1.The Myth of Magellan
After learning about Christopher Columbus sailing the ocean blue in 1492, we were taught that Ferdinand Magellan sailed around the world in a single trip (or circumnavigated the globe, if you will). Well, he didn’t. Magellan, a Portuguese captain in the service of Spain, set out on August 10, 1519, from Seville with five ships and a crew of 250 men. Things didn’t go so well for old Magellan, though. His three-year journey was plagued with terrible weather, maps that weren’t up to date, starvation, and a violent mutiny. The truth of the matter is only one of Magellan’s ships, the Victoria, arrived back at Seville, with only eighteen of its fifty crewmembers alive. One other person who didn’t make it was Ferdinand Magellan himself. When his ship landed on Mactan Island in the Philippines, he was met with a less than friendly reception party. Magellan died, face down on the beach, looking like a pincushion from the numerous spears sticking out of his body.
2. The Lightbulb Was Not Edison’s Bright Idea
Thomas Alva Edison is credited with hundreds of inventions; not the least of these is the electric lightbulb. Ask any schoolchild who invented the lightbulb, and he or she will, without hesitation, name Thomas Edison. But the truly illuminated know the first lightbulb was actually invented in 1802 (nearly seventy-seven years before Edison’s version) by an English chemist, Sir Humphry Davy, who made an arc lamp glow by passing electricity through a platinum wire. Davy never pursued any practical use for his invention, and the world stayed dependent on candlepower and oil lamps for several more decades. In 1845, an American, J. W. Starr, developed a lightbulb using a vacuum bulb and a carbon filament—a design very similar to Edison’s. When Starr died at the age of twenty-five, an Englishman, Sir Joseph Wilson Swan, continued to work on his design. The main problem with this and previous designs was that the filament would burn only for a short while, rendering the lightbulb impractical for any real use. In 1877, Edison went about searching for a filament that could stay illuminated for a long period of time. After trying nearly 8,000 possibilities, he found one—a carbonized cotton thread. So Edison discovered a way to make a lightbulb work for an extended period of time? Not really. Remember Joseph Swan? Well, he discovered using a carbonized piece of cotton thread would do the trick, too—ten months earlier. In fact, he filed a patent infringement suit against Edison and won. So Edison, living up to his credo that “genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration” became inspired, made Swan a partner in his lighting company, and later bought him out.
3. The Great Wall of China Is Out of Sight
Part of the mystique surrounding this amazing engineering marvel is that the 1,864-mile-long wall of China can be seen from space. But when one actually stops to think about this claim, it simply crumbles. Why would the Great Wall be seen from space when Beijing’s new Golden Resources Shopping Mall, the world’s largest at six million square feet, can’t be? The foundation for the wall story started in 1938, when Richard Halliburton, in his book Second Book of Marvels, announced that the Great Wall is the only man-made object visible from the moon. I suppose a sequel to this book would include how Halliburton could know that, when it would be another thirty-one years before Apollo 11 actually landed on the moon. And according to the astronauts, not even the earth’s largest mountain ranges are visible from the moon.
4. One Half of All Marriages End in Divorce
This statistic is the ace in the hole when it comes to showing the moral decay of our times—politicians use it, preachers use it, marriage counselors use it—but statistically speaking, it’s useless. This figure is derived by taking the number of marriages per year and comparing it to the number of divorces per year. And since there are nearly half as many divorces as marriages, people conclude that half of all marriages end in divorce. This statistic would be correct if everyone married only once and divorced only once, but thanks to the Larry Kings and Elizabeth Taylors of the world, things just don’t add up. The actual number of marriages that end in divorce is closer to 1 in 4, or 25 percent.
5. The Truth of William Tell Told
It’s a disturbing story, to say the least. An oppressive bailiff named Hermann Gessler was sent from Austria to Switzerland in the early 1300s to maintain control of the people. He placed his hat on a pole and ordered the citizens to salute or bow to the hat to show their allegiance. William Tell, along with his son Walter, walked by the hat without honoring it and were accosted by guards. Gessler forced William Tell to shoot an apple off his son’s head in exchange for his freedom. Tell put one arrow in his crossbow and another in his quiver and easily shot the apple from his son’s head. When asked what the other arrow was for, Tell told Gessler if he had hurt his son during the stunt, he would have used the extra arrow to kill Gessler. Needless to say, Gessler got the point. He was infuriated by Tell’s arrogance and ordered him imprisoned for the rest of his life.
Tell’s legendary prowess with the crossbow and unfailing love of freedom made him the hero of Swiss independence. The story would be even more disturbing if it were true, but it isn’t. William Tell didn’t have a son, didn’t own a crossbow, and never even saw an apple. Why? Because William Tell never existed. The great fourteenth-century hero of Swiss independence was born in the imagination of an anonymous fifteenth-century storyteller. I quiver when I think how many people have been shafted into believing this story is real.
6. Oh, Hell, Caesar
Claudius I (Tiberius Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, 10 B.C.-A.D. 54) was poisoned by his wife, Agrippina, with a lethal dose of mushrooms. As he lay writhing on the floor, a doctor was summoned to his aid. The doctor thought if he could make the emperor throw up the noxious mushrooms, that might save Claudius’s life. The doctor took a feather and began tickling the emperor’s throat, hoping to stimulate the gag reflex. The responsibility of saving the ruler of the Roman Empire might have been distracting to the doctor, who lost his grip on the feather. Claudius inhaled the feather into his throat and chocked to death on it.
7. A Real Shoe-In
In the 1600s, Louis XIV of France (born 1638, ruled 1643-1715) was at the height of his power, but unfortunately, that was the only height he could claim. You see, the Sun King, one of the most beloved monarchs in history, was—how should I say it?—short. Since the cards were stacked against him in the height department, he decided to use stacks to even things out—he added a few inches to the heels of his boots. The elevator shoes elevated his stature, but he got knocked down a few pegs when he noticed he’d started a fad in his Royal Court—soon everyone was wearing elevator shoes. Not to be overshadowed, Louis added even more height to his heels, and the Royal Court followed suit. Soon people were tottering around in footwear resembling the Frankenstein monster at a disco. Eventually, men’s heel size came back to earth, but women stayed perched on high. In the 1800s, American women began emulating the exotic styles of Paris, and soon “French heels” became part of the American fashion scene and were referred to simply as “high heels.”
8. Bridge over Troubled Water
In 1981, the Intermarine Company of Ameglia, Italy, celebrated after they were awarded a huge contract from the government of Malaysia to build an enormous minesweeper and three military launchers. It was a coup for the company, which specialized in building smaller vessels. “This contract,” they thought, “will make us famous.”They were right, but for the wrong reasons. Everything went well for Intermarine, and in fact, they finished the project on time and on budget. During the entire two years it took Intermarine to fulfill their contract, they overlooked one small thing—their shipyard was a mile from the Mediterranean on the Magra River. The river was deep and wide enough to accommodate the ships, but farther downriver was the beautiful but tiny Colombiera Bridge, and not one of the ships could navigate under it. The Intermarine Company pleaded with local authorities, promising they would dismantle the bridge and then rebuild it. The shipyard’s dreams of further lucrative contracts sank when the town council said no.
9. War Is Hell
In 1883, the citizens of Lijar, a small town in southern Spain, were infuriated when reports came back that while visiting Paris, King Alfonso XII had been insulted and attacked. The mayor of Lijar, Don Miguel Garcia Saez, and all 300 citizens of the town demanded retribution and declared war on France on October 14, 1883. Not a single shot was fired and not an injury was sustained during the confrontation. Nonetheless, Mayor Saez became known as “The Terror of the Sierras” for this exploit.
Ninety-three years later, in 1976, King Juan Carlos, Alfonso’s great-grandson, made a visit to France during which he was treated with great respect. In 1981, the town council of Lijar ruled that “in view of the excellent attitude of the French,” they would suspend hostilities and agree to a cease-fire with France. The current mayor of Lijar, Diego Sanchez, said humbly, “We’ve forgiven them now,” making this the first time in two centuries that France fought a war and didn’t lose.
10. Floundering for a Name
We see tin after tin of sardines in the stores, so it must be pretty easy to catch a sardine, right? Actually, it’s impossible to catch a sardine unless you accidentally hook a can lying on the bottom of the sea. Why? Because there’s no such fish as a sardine. The name applies to any small fish packaged in sardine cans. (They’re usually pilchard or small herring.) The reason sardines are packed, well, like sardines isn’t because companies are trying to give you your money’s worth—it’s because the oil they’re packed in costs more than the fish themselves.
11. An Eggstraordinary Story
Images of the Virgin Mary on a grilled cheese sandwich, Jesus on a refrigerator door, Mother Teresa on a cinnamon bun—these all seem like laughable bits of weird news. But what if Christ prophesied his return on freshly laid chicken eggs? That’s just what happened in a small village near Leeds, England, in 1806, when a hen laid an egg with the words Christ Is Coming inscribed in black on its shell. Mary Bateman, the hen’s owner, announced that God had arrived in a vision to tell her the hen would lay fourteen prophetic eggs; the fourteenth would usher in the apocalyptic destruction of the world. But the news wasn’t all hard boiled—God had also bestowed upon Bateman special slips of paper with the inscription J.C. that were basically “Get into Heaven Free” passes available for one shilling apiece. More than 1,000 people purchased the slips of paper and rested comfortably in the knowledge that they were guaranteed salvation while everyone else was going to burn in hell. A doctor who was skeptical of the eggs, or not in on the yolk, examined the eggs and discovered God had used corrosive ink to write on the shells. He told the local authorities, and they burst into the tavern where the chicken was caged and caught Mary Bateman red-handed—shoving the fourteenth inscribed egg into the hen to “lay” later that day. Bateman was hanged, not for egging people into believing her story, but because she later became an abortionist, which was illegal in the nineteenth century.
12. The First Bump in the Road
There’s a first time for everything, and Mrs. Bridget Driscoll holds the unfortunate title of being the first person killed by an automobile. On August 17, 1896, at the Crystal Palace in London, Arthur Edsall, an employee of the Anglo-French Motor Car Company, accidentally ran over Mrs. Driscoll and fractured her skull, leading to her death. At the inquest, it was discovered that Mr. Edsall’s vision had been obstructed by two other cars, and he could not see Mrs.Driscoll as she crossed the road. The verdict of the court was accidental death. Eyewitnesses stated Mrs. Driscoll panicked at the sight of Mr. Edsall’s car and didn’t get out of the way, which she could have done easily, as Mr. Edsall was traveling only four miles per hour at the time. So it could basically be called a slow death.
13. Two Kings, Three Queens, and a Big Joker
In 1939, during a trip across Canada, King George VI and his wife, Queen Elizabeth, were greeted by Canadian prime minister MacKenzie King. The mayor of Winnipeg and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. John Queen, also greeted them. So in a bizarre but true variation of Abbott and Costello’s famous “Who’s on First” routine, here is a partial transcript from the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation announcement of the event:
" There’s the King—he’s stepping out, followed by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, nattily attired in a silver coat. Mr. King is now shaking hands with the King and introducing Mr. Queen to the King and Queen and then Mrs. Queen to the Queen and King. They are now proceeding up the steps to the well-decorated City Hall, the King and Mr. King together, with the Queen being escorted by Mrs. Queen…. The King leaves Mr. King and goes to Mrs. Queen, and the Queen and Mr. King follow behind…."
14. Please Tread Lightly
While we’re on the subject of mismatched shoes, in the original story of Cinderella, her infamous glass slippers were actually made of fur. When Charles Perrault finally wrote down the story in 1697 (it had been passed down orally for centuries), he mistook vair (“ermine”) for verre (“glass”). Which makes much more sense, because even though they sound more romantic, glass slippers could cause more damage than just blisters. Perrault realized his mistake, but by that time, the story was so popular, he chose to leave it as it was.
15. It’s a Small World After All
In geography class, we’ve been taught there are seven continents (Africa, Antarctica, Asia, Australia, Europe, North America, and South America), right? But look at any globe, and you’ll see there are really only six (Africa, Antarctica, Australia, Eurasia, North America, and South America). The boundary between Europe and Asia is artificial; ancient Greek mapmakers thought the two regions were separated almost entirely by water from the Aegean to the North Sea.
In another case of don’t believe what you see but what you’ve been taught, the incorrect “seven continents” theory is still the norm. This is a case of either tradition beating out the truth or Europeans not wanting to be considered part of Asia.
16. Nuts to You!
You can buy almonds in their shells, or walnuts in their shells, or Brazil nuts in their shells, so why can’t you buy cashews in their shells? For the simple reason that cashews don’t have shells. But wait, don’t all nuts have shells? That’s true, but cashews aren’t nuts, they’re technically seeds. Peanuts aren’t nuts, either; they’re actually a species in the legume family.
17. The Domino Effect
On June 9, 1978, at New York’s Manhattan Center, Mr. Bob Specas was in the final stages of beating a dominoes world record by knocking down 100,000 dominoes in a row. The media was out in droves documenting the historic event. As Specas leaned down to place domino number 97,499 in position, a nearby TV cameraman accidentally dropped his press badge and prematurely set off the dominoes. I’m sure dominoes weren’t the only thing that got set off that day—Mr.Specas’s temper did, too.
18. Seldom Is Heard These Discouraging Words
Everybody sing with me: “Oh, give me a home, where the buffalo roam, and the deer and the antelope play.” Americans have sung “Home on the Range” since 1911, so what could possibly be wrong with the song? Well, actually, there are two things:
"The real home where the buffalo roam is in Africa or Asia (the Cape buffalo of Africa and the water buffalo of Asia). The species we have in the United States is properly called bison. There are no antelope in the United States, either. They’re also native to Asia and Africa. What the song calls “antelope” was probably the pronghorn, which is a lot tougher to rhyme. Antelopes grow their horns throughout their lives, whereas pronghorns (Antilocapridae) shed their horns annually."
But “Oh give me a home, where the bison roam, and the deer and the pronghorn play” doesn’t quite have the same feeling, does it?
19. Not with a Wimper, but with a Bang
On December 6, 1917, the largest man-made explosion of the prenuclear age happened when a ship loaded with munitions exploded in the harbor at Halifax, Nova Scotia, killing more than 1,900 people. The explosion was so massive that one man, William Becker, who was in a rowboat about 300 feet away from the ship when it exploded, was propelled 1,600 yards—the length of sixteen football fields—across the harbor. He was uninjured during his unexpected trip across the harbor and was able to swim to safety—he lived until 1969. Of course, it was difficult to watch football with him: “Sixty-yard touchdown? That’s nothing. I once went 1,600 yards for a splashdown!”
20. Stop Your Whining
Wine merchant William Sokoin paid $300,000 for a 1787 bottle of Château Margaux once owned by Thomas Jefferson. He planned to sell it to the highest bidder from a group of 300 wine collectors gathered at Manhattan’s Four Seasons restaurant in 1989. He hoped to make a profit in excess of $200,000 for the wine, but his dreams were shattered when, moments before the bidding started, he dropped the bottle and broke it.
21. The Defendants Suck!
In the thirteenth century, the town of Mayenne, France, was infested with a swarm of mosquitoes that plagued the inhabitants to such an extent they filed a lawsuit against them. When the pesky public nuisances flew in the face of authority and refused to answer the summons, the court appointed a lawyer to act on their behalf. The courtroom was abuzz as defense counsel pleaded his case, and spectators waited with bated breath as the judge handed down his verdict. The judge banished the bugs from his jurisdiction, but took pity on them and gave them a patch of land outside the town limits where they could swarm in peace forever. What the townfolks needed wasn’t a case against the mosquitoes, but a case of DEET.
22. The Incredible, Regrettable Egg
The citizens of Basel, Switzerland, were stunned when a rooster was accused of laying an egg. In 1473, it was common knowledge that an egg laid by a rooster was prized by sorcerers, and it was known that, according to court records, “Satan employed witches to hatch such eggs, from which proceeded winged serpents most dangerous to mankind.” It looked like the rooster’s goose was cooked. But even something as foul as a demonic rooster deserves the best defense available, and the court appointed it a lawyer. The lawyer strutted his stuff and contended that “no injury to man or beast had resulted” and that laying an egg is an involuntary act, so, he surmised, his cock should walk.
The judge was impressed with the lawyer’s impassioned plea but nonetheless found the rooster guilty of sorcery. Both the rooster and the egg (I’m not sure which one came first) were roasted at the stake— no mention if coleslaw and mashed potatoes were served as sides.
23. A Chili Reception
Christopher Columbus’s arrival in the New World is so full of mistakes, it’s nearly impossible to categorize them all. One of the most famous is that he thought he had arrived in India, so he called the natives Indians. A lesser-known mistake occurred when his hosts served a spicy food containing hot chilies, which Columbus thought must be related to the Piper nigrum, the plant that produces black peppercorns. The spice the Indians actually used wasn’t a pepper at all—it was part of the Solanaceae, or nightshade, family and was more closely related to potatoes, tomatoes, and eggplants. But thanks to Columbus, chilies have been known as chili “peppers” ever since.
24. He Said, She Said
In the repertoire of every bad Humphrey Bogart impersonator is the line, “Play it again, Sam.” But Bogart never said this. In the 1943 movie Casablanca, Ingrid Bergman’s character. Ilse, not Humphrey Bogart’s, Rick, is the one who implores Sam (Dooley Wilson) to “play it, Sam. Play ‘As Time Goes By.’” So no one ever says, “Play it again, Sam,” and in fact, Sam never plays “As Time Goes By,” he just sings it—Wilson couldn’t play the piano, and the accompaniment was dubbed over later.
25. W. C. Fields Forever
“Anybody who hates children and dogs can’t be all bad” is the perfect quote to embody the comedian W. C. Fields (William Claude Dukenfield), and it’s one of his most famous sayings, but like most things in this book, it’s a myth. The actual quote is “Anybody who hates dogs and babies can’t be all bad.” This misquote wouldn’t be enough to include by itself if not for the fact that W. C. Fields never said either line in the first place. The original quote came from Leo Rosten, the humor writer, who said it when introducing Fields at a dinner. Unfortunately for Mr. Rosten, W. C. Fields is still given credit for this great line.
26. Roses on Your Piano
Pokémon, Beanie Babies, Cabbage Patch Kids, and tulips are all examples of collectible “crazes.” Yes, tulips. Tulips were introduced into Holland in the late 1500s and were much sought after by the upper class. In 1634, traders began speculating on tulip bulbs, and soon the price of certain prized tulips skyrocketed—the age of tulipmania had struck! The rare Semper Augustus sold for as much as 5,500 florins per bulb, the equivalent of eight pounds of gold. But eventually, the tulip bubble burst, and in February 1637, the price of bulbs hit the dirt. Thousands of people went bankrupt, and investors refused to honor the futures contracts they had signed. When these cases went to court, they were ruled to be gambling debts, not enforceable contracts. I guess in this case it wasn’t money but tulip bulbs that were the root of all evil.
27. Sax and Violins
Catgut, which for centuries has been used to string musical instruments, is made from cats, right? Not even close. Catgut is a term for a chemically treated animal intestine made into a tough string or cord. But the animal in question isn’t a cat and never has been; it’s a sheep. So why isn’t it called sheepgut? Good question. Here’s my guess: Imagine the sound of a young child practicing a violin, and then imagine the sound of a cat with its tail caught in a door. The word catgut makes a lot more sense now, doesn’t it?
28. It’s a Dog’s Life
When calculating the age of old Fido, most people use the equation one human year equals seven dog years. But if you think about that logic for only a moment (four hours in dog moments), you’ll see it doesn’t hold true. Using this theory, Bluey, an Australian cattle dog who lived to be twenty-nine years old, would have been 203 years old in human years. So how do you compare a dog’s age in human years? Since puppies become dogs much quicker than babies become adults, the equation could be figured more along these lines: fifteen years for the first year of the dog’s life, ten years for the second, seven for the third, and three for each following year. Making a three-year-old dog thirty-two, a fourteen-year-old dog sixty-five, and our twenty-nine-year-old dog an amazing but more realistic 110 years old. Of course, it’s much harder for a dog to figure out the age of a human in dog years.
29. Alone Again, Naturally
Let’s get this straight: Charles Lindbergh was not the first to fly nonstop across the Atlantic. The first nonstop flight was made on June 14, 1919, by John Alcock and Arthur Whitten Brown, and if you count two earlier dirigible crossings transporting a total of sixty-four people, Lindbergh was actually the sixty-seventh person to cross the Atlantic. The key word missing from these previous accomplishments is solo. On May 21, 1927, Charles Lindbergh was the first person to fly nonstop across the Atlantic, from the United States to Europe, by himself. I suppose if people could remember his nickname, The Lone Eagle,” they wouldn’t get things confused.
30. Petite Defeat
Three things are usually remembered about Napoleon Bonaparte: his big, funny hat; having his hand inside his vest; and the fact that he was short. Even now, hyperaggressive, height-impaired men are said to have a Napoleon complex. This would come as a surprise to the emperor of the French, because he actually stood five feet six and a half. The confusion about Napoleon’s size arose because after his autopsy, it was reported that he measured five feet two. The problem is, he was measured based on the old French system of pied de roi (“royal foot”), which was shorter than the modern foot. The height requirement for the French army at the time was four feet eleven, so a lot of Napoleon’s soldiers looked up to the great conqueror not because of his powerful position, but because he was taller than they were. Napoleon wasn’t short, and he certainly wasn’t shortsighted when he said, “History is a set of lies agreed upon.”
31. The Big Bus Fuss
Why aren’t there electric streetcars anymore? The answer: General Motors. In the 1930s, GM was looking for a way to expand its bus manufacturing business, but buses weren’t needed in most cities, because they already had electric streetcar or trolley lines. So GM, along with Standard Oil, Firestone Tires, and several other corporations, formed a company to buy municipal streetcar systems and dismantle them. After a few trial cities, their plan seemed to be working, so they moved on to New York and Los Angeles. In April 1949, a Chicago federal jury convicted GM, Standard Oil, and Firestone of criminally conspiring to replace electric transportation with buses and monopolizing the sale of buses—they were fined $5,000. So it’s not only the bus fumes that stink!
32. Not in High Cotton
Eli Whitney is credited with inventing the cotton gin in 1794 and single-handedly saving the South’s cotton industry. Before his invention, it took an entire day for one person to separate a single pound of cotton from the seeds. After only a few days of experimenting, Whitney came up with a simple, efficient machine that made the work of separating cotton easy. In 1792, the United States exported approximately 140,000 pounds of cotton; by 1800, because of Eli Whitney’s cotton gin, that number went up to 18 million pounds. So this simple machine must have made Mr. Whitney a lot of cotton-picking money, right? No. The machine was so simple that any farmhand could easily copy it… and they did. Companies began producing their variations of the cotton gin, but even though Whitney took them to court over patent infringement, the courts consistently ruled against him. After thirteen years of fighting court battles over his design that saved Southern agriculture, Whitney finally got a favorable ruling in 1807—but by then, the patent had nearly expired. And soon after that, Mr. Whitney expired, too.
33. Buckle Up
Were the Puritans pure of spirit and body? Hardly. There are hundreds of court records documenting cases of sodomy, rape, adultery, fornication, and other not-so-pure deeds. Like this one: On September 8, 1642, a sixteen-year-old from Plymouth, Massachusetts, was hanged because of his love for animals. Thomas Granger was detected of buggery with a mare, a cowe, two goats, five sheep, two calves and a turkey,” as Governor William Bradford wrote in Of Plimouth Plantation, 1620-1647. “And whereas some of the sheep could not be so well known by his description of them, others with them were brought before him and he declared which they were and which they were not.”To make matters worse for young Granger, he had to watch the objects of his affection die first. “A very sade spectacle it was; for first the mare, and then the cowe, and the rest of the lesser cattle, were kild before his face, according to the law, Leviticus 20:15, and then he him selfe was executed.” All this because the guy was caught horsing around.
34. Keeping an Eye Out
In 1801, Captain Horatio Nelson of the British navy was engaged in attacking French troops in Copenhagen, Denmark. The tide of the battle turned in favor of the French, and Nelson was ordered by the command ship to retreat. But Nelson wanted to continue fighting and ignored the command. A subordinate urged the captain to heed the commander’s order, and Nelson picked up a telescope to verify the signal for himself. But Nelson, who was blind in one eye, purposely held the telescope to his sightless eye and said truthfully that he “couldn’t see” any signal of retreat. Nelson continued his attack and won. This event left us with a phrase that means “to ignore something” and is still used today: to turn a blind eye.
35. The Case of Coke
Coca-Cola is not only an American institution, it’s one of the most successful businesses in American history. John Pemberton, a pharmacist in Atlanta, concocted the drink in 1886, for use as a nonalcoholic “nerve medicine.” And yes, the first recipe included coca leaves—along with kola nuts and other herbs. Pemberton would then mix the thick syrup with tap water and sell it in his drugstore. The story is that a customer, complaining of an upset stomach, asked Pemberton to mix the syrup with carbonated water, and it was at that moment that the pharmacist realized he had “the real thing.” So Pemberton began producing Coke and retired a billionaire—well, if he did, he wouldn’t be in this book. Shortly after he created the drink, Pemberton became very sick, and in desperate need of money, he sold the rights to Coke to a group of druggists for about $350. He died of cancer in 1888. Pemberton went from soft drinks to hard times.
36. It’s What’s for Supper
We’ve all heard the expression “It’s raining cats and dogs,” but how about the phrase “It’s raining meat!” You would be familiar with this phrase if you were in southern Bath County, Kentucky, on Friday, March 3, 1876. While in her yard making soap, Mrs. Allen Crouch was sprinkled with dime-size pieces of fresh meat, and there wasn’t a meat cloud in the sky. Two gentlemen who tasted the meat agreed it was either mutton or venison. During examination, scientists concluded the first sample was lung tissue from a horse or a human baby. (I didn’t know they were so similar.) Further samples were identified as cartilage and striated muscle fibers. No definitive explanation for the meat shower was given, but one theory was that a flock of buzzards had thrown up while flying over Mrs. Crouch’s yard. What is so weird about this story is the two men who volunteered to taste the meat.
37. Get a Tan by Standing in the English Rain
In many Mediterranean countries, solar-powered city parking meters are used, saving a fortune in maintenance costs. So city officials in Nottingham, England, decided to get in on this action and spent more than £1 million (about $1.5 million) installing solar-powered parking meters on their city streets. There was one glaring problem Nottingham officials overlooked—or should I say a problem that wasn’t glaring—the sun. Mediterranean countries get a lot of sun, and even in the summer, England doesn’t. As of August 2001, more than 245 of the parking meters were out of commission, allowing hundreds of motorists to park for free.
38. Scooping It Up
All newspapers and news programs try to get the scoop on big stories, and occasionally, in their haste, they overlook a few facts—or blow the story completely. On November 8, 1918, the United Press Association reported that Germany had signed a peace agreement, thereby bringing World War I to an end. Newspapers all across the country began reprinting the organization’s story, and celebrations broke out. But the story was wrong. It all started when someone, now believed to be a German secret agent, called the French and American intelligence offices to report that Germany had signed an armistice. The story was passed to Roy Howard, United Press president in Europe, who wired the story to the United States. I’m sure a lot of newspapers were sold that day, but the war didn’t officially end until June 28, 1919, with the signing of the Treaty of Versaille.
39. Bailing Out on War
Wars are started for a variety of reasons: to take over land, to take resources, to avenge a great wrong, to free a repressed people, or to steal a wooden bucket. The War of the Oaken Bucket (1325-1337) was fought between the independent Italian city-states of Modena and Bologna and started when Modena soldiers invaded Bologna to steal a bucket. The raid was successful, but during the ensuing invasion, hundreds of Bologna citizens were killed (or kicked the bucket). Bologna declared war to restore national honor and to avenge the death of the martyred citizens … oh, and to get the bucket back. The war raged on for twelve years, but Bologna never did get a handle on the bucket. To this day, it’s still in Modena, stored in the bell tower of the twelfth-century cathedral Duomo di Modena.
40. The Winner of the “What Was He Thinking?” Award
Francisco Solano Lopez, president of Paraguay (1862-1870), after a trip to Paris, became obsessed with Napoleon (some say he even believed he was Napoleon). In 1864, to prove he had Napoleon’s leadership abilities, he simultaneously declared war on his country’s three neighbors: Argentina, Brazil, and Uruguay. The war was also known by three different names: the Napoleonic Wars, the War of the Triple Alliance, and the Paraguayan War. The outcome of the war? Paraguay was nearly annihilated. It is estimated that 90 percent of its population died during the war (as a result of battle, bad food, and disease). There is still debate over whether Lopez was a champion of smaller nations against more powerful neighbors or … well, a nut.
41. Telegraphic Liar
The inventor of Morse code, Samuel Morse, we are told, invented the telegraph in 1844. It’s true he invented Morse code, but the telegraph itself was invented in 1831 by Joseph Henry, a Princeton University professor. So why is Morse given the credit? Because Professor Henry never applied for a patent. Morse obtained Henry’s sketches and papers and based his telegraph largely on the work already done by Henry. He even called the professor when he was stuck on a problem he couldn’t figure out, and Henry was always willing to assist and encourage Morse. But years later, when Morse became incredibly rich and famous, he would give no acknowledgment to Henry’s contribution to the creation of the telegraph—not a dot or a dash.
42. Casting a Wide Internet
In the April 1994 issue of PC Computing magazine, John Dvorak wrote an article describing legislation going through Congress making it illegal to use the Internet while intoxicated or to communicate about sexual matters online. The bill number was 040194, which also stands for 04/01/94, or April Fools’ Day; in fact, the name of the contact person was Lirpa Sloof—or April Fools spelled backward. The fictitious bill gave the FBI authority to wiretap anyone who “uses or abuses alcohol” while accessing the Internet. “The moniker “Information Highway’ itself seems to be responsible for SB 040194,” went the article. “I know how silly this sounds, but Congress apparently thinks being drunk on a highway is bad no matter what kind of highway it is.” Soon congressional phone lines were jammed with angry protests regarding the phony bill. For Senator Edward Kennedy, the hoax was as clear as the nose on his face. He had his office immediately issue a press release that denied he was a sponsor of the bill.
43. Getting Down to Brass Tacks
At the same time explorer Samuel Wallis discovered the Tahitian Islands in June 1767, his crewmen discovered the native women would trade sex for iron nails. The Tahitians found many uses for iron nails, and they soon became more precious than silver or gold. Soon a very precarious condition evolved: On the one hand, you had beautiful exotic women willing to “do anything” for iron nails, and on the other hand, you had lonely, bored sailors with nothing to do but figure out how to get their hands on iron nails—thereby getting their hands on the beautiful exotic women. And at the heart of the dilemma was the HMS Dolphin—a wooden ship held together by iron nails. Captain Wallis was forced to forbid the trade. “It was soon found that all the belaying cleats had been ripped off,” wrote the captain in his log, “and that there was scarcely one of the hammock nails left.” The nail crisis came to a head when a Mr. Pinckney’s robust transactions led to the collapse of the mainsail. I’m not sure about this, but it’s possible this is where “nailing” or “getting nailed” became synonymous with sex.
44. X–ing Out Christmas
You would think the Puritans, who were known for their religious fervor, must have loved Christmas—but they didn’t. In fact, a law was passed in 1659 outlawing the celebration of Christmas. A five-shilling fine was levied against anyone “found observing, by abstinence from labor, feasting or any other way, any such days as Christmas day.” They considered Christmas “an extreme forgetfulness of Puritans, they sure talked about sex a lot, didn’t they?
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It’s not likely that any of the “traditional” Thanksgiving foods were served by the Pilgrims in 1621. It’s true they had a feast, but it was not called a feast of “thanksgiving,” as that implied to the devoutly religious colonists a day of fasting and prayer. It is possible they had turkey, but only the term fowl is used. It is known that the Indians brought five deer for the feast and it lasted forChrist, by giving liberty to carnal and sensual delights.” For being three days and was a one-time occurrence—not the beginning of a tradition. But one thing is sure—there was no apple pie. Apples are not native to North America—they came from Europe and West Asia.
45. Heavy Is the Head That Wears the Crown
When King Charles II fell ill on the morning of February 2, 1685, a team of six doctors were immediately at his side—and it might have been the worst thing to ever happen to him. The following are some of the procedures used on the king:
a.They let (drained) sixteen ounces of blood.
b. In order to “stimulate the system,” they applied heated cups to the skin that formed large round blisters.
c. They let eight more ounces of blood.
d. They induced vomiting to cleanse his stomach, gave him an enema to purify his bowels, and made him swallow a purgative to evacuate his intestines.
This type of torturous treatment continued for four days. More bleedings, more blistering, more purging, more vomiting, more enemas, a concoction made from pigeon droppings, a cure of “40 drops of extract of human skull” of a man who had met a violent death, a force-feeding of the gallstone of a goat, and finally, “extracts of all the herbs and animals of the kingdom.” The result? The king died. In comparison, dealing with an HMO sounds pretty good.
46. One More Time from the Top
Lieutenant General Nathan Bedford Forrest was leading his Confederate troops to Alabama in late September 1864 to attack the Union post located in Athens. But there was an overwhelming problem: The post was well manned and heavily fortified. The general knew he was greatly outnumbered, and he knew Union reinforcements were on the way, but he had a plan. He sent a message to Union commander Colonel Wallace Campbell requesting a personal meeting. Campbell agreed to the meeting, and on September 24, 1864, Forrest escorted Campbell on a tour of his Confederate troops. Campbell took the opportunity to secretly count the number of soldiers and artillery he saw surrounding his fort. But what Campbell didn’t count on was that Forrest had ordered his men, after being inspected and tallied, to pack up their belongings and quietly move to the back of the line to be counted again. After counting continuous counterfeit Confederates, Campbell returned to his fort, believing he was heavily outnumbered, and surrendered without a fight.
47. This Is My Good Friend, Harvey
In 1726, an English maid, Mary Toft, reported to the authorities that she had been accosted and molested by a six-foot rabbit. Some of the townsfolk were skeptical, and some actually believed her, ordering their wives and daughters to stay inside at night and, of course, not to open the door to any six-foot rabbits. Five months after the rabbit rape, Mary collapsed in a field and was declared pregnant by a local doctor. A little over a month later, Mary gave birth, and the baby looked just like its father—a rabbit. Over the next few days, Mary gave birth to seven more rabbits, all of them dead. News of the bunny babies reached King George I, and he sent two of England’s finest physicians to investigate. The doctors performed various tests on the dead rabbits and amazingly declared the births genuine. Under the direction of a third expert, Mary was moved to a London hospital and put under round-the-clock surveillance. During that time, Mary didn’t move a hare. A gardener confessed to supplying Mary and her husband with baby rabbits, and Mary finally admitted the ruse. She told authorities the motivation behind the hoax was her husband had lost his job and they were hoping for a pension from the king. The king did give Mary something—a prison term for fraud. I guess the king was angry about the deception—you could say he was hopping mad.
48. But, Dad, Everybody’s Wearing Them
Three teenage girls in Tokyo became fatally ill, and their deaths were blamed on a silk kimono possessed by evil demons (not the butler this time). In February 1657, a priest was summoned by the girls’ fathers to see if he could perform an exorcism on the garment. At the cleansing ceremony (or the dry-cleaning ceremony), the fathers of the young victims watched as the priest reverently took a torch and, while deep in prayer, set the cloth aflame. As if on cue, a strong wind blew the kimono to the floor, catching the house on fire. The wind fanned the flames of the burning house, and soon fire engulfed the wooden dwellings throughout the city of Tokyo. Before it was contained, the notorious “Long-Sleeved Kimono Fire” (Furisode-kaji) incinerated three quarters of the city and took the lives of more than 100,000 people. Things could have been worse—the noise of the destruction could have awoken Godzilla!
49. Caesar or Seize Him?
Julius Caesar, dictator of the Roman Republic (later the Roman Empire), was one of the most influential and powerful men in world history. He was a great military strategist and political leader who expanded the territory of the Roman Republic all the way to the Atlantic Ocean. With all these credentials, why was Caesar’s nickname “the Queen of Bithynia”? I’ll tell you. In 80 B.C., young Julius Caesar was an ambassador to King Nicomedes IV in Bithynia, a Roman province in Asia Minor, and reportedly had a fling with the king. Most of the writers of the time mention the alleged affair, and Mark Antony even charged that Caesar’s adopted son, Octavian (Emperor Julius Caesar Octavianus), earned his adoption through sexual favors. Was Caesar really in love with Cleopatra, or was he just in denial?
50. The Number You Are Trying to Reach Is No Longer in Service
Alexander Graham Bell, who is credited with creating the telephone—or stealing the idea from Antonio Meucci, depending on how one looks at it—decided to cash out on the invention early by selling it to Western Union. One would think an invention of this importance would have been snatched up immediately—but surprisingly, Western Union just gave Bell static. The committee that was formed to review Bell’s proposal stated the following:
"The telephone is named by its inventor A. G. Bell. He believes that one day they will be installed in every residence and place of business …. Bell’s proposal to place his instrument in almost every home and business is fantastic. The central exchange alone would represent a huge outlay in real estate and buildings, to say nothing of the electrical equipment. In conclusion the committee feels that it must advise against any investment in Bell’s scheme. We do not doubt that it will find users in special circumstances, but any development of the kind and scale which Bell so fondly imagines is utterly out of the question."
The people at Western Union must have been off their cradle.
By Leland Gregory in "Stupid History", Andrews McMeel Publishing, Kansas City, USA, 2007. Compiled, adapted and illustrated to be posted by Leopoldo Costa.