The basket hanging on the gate at London’s Foundling Hospital served a sad purpose: Mothers could place their babies inside the basket and slip away into the night. But most of the children brought to the hospital—a children’s home where England’s poorest kids were brought for a chance at care their parents could not provide—weren’t completely anonymous. Though they were given a new name when they were brought inside, most were left with a tiny token of some kind—a piece of property parents could use to identify themselves if they were ever able to take their children back.
This token is one of the more unique specimens of the thousands of such artifacts left at the Foundling Hospital over the years. These days, the hospital has been turned into a museum, and its token collection showcases the inventiveness and anguish of the destitute children’s desperate parents.
The Foundling Hospital opened its doors in 1741. It wasn’t a “hospital” in the traditional sense: Rather, the word hospital indicated the hospitality and charity poor children would find inside. The tokens left with children date from the early days of the hospital, when parents could leave their kids there no questions asked.
Kids who entered the Foundling Hospital didn’t stay inside the building. Rather, they were baptized, given new names, and sent to wet nurses or “nurse mothers” who took care of the children in the country. When they turned 5, they returned to the hospital, where they received an education. Wet nurses could return to visit their surrogate children, but birth mothers could not.
Workers at the hospital carefully recorded the clothing and identifying markers left with every child who entered. At first, many children were left with a small scrap of fabric (the parent would take the other half and the halves could be joined together again if they reunited). But over time, that practice was discontinued, and many parents left tokens with their children instead. They would attach notes and all kinds of markers, from pennies that were engraved with names and dates to more complicated puzzles like these.
The heartbreaking rebus on this token shows a child in a Moses basket—a universal symbol for a child who was given up. The rebus spells out “I want relief” and has the child’s date of birth. It’s a creative gesture that shows as much about the parents’ inventiveness as the plight of their child.
“It is quite remarkable that the parent(s) of the child admitted with this coin went to the trouble of having it engraved with this despairing message,” Emma Yandle of The Foundling Museum told mental_floss via email. Today, the coin is on display at the Foundling Museum. The hospital collected over 18,000 such tokens in the first 50 years of its existence.
The Foundling Hospital eventually became a charity that operates to this day—an example of some of the earliest attempts to help children in an age without foster care or social services. But though the tokens left in the hospital are seen as fascinating artifacts of a bygone era today, they also have a more anguished meaning. Tragically, the fact that the token still exists means that the child was never reunited with its birth parents.
Raymond Tomlinson, the man who invented email, died earlier this year. Tomlinson is the man who introduced the @ symbol into our electronic communications. Every time you give someone or something your email address, you are using his invention.
Tomlinson didn’t invent the @: That honor lies somewhere long before he was born. It’s unclear still how the circle found its way around the a, but during the Renaissance the symbol slowly crept into texts as a way to denote how much something cost per unit. So you might see something like: “10 loaves of bread @ 25 pence each.” For hundreds of years, the symbol was mostly used by merchants, and nobody else. Fast forward to 1971, and Tomlinson borrowed the symbol to mean “located at” in an email address. And that’s how we mainly use the symbol today.
If you’re reading this from the United States, you probably know the @ as the “at” symbol. But in other parts of the world, that’s not always how they refer to the little squiggly a. Here are some of the other ways of referring to our friendly email address signifier.
1. ITALIANS SEE A TINY SNAIL.
The Italians call the symbol a chiocciola or a “snail,” to describe its spiral shape.
2. HUNGARIANS SEE A SLIMIER ANIMAL: A WORM.
In Hungarian, the @ is likened to a wiggly earth-eater and called a kukac, which means “little worm” or “maggot.”
3. ARMENIANS THINK THE @ IS A CUTE LITTLE DOG.
They call the @ ishnik or “puppy.”
4. GERMANS HAVE A SPECIFIC MONKEY IN MIND FOR THE @.
German slang call the symbol klammeraffe or “spider monkey,” which is delightfully specific in the way you expect from Germans.
5. THE DUTCH ALSO SEE A MONKEY, BUT A LESS SPECIFIC ONE.
The Dutch have a similar nickname as the Germans: They call it an apestaart or “monkey’s tail.” No specific species this time.
6. IN DANISH YOU GET TWO ANIMALS TO CHOOSE FROM.
In Danish, the @ gets two names, both animal in origin. Sometimes, it’s a grisehale or “pig’s tail.” But most of the time it’s a snabel or “elephant’s trunk.”
7. THE TAIWANESE SEE A MOUSE.
In Taiwanese the @ symbol is called 小老鼠 or “little mouse.”
8. ISRAELIS HAVE FOOD ON THE BRAIN WHEN IT COMES TO THE @.
To Israelis, the @ is often called a שטרודל, or a “strudel,” as in the delicious layered pastry.
9. IN CZECH AND SLOVAK THE @ ALSO POINTS TO FOOD.
In Czech and Slovak, the @ symbol is called a zavináč or rollmops. For those uninitiated, a rollmop is a fillet of pickled herring, rolled up around a savory filling, often olives or pimentos.
10. IN SWEDISH IT’S ALL ABOUT THE SWEET BUNS.
Swedish has a few names for the @, but one of them is kanelbulle or “cinnamon bun.”
11. THE CHINESE SEE THE @ AS FANCY.
The Chinese have a couple of different ways of referring to @ but one of them is 花A or “flowery A.”
12. IN SERBIAN THE @ IS WILD.
In Serbian, the @ has gotten out of hand, and is called лудо А or “crazy A.”
13. VIETNAM HAS TWO NAMES FOR THE @, BENT AND HOOKED.
The Vietnamese have different names for the @ in the northern and southern bits of the country. In the North @ is Acòng or “bent A,” and in the south the @ is Amóc or “hooked A.”
Millions of people watch Jeopardy! religiously—the game show has been popular since it first aired in 1964. But even if you never miss an episode, there’s a lot you might not know about what the winners do behind the scenes. We talked to a few previous Jeopardy! winners about betting on Daily Doubles, learning how to time the buzzer, and surviving awkward small talk with Alex Trebek.
1. THEY DON’T GET MUCH TIME TO REST.
Because of Jeopardy!’s tight filming schedule—five 30-minute shows are taped in a row, with minimal breaks—winners don’t have much time to bask in victory after conquering their competitors. “You only have about 10 minutes between winning your first show and appearing in your second,” explains Jelisa Castrodale, who won a 2010 episode. Castrodale tells mental_floss that winners are taken backstage to change clothes and get makeup reapplied, then they begin taping the next game.
“When I won, I honestly almost passed out from the shock of it (I had just beaten a seemingly unstoppable six-time champion) and was still so unsteady afterwards that I swear I almost had to ask a member of the production crew to double-check the spelling of my name for me when I wrote it down again,” Castrodale says.
2. SOME OF THEM SPEND YEARS PREPARING FOR THE SHOW.
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Some contestants spend years studying before they even try to qualify. After passing an online test, aspiring contestants are invited to an in-person audition. If they do well, they may be invited to appear on the show. In the interim, some winners prepare by watching Jeopardy! each night and making flashcards to memorize facts about everything from U.S. presidents and state capitals to ancient Greek gods and Shakespeare’s plays. Others study J-Archive, a fan-created database of prior clues, answers, and contestants.
3. IT’S ALL ABOUT TIMING THE BUZZER.
Even if a contestant knows the answer to every question, that knowledge won’t do them any good unless they press their buzzer at precisely the right time. “So much of the game comes down to buzzer speed and skill. I think that’s hard to appreciate unless you’re actually on the show,” David Walter, the winner of Jeopardy!’s 2007 Teen Tournament, explains. Contestants must buzz in as soon as Trebek finishes the question, when lights flash on the side of the game board. “Buzz in too early, and you’re locked out of ringing in again for a crucial split-second. Buzz in too late … and, well, you’re too late,” Walter says. Because timing the buzzer is a crucial part of winning the game, prior winners have written in-depth articles offering advice on how to master it with proper thumb placement and hand position.
4. IF YOU’RE ON A WINNING STREAK, IT HELPS TO BE AN INTERESTING PERSON.
Whether you love or hate the show’s small talk segment, in which Trebek spends a few seconds chatting with each contestant, Jeopardy! winners need to have a new, interesting anecdote to share for each game they play. “Coming up with ideas for that portion of the show is probably the hardest thing about being on the show,” Julia Collins, who won 20 shows in 2014, revealed in a Reddit Q & A. One month before taping, coordinators for the show send potential questions to contestants to determine interesting facts about them. On show day, Trebek chooses which fact to ask them about for the segment, which airs after each episode’s first commercial break.
5. THEY’RE COMFORTABLE WITH BETTING.
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Whether they bet all their money on Daily Doubles and Final Jeopardy! or are more cautious, winners need to be okay with wagering large sums of cash. Because making smart bets can mean the difference between winning and losing, some contestants approach the game with a math script, knowing how they’ll bet no matter what happens in the game. “Because I had this scripted play, I wasn’t making the big decisions, I was just doing the math. I knew what the play was supposed to be … Other people were still making the decision. I think a lot of times, it made people think I was more confident in the category than I was,” Jeopardy! champion Arthur Chu told mental_floss in 2014.
6. THEY REHEARSE IN REALISTIC CONDITIONS.
Walter attributes his win to practicing with a mock buzzer for a few months before the taping: “I would stand up in front of the TV with a pen in my hand to simulate the buzzer. That got me used to the rhythms and speed of Trebek’s speaking voice, and made me less nervous around the buzzer during my actual tapings.” Other winners have practiced by shining a bright light in their faces (to simulate TV studio lights) and playing along with a group of friends watching, to mimic the added pressure that an audience brings.
7. THEY DON’T ACT LIKE TYPICAL GAME SHOW WINNERS.
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Contestants on game shows such as The Price Is Right and Wheel of Fortune are demonstrative: they often jump, shout, and clap when they win. “The contestant coordinators at Jeopardy! want enthusiasm, but they know they’re hand-picking the nation’s smartest academics, tech geeks, and librarians … generally introverts, in other words. So they lower their expectations and just ask winners for big smiles,” Jeopardy! superstar Ken Jennings (of the mental_flossKennections quiz) explains.
But some contestants struggle to find the right balance between showing too much emotion and not showing enough. After Josh Hager won an episode in 2014, the show’s producers came over to him once the episode had wrapped and told him not to be afraid to show his winning smile. “Apparently my endeavor to stay composed was too successful and they wanted just a little more emotion,” Hager says.
8. SOMETIMES THERE IS NO WINNER.
Although one of the three contestants in each episode almost always wins, several episodes have ended with no winner. Most recently, in January 2016, all three contestants answered incorrectly in the final round, losing all the money they had earned during the first two rounds. Because there was no winner, the next episode—with no returning champion—introduced three new players.
9. THEY HAVE TO KEEP QUIET UNTIL THEIR EPISODE AIRS.
Most episodes don’t air until several months after they’re taped. This lag time means that winners need to stay quiet about how they performed, and it can force repeat winners to habitually lie to their coworkers, family, and friends. In 2004, Jennings taped 48 shows before his first episode aired, so he had to keep his commute (every few weeks) from his home in Utah to Los Angeles a secret. “My boss told my co-workers a series of increasingly implausible lies about my whereabouts every other Tuesday and Wednesday. You think computer programmers are all geniuses? No one ever caught on,” Jennings writes on his website.
10. THEY DON’T GET PAID FOR A WHILE.
After patiently waiting for their first episode to air, winners must also wait months after their show’s air date for their prize money. And yes, they have to pay taxes on their winnings. Hager reveals to mental_floss that he got paid about six months after his episode aired. And although he won $27,100, he netted approximately $20,000 after federal tax, California tax (where the show is taped), and North Carolina tax (where he lives).
11. SOME OF THEM CAN BUY A HOUSE WITH THEIR PRIZE MONEY.
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Big winners can earn tens or hundreds of thousands of dollars, which may allow them to pay off student loans, put a down payment on a house, or travel abroad. Even winners of more modest amounts can benefit from the extra cash, putting it toward a family vacation or college fund for kids. Hager, for example, used his prize money to pay off almost all of his student loans, and he and his wife moved out of their studio apartment into a spacious house. “Jeopardy! really did change my life and I can’t be more grateful,” he says.
12. FEEDBACK FROM JEOPARDY! FANS CAN BE MIXED.
Thanks to social media, winners face public scrutiny over everything from their appearance to the questions they answer incorrectly. Many internet commenters criticized recent winner Buzzy Cohen for his seemingly smug attitude and flippant responses in Final Jeopardy!, while others liked his sense of humor. Although some winners face a stream of harsh words on Twitter, they may also receive praise. “Lots of people on the internet compared me to Fred Armisen, which I take as a compliment,” Sam Deutsch, the winner of Jeopardy!’s 2016 College Championship, tells mental_floss.
13. WINNING THE SHOW PROVIDES LIFELONG PERKS.
Some winners include their Jeopardy! win on their resumes and LinkedIn profiles, hoping it will make them stand out to potential bosses and colleagues. After winning the show 74 times in a row, Jennings published a series of books, read a Top Ten list for David Letterman, and appeared on Sesame Street. “But the most gratifying thing lately has probably been the letters I get from kids … They all seem so smart! I’m doing my part for the nerd-ification of America’s youth,” he says.
Chu says that while he was studying for the show, his life centered on watching and reading about Jeopardy! to the detriment of his other activities. But after winning, he stopped watching the show to give himself a mental break. And Jennings admits that winning so many episodes has changed his reaction to seeing it on TV. “I find that I have a hard time sitting on my couch and lazily shouting out answers at Trebek, like I used to. Everything about the show—the music, the graphics, the sound effects—causes some fight-or-flight adrenaline spike in my blood and I become hyper-aware of every detail of the show. Maybe I have post-traumatic stress disorder,” he says.
15. THEY CAN’T ESCAPE THE CATCHY THEME SONG.
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According to Terry O’Shea, who won first place on the show’s 2014 College Championship, winners can’t escape the show’s instantly recognizable theme song. “When you go on Jeopardy!, people WILL taunt you with the theme song. It’s an unavoidable fact of life. If you do well enough, this will persist for several years afterward,” O’Shea explains. After appearing on the show, other winners face unrealistically high expectations about possessing encyclopedic knowledge. “I always watch [the show] with my friends, and they love teasing me when they know something I don’t,” Deutsch admits.
Wills can be the perfect format for revealing unusual last wishes, because by the time the document is read it’s too late for anyone to interfere. Some people have used their will to send a message from beyond the grave—whether one of thanks, bitterness, or regret—while others have included some unexpected instructions for the fate of certain body parts.
Michigan millionaire Wellington Burt’s 1919 will became known as “The Legacy of Bitterness,” because he stipulated that his massive fortune couldn’t be paid out until 21 years after the death of his last grandchild. No one knows why the eccentric (and clearly cantankerous) lumber merchant made such a strange bequest, ignoring his close family and the many causes he had supported in life in favor of a fund for future relatives. In 1989 his final surviving grandchild died, and the 21-year countdown began. Lawyers were responsible for sifting through the many applications from relatives to identify those eligible to inherit. Eventually in 2011, the will finally paid out and 12 far-removed relatives benefited from the roughly $110 million fortune.
2. DINNER ON ME
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Oscar-winning choreographer and director Bob Fosse left a final request that benefited 66 of his friends and colleagues who had “at one time or another during my life been very kind to me.” Fosse, who died in 1987, left a sum of $25,000 to be split between the 66 beneficiaries (which worked out as $378.79 each), who were instructed “to go out and have dinner on me.” Those urged to go out and eat in his honor included Dustin Hoffman, Jessica Lange, and Liza Minnelli. Fosse’s surviving wife, Gwen Verdon, followed her husband’s wishes and booked the Crystal Room at Tavern on the Green in Central Park, New York, to which she invited all those named in the will as a final celebration.
3. THE OLDEST KNOWN WILL
In 1890 renowned archaeologist Sir Flinders Petrie was excavating a pyramid in Kahun, Egypt, when he uncovered the world’s oldest wills. The fascinating documents were written on papyrus and prove that even ancient Egyptians liked to include some unusual requests in their last wishes. The will of Ankh-ren (also known as Sekhenren, depending on translation) is dated to 1797 BCE and leaves all his goods to his brother, Uah. Uah’s will was also found and it details that all the goods he received from his brother should be left to his wife, Teta—but it then goes on to add the intriguing caveat that Teta must refrain from knocking down any of the inherited houses. These ancient wills re-wrote the history books, indicating that laws of inheritance had developed many hundreds of years earlier than previously thought.
The 1553 will of Renaissance satirist Rabelais was famously succinct, supposedly consisting of just one memorable line: “I have no available property, I owe a great deal; the rest I give to the poor.”
5. MYSTERY BOX
Antiquarian Francis Douce left a box to the British Museum in his 1834 will, specifying that it couldn’t be opened until January 1, 1900. The bequest was deemed especially unusual because Douce had worked at the museum for a short period of time before resigning, listing multiple reasons why he had to leave, including the “vastness of the business remaining to be done” and “the fiddle faddle requisition of incessant reports.” Douce had amassed an exceptional collection of old books, manuscripts, coins, and artifacts over his lifetime, and the majority of his collection he had bequeathed to the Bodleian Library in Oxford, where it became one of the library’s treasures. Thus the mystery box garnered quite some attention as curators at the British Museum speculated over what might be inside. Despite their impatience, Douce’s wishes were respected and the box remained unopened until 1900, when the trustees gathered round in excitement to finally glimpse the contents. However, the crowd was disappointed—it contained nothing more than some old notebooks and pieces of scrap paper.
A few newspaper reports from the time suggested that Douce had included a note in the box saying he thought the trustees at the museum were philistines and unworthy of receiving anything of any value. If this is true, no sign of the note has survived. Note or no note, the trustees could not help but see the mystery box and its disappointing contents as Douce’s revenge on the museum from beyond the grave. Their hopes of a valuable addition to their collections dashed, the British Museum handed over the contents of the box to the Bodleian in 1930, so that it might join the rest of his (rather more spectacular) collection.
John “Pop” Reed worked for many decades as a stagehand at Philadelphia’s famous Walnut Street Theater. His unusual will revealed that he yearned for the stage. Reed stipulated that after his death his head should be removed from his body and his skull preserved and given to the theater, where it should be used for the skull of Yorick in Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Reed’s wishes were duly carried out, and his skull became something of a memento at the theater, where it was autographed by many visiting actors.
This odd bequest is not as unique as it may seem, and many others have left similar instructions, including Polish composer Andre Tchaíkowsky (not to be confused with the rather more famous Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky).Tchaíkowsky died in 1982 and willed his skull to the Royal Shakespeare Company, where it was finally used on stage by David Tennant during his acclaimed 2008 portrayal of Hamlet.
7. CLEARING THE NATIONAL DEBT
In 1928 a kindly British citizen made an anonymous bequest to the nation of £500,000 (roughly $621,407) with the purpose of paying off the national debt. Since then the money has been held in trust as the National Fund and has grown substantially to £350 million (approximately $440 million), making it one of the 30 wealthiest charities in the UK by net assets. Unfortunately, stipulations in the will mean that it cannot be cashed in until it can fully cover the national debt, and as that currently stands at an eye-watering £1.6 trillion, this seems unlikely to ever happen. Barclays bank, which works as a trustee of the fund, has been investigating legal options to see if charitable grants could be made from it, or if the money could be handed directly to the Treasury, but so far no legal settlement has been found and the money remains untouched.
German essayist and poet Heinrich Heine left a very strange clause in his will. Heine had married his mistress in 1841, an uneducated shop worker named Crescence Eugénie Mirat, whom for unknown reasons he called Mathilde. The pair were married for 15 years, and historians have revealed they had a volatile relationship. By the late 1840s Heine had become increasingly ill (possibly with syphilis) and was confined to bed for the last eight years of his life, his wife Mathilde at his side until the end. Heine, aware that he was dying, inserted a curious clause into his will in which he stipulated that Mathilde could only inherit his money if she remarried. This may seem a very strange desire for a loving husband to make, but when questioned by friends as to his reasoning, he quipped, “Because then, at least one man will regret my death.”
9. VALLEY OF A MILLION BULBS
In 2007 a former RAF pilot and Canadian investment banker, Keith Owen, bequeathed his £2.3 million (approximately $2.85 million) fortune to his favorite holiday destination—Sidmouth in Devon, England. Owen stipulated that the capital must remain untouched, but that the sizeable yearly interest (about $150,000) should be used to make Sidmouth and nearby villages of Sidford and Sidbury “beautiful.” As a result, a local civic society, the Sid Valley Association, has been attempting to fulfill Owen’s wishes to create a “valley of a million bulbs” by planting thousands of flower bulbs—in 2014 alone they planted an astonishing 220,000 bulbs, which create a fantastic display of color when they flower each spring.
Whether it’s an innocuous-seeming cherry or the more obvious culprit of wine, food and drink have been blamed for the deaths of various notable figures over the years. In the interests of public safety, here are 10 unusual eating-and-drinking-related deaths and the ingredients that are to blame. Don’t be surprised if this makes dinner seem much more ominous.
1. KING HENRY I // A “SURFEIT OF LAMPREYS”
Lampreys are an ancient variety of fish akin to an eel, and the slippery fellows have been blamed for the death of one of England’s kings. Henry I (c.1068—1135) was the youngest son of William the Conqueror, and lived into his mid-to-late sixties. As with most kings of this period he enjoyed a good feast, and one evening, against the advice of his doctors, he indulged in a large portion of lampreys (reportedly one of his favorite dishes). Henry fell ill and died soon after, forever tying his fate to that pesky final plate of fish.
2. DENIS DIDEROT // AN APRICOT
Louis-Michel van Loo via Wikimedia // Public Domain
Eighteenth-century French philosopher Denis Diderot was fond of his food and on occasion was known to overeat. One evening in 1784 as Diderot dined with his wife, he reportedly reached for an apricot with which to conclude his meal. His wife, concerned for his health, scolded him for eating too much, and he replied: “But what the devil do you think that will do to me?” Diderot died just moments after consuming the fruit (and we can picture his wife desperately trying to prevent herself from shouting out “I told you so!”).
King Adolf Frederick of Sweden was a famous glutton and died after consuming an enormous final meal in 1771. The occasion was Shrove Tuesday (or Mardi Gras), the last big feast before the austerity of Lent. The 60-year-old monarch put away a meal of lobster, caviar, sauerkraut, kippers, and champagne—so far, so normal—but then he decided to finish off with the traditional Swedish dessert of semla, a cream-filled bun, served in a bowl of milk. However, Adolf Frederick did not stop at one or even two buns—he ate 14 cream-filled buns. It comes as no great surprise to learn he ended up with terrible indigestion and possibly food poisoning, which ultimately killed him.
4. LUCIUS FABIUS CILO // MILK
Roman Senator Lucius Fabius Cilo was one of the most wealthy and influential men in Rome during the 2nd century, but he met his end in a rather unedifying fashion. According to legend, the senator died during a feast after he choked to death on a single hair in his cup of milk.
On a blisteringly hot July 4, President Zachary Taylor attended the national celebrations before walking back to the White House along the Potomac River. Arriving home hot and bothered, Taylor drank copious glasses of iced water and milk and ate a great deal of cherries. Soon he was doubled over suffering from extreme stomach pains, and he took to his bed. For five days Taylor lingered on in agony, until on July 9 he died, the official cause of death described as cholera morbus—an infection of the small intestine. However, historians have also suggested the president could have been felled by gastroenteritis caused or aggravated by the acidic cherries, or by food poisoning (still other theories suggest typhoid fever).
6. EUSTACE IV, COUNT OF BOULOGNE // EELS
Eustace IV was the 12th-century Count of Boulogne and heir apparent to the English throne, since his father, Stephen, was king. However, Stephen had been engaged in a long battle with his cousin Matilda and her son Henry, who also claimed to be heir to the English throne. Eustace was not greatly liked, and having recently sacked a sacred monastery at Bury St Edmunds, no one was surprised when during dinner he choked on a plateful of eels and died. Rumors abounded that he may have been poisoned, as his death conveniently paved the way for a peace between the warring parties and for the crown to pass from Stephen to his nephew, Henry II.
In 1154, Nicholas Breakspear was crowned pope as Adrian IV, becoming the only Englishman to ever hold the post. Contemporary reports suggest that Adrian died suddenly after choking on a fly that had landed in his wine. Some modern historians cast doubt on this story, in part because it seems such an unlikely way to go, and instead propose he died of an inflammation of the tonsils.
8. MARTY FELDMAN // SHELLFISH
Marty Feldman was an English comedy actor famous for playing Igor in Young Frankenstein. He died in Mexico City in 1982 after filming for Yellowbeard. Feldman suffered a massive heart attack that his friend, filmmaker Michael Mileham, claimed was the result of eating some bad shellfish that had given both him and Feldman food poisoning.
Danish astronomer Tycho Brahe reportedly died after sitting through a lengthy royal banquet with a very full bladder in 1601. Brahe felt that excusing himself from the table to pee would be an unacceptable breach of etiquette, so despite his discomfort he remained sitting, continuing to eat and drink until his poor bladder could take it no longer and it ruptured, causing his death 11 days later. In 2010 tests were carried out on Brahe’s remains which put to rest rumors that he had been poisoned with mercury by his pupil, Johannes Kepler (who would go on to be a famous astronomer himself). The tests showed no unusually elevated mercury levels, indicating that his death was likely indeed caused by a bladder infection, as Kepler had originally reported.
BONUS: SIR FRANCIS BACON // A FROZEN CHICKEN
In March 1626, the elderly philosopher and statesman Sir Francis Bacon was traveling home to St. Albans in a coach when he decided to test his theory that freezing food could preserve it for longer. Bacon stopped the coach and purchased a chicken from an old lady in Highgate Hill, which he then slaughtered, plucked, and proceeded to stuff with snow. Unfortunately, this exposure to the cold and wet caused Bacon to contract pneumonia, from which he died some days later. A number of rather dubious reports have suggested that a ghost of the fateful chicken returned to the site of its death at Pond Square in Highgate, and still occasionally appears to unwary passers-by, running around in circles and flapping its plucked wings.
Zines have now become so mainstream that even Kanye West has one. In February 2016, the hip-hop artist tweeted: “Season 2 Zine pronounced Zeen short for magazine. A lot of people pronounce it wrong.” The tweet included a picture of the publication Kanye had made to accompany his second line of footwear for his brand, Yeezy. After decades of existence, zines are no longer strictly counter-culture, but they originated as small-scale DIY efforts—many with an anti-authoritarian message.
Most definitions of zines include the fact that they are small-circulation, self-published, and often inexpensive or free. That’s generally true, although these are more guidelines than hard-and-fast rules. The most important aspect of a zine is generally that the publication identifies as one. Many zine-makers will say zines are as much about the community as the product, and that identifying as a zine is what separates these publications from comics, literary journals, websites, and other types of independent publications.
The first zine is often traced back to a 1930s effort by the Science Correspondence Club in Chicago. It was called The Comet, and it started a long-lasting trend of sci-fi related zines. The important sci-fi zine Fantasy Commentator began in 1943, and ran in various iterations (though not continuously) until 2004. One of the pieces serialized in Fantasy Commentator eventually became Sam Moskowitz’s book on the history of sci-fi fandom, The Immortal Storm. The interconnectedness of zines and sci-fi is reflected in the World Science Fiction Convention (Worldcon) Hugo award for Best Fanzine, first given out in 1955 and still awarded today. (As the name of that award shows, zines were originally called fanzines, alluding to the fans who made them. Eventually, fanzine was just shortened to zine, and the range of topics widened to include practically anything.)
The relationship between zines and sci-fi deepened after 1967, when the first Star Trek fanzine,Spockanalia, was produced. It gained plenty of attention, and the second issue included letters by members of the show, including writer D.C. Fontana and actors James Doohan, DeForest Kelley, and Leonard Nimoy. (The actors all wrote their letters in character.) In 1968, Star Trek was reportedly going to be canceled after two seasons, but a letter-writing campaign—partly organized through fanzines—that generated over 160,000 missives was able to help get the show back on the air for another year.
The technological innovations of the ‘70s made zines easier to create than ever. In particular, the rise of copy shops allowed zine-makers to produce their work cheaply and quickly. (Previously, zines had been produced using mimeographs, which push ink through a stencil to make multiple prints, but the process was impractical for large-scale production.) Steve Samiof, one of the people behind the popular punk zine Slash, told Dazed in an interview earlier this year that the copy shops of the ’70s were “extremely inexpensive—you could pay under $800 for 5000 copies and that would be the actual printing cost.”
In the ‘70s and ‘80s, the main hub of zine culture became the punk scene in London, LA, and New York. Compared to the earlier sci-fi zines, punk zines had a grungier, DIY aesthetic that reflected the subjects being covered. Slash and other popular zines like UK-based Sniffin’ Glue covered seminal punk bands like The Clash, The Ramones, and Joy Division. The first issue of Punk, published in 1976, featured an interview with Lou Reed.
The first issue of Sniffin’ Glue. Image credit: Wikimedia // Fair use
The dedication of the early punk scene allowed zines to get interviews with people who would go on to be big names before they had achieved fame. When punk started to gain popularity, many of the zines that previously helped define the scene shut down. Sniffin’ Glue ended in 1977 and in 1979 Punk followed suit.
In the 1990s, zines flourished again thanks to the riot grrrl scene. As an alternative to the male-driven punk world of the past, riot grrrl encouraged young girls and women to start their own band, make their own zine, and get their voices heard. Key bands included Bikini Kill, Heavens to Betsy, Bratmobile, L7, and Sleater-Kinney. By 1993, an estimated 40,000 zines were being published in North America alone, many of them devoted to riot grrrl music and politics.
But riot grrrl was more than just a musical genre, it was a feminist movement—though it was often difficult to pin down the specifics of that movement. As Max Kessler wrote in Paper, “Whatever riot grrrl became—a political movement, an avant-garde, or an ethos—it began as a zine.” Riot grrrl spread from its epicenter in Olympia, Washington to across the country and other parts of the world.
Many of the members of these bands also had their own zines. Bikini Kill ran a zine of the same name, and Tobi Vail, a member of the band, ran her own popular zine called Jigsaw. The zine Snarla was made by artist Miranda July and musician Johanna Fateman. Both Bust, first published in 1993, and Bitch, published in 1996, started out as zines connected to the riot grrl movement and have since grown into full-scale magazines.
Today, zines are more diverse than ever. The rise of the internet has helped make the cost of production almost zero, and online zines such as Plasma Dolphin, Pop Culture Puke, Cry Baby, and Cherry have brought young artists together to collaborate. However, zines are also still sold in person through zine fairs as well as online via Etsy and Big Cartel. The internet has also made it easier for zine makers to connect and find community regardless of location.
While the zines of the past have been shaped by the predominant themes of sci-fi, punk music, and the riot grrrl movement, there have always been zines on a variety of subjects. Today, that diversity is reflected in publications like Home Zine, which invites artists to explore the concept of feeling at home; Filmme Fatales, which explores feminism in film; and Dad Tweets—a short, humorous collection of selected tweets from a real-life dad. There is even a zine about what plants are best for attracting bees and other pollinators. In fact, there is an entire magazine, Broken Pencil, dedicated to covering zines and zine culture. (In the 1980s and early 1990s, Factsheet Five, a zine of zines, performed a similar function.)
The usefulness of zines as historical documents is now being recognized. Many universities have their own zine collections and there are also numerous independent zine libraries both in America and around the world. It’s easier than ever to learn about zines first-hand. However, the best way to learn and be involved in the community is the same as always: start reading and then start creating.
In Victorian Great Britain, a new sickness spread among the wealthiest in society. Sufferers became obsessed with obtaining a fix, regardless of the danger or money involved. The name of this illness? Orchidelirium—a mania for collecting orchids.
Orchid fever gripped England starting in the early 1800s after British naturalist William John Swainson used some orchids that hadn’t yet bloomed as packing material, thinking they were worthless weeds, while sending back some other exotic plants from Brazil. Upon arrival in Britain, some of the orchids burst into glorious flower, entrancing all those who saw them and sparking the growing obsession with the plant.
Collectors were quickly dispatched by rich patrons and wily businessmen to sail across the oceans to the jungles of South America, the South Pacific, and elsewhere to search out the elusive plants. Such expeditions were hugely risky given the perils from wild animals, hostile natives, and tropical diseases, and many orchid hunters met a grisly end. For example, in 1901 an expedition of eight men entered the jungles of the Philippines in search of orchids: one was eaten by a tiger, a second was doused in oil and burnt to death, and five more were never seen again. The lone survivor of this dangerous mission emerged with an enormous haul of Phalaenopsis, also known as moth orchids, and probably made his fortune.
The potential to make huge amounts of money meant that many ignored the danger of the jungles and joined the hunt for orchids. Many of these hunters were keen naturalists with a spirit of adventure who were employed by large orchid firms back in Europe to keep up their stock of fresh plants and hopefully discover new species. The list of collectors who perished in the search for orchids is long and full of gruesome anecdotes—William Arnold drowned in the Orinoco River, Gustavo Wallis died of yellow fever and malaria, David Bowman caught dysentery in the jungles of Columbia after returning there to restock when his first haul was stolen by rivals. Albert Millican, who in 1891 published the landmark text on orchid hunting Travels and Adventures of an Orchid Hunter, took part in five perilous trips to fetch orchids from the Andes. During his final expedition, he was stabbed to death.
Safely back in Britain, it was the orchid dealers who became amazingly wealthy. Frederick Sander became known as “the orchid king,” and beginning in 1886 he was the official Royal Orchid Grower to Queen Victoria. He employed 23 orchid hunters, and owned a large orchid farm in St Albans, England with 60 greenhouses in which to store and cultivate the tropical plants. As his business boomed, he also opened farms in Summit, New Jersey and Bruges, Belgium. Sander trafficked in vast quantities of plants—at one point, he claimed to have imported over one million specimens of just one species from New Guinea. Sander and his fellow orchid dealers shipped millions of orchids back to Europe, but such was the delicate nature of the bulbs that frequently less than 1 percent of a ship’s cargo of orchids safely made it to market.
One of Sander’s most valuable partners was Benedict Roezl, an orchid-hunter from Prague. Roezl was especially striking because he had only one hand, the other having been replaced with a metal hook after an accident while demonstrating some machinery he had invented. The piratical look only enhanced his reputation as an especially intrepid and ruthless orchid hunter. For 40 years, Roezl traveled across the Americas, either on horseback or by foot, discovering numerous new specimens (at least seven orchid varieties have since been named in his honor) and shipping vast quantities back to Sander to sell at great profit. Roezl was one of the few orchid hunters who made it to retirement, despite being robbed 17 times. His contribution to botany was so great that a statue of him was later erected in his home city of Prague.
Sander was a tough boss, always pushing his orchid hunters to greater glories. He communicated with his team via cable and letter, and some of these fascinating pieces of correspondence now survive in the archives at Kew Gardens in London. One series of letters reveals that orchid hunter Wilhelm Micholitz, during a mission to New Guinea, was terrified by natives who practiced ritual sacrifice. Micholitz collected a shipload of orchids and was getting ready to sail home when disaster struck and his ship caught fire, resulting in the loss of his precious cargo. Micholitz wrote to Sander outlining the dangers and asking to be allowed to come home, only for Sander to cable the curt reply: “Return, recollect.” However, Sander did allow Micholitz to employ an armed guard, and the latter was delighted to later recount that he had found a new source of orchids in the jungle, albeit in rather gruesome circumstances—growing on a pile of human remains.
Inevitably, given the great riches at stake—valuable plants could change hands for more than $1000 per plant, roughly equivalent to $24,390 in today’s money—the teams of orchid hunters developed fierce rivalries. Once a new species had been discovered, the collectors would strip the area to prevent their rivals from obtaining any of the new plants, devastating the environment in the process. On one occasion, orchid hunter William Arnold wrote to Sander to reveal he had been forced to pull a gun on his rival while collecting plants in Venezuela. Sander replied advising him to follow his enemy, collect what he collected, and then, when the opportunity arose, to urinate on the rival’s plants in the hopes of destroying his haul.
After nearly a hundred years of orchidelirium, the madness ended almost as suddenly as it had begun—increased botanical knowledge and the development of more sophisticated greenhouses meant that orchids no longer needed to be imported and could be cultivated in Europe. And of course, as soon as the plants became easily sourced, their value and cachet dropped. Today one can pick up an orchid for as little as $15—meaning that orchid hunters need not risk their lives for these amazing plants, and anyone can own a slice of the exotic.
What’s a modern, abstract sculpture in honor of an obscure American balloonist doing in the capital of Estonia? Good question. The man in question was named Charles Leroux, and though you probably have no idea who he was, he once found fame in the U.S. and abroad demonstrating something that seems commonplace today: parachutes.
Leroux was rumored to be the grandson or great-nephew of Abraham Lincoln (he wasn’t). He wasn’t even named Leroux—his birth name was reportedly the rather more prosaic Joseph Johnson. He appears to have been born in Connecticut in the 1850s. At some point, Leroux must have realized that it would be more profitable and exotic to take on a French-sounding name—especially because he adopted a French-seeming sport that had been making waves worldwide since the late 1700s.
By the time Leroux started tinkering with parachutes and balloons around the 1880s, the French were the undisputed kings of aviation. From the Montgolfier brothers, who invented the first hot air balloon anyone could actually use, to Jean-Pierre Blanchard, who managed to cross the English channel by balloon in 1785, the French had pioneered early flight.
Parachutes, though, were another story. Leonardo da Vinci designed an early prototype, but it took until the early 20th century for the modern version to get a patent. Meanwhile, parachuting was anyone’s game—and, like balloons before it, it was a game for daring showmen.
With a spiffy new name and an apparent daredevil streak, Leroux began to test a parachute of his own design. He was already an accomplished East Coast trapeze artist and gymnast, and he designed a breathtaking parachute to top off his performances. In 1886, for example, he shut down traffic in Philadelphia (performing as “Prof. Charles Leroux”) by climbing 100 feet up the Dime Museum, clad in “light blue silk tights and satin trunks.” Before a packed and terrified audience, he jumped off of the building holding a 16-foot-wide parachute and nearly running into a lamp post (a nearby man wasn’t so lucky—Leroux ran right into him instead). The New York Times report of his feat notes that it was Leroux’s 38th ascent, and that his other accomplishments included jumping off of New York’s High Bridge.
That was just one of Leroux’s leaps. His feats took him all over the world. In 1889, for example, he demonstrated the parachute he had designed—complete with backpack-style straps—to a group of impressed German officers. (Given that he jumped 1000 meters from a balloon, the equivalent of about 3280 feet, they had reason to be dazzled.) And in 1887, Leroux lent his design to Charles Broadwick, who would become one of the most famous parachutists of all time.
But eventually, Leroux’s derring-do got the best of him. On September 24, 1889, he braved a difficult jump from an airborne hot air balloon in front of an audience of onlookers in Tallinn, Estonia, which was then called Reval. An errant wind swept him away toward the Baltic. A woman supposedly died of heart failure just watching the tragedy. Leroux died, too—his body was recovered by fishermen two days later. Today, a modernist monument in his honor stands in Tallinn, a strange and little-known testament to a man who managed to withstand 238 jumps before his untimely death—and whose daredevil acts with a parachute helped inspire interest in more modern versions of the lifesaving invention.
It’s hard to tell some animal species apart. Is that a jaguar glaring balefully at you from the shadows, or a leopard? A lizard slithering on the ground, or a salamander? Fear not—we’ve got you covered. Here are some (almost) fool-proof methods for distinguishing between seven pairs of critters.
1. MOTHS VS. BUTTERFLIES
This one might seem like a no-brainer. Most people think of butterflies as colorful garden visitors, whereas those drab moths only emerge at night to bonk against your porch light. But not so fast.
Moths and butterflies belong to the scientific order Lepidoptera—and it’s a huge, spectacularly diverse group, with tons of species that defy your expectations. Some moths fly during the day, hovering at flowers and drinking nectar. Moths can be spectacularly colorful, like this Madagascar sunset moth. And there are plenty of dull-colored butterflies, such as the brown-grey common ringlet and the grayish Avalon hairstreak.
So how can you tell them apart? One of the best methods is to look at the antennae (those long appendages that stick out from the head). With some exceptions, butterflies have a thickened part at the end of the antennae. Moth antennae, on the other hand, are usually slender or feathery and taper to a point.
You might have heard people use these words interchangeably, but dolphins and porpoises are very different. First off, there are way more dolphins than porpoises. The ocean dolphin family Delphinidae contains approximately 32 species, including bottlenose dolphins (like Flipper) and killer whales (like Shamu). But there are only about seven species in the porpoise family Phocoenidae. And there may soon be just six—one species, the panda-like vaquita, is nearly extinct.
In general, porpoises and dolphins have different body shapes. Porpoises tend to have rounded faces, chunky bodies, and triangular dorsal (back) fins. Many dolphins, on the other hand, have pointy faces, slender bodies, and curved dorsal fins. But there are exceptions—Risso’s dolphins, for example, have blunt heads.
Another distinguishing feature is tooth shape. Porpoise teeth are spade-shaped and dolphin teeth are cone-shaped. But that’s pretty hard to see unless you stick your head in their mouths.
3. SHEEP VS. GOATS
Sheep (left, iStock); Goat (right, iStock)
Domestic sheep and goats are both cloven-hoofed, four-legged critters with soft muzzles and really strange eyes. Here’s an easy way to tell them apart: look at the tail. Goats usually hold their tails up, whereas sheep tails hang down.
They also have different eating habits. Sheep, like cows, are grazers—they move across a pasture like fluffy vacuum cleaners, scarfing down vegetation close to the ground. Goats, on the other hand, are browsers. They pick and choose their bites from plants that are a little higher up. They’ll even climb trees for choice morsels.
4. LIZARDS VS. SALAMANDERS
Lizard (left, iStock); Salamander (right, iStock)
Lizards and salamanders look a lot alike. They have long bodies and tails, and they generally crawl around on four legs. But looks can be deceiving. Lizards and salamanders are only distantly related; in fact, lizards are closer cousins to humans than they are to salamanders.
Lizards are reptiles, like snakes and turtles. Salamanders, on the other hand, are amphibians, like frogs. Look closely and you’ll see major differences: lizards have claws on their feet, but salamanders don’t (although there are one or two exceptions). Salamanders also lack scales; their skin is often smooth, moist, and slimy. Many species lack internal lungs, so their skin functions as an inside-out lung.
Let’s start with the basics: hedgehogs and porcupines are spiny. Those spines are made of special hardened hairs with hollow centers. But that’s about all these critters have in common. They aren’t closely related, and they evolved spines separately. And here’s the strange part: there are two groups of porcupine species—New World and Old World types—and they each evolved spines on their own. It’s just a useful evolutionary strategy!
Hedgehogs’ closest relatives resemble spineless hedgehogs; they’re mammals called gymnures and moonrats. Porcupines, however, belong to the order Rodentia—they are rodents. They may not look very rodent-y, but check out their big front teeth.
Porcupines use those chisel-like teeth to eat vegetation. Hedgehogs, on the other hand, have pointy teeth and snouts, and they’re omnivores, chowing down on frogs, insects, fruit, and more.
Hedgehog species inhabit parts of Europe, Africa, and Asia, but they’re not found in North and South America—so if you see a spiky animal in the New World, it’s a porcupine.
Alligators and crocodiles have a similar appearance, so it’s not surprising that they’re related: They belong to the order Crocodilia. One major difference is their salt tolerance. Crocodiles have special glands that help them excrete excess salt, so they’re comfortable in saltwater habitats such as coastal mangrove swamps. In alligators, those salt glands aren’t as well-developed, so gators are more likely to be found in freshwater.
Another difference is the shape of their heads. Crocodiles have longer V-shaped jaws, and alligator snouts are rounded and U-shaped. But there are exceptions; for example, the mugger crocodile of India and the surrounding region has a rounded snout like an alligator. Note that there are a couple of other members in the order Crocodilia that have EXTREMELY narrow snouts—the weird-looking false gharial and the even weirder-looking gharial.
Here’s another identification tip: take a look at the teeth. In crocodiles, the fourth tooth on the lower jaw sticks out, overlapping with the upper jaw and making the mouth look like a jigsaw puzzle gone horribly wrong.
They’re both big cats, and they’re both speckled. But if you see a jaguar or leopard in the wild, it’s easy to figure out the species, because they live on separate continents. Leopards inhabit parts of Africa and Asia, and jaguars are found in South and Central America, as well as occasionally the southwestern United States.
Here are a few other ways to distinguish them. Both cats have clusters of dark spots on their fur, but jaguars have smaller spots inside each cluster. Leopards are also smaller and more slender than jaguars, and their tails are longer. You probably won’t need any of these tips, though, because these animals are notoriously secretive and hard to find.
Around 1941, the Germans dropped a bomb on a street in Liverpool, exposing among the rubble a watertight metal cylinder about six and a half feet long. For several years it lay on the side of the street, more or less ignored. People used it as a bench, kids played on it, and nobody thought it was anything particularly unusual—until one day somebody took a look inside.
Liverpool had been the most heavily bombed British city outside London during the Blitz. Much of the city was destroyed, and amid the chaos, the explosion on Great Homer Street seemed just like any other. Rubble had been cleared away by American soldiers in bulldozers, who left behind some larger chunks of debris, including the aforementioned cylinder—which went largely ignored until July 13, 1945.
On that day, a group of children managed to break part of the cylinder open and peer inside. What they saw inside likely chilled them to the core: a corpse.
The police were alerted, and the cylinder was opened fully to reveal the skeleton of a man who, many locals presumed, had perished in the bombings a few years earlier. Curiously, however, the man was dressed head-to-toe in clothing much more suited to the Victorian era and lying on some sort of cloth. He also still had a few strands of hair attached to his skull, which was propped up on a makeshift pillow formed of a brick wrapped in burlap.
Rumors, speculation, and confusion surrounded the first few days of the discovery, with local newspaper the Evening Express stating that “at the present stage there did not seem to be any suggestion of murder. It was quite possible that the man was of the ‘queer’ type and had crawled into the cylinder to sleep. He may have been dead 20 years.” (In this context, queer likely meant somebody with a mental illness.) The mystery deepened a few days later, when the coroner, one Mr. G. C. Mort, announced that along with the body they had discovered two diaries (sadly illegible), a postcard, and a rail notice, all dating from 1884 or 1885, as well as a well-worn signet ring, a set of keys, and an undated receipt from a T. C. Williams and Co.
An investigation by the coroner showed that T. C. Williams and Co. had been a local paint manufacturing company that operated from the 1870s until 1884, when the company fell into financial ruin and closed for good. Its owner, Thomas Cregeen Williams, was declared bankrupt in 1884. Creditors were asked repeatedly to come forward and stake their claim to his assets, but by 1885 Williams had disappeared. Local papers announced the mystery solved—but the coroner wasn’t so sure. Williams had a son, born in 1859, and some believed that it was actually his body in the cylinder. This theory was ruled out when the investigation found the younger Williams buried in a cemetery in Leeds. Meanwhile, the elder Williams’s whereabouts remained unconfirmed.
As outlandish as it may seem that a body could lay undiscovered in residential Liverpool for 60 years, as far as the police were concerned, that appeared to have been what happened. On August 31, 1945, the official inquest recorded an open verdict, meaning the death was deemed suspicious but without an obvious cause. According to the Liverpool Evening Express, the coroner said it was “impossible to find the cause of death, which he believed took place in 1885.” Although the body in the cylinder has never been officially confirmed as that of T. C. Williams, this still stands as the prevailing theory.
But what of the cylinder? And how did the body end up in there in the first place? According to an official from the Home Office in 1945, the cylinder seemed to be part of a ventilation system (no traces of paint were found inside, ruling out any chance of a freak paint manufacturing accident). Was T. C. Williams sleeping in the vents of his old factory to hide from the creditors, and had he succumbed to deadly fumes? (The cylinder was found about a mile from the factory, but the bombs and bulldozers might have moved it.) Did he, as one theory put forward by the blog Strange Company suggests, fake his own death using this body as a decoy while making a break for America? Being that Liverpool was a major port city in the 1880s, it’s not logistically impossible, if perhaps a little farfetched. We might never know for sure. Perhaps the answer is still lying at the side of a road in Liverpool somewhere, just waiting to be noticed.
