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.”
The infamous battle of Waterloo wasn’t fought in Waterloo.
Napoleon’s defeat occurred outside the village of Pancenoit,
which was over four miles away.
Going Postal
If “neither rain nor snow nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds” is the official motto of the U.S. Postal Service, why is the mail service cancelled during a blizzard? The simple answer is, the Postal Service doesn’t have a motto. This famous quote, by Greek historian Herodotus (circa 500 B.C.), was actually written about the mounted postal couriers of ancient Persia. Since there’s not a lot of great quotes about mail carriers, I suppose the designers of the New York City post office settled for this one and engraved it along the top of the building.
King Charles VIII of France, after ascending to the
throne in 1483, became paranoid with the thought of
someone trying to poison him. As a result, he began eating
less and less and suspecting people more and more.
But all that ended in 1498, when the king died not of
poisoning, but of malnutrition.
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!
Speakin’ Lincoln
When one thinks about President Abraham Lincoln, the image of a tall, bearded, deep-voiced man comes to mind. Well, he was tall and bearded, but he didn’t have a deep voice. In fact, Lincoln’s voice was actually high-pitched, shrill, and piercing. Not a very good attribute for today’s politicians, but during the days of open-air speeches and debates, Lincoln’s voice could be heard clearly hundreds of yards away, while his opponent’s faded off. He was an excellent speechwriter as well, and rarely spoke out of his hat.
Myth
Karate is a traditional Japanese martial art.
Truth
No. Karate originated in India and spread to China before reaching
Japan. The word karate is pronounced the same way in both
Japanese and Chinese. In Japanese, karate means “empty hand”;
in Chinese, it means “Tang dynasty hand.”
A Penny for Your Thoughts
“You can fool all of the people some of the time and some of the people all of the time, but you can’t fool all of the people all of the time” is a quote made famous by President Abraham Lincoln, right? Sorry. This remark is not found in any of the writings of Abraham Lincoln, nor can it be found in any newspapers from Lincoln’s time. In fact, the saying did not surface until more than fifty years after Lincoln was supposed to have said it. Most historians now attribute the remark to circus impresario P. T. Barnum. But nearly 150 years later, it seems this old saying isn’t even true—all of the people were fooled for all of this time.
You Must Have the Wrong Address
Although the Gettysburg Address is considered the most eloquent oration in U.S. history, the Chicago Times hated it. On November 20, 1863, the day after Lincoln delivered his famous speech, the Times wrote: The cheek of every American must tingle with shame as he reads the silly, flat and dish-watery utterances of the man who has been pointed out to intelligent foreigners as the President of the United States.
Levi Strauss didn’t call his creation blue jeans or even jeans.
He called them “waist overalls.”
Horsing Around with History
The Pony Express is a highly romanticized portion of an already overly romanticized period in American history. But the real story of the Pony Express, which lasted only eighteen months, comes up lame. It was too expensive to use and too expensive to run. And being a rider for the Pony Express wasn’t a glamorous job, either. Just look at the newspaper want ads from that time: Wanted: Young, skinny fellows, not over eighteen. Must be expert riders willing to risk death daily. Orphans preferred. Wages $25 per week. Apply Central Overland Express.
What finally pulled in the reins on the Pony Express was Samuel Morse’s transcontinental telegraph line, finished in 1861. The Pony Express was put out to pasture almost overnight, with over $500,000 in debt.
Not a single pony was used in the Pony Express.
Ponies didn’t have the strength or endurance to make
the 2,000-mile journey—but Horse Express
just didn’t sound right.
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.
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.
Keeping an Eye Out
In 1801, Captain Horatio Nelson of the British navy was engaged in attacking Frenc
h 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.
One thing you might notice while visiting any
of the Disney theme parks is the total lack of facial
hair. Disney has banned any of its employees from
wearing a beard, mustache, soul-patch, imperial,
or any other type of facial hair. The only person
ever allowed to have face-fuzz was Walt Disney
himself. You can call this archaic rule crazy—
or just call it goofy.
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.
Its 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.
Oscar Hammerstein II is the only person in history named Oscar to win an Oscar. In fact, he won two (in 1941 for his lyrics to “The Last Time I Saw Paris,” from Lady Be Good, and in 1945 for his lyrics to “It Might as Well Be Spring,” from the film State Fair).
Piercing the President
In 1853, President Franklin Pierce, widely known for his losing battle with the bottle, was arrested in Washington, D.C., after he accidentally ran down an elderly lady, Mrs. Nathan Lewis, with his horse. Mrs. Lewis wasn’t injured, but Constable Stanley Edelin placed the president in custody. No matter what kind of executive privileges the president has, the U.S. Constitution doesn’t give the president immunity from arrest. Mrs. Lewis was in stable condition, Pierce’s horse was placed in a stable, and the president’s term of office was unstable at best.
Eugene Debs is the only person in history to run a
presidential race while serving time in prison.
He ran on the Socialist Party ticket in 1920, gaining
920,000 votes but losing to Warren G. Harding.
Debs was serving a ten-year sentence for publicly
criticizing the government’s questionable use of
the Espionage Act in prosecuting people.
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.
Because she is a member of the royal family
and not a commoner, the queen of England is not allowed
to enter the House of Commons.
Cast the First Stone
Dr. Johannes Beringer, dean of the University of Würzburg’s medical school, astounded the scientific community in 1725 by announcing the discovery of hundreds of tiny fossils along with a number of clay tablets, including one, he claimed, “signed by Jehovah.” Thrilled with his discovery, Dr. Beringer published a book the following year based on the hypothesis that both the tablets and the fossils were carved by the hand of God. The book sent shock waves through the academic world, but soon rumors bubbled to the surface. J. Ignatz Roderick, a geography professor, and Georg von Eckhardt, the university’s librarian, admitted that they had carved the stones themselves as a cruel joke—they even carved Beringer’s name on one of the stones. Instead of admitting he had fallen victim to a hoax, Beringer attempted to buy up all copies of his book. When word got out of what he was doing, the book suddenly became a collector’s item, carving out a little place in stupid history for Dr. Johannes Beringer.
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.
Get Out of Jail Free
Governor of Georgia Eugene Talmadge is remembered as a segregationist and for his book-banning agenda in state colleges. He was also a man who loved to wield power. When Talmadge was touring the Georgia State Penitentiary in 1936, he asked prisoners, as he passed their cells, one question, “Are you guilty?” The answer to the question always came back an emphatic no. But when he approached the cell door of Leland Harvey and Aubrey Smith, who were serving 150-year terms for armed robbery, he was shocked when both men answered, “Yes!” “It seems you only have two thieves in your penitentiary,” Talmadge said to the warden. “I will pardon these two men.” Harvey and Smith did indeed receive pardons from the governor, who later explained, “Truthful men should never be confined with a bunch of liars.” Sounds like something Congress should think about, too.
Vote, and Vote Often
Charles D. B. King, the incumbent president of Liberia, beat the challenger, Thomas J. Faulkner, by a whopping 600,000 votes in the country’s presidential election in 1927. Obviously, the voters had spoken—actually, more than just the voters had spoken, because there were only 15,000 registered voters at the time. King was crowned president anyway and earned the dubious achievement of being listed in the Guinness Book of Records for the most fraudulent election ever reported in history. This is a prime example of politicians “getti
ng out the vote.”
Al Capone ran one of the most ruthless and far-reaching gangs
of the prohibition era in the twentieth century—but what
did his brother Vincent Capone do? Vincent, Al’s older brother,
was a police officer in Nebraska.
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.
Stupid History: Tales of Stupidity, Strangeness, and Mythconceptions Throughout the Ages Page 7