau of Investigation) helps thwart these days. However, the agency, formed on this day in 1908, had an unceremonious start and has hardly been free from scandal throughout its 112-year history.
 

By the early 1900s, times were a-changing in the United States. The country was industrializing faster than almost any other nation, and people were flocking to cities for a chance at prosperity. However, all those people bunched in close quarters led to heightened crime rates, and then gangsterism flourished under Prohibition. Local and state police departments were overwhelmed.  

At the time, state and local laws were more important to citizens' everyday lives than federal laws. In fact, there weren't many criminal federal laws on the books at all. Agencies like the Secret Service didn't have many permanent agents, but were instead staffed by freelance private investigators.  

All that changed when Teddy Roosevelt became President in 1901. Roosevelt was fed up with violent crime (rightfully so, since he had become president due to the assassination of President William McKinley), and vowed to update the federal government's role in criminal investigations.  

In 1906, Roosevelt appointed the like-minded Charles Bonaparte as his second Attorney General. Frustrated by the lack of permanent agents to help in federal investigations, Bonaparte began renting agents from the Secret Service. However, this practice was banned by Congress, to prevent what they saw as a grab for power by the Roosevelt administration. So, Bonaparte formed his own agency.  

This new, unnamed agency was part of the Office of the Chief Examiner, in the Department of Justice. It began with just 10 employees, all of whom were former Secret Service agents. They reported to duty on July 26, 1908. The following year, the agency was officially named the Bureau of Investigation, and expanded to include over 30 employees.  

In the following decades, the F.B.I. would conduct many successful investigations. The agency became a household name in 1934, when agents tracked down and killed gangster John Dillinger. During World War II, the F.B.I. rooted out over 800 Axis spies. The agency also led the investigation into the assassination of President John F. Kennedy in 1963, which ended in the arrest of Lee Harvey Oswald. In 2011, F.B.I. intel led to the military operation which killed Osama bin Laden.  

However, with the agency's triumphs there have been controversies. In 1938, the agency bungled an investigation of a Nazi spy ring by failing to imprison its leader and accidentally tipping off the others. In 1973, F.B.I. Director L. Patrick Gray was made Acting Director of the F.B.I by President Richard Nixon and was nominated to become the agency's permanent director...but withdrew after he was found to have destroyed Watergate files. From the 1950s to the 1970s, the F.B.I. was criticized for keeping files on (and sometimes even actively tracking the whereabouts) of people it considered "subversive", such as civil rights leaders and non-violent political groups. During the famous "Red Scare" of the late 1940s and early 1950s, the F.B.I. spied on many Americans suspected of being communists (whether there was evidence or not).  

Today, the F.B.I. employs around 35,000 people, from special agents who can be deployed to the streets, to language specialists who help gather foreign intel. The agency has publicly stated that it's shifting its focus toward cybercrime, to keep up with changing technology. If the F.B.I. has its way, hiding behind a computer will no longer be an option for today's tech-savvy criminals!  

Modern Italy's first Renaissance man.

In literature, there are two main sonnet forms: the Shakespearian and the Petrarchan. The latter isn't nicknamed for its inventor, but rather Francesco Petrarcha ("Petrarch" in English), the Italian writer who made the form indispensable to Renaissance poets. Though he is primarily known for his poetics, Petrarch was and remains arguably one of the foremost modern thinkers and played a crucial role in the development of the Renaissance.
 

Petrarch was born on July 20, 1304, in Arezzo, part of the Italian city-state of Tuscany. At his father's behest, he studied law at Montpellier and Bologna, though his true love was classical literature and writing. When his father died in 1326, Petrarch left law school stating, "I couldn't face making a merchandise of my mind." He later served the Catholic church in several capacities that allowed him to travel extensively in diplomatic missions across Europe.

 

A year later, on April 6, 1327, Petrarch met a person who would change his life forever, Laura de Noves, at a church in Avignon. Their meeting did not lead to any kind of relationship, and Laura, like many of his beloveds, died tragically. That did not stop Petrarch from composing 366 poems over 40 years in honor of her beauty and his emotionally turbulent devotion to her. The resulting Il Canzoniere became a hugely influential work. It inextricably linked the theme of love with the 14-line sonnet poem, which would greatly influence English poets in the 16th century. Secondly, the work was written in vernacular Italian rather than Latin, adding to Italian's literary prestige.

 

As Petrarch's scholarship grew, so too did his social reputation. His poetry and writings in Latin and Italian were highly regarded and earned him a life-long friendship with The Decameron writer, Giovanni Boccacio. The painter Simone Martini was commissioned to paint representations for Petrarch's translations of Virgil. On April 8, 1341, Petrarch traveled to Rome on Easter Sunday to receive the honor of being crowned the poet laureate (having declined a similarly timed request from Paris, France), a tradition which had not been performed since the Roman Empire fell. At the event, he delivered his famous "Coronation Oration" in praise of classical values and poetry: "There was a time, there was an age, that was happier for poets, an age when they were held in the highest honor…. especially when Caesar Augustus held imperial sway, under whom there flourished excellent poets: Virgil, Varius, Ovid, Horace, and many others." Through his lifelong work and extensive travels, Petrarch became a major influence in the Renaissance revival of ancient Latin and Greek thought.
 

Then, in 1345, Petrarch discovered priceless letters penned by ancient Roman statesman, philosopher, and lawyer, Cicero. The rediscovery is credited with triggering the Renaissance humanism movement, and the encompassing Renaissance as a whole. Renaissance humanism sought to escape medieval scholasticism with a learned and virtuous citizenry.
 

By the time of his death in 1374, Petrarch had amassed a vast library that was gifted to the city of Padua, Italy. Many of Petrarch's works were disseminated to far off places where they were well-received. In England, Petrarch's contemporary Geoffrey Chaucer translated and incorporated several of the Petrarch's works into his own writings. Some 200 years later, translations of Petrarch's sonnets by Thomas Wyatt inspired William Shakespeare to take up the poetic form in works like Romeo and Juliet and his Collected Sonnets. Now, nearly 700 years after his birth, Petrarch's scholarship, reverence for classical literature, and unrequited love for Laura remain key legacies in Europe's transition from medieval scarcity to a flourishing Renaissance.

 

The story of the United States's most prestigious military award.

That beautiful star and band are more than a rarified necklace! For almost 160 years, the Medal of Freedom has been the highest personal military decoration in the United States. There have only been some 3,500 recipients since it was authorized by Congress on this day in 1862. But in spite of its prestige, the medal had a somewhat bumpy beginning, and the criteria for receiving it has changed over the years.  

The United States' first military award was created in 1782, during the American Revolution, by none other than George Washington. This award, the Badge of Military Merit, was one of the first in the world that could be earned by common soldiers, not just officers. However, by the time the American Civil War began in 1861, the Badge of Military Merit had fallen out of use. Feeling that a new medal was needed, Lieutenant Colonel Edward D. Townsend sent a proposal for a battlefield declaration for valor to the General-In-Chief of the Army, Winfield Scott. But Scott strongly opposed the idea of military medals. Why? He claimed that military medals were strictly a European tradition. Strange to think that at one time, military medals were considered un-American!  

Upon Scott's retirement later that year, however, the idea of a military award was approved. A bill authorizing the bestowment of 200 such awards was put before Congress on December 9, 1861, and passed that same month. It was signed into law by Abraham Lincoln. However, this medal was only available to those in the Navy and Marines. It wasn't until 1862 that the Army introduced a resolution allowing for their own version of the medal. Today, the medal is available to all branches of the military, though all have a slightly different look.  

At first, requirements for earning the medal were not clearly outlined. The first six recipients earned their medals in 1862, for hijacking a Confederate train. Medals were sometimes given for brave feats during peacetime, such as leading an expedition to the North Pole. In 1918, during World War I, criteria were tightened for the Army version of the medal. Not only did a military member have to display "gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty", but they had to do it "in action involving actual conflict with an enemy".  

Controversy and lawsuits abounded when, that same year, the Army Medal of Honor Review Board rescinded over 900 medals that had been awarded without "proper prerequisites." This included the only woman to have ever earned the medal, Mary Edwards Walker, who served as a volunteer nurse during the Civil War. Walker's medal, along with several others that were struck from the list, were eventually restored in the 1970s. However, clear requirements for earning the medal were subsequently established by all military branches.  

So how does one earn the Medal of Honor today? The requirement of life-risking gallantry beyond the call of duty hasn't changed, nor the requirement that it be performed in combat. However, requirements now state that the heroic feat can be performed with a foreign army, if an American soldier is serving with foreign forces and aiding in a conflict in which the United States is "not a belligerent party."  

The Medal of Honor boasts a long list of storied recipients. Over 40 percent of those who earned the medal did so during the Civil War, including the youngest person to ever receive it, 11-year-old Civil War soldier Willie Johnston. 641 Americans have received the medal posthumously, including President Theodore Roosevelt—the only U.S. President to have done so. More recently, 17 soldiers have earned medals in Afghanistan and Iraq. If the story of this prestigious award is anything to go by, acts of military bravery will always be a part of American history!  

Below: a short video giving a brief history and information about the Medal of Honor.
 

He's remembered as a vicious and conniving politician... yet he wasn't so politically successful himself.

The end always justifies the means—at least, according to 16th-century politician and author Niccolò Machiavelli, who died on this day in 1527. His infamous treatise on political power, The Prince, was so controversial that it was banned by the pope and inspired Shakespeare to refer to some of his villains as "Machiavels." Yet Machiavelli didn't exactly live up to the ruthless guidelines he laid out in The Prince. In fact, the book itself was an act of political posturing.  

Machiavelli came of age during a time of intense political turmoil in the old Italian city-states. Florence and Naples desired control of all of Italy, as did foreign nations and the Holy Roman Empire. Machiavelli witnessed several violent and non-violent takeovers of his nation, including the French invasion of Charles VIII. Machiavelli concluded that Italy would only be able to stop such invasions if all Italian city-states were unified.  

Machiavelli's first political job was in Florence, where he served as Second Chancery and Secretary to the Council of Ten for War. His duties required him to travel to France, where he became acquainted with Cesare Borgia, the Duke of Romagna. Borgia was a famously cruel politician who was even accused of killing his own brother to further his own power (although this was never confirmed). Machiavelli was fascinated by what he saw as Borgia's success despite his lack of ethics, and later cited him in The Prince as an exemplar of strong leadership. Unfortunately for Machiavelli, Borgia was eventually banished to Spain by Julius II, where he died.  

After the Medici family (a powerful Italian family also known as the House of Medici) regained control of Florence in 1512, Machiavelli's career went downhill fast. He was dismissed from office and even accused of participating in a conspiracy. After a brief stint of imprisonment and torture, Machiavelli decided to become a writer. Yet he ultimately couldn't let go of his political ambitions, and decided to write a book to curry favor with Lorenzo de’ Medici, Florence's governor. Machiavelli pulled out all the stops and wrote The Prince, a book which argued that politics and ethics should be separate (a controversial idea, since political power was seen as divinely given and therefore constituting moral law). Machiavelli even went so far as to (rather shamelessly) dedicate the book to Medici.  

It would be an understatement to say The Prince lacked the impact Machiavelli had hoped. Not only was he snubbed by Florence's government, the book was also seen as immoral and antithetical to Italy's form of governance. The idea that politics should be looked at in terms of practicality, rather than in terms of ideals, was widely criticized. Machiavelli himself was also looked down upon for daring to write a book that essentially told rulers how to do their jobs. Unsurprisingly, readers viewed Machiavelli as an untrustworthy and callous man.  

Machiavelli went on to write several other books and plays, and to hold one more minor political office before his death. However, none of his works are quite as well-known as The Prince. Parodies and interpretations of the work have appeared in popular culture ever since its publication, such as when scholar Garrett Mattingly called it "a political black mass" in 1958. 20th-century mobsters, like John Gotti and Roy DeMeo, considered The Prince to be a "mafia bible." However one feels about The Prince, it can't be denied that it has retained its infamy through the centuries!
 

Freedom during wartime.

Juneteenth celebrations are coming up this week. To honor the holiday, we're taking a look back at the Emancipation Proclamation of 1863. The proclamation signaled the beginning of the end for slavery in the U.S. by targeting Confederate states. The bill wasn't exactly enforceable when President Abraham Lincoln signed it, though it ensured that former slaves, having fled North, could join the Union army and liberate the South.
 

In 1849, Congressman Abraham Lincoln co-signed a bill to end slavery in Washington D.C. that would compensate slave owners for their loss of "property." Lincoln's initial efforts failed, and in 1857, the Supreme Court ruled in the case Dred Scott v. Sandford that American citizenship excluded black people. Enslaved black bodies remained private property, and any federal attempts to free them were treated as Constitutional violations by slave states. Lincoln, as inaugural president, later claimed he had no intention of interfering with slave ownership during his first inaugural address on March 4, 1861. Nevertheless, the "Cotton Seven" secessionist states believed his presidency would be predicated on abolitionism that threatened their economies. They attacked Fort Sumter on April 12, 1861, effectively beginning the American Civil War.
 

When the Emancipation Proclamation went into effect on January 1, 1863, it served several wartime benefits for the Union. Firstly, Lincoln used it to appeal to France and England after driving the Confederacy out of Maryland in the Battle of Antietam in September of 1862. A palpable victory showed international forces that intervention on behalf of the secessionists would be a lost cause. Secondly, Lincoln was careful to ensure the language of the Emancipation Proclamation only applied to states in open rebellion, meaning his wartime powers would not be legally challenged. Thus slavery wasn't actually completely abolished in slave-owning Union states and non-mutinous Southern states. Thirdly, about 3.5 million slaves were freed, crippling the economic power of Southern plantations (in some estimates, black slaves accounted for 23 percent of all white wealth in Confederate states, totaling about $3.5 billion in profits). This also allowed some 180,000 black men to fill the ranks of the Union army.
 

As the Confederacy crumbled, President Lincoln became aware he needed to take steps to ensure the permanency of the Emancipation Proclamation's effects after the war ended. A constitutional amendment would need to be passed to entirely abolish slavery in the U.S. After winning a re-election, Lincoln convinced a lame duck Congress to pass the Thirteenth Amendment on April 8, 1865—just seven days before he was assassinated. The Thirteenth Amendment was ratified on December 6th that year, but not before the very last state to get word of the Emancipation Proclamation freed its slaves. On June 19th, the remote slave state of Texas was finally freed. On that same date in the following year, black churchgoers celebrated the end of slavery with feasts and parties—hence the Juneteenth holiday.
 

The end of 400 years of slavery in the U.S. was a pivotal moment in our nation's history, though the recent efforts of Black Lives Matter protests against police brutality show we still have long way to go to achieve equitable treatment under the law for African Americans. Still, reading the personal account of Booker T. Washington shows us the role the Emancipation Proclamation had in ending a specific form of economic, emotional, and physical violence directed at black bodies through slavery, and the powerful effects of liberation on the soul. Washington said, "My mother, who was standing by my side, leaned over and kissed her children, while tears of joy ran down her cheeks. She explained to us what it all meant, that this was the day for which she had been so long praying, but fearing that she would never live to see."

 

The colorful history of Britain's most iconic clock.

It's an international icon, yet most people call it by the wrong name! Big Ben, as it's commonly known, is a clocktower at the Palace of Westminster, in London. When it was completed on this day in 1859, Big Ben was simply called "the clock tower." It was officially renamed "Elizabeth Tower" in 2012. So where does the name "Big Ben" come from? To understand the tower's most common moniker, one must understand the story of its construction.
 

In 1834, most of the Palace of Westminster, which housed the British parliament, was destroyed in a catastrophic fire. The Palace was a symbol of British democracy, as it contained not only the meeting place of the House of Commons, but also the official residences of the Speaker and Clerk of the House of Commons. London officials insisted that the Palace be rebuilt by a skilled architect.

 

In 1836, a design competition was held. The winner was British architect Charles Barry, whose design incorporated the palace's surviving buildings. Barry collaborated with Augustus Pugin, an architect known for his love of the Gothic Revival architecture. This style sought to revive the imposing Gothic architecture of medieval times. Although Barry designed the majority of the new palace, he left the design of the clock tower to Pugin.
 

Construction began in 1843. Because of the clocktower's prominent placement, great care was taken to ensure that its timekeeping would be accurate. Astronomer Royal George Airy specified that the time should be "...correct to within one second per day, and furthermore that it should telegraph its performance twice a day to Greenwich Observatory, where a record would be kept." The clock took three years to complete—from 1851, when it was designed by lawyer and horologist Edmund Beckett Denison, to 1854, when it was finished by clockmaker Frederick Dent. Luckily, since the rest of the tower wasn't completed until 1859, Dent gained an extra five years to perfect it.

 

Of course, in order to chime the hour, the clocktower needed bells. The first hour bell cracked during testing. It was later melted down and recast by the Whitechapel Bell Foundry (the same foundry which cast the Liberty Bell). It was the largest ever cast in the United Kingdom, standing over seven feet tall and weighing over 13 tons. When a team of 16 horses pulled the bell through London to the new clocktower, excited crowds lined the streets. The bell was immediately nicknamed Big Ben, due to its enormous size and in honor of London's First Commissioner of Works, Sir Benjamin Hall, who helped oversee the tower's construction.

 

It took several days to hoist the bell to the top of the 315-foot tower, which was constructed from Yorkshire Anston stone and Cornish granite. On May 31, 1859, Big Ben rang out for the first time. Unfortunately, the enormous hour bell soon cracked, and remained damaged for four years. The hour was struck on the far smaller fourth quarter bell until a new (rigorously-tested) hour bell was installed.

 

The clocktower was immediately praised as an architectural marvel. Each of the tower's four clock faces sits in a 23-foot-diameter iron frame, and is crafted of 324 pieces of opal glass. Even by today's standards, the clock faces are massive, with hour hands measuring 9 feet and minute hands measuring 14 feet.
 

In 2012, the clocktower's official name was changed to Elizabeth Tower, in honor of Queen Elizabeth II's Diamond Jubilee. However, people around the world, as well as the British themselves, continue to call the tower Big Ben. It goes to show that old habits, and catchy names, die hard!
 

A bloodsucker's bite-y origins.

It ain't easy being vampy. On May 26, 1897, Bram Stoker's horror novel Dracula was published, setting off over a century's worth of weirdly romantic and spooky depictions of bloodthirsty revenants. Yet thumbing through the pages of Dracula and Stoker's influences paint a villain who isn't so much a brooding and handsome Bela Lugosi, but a collection of folkloric and personal nightmares.
 

As a brief synopsis, the character of Count Dracula was a strong pivot away from the traditional vampire folklore of Eastern Europe. There, vampires had been traditionally described as ruddy, ugly, and bloated from bloodsucking. Stoker's Dracula, however, was a charming Hungarian nobleman living in Transylvania who was turned into a beguiling, shapeshifting, centuries-old vampire. The reason for the skew in vampire tradition is due to an acquaintance of Stoker.
 

Scholars tend to believe Henry Irving, a 19th-century actor and manager of London's Lyceum Theater, was a primary influence on the Transylvanian bloodsucker's aristocratic manner, tall but thin frame, and strong "aquiline" face. Stoker worked as a personal assistant to Irving. He was entranced by Irving's otherworldly acting transformations. Irving's penchant for cruel behavior and vicious outbursts when he did not get his way also contributed to Dracula's persona. In the same year that Dracula was published, Stoker tried to rally a play production of the horror story, in which Irving refused to play the lead, citing the script as "dreadful."
 

But Irving wasn't Stoker's only inspiration for Dracula. One of the iconic scenes from the book involves Dracula's voyage from Transylvania to Whitby, England, aboard the ship Demeter. During the trip, the entire crew mysteriously disappears, and a large, beastly dog emerges from the ship when it runs ashore. All of which comes from a very real wreck. While staying in Whitby during 1890, Stoker learned of the 1885 wreck of the Dmitry, a schooner from Narva, Estonia. Vivid tales were told of the ship's only cargo, a suspicious load of silver sand, and the evil barghest (a monstrous dog from English folklore) who emerged from the accident at Tate Hill Sands.

 

Of course, Stoker also took inspiration from Eastern European culture. Though he never stepped foot in Transylvania, he studied Romani vampire folklore. One source, Emily Gerard's The Land Beyond the Forest, was particularly influential; so much so that the London Library in 2018 found Stoker's hand-written notes and dog-eared pages in an original 1890 copy. Gerard was a novelist and reviewer of foreign literature for The Times, a British daily newspaper. Her marriage in 1869 to a Polish officer led her to travel across Eastern Europe, and subsequently compose the essay "Transylvanian Superstition," which introduced Stoker to the legend of Nosferatu, the East European blood-sucking folkloric monster. The undead villain was allegedly conquered after he was beheaded, his mouth stuffed with garlic, and his heart burned and sprinkled as ashes on his grave—an ending that mirrors and no doubt influenced the way Dracula's protagonists, Jonathan Harker and Quincey Morris, dispose of Dracula.
 

Though Dracula is ultimately defeated, the immense cultural popularity of Stoker's vampire lore can't be overstated. Dublin, Ireland, even hosts a Bram Stoker Festival each year near the Irish author's birthday in early November. It's the perfect time to don a Dracula-like cape—or other items from the many fictitious vampires he has influenced. They include everyone from Anne Rice's Lestat, to Taika Waititi and Jemaine Clement's Colin the Energy Vampire, to Charlaine Harris' Eric Northman: quite an immortal legacy!
 

Below: a portrait of Henry Irving, the original inspiration for Dracula, and cover art for Dracula.

 

Image credit & copyright: Universal Films, Penguin Books USA

It started over Shakespeare and ended in bedlam

Theater lovers got more than they bargained for on May 10, 1849, when a rivalry between two Shakespearean actors, American Edwin Forrest and Englishman William Charles Macready, spilled into the streets of New York. The confrontation turned deadly when a rowdy crowd was confronted by armed soldiers. Although the Astor Place Riot seemingly started over Shakespeare, it had much more to do with tension over the growing class divide in early America.

 

The Astor Riot took place during the Antebellum Period—the time in American history between the War of 1812 and the American Civil War. As industry thrived, a wealth gap formed between business owners and workers. Until the Antebellum period, theaters had been places where rich and poor patrons intermingled. So, when wealthy Americans began building their own theaters in major cities, with tickets and dress codes that the poor could not afford, resentment naturally grew.

 

The feud between Macready, a Brit, and Forrest, an American, started off as a good-natured rivalry. Both men were known for acting in Shakespearian plays, but Macready generally toured wealthier venues. When Macready first toured in America, Forrest set up a rival tour, playing in the same cities but in poorer theaters. Eventually, Forrest toured in Macready's native England. The actors' rivalry became popular with the public. Wealthy Americans identified with Macready, while poor Americans identified with Forrest. Eventually, Forrest began blaming Macready for his poor audience attendance in England, and came to one of Macready's performances just to hiss from the audience. When Macready came back to America for another tour, Forrest booked more rival performances in the same cities, one of which in New York in 1849.

 

Trouble began brewing days before the riot. On May 7, Macready took the stage at the Astor Opera House in New York to perform Macbeth, only to be met with an audience of rowdy Forrest fans. The crowd hurled food at the actor until he was forced to flee the stage. Afterward, Macready was determined to return to England, but was convinced to stay by wealthy New Yorkers.

 

Macready's performance of Macbeth was rescheduled for May 10. This time, the theater's windows would be barricaded, its audience screened, and an armed militia stationed by Washington Square Park. However, none of this stopped a large crowd of poor New Yorkers from making their way toward the theater as the production got underway, to decry Macready for imposing British values on the American public.
 

Eventually, the crowd stormed the theater. Police were quickly overwhelmed. The militia made its way to the scene, some soldiers riding on horseback. Instead of dispersing, the crowd pelted the soldiers with bricks. Finally, the soldiers began firing. Many were wounded and over 20 rioters were killed. In a single evening, the United States lost more civilians to direct military action than at any point since the Revolutionary War. Major-General Charles Sandford later wrote, "During a period of thirty-five years of military service, I have never seen a mob so violent as the one on that evening."
 

Although New York would not see another large-scale riot until the Civil War was underway, the Astor Place Riot forever changed the way that American police dealt with crowds. Riot training became commonplace and shields were added to police arsenals in urban areas, along with heavier batons. Macready, who was lucky to have escaped the United States with his life, never acted in an American theater again. As Shakespeare once wrote, "parting is such sweet sorrow."
 

Below: a video explaining the riot's historical significance.