Blog - LOST IN HISTORY

The Lusitania Sank in Just 18 Minutes, Beating Titanic!

RMS Lusitania sinking off the Irish coast, 1915

The ocean liner Lusitania was struck by a German torpedo in 1915 and sunk within sight of the Irish coast in just 18 Minutes! Compare that to the rather luxurious sinking of the Titanic three years earlier in 1912 that lasted 2 hours and 40 minutes. We have all seen the popular movie, so just imagine our protagonists Rose and Jack having just 18 minutes to escape the sinking ship.

In 1915, World War I was not even a year old in Europe. In response to Great Britain’s naval blockade, Germany announced that it would begin ‘UNRESTRICTED SUBMARINE WARFARE.’ In other words, U-boats would torpedo ANY ship in the Atlantic war zone. Brits and Americans boarding the Lusitania in New York City saw advertisements in city newspapers, posted by the German embassy, warning them of that risk:

Vessels flying the flag of Great Britain, or any of her Allies, are liable to destruction in the war zone, and travelers sailing on such ships DO SO AT THEIR OWN RISK!
German Embassy newspaper advertisement

Passengers ignored the warning since surely Germany would not target a civilian ocean liner. Also, they were told by the Cunard line that, with a top speed of 21 knots, far faster than any submarine, the Lusitania could easily outrun any German U-boat. Dubbed the “Greyhound of the Seas,” she had won the Blue Ribbon for the fastest Atlantic crossing.

With 1,257 passengers and 702 crew aboard, the RMS Lusitania left New York City harbor on 1 May 1915 bound for Liverpool, England. Unknown to her passengers, she also carried a large, secret cargo of munitions and contraband destined for the British war effort.

Tensions finally grew onboard Lusitania once the Atlantic crossing neared its end and they entered British waters on 7 May 1915. They had good reason to be worried. German submarines had already sunk 2 steamers off the coast of Ireland that week. Nevertheless, the British Admiralty never sent a destroyer to escort Lusitania! Instead, they instructed Captain William Turner to avoid the Irish coast at top speed and in a zigzag pattern, making it difficult for a U-boat to score a torpedo hit.

But with visibility obscured by thick coastal fog and wanting to save coal, Captain Turner reduced speed to only 15 knots. He sailed Lusitania in a straight line, just 11 miles off the south Irish coast, within sight of Old Head Lighthouse. Turner was ignoring every one of the Admiralty’s directives. Whether or not the Captain’s decision was justified, it doomed his ship, passengers and crew.

Lurking beneath the Irish waters was U-20, led by Kapitänleutnant Walter Schwieger.

U-20 had already sank a few smaller vessels and now, at 2 o’clock in the early afternoon, he spotted a four stack ocean liner through his periscope. What a prize for the Kaiser! he thought. Knowing full well it contained hundreds of civilians, at 2:09 pm in the afternoon, Schwieger gave the command to load and fire a single torpedo at the ship. He then watched anxiously through his periscope.

View of the Lusitania from German U-Boat U-20 periscope

At 2:10 p.m., Lusitania’s lookouts spotted a torpedo streaking rapidly towards them, a white, frothy line in its wake. “Torpedo off the starboard bow!” they told the bridge. By that time, it was too late for the large ship to avoid. The captain barked out orders “Hard to Starboard!” The German torpedo struck the Lusitania on the starboard side between mid-ship and the bow.

The detonation sent a low rumble through the ship. Passengers reacted with mild concern. After all, it could just be trouble with the ship’s large steam engine. They continued their reading or conversations. 30 seconds later however, a 2nd, much large explosion erupted from deep within the vessel’s belly, sending out clouds of black smoke. The Lusitania immediately began a tilt to starboard.

It was not a 2nd torpedo, however. Captain Schwieger always maintained that he fired only one. The source of the 2^nd explosion is Lusitania’s greatest mystery. What had caused it? The bridge crew discovered the Lusitania no longer responded to the ship’s wheel. The captain ordered an immediate wireless SOS sent out and to reverse all engines. When the engine room could not comply to his orders, he knew they were finished. The ship‘s tilt to starboard continued to worsen. He immediately ordered all passengers to life boats.

At 2:14 PM, electricity failed and the interior of the ship plunged into darkness.

Unlike the Titanic, the Lusitania had enough lifeboats for all. However, with the decks tilting wildly, a manic chaos set in, with passengers racing to find life jackets and then life boats. One survivor described it as a swarm of mad bees without the queen. Parents were separated from children in the rush of bodies. The electric lifts stopped working, trapping people between decks! Water began rapidly flooding the lower decks faster than people could escape them. The hallways and staircases became jammed with humanity.

Within 5 minutes, the Lusitania’s list was already 15 degrees to starboard, then 20, then 25! by 2:25 pm. Crewmembers attempted to launch the lifeboats, but the tilt of the sinking ship made this near impossible. On the port side, many boats swung back over the deck rather than the sea. Those that were released over the railing splintered against the riveted hull on their way down, or capsized completely on the way down, killing all those inside.

Things were no better on the starboard side. Those lifeboats that were released, swung out far away from the railing, too far for people to board. Those that reached the water overturned or went in nose first because of the sinking bow. Some flipped over, either in the air, or when they hit the water, dumping screaming passengers into the frigid Irish sea.

When it became apparent the lifeboats were failing, passengers jumped into the ocean.

On the starboard side, they began sliding down the steep decks into the churning water. Once in the sea, they fought to hold onto any piece of floating wreckage they could find. Most never had a chance. The ship’s massive propellers at the stern rose out of the water as the pointed bow sank beneath the sea. Once the bow went under, the sinking accelerated. Further explosions blew below decks as cold seawater hit the red-hot boilers.

On submarine U-20, Captain Schwieger watched through his periscope and noted the result in his log, “The ship stops immediately and heals over to starboard quickly, immersing at the bow. Great confusion is rife on board; the boats are made ready and some lowered into the water. In connection therewith, great panic reigns; some boats, full to capacity are rushed from above, touch the water with either stem or stern first and founder immediately.”

Onboard the Lusitania, Captain Turner ordered his men to abandon ship as well and remained on the bridge until it too was submerged beneath him. He was somehow washed clear of the bow as the ship sank. He survived after spending 3 hours in the cold water, atop a deck chair. He was pulled from the sea unconscious.

At 2:28 PM, within 18 minutes the giant ship slipped beneath the sea.

It left a bubbling, swirling, frothy whirlpool in its wake. 1,198 of the 1,924 aboard died, including 128 Americans, 59 children and 35 infants. Lusitania sank in a mere 90 meters (300 feet) of water. Kapitänleutnant Schwieger lowered his periscope and ordered his submarine back out to sea. He was lauded as a war hero in Germany, and later died in 1917 when his U-boat hit a mine off the British coast.

Rescue ships were dispatched from the Irish port of Queenstown and arrived within 2 hours. They managed to pick up only 761 survivors. Some were in such a state of shock their hair began to turn grey and fall out. Local authorities set up makeshift morgues to handle the hundreds of floating corpses being collected on the sea. Mass burials were made onshore in the days to come.

The killing of U.S. citizens enraged Americans. President Woodrow Wilson protested loudly, and public opinion in the U.S. began to turn against Germany. It would still be another 2 years however, 1917, before the U.S. finally joined the Allies in the trenches of France. At a Board of Trade Inquiry, Captain Turner, the Cunard Company, and the Royal Navy were all absolved of any negligence. All blame was placed on the German government.

So what had caused the mysterious 2nd explosion?

Lusitania had been carrying 173 tons of ammunition. The Germans maintained this made her a legitimate target and caused the 2^nd explosion. The British continued to deny it. Robert Ballard, discoverer of the wreck of the Titanic, explored the Lusitania in 1993, hoping to finally solve the mystery. The sad wreck lies in just 295 feet of water on her starboard side, obscuring the area where the torpedo hit.

Wreck of the RMS Lusitania off the Irish coast.

Conspiracy theorists claim the Brits deliberately sank the ship to hasten America’s entry into the war. Ballard found no evidence of this. Nor was there any evidence of an explosion in the hold where munitions were stowed. No boiler room explosion was reported by the surviving crew at the time the torpedo hit. Ballard concluded the torpedo ripped open a coal bunker, causing the huge 2nd explosion. The blast ripped open a much larger hole and doomed the ship to its rapid death.

So ended the life of the once proud Lusitania, grand rival of the Titanic in both size, luxury ,and tragedy. It sits today on the bottom of the murky cold Irish Sea, within tantalizing sight of the coast of Ireland.

For more by historical writer Paul Andrews, click BOOKS.

Lost in History

The Tragic Fate of the SS St. Louis Jewish Refugees

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SS St. Louis in Havana Harbor, Cuba, 1939 unable to disembark. — **SS St. Louis in Havana Harbor, Cuba, 1939, unable to disembark passengers.**

In May 1939, just before World War II began, 937 anxious Jewish refugees fled Nazi Germany aboard an ocean liner named the SS St. Louis. Most were German citizens, though a few were from other countries like Poland and Austria. The passengers planned to reach Cuba first, then ultimately travel to and seek asylum in the United States.

Ever since Kristallnacht (“Night of Broken Glass”) in 1938, the Nazi’s had begun burning synagogues and confiscating Jewish property.

Adolf Hitler had launched an intense propaganda campaign against German Jews. By 1939, Hitler and the Nazis had already annexed Austria and planned to close the German borders in advance of invading Poland. Many countries around the world, including the U.S., began imposing quotas, limiting the number of Jewish refugees they would allow in. Havana, Cuba was still open and seen as a safe, temporary port, until trying for the U.S.

At the Hamburg docks, tearful relatives waved to their loved ones aboard decks of the St. Louis. Given Hitler’s escalating anti-Jewish campaign, they didn’t know when or IF they might see each other again. Those on the ship knew they were the lucky ones, managing to get out in time. The fate of their Jewish family and friends left behind was uncertain. Still unknown to the world, the Jewish Holocaust had begun.

For many passengers, the anxiety they felt in Germany soon faded as the St Louis left port and began a quiet 2 week voyage across the calm Atlantic Ocean. On board was a swimming pool, dance band in the evenings, and even a motion picture theater. There were regular meals with rich foods the passengers rarely ate given the pre-war rationing in Germany.

Under Captain Gustav Schroder, the German crew was ordered to treat the passengers with respect, a sharp contrast to the open hatred Jews received in their hometowns under Hitler. Children were told by relieved parents that they were finally safe and the Nazis would not be coming to get them. They were going far away and didn’t have to look over their shoulders ever again.

When the ocean liner reached Havana two weeks later in May, that sense of relief soon evaporated, replaced by fear and a growing dread. Passengers were up on deck, their suitcases packed and ready to disembark, when Cuban officials came aboard to speak to the officers … and nothing happened!

It quickly became clear the ship was not going to be allowed to dock and no-one would be allowed off.

They kept hearing the words “Manana, Manana” from the Cuban officials. For 7 nerve-wracking days, Captain Schroder tried in vain to persuade the Cuban authorities to allow his Jewish passengers to disembark. The Cuban officials declined their visas out of fear of being seen as a sanctuary and then inundated with even more Jewish refugees. Only 28 passengers with valid US visas were allowed to disembark.

SS St. Louis in Havana Harbor with children aboard, May 1939

Even before the ship sailed, Cuban newspapers demanded their government stop admitting Jews. The Cuban President had issued a decree a week before the ship left Germany that invalidated all landing certificates. Like the US, Cuba still suffered from the Great Depression. Many resented the refugees already admitted, as they competed for scarce Cuban jobs. The owners of the St. Louis knew before the ship sailed that its paying passengers might have trouble disembarking, but told none of them.

The plight of the SS St. Louis attracted a great deal of media attention around the globe. After Cuba denied entry to the refugees, the press in Europe and the US broke the story to millions around the world. Though US newspapers were sympathetic to the refugees’ plight, only a few editors suggested the US actually admit them. Hostility toward all immigrants had fueled xenophobia and isolationism in the US as well.

After 5 days, Captain Schroder had no choice but to leave Havana and sail to Florida.

Unfortunately, when they got there, US authorities also refused to allow it to dock. Sailing so close to Florida they could see the night lights of Miami, passengers telegraphed the President himself, pleading for refuge. Roosevelt never responded directly. The State Department sent a telegram to the ship stating that passengers must wait their turns, and qualify for visas before they could be admitted.

SS St.. Louis Captain Gustav Schroder — **SS St. Louis Captain Gustav Schroder**

After decades of Ellis Island freely admitting any immigrant, quotas established in the 1920’s strictly limited the number of immigrants who could be admitted each year. In 1939, due to the unrest caused by Hitler and the Nazis, the annual German immigration quota was quickly filled, with a long waiting list of several years.

U.S. public opinion, though critical of Hitler and sympathetic to the refugees, favored the immigration restrictions. Like Cuba, the Great Depression left millions without work and fearful of foreign competition for scarce jobs. President Franklin D Roosevelt could have issued an Executive Order to allow the St. Louis to dock, but public hostility to immigrants and a forthcoming election were among his considerations. One final request to land in Halifax, Nova Scotia was also denied by the Canadian Prime Minister.

By June, Captain Schroder had no option but to turn the ocean liner back to Europe.

The joy the Jewish passengers had felt in May was replaced by utter desperation. What was to happen to them now? No-one dared speak about what vengeance the Nazis would inflict upon them once they returned to Germany. People were openly weeping as they wandered the ship’s decks – one passenger even committed suicide by slitting his wrists and jumping overboard.

As it turned out, the Jews did not have to return to Nazi Germany. Instead, much to the relief of the passengers, 4 European countries agreed to split up the refugees. In June, the SS St. Louis docked at Antwerp, Belgium, over a month after it left Germany. Four governments agreed to secure visas for the passengers: Great Britain took 288; the Netherlands 181, Belgium 214 and France 224.

Of the 288 passengers admitted to the UK, all survived World War II unharmed. Of the 620 passengers who returned to the continent, 532 were trapped when the German military stormed through Western Europe in 1939, overthrowing their host nations Belgium, Holland, and ultimately France. Nearly all were captured and sent east to the Nazi Death Camps of Auschwitz and Sobibor. 278 managed to survive the deadly Holocaust … but 254 sadly did not.

The journey of the SS St. Louis and its ill-fated passengers was the subject of a 1974 nonfiction best seller, Voyage of the Damned. Then a subsequent 1976 award winning film on which it was based was made, Voyage of the Damned, starring Max von Sydow as the frustrated and helpless Captain Schroeder.

In 1993, Gustav Schröder was posthumously named as one of the Righteous Among the Nations at the Yad Vashem Holocaust Memorial in Jerusalem.

For more by historical writer Paul Andrews, click BOOKS.

Lost in History

10 Theories about the Never-Aging Count Saint Germain

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Who exactly was le Comte de Saint-Germain, this never-aging man of mystery who left us so few clues behind? We know he was an 18th century Alchemist, Composer, Diplomat, Raconteur, and Spy. He was handsome and wealthy, impressing gentlemen AND turning the heads of ladies. But how could he hobnob about all the European capitals throughout the 1700’s and Never appear to age? Count Saint Germain looked the same in London in 1743 as he did in St. Petersburg in 1762 as he did Paris in 1789. Was he a clever Charlatan, a skilled Alchemist, or perhaps … something more? The answer lies in which theory and which source you choose to trust.

He used a French title, but freely admitted he was not French, and never revealed his true identity. To confuse matters more, the Count employed other aliases throughout the 18th century to remain incognito. This should not cast undo suspicion upon him. Many aristocrats traveled under assumed names to avoid unwanted attention – whether to hide affairs of the state, or of the heart.

Add to that, the Count was comfortably wealthy, though no one could even figure out from where it came. He was handsome and charming, and moved about the courts of Europe with ease. He associated with the likes of Voltaire, Handel, Madame de Pompadour, and Russia’s Catherine the Great.

So let us review the 10 best Count Saint Germain theories – the Wild, the Wonderful … and the Weird:

1 – WANDERING JEW – Some believe him to be Cartaphilus, the legendary Wandering Jew. Cartaphilus was a Roman guard of the High Priest Caiaphas in Jerusalem in the year 33 AD. He slapped and mocked Jesus of Nazareth on the way to his crucifixion at Golgatha on Good Friday. The soldier was therefore cursed by the heavens to never die and walk the earth alone till the end of days, and Jesus’ second coming.

2 – MERLIN – Others think he was no less than Merlin Ambrosius, King Arthur’s wise and legendary Merlin the Magician, the world’s most famous wizard. He continued to dabble in magic, alchemy and intrigue centuries after the Knights of the Round Table. Only this time, spying for the likes of French King Louis XV in Paris at the Palace of Versailles, rather than a British monarch at England’s ancient court of Camelot.

3 – NICOLAS FLAMEL – Still others guess he was alchemist and alleged immortal Nicolas Flamel. The 14th century French scribe and bookseller supposedly discovered the Elixir of Eternal Youth at Santiago de Compostelo and lived for centuries. Flamel was of course later made even more famous in the J. K. Rowling bestseller and Warner Brothers movie Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.

4 – FRANCIS BACON – Perhaps you prefer all the above! The reincarnation of all the above famous mystics in succession, including the 17th century’s Sir Francis Bacon, the famous statesman and scientist. He would thereby retain all the ancient secrets and knowledge from each of his previous lives. If that is the case, if he is still alive, who would the Count be today – a scientist, an entrepreneur, a philanthropist?

5 – ASCENDED MASTER – Maybe he is an immortal “Ascended Master,” chief architect of the Egyptian pharaohs’ pyramids, after living a hundred lives. He now exists on in another psychic plane as … the ‘Violet Flame.’ It is a belief still shared today by thousands of members of the international Theosophical Society. Not to mention the followers of the I AM Activity, the Summit Lighthouse, and the Church Universal and Triumphant. Don’t believe me? Just Google ‘violet flame.’

6 – ATLANTIS SURVIVOR – How about the last survivor of Plato’s Atlantis from 9,600 B.C., gifted by Zeus and the Gods on Mount Olympus with immortality? Why? So he could be saved from whatever disaster it was that finally tore apart Atlantis and plunged the city beneath the sea. He could then forever retain and be the keeper of all the ancient knowledge, science and culture of that famous, fallen empire of legend.

7 – WATCHER – Perhaps he is one of the Fallen Angels or Watchers, as from the Hebrew Book of Enoch. The Watchers were angels who succumbed to human sins. Cursed from Heaven by God himself – not to the fires of Hell – but rather to walk the Earth. They were doomed to wander the planet, still with angelic powers, spreading mischief amongst the all too willing humans, until the very end of time.

8- TIME TRAVELER – Maybe he was a Time Traveler from the not too distant future – subtly influencing past events, but only from the shadows and the sidelines. This would explain his encyclopedia knowledge of historical events and his ability to recount them at a moments notice. Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander novels, and the popular Starz program of the same name, used the Count as the protagonist in book & season 2.

9 – ANCIENT ALIEN – For you Science Fiction fans out there, how about a lone Alien from a distant galaxy, crashed and stranded on our primitive planet centuries ago? Who, with his non-human longevity, quietly observes the earth’s chaos over the centuries. And occasionally steps in to help the hapless human race through its many wars, missteps, and mishaps. A pattern that continues today. Does the Count continue to help us?

10 – IMMORTAL VAMPIRE – Or, perhaps not surprisingly, a handsome, immortal Vampyre, bitten centuries ago and cursed to live forever, taking beautiful lovers in each continent and century. Here he is said to have haunted the streets of Paris, France and New Orleans’ French Quarter. The series of 27 novels written by Chelsea Quinn Yabro exploits this idea quite skillfully in over a two dozen very enjoyable stories.

BONUS POPULAR THEORY: Lastly, was he simply a mortal man? Historians believe he was the last son of exiled Hungarian Freedom Fighter, Prince Ferenc Rakoczi II? He is said to have admitted this once, and taken on aliases to elude the Hapsburg Emperors of Austria. If so, he would have been born around the year 1700. Then, with a lucky & youthful appearance that lasted for decades (long before the advent of Botox) he appeared to never age. It would explain his wealth and ability to move about the royal courts of Europe with ease.

Count Saint-Germain never married nor had any children, that we know of. He is supposed to have finally died of pneumonia in a Schleswig-Holstein castle in 1784. He died alone, as his patron at the time, Karl von Hesse-Kassel, was not present to witness it. At what age he passed, we do not know for sure. BUT, he was reportedly seen the very next year at a German Freemason Convention. Then seen again in Paris during the French Revolution of 1789! He supposedly tried to desperately warn Queen Marie Antoinette of her and her husband Louis XVI impending doom.

Looking for a purely scientific explanation? Today, modern science has thoroughly mapped the human genome and begun to unravel the genetic secrets of aging. We now understand that the ends of our chromosomes degrade over time and our cells lose their vitality with each replication. As the years pass, our skin sags, our brain fails us, our muscles grow weak, our bones more fragile. We as a society are certainly no less obsessed with staying young than Marie Antoinette and the French court was over 250 years ago. Perhaps the Count had a simple evolutionary gene alteration (my favorite theory) that somehow increased his longevity?

Whatever the case, factual or fantastical, Count Saint Germain was a real-life Count of Monte Cristo, living a life of secrets, mystery and intrigue. Or if you prefer, a real life Dr. Who, with a lifespan far beyond that of normal men. Is he still alive today? Who is to say? The Count remains to this day, a curious and puzzling enigma – a Man of Mystery, always worthy of further exploration. Check out the historical novels below for more.

The Man Who Would Not Die – Count Saint Germain novel (Book 1)

Count Saint Germain – Count of Saint Germain novel (Book 2)

LOST IN HISTORY

Belle Gunness, America’s Female Serial Killer

Serial Killer Belle Sorensen Gunness, 1884

Belle Gunness is considered the most notorious female serial killer in U.S. history. She is responsible for Indiana’s most gruesome murder spree. Most occurred on her remote La Porte farm in the early 1900’s. Many of the victims were Norwegian men who responded to a “lonely widow” advertisement placed in area newspapers. The true number of her victims is unknown, but may be as high as 40.

Belle Gunness is one of the most chilling figures in American criminal history. Her name is associated with murder, deception, and gruesomeness. Belle lured lonely men to her Indiana farm, stole their money, and butchered them. A lingering mystery survives to this day as to whether Belle perished in, or secretly survived, a massive fire at her farmhouse in 1908. Who was the infamous serial killer Belle Gunness?

Belle was born Brynhild Paulsdatter Storseth in Selbu, Norway in 1859. The daughter of a stonemason, her family lived as poor tenants on a small farm. She was the youngest of eight children and grew up in a life of hardship. Her parents could scarcely support their many children. By age 14, Belle was working for other families, doing heavy farm chores and developing her physical strength.

In 1881, at age 22, Brynhild followed her sister Nellie to America, part of the great Norwegian exodus. She immigrated to the U.S. and settled in Chicago in search of wealth and a richer future than her parents. Brynhild was both ambitious and shrewd. Her English was limited, so she learned quickly.

By the time she arrived, she had transformed herself — adopting the Americanized name “Belle Peterson.” She was strong, physically imposing, and determined to make her way in the New World. She worked for a time as a domestic servant and later in a butcher shop. It was this job that gave her a skillset she’d later employ on her victims.

Belle married fellow Norwegian immigrant Mads Sorensen in 1884.

The Sorensens had a small home in Chicago, which soon burnt to the ground. With the money from their insurance, they purchased a confectionary store in the city. That business mysteriously caught on fire as well. With the 2^nd fire insurance, they bought another home in Austin, Illinois. Not long after, their new house caught fire too. This third fire resulted in an investigation by the insurance officials – but in the end, they paid the claim.

Not able to have children of their own, Mads and Belle took in young foster children to supplement their income. Two of these children died while under Belle’s care, Caroline in 1896 and Alex in 1898. The cause of death was listed as “colitis.” Interestingly, that could also have been caused by poisoning, a means she used on some of her later victims.

Serial Killer Belle Gunness and three of her foster children, 1902

Mads had a life insurance policy, which Belle complained was too small. So, he took out a larger one. Mads then died as well of “heart failure” in 1900 — the very day his two life insurance policies overlapped. Her husband’s family demanded an inquiry. They were positive that she poisoned him. As a motive, they pointed to the $8,500 life insurance she collected. An inquest was ordered, but the body was never exhumed and no charges were filed against Belle. The grieving widow, kept the insurance money – yet again.

Because of the lingering suspicion surrounding these deaths, Belle took her 3 remaining foster children and used the money to buy a remote farm 6 miles from La Porte, Indiana. Belle, Jennie, Myrtle, and Lucy moved there in1901.

In 1902, Belle married another Norwegian-American, Peter Gunness, in La Porte. His wife had recently passed and left him with two young daughters. Within weeks of his marriage to Belle, the youngest girl suddenly died under unknown circumstances. Not surprisingly, 8 months later, Peter himself then died, also under suspicious circumstances. Belle told the authorities that her husband was accidentally hit in the back of the head.

Supposedly, after a sausage grinder fell from a shelf above – and split open his skull.

The coroner raised concerns and the sheriff investigated. A weeping Belle described how it fell from a loose shelf and struck her “poor husband’s head.” Belle cried convincingly and no charges were filed – yet again. She then collected another insurance payout for Husband Number 2. In 1906, her 16-year-old adopted daughter Jenny “disappeared.” Belle claimed she sent her away to school in Chicago. Jenny’s body would later be found – buried on the farm.

Soon after Peter’s death and Jenny’s disappearance, the twice widowed Belle began placing classified ads in 3 Norwegian and German language newspapers throughout the Midwest. It was here her serial killer career accelerated. She targeted lonely, middle-aged immigrant men.

Personal — Comely widow who owns a large farm in one of the finest districts in La Porte County, Indiana, desires to make the acquaintance of a good and reliable gentleman equally well provided, with view of joining fortunes. No replies by letter considered unless sender is willing to follow answer with personal visit.

It is unknown how many men responded, but quite a few came to La Porte to visit the comely Belle and her farm. The most eager suitors would become her next victims. Each had brought cash and then disappeared forever: John Moo, Henry Gurholdt, Olaf Svenherud, Ole Budsburg, Olaf Lindbloom and Andrew Helgelien, just to name just a few.

Several of the men were last seen alive entering her La Porte farm.

In early 1907, Ole Budsburg, an elderly widower residing in Wisconsin, saw the advertisement. He decided to make a quiet rendezvous, without telling his grown sons. The old gentleman left his home and never returned. He was last seen at the La Porte Savings Bank, drawing the money he had transferred there.

Ray Lamphere, accomplice of Belle Gunness

Belle had several hired men who helped with the farm work over the years. She hired Ray Lamphere in 1907. Ray had hopes of marrying Belle and become a partner in the farm. It’s unknown if they had a sexual relationship, but things did not quite work out for Ray.

In late 1907, Andrew Hegelein, a bachelor from South Dakota, corresponded with Belle Gunness as well. She replied that she was favorably impressed with his letters and it would be acceptable for him to come to her farm. She suggested that he sell his business interests in South Dakota first.

In 1908, an eager Andrew Helgelien came to La Porte to visit Belle. Ray Lamphere became extremely jealous of Andrew. Belle then fired Ray after a heated argument, supposedly for him trespassing in her house. After 2 weeks with Belle, Andrew had money sent from his bank account to the First National Bank in La Porte. Andrew and Belle went together to collect the $2,000. Andrew Helgelien disappeared the next day. When asked by the bank, Belle claimed he had withdrawn the money for the purpose of going back to Norway.

However, when he did not return home to South Dakota, Andrew’s brother Asle Helgelien became concerned. After finding letters to Andrew from Belle Gunness, Asle wrote to Belle AND the bank, asking about Andrew. The bank confirmed he had been there. Belle wrote back that he had left La Porte for Norway. She suggested that he come to La Porte, so that she might join him in a search. Asle became suspicious and made plans to travel to Indiana.

Just when Belle Gunness’s luck seemed to be running out, her farmhouse burnt to the ground.

The day before the fire, Belle went to the bank and withdrew all her money. The next morning, on April 28, 1908 at 4 AM, Joe Maxson, her new farmhand woke up to the smell of smoke. The house was ablaze! He tried to enter the home and wake Belle and the family, but was not successful. He rushed into La Porte and got the fire department to come put out the fire. But by then, it was gone.

That afternoon, the sheriff discovered the bodies of her three foster children (two with Madsen and one with Gunness) in the smoldering ruins of the basement. The bodies of the 3 were discovered next to a woman’s body, presumed to be Belle, but inexplicably missing a head! Though Belle’s rings were on the headless corpse’s fingers, they could not prove the woman’s body was in fact Belle’s.

Because he was jilted, fired and had arguments with Belle, Ray Lamphere was arrested in May 1908 for arson and charged with murder. He was put on trial at the County Courthouse and found guilty of arson, but not murder. When first interrogated as to his whereabouts on the night of the fire, he denied being on the farm.

Asle Helgelien came to La Porte hoping to learn something about his missing brother, Andrew. After not finding any remains in the ruins of the fire, Joe Maxson suggested they dig in an area where Belle buried her garbage. They discovered the body of Andrew, stuffed in a gunnysack. La Porte County Sheriff Albert Smutzer and deputies arrived and continued to dig for several weeks.

Excavation of serial killer Belle Gunness farm house, 1908

Five more mutilated and decomposed bodies were found buried in the backyard on May 5. One was identified as Jenny Gunness, Belle’s 16-year-old adopted daughter, who was supposed to be in school in Chicago. It’s presumed she was murdered because as she grew into a teen, she could no longer be trusted to keep the family secrets regarding the deaths of Belle’s husbands.

Jenny’s murder was most likely from strychnine poisoning, the same used in killing Hegelein.

The authorities were shocked to realize that one of their own was a serial killer. The four other corpses were all unidentified men. On May 6, four additional bodies of men were unearthed elsewhere in the backyard. In all instances, the limbs were removed. They were cut off in such a clean manner as to indicate familiarity with butchering animals.

On May 9, two more bundles of bones, decayed flesh and rotted clothing were found in the Belle’s ‘private’ graveyard, but decomposition made identification impossible. Then on May 12, the butchering instruments with which the bodies were likely dismembered, were found in the ashes of the house. On May 14, the bones of one more male victim was found in the cellar.

Newspapers had a field day with their grisly headlines of an Indiana female serial killer. Hundreds of people from throughout the area had read of the murders and came to watch the macabre digging for bodies throughout the Gunness farm. Vendors even sold souvenirs and concessions! The Sheriff’s men discovered at least 40 bodies in all that had been buried on Belle’s farm.

In view of these gruesome discoveries, a serious doubt arose around the body thought to be Belle Gunness. Though her rings were found on the dead woman, it was suspected she had lured some poor unsuspecting woman into her farm. Then after killing her and cutting off her head, she set fire to the house with her foster children asleep in bed.

Shortly after the Gunness’ graveyard was discovered, the sons of Ole Budsburg came to La Porte. They suspected that their father, who had mysteriously disappeared in 1907, might have fallen into this vile woman’s trap. Their suspicions proved to be well founded. They identified one of the bodies as that of their missing father.

Henry Gurholdt of Wisconsin, corresponded with Belle Gunness. He took $1,500 with him to La Porte – and was never seen again. A watch found with one of the corpses was known to be Gurholdt’s. Marie Svenherud of Norway, made inquiries through the Consul in Chicago about her son Olof. He had written her saying he was about to leave for La Porte to marry a rich Norwegian widow. He had become acquainted with her through an advertisement in a newspaper. The mother had never heard from her son again.

After his imprisonment, Ray Lamphere’s health began to fail. He died from consumption (tuberculosis) in 1909. After his death, La Porte Rev. EA Schell made public a confession given to him by Lamphere shortly after his sentencing. Ray stated that he dug trenches for Belle Gunness at different times, but did not know for what purpose she used them. He admitted that he helped her bury at least one of her victims; and saw her chloroform another, then fell him with a hatchet.

Ray Lamphere confessed that he had helped Belle Gunness burn down her own house, and the headless body was not hers! Belle had planned the entire thing, and skipped town with her withdrawn money from the bank. She had promised to collect the insurance and marry him. Instead, she escaped into the night, leaving Ray to take the fall.

Reported sightings of Belle Gunness in the Chicago and Los Angeles areas continued long thereafter, but without her capture. She was shrewd enough to put some distance between herself and Indiana. Whether she continued her killing spree is unknown. To this day, there are many unanswered questions regarding the twisted life and ultimate fate of serial killer, Belle Gunness!

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Casimir Pulaski, Polish Hero of the American Revolution

**Polish nobleman Casimir Pulaski, Father of the the American Cavalry**

Polish nobleman Casimir Pulaski made a historic impact on the American Revolution. He became a brigadier general in the U.S. Continental Army’s first cavalry. Pulaski brought with him experience, organization and proper training, becoming “Father of the American Cavalry” and a “Soldier of Liberty.” While fighting for the patriots in the Battle of Savannah in 1779, he received a mortal wound and died two days later.

Casimir Pulaski believed fervently in the cause of liberty and knew the risks involved. “I came to hazard all for the freedom of America,” he wrote in a letter to the Continental Congress. How did an exiled Polish nobleman come to be the Father of American Cavalry and one of only eight honorary U.S. citizens?

Kazimierz Władysław Pulaski was born in Warsaw, Poland in 1745, the son of a prominent szlachta family. These nobles formed a “warrior caste,” so elite that it rivaled the elected monarch in power and influence. In the Polish Commonwealth, the king was elected to the throne rather than inheriting it. His powers were controlled by the Sejm, or Parliament, made up of the nobility, but the system was nearly democratic.

The Russian Empress had coerced Polish King Stanisław II to weaken the nobility’s independence, and make Poland a Russian puppet state. Casimir’s father was one of the founders of the Bar Confederation, a pro-Poland, pro-noble militia dedicated to ridding Poland of Russian influence. In 1768, the Bar Confederation rebelled against the Polish government seeking independence from Russia.

The 23-year-old Pulaski willingly joined the fight.

Casimir honed his skills with cavalry and command in the fights to come. He fought side-by-side with his father against the Russians, establishing a reputation as a defender of Polish liberty. As a cavalryman, he was both a skilled rider and swordsman.

In 1771, Pulaski was part of a failed plot to kidnap the Polish king, and was falsely accused of trying to assassinate him. Pulaski had to flee Poland or face execution. He would never return to his homeland again. The Bar Confederation lost its support and crumbled. In 1772, Poland was partitioned between Russia, Austria, and Prussia.

The young nobleman spent the next four years unsuccessfully trying to rally forces to help him free Poland from foreign control. In doing so, he accrued significant personal debt. It became so severe, he was thrown briefly in debtors’ prison in France, but friends were able to free him. Then a chance meeting occurred that would change the rest of his life.

In 1777, a 31-year-old Pulaski met the American envoy to France, Benjamin Franklin, in Paris. The diplomat was already aware of the count’s exploits. Recognizing the value of Pulaski’s military experience, Franklin offered the man an opportunity to fight for liberty across the Atlantic with the Americans. He promised the Polish exile a new start, and a new revolution, in the New World. Casimir could see the similarities between the new U.S and Poland’s fight for freedom.

Pulaski agreed to help the new United States.

Franklin provided a letter to George Washington on Pulaski’s behalf. In it, he described Pulaski “an Officer famous throughout all of Europe for his Bravery and Conduct in Defense of the Liberties of his Country.” Franklin added, “He would be highly useful in our service.”

Pulaski set sail for the new United States and arrived 44 days later in Massachusetts in July, 1777. He managed to learn a smattering of English while on board. In his own letter to Washington, Pulaski spoke (in French) of his “Zeal” to first prove himself in combat.

Eager to get right into fighting, he traveled to meet General Washington, in Philadelphia. Based on Pulaski’s recommendations and reputation, Washington wanted Pulaski to take command of an American cavalry. However, the general told the nobleman Washington needed the approval of the Continental Congress first. He volunteered his services regardless, not concerned over rank or payment. Pulaski chose to follow the Continental Army while he waited.

Pulaski sought an opportunity to prove himself to the American Army.

That opportunity came at the Battle of Brandywine in September 1777. As the British forced the Americans off the battlefield, Washington realized his army’s right flank was near collapse from a Redcoat assault. This might destroy his army and lead to the capture of himself and his generals.

Pulaski saw a bold solution. He stepped forward and volunteered to lead a cavalry countercharge, giving the Continental Army time to withdraw. With no time to argue, Washington entrusted Pulaski with his own mounted guard of about thirty men and horses.

Pulaski skillfully led a diversionary counterattack directly into the fray, helping delay the British flank long enough for the Continental Army to retreat. The Army escaped, proving both American resilience and Pulaski’s potential. The Continental Congress approved his commission to the rank of Brigadier General and “Commander of the Horse” in charge of American light cavalry.

Pulaski wanted to reform the ragtag American horsemen into a sleek and efficient assault cavalry. He believed in the powerful symbolism of the cavalry charge, and rebelled against systems he thought as stagnant or backward. Washington however decided his men on horseback would conduct more subtle maneuvers like reconnaissance and raids.

At Valley Forge, through the brutal winter of 1777/1778, Pulaski trained the small cavalry. He was a talented general and horseman, but struggled with his first American command. The general had to rely on translators due to his poor English and rebuked those American generals who did not see the cavalry’s importance. He was, as Washington wrote in a letter, “led by his thirst of glory and zeal for the cause of liberty.” He wanted command, and he wanted free reign.

Pulaski spent time leading small bands of horsemen on raiding parties.

To him, this was unacceptable. In the spring of 1778, he offered to raise an independent cavalry for the army. Both Washington and Congress relented. He raised a new regiment of cavalry, known as Pulaski’s Legion. Taking 330 recruits from around Baltimore, Pulaski prepared his cavalry, armed as lancers and dragoons in the European style. Washington allowed him to choose his own officers and train them as he saw fit.

Casimir Pulaski leading his American Cavalry during the War for Independence, 1778.

Under a crimson banner, they rapidly became a dangerous force. Continental Army officers spoke highly of the unit’s fighting ability and of the general’s insufferable arrogance.

In 1779, Washington sent Pulaski south to Charleston, South Carolina to support the struggling Southern forces of General Benjamin Lincoln. Upon arriving in Charleston in May 1779, the legion banded together with locals to resist a British incursion. Pulaski talked the terrified city leaders away from thoughts of surrender to the British.

In Charleston, Pulaski’s recklessness finally got the better of him. He and his men charged a British raiding party led by British General Augustine Prevost that cost his men’s lives. Casualties were devastating as Pulaski’s Legion suffered heavy losses. But the defense of the city prompted General Lincoln to return his army to Charleston, warding off further British attacks. Over the course of the war, Pulaski’s Legion remained essential to the military in the South.

After Charleston, Pulaski was “the Man of the Hour.

That summer, Lincoln’s army and his legion gradually beat back the British Army’s territorial gains. By the fall, they had met up with French forces under the command of the Count of Estaing. Together, they made preparations to attack Britain’s final stronghold in Savannah, Georgia.

Pulaski’s last engagement was during the Battle of Savannah on October 1779. Notified by a spy, the British attacked first. While surveying British defenses, Pulaski rushed to the aid of the wounded Count of Estaing. As the tide turned against the Americans, Pulaski rallied a group of American and French cavalry and led a charge on the British. He was wounded by British grapeshot during the attack and fell from his horse. His men managed to rescue him during their retreat.

**Polish nobleman Casimir Pulaski is wounded at the Siege of Savannah, 1779**

Around 1,000 soldiers were wounded, captured or killed. Despite loosing the battle, the Siege of Savannah contained one of the war’s most heroic and tragic moments, Pulaski’s courageous charge and death. The wound was mortal. The general died two days later aboard the brig Wasp. Casimir Pulaski never married and had no heirs.

He was buried with full honors. Charleston held a public funeral in honor of Pulaski. Savannah constructed a 55-foot obelisk in his honor. In 1854, his remains were exhumed from a Georgia plantation and placed under the monument in Savannah. After the war, Pulaski became an important symbol of both American and Polish independence for his battlefield valor as well as his ultimate sacrifice.

In the painting Pulaski at Savannah, Casimir Pulaski is caught in the moment of his demise. He leads a heroic charge into battle against the Redcoats, American soldiers following their Polish general. The hero’s black steed rears into the air. His grim face points heavenward, knowing his fate.

In the 1830s, Polish revolutionaries fighting against Russia saw themselves in Casimir Pulaski, using him as a role model. During World War I, Polish boosters put Pulaski on posters next to George Washington and Woodrow Wilson, to encourage Americans to support Poland and join the war against Germany. There are numerous U.S. highways, bridges, schools, towns and counties named after the famous Pole.

As communism faded in the 1990s, Polish President Lech Wałęsa asked for the support of General Motors and General Electric, in exchange for the general that Poland had sent to the American Revolution. (Ironically, it was Polish King that had forced Pulaski into exile.) Then, of course, there’s the holiday. Since 1929, the U.S. marks General Pulaski Memorial Day on October 11th, the date of Pulaski’s death.

In U.S. Revolutionary War history, 250 year later, he is still known as a patriot and “The Father of the American Cavalry.” In 2009, the U.S. Senate granted him the posthumous reward of “Honorary United States Citizenship,” one of only eight individuals, including the Marquise de Lafayette, to ever be granted such an honor.

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Jew Suss, the most Notorious Nazi Propaganda Film

**Nazi Propaganda Minister Joseph Goebbels, 1940**

On 8 September 1940, a new German movie premiered in Europe. Jew Suss [Jud Süss/Jud Süß] was an infamous, anti-Semitic, Nazi propaganda movie. Produced by Joseph Goebbels in 1940 Germany, It hastened the Nazi genocide against European Jews. The movie was a box office success, earning 6.5 million Reichsmarks and an audience of over 20 million. Jud Süss was a star-studded, historical melodrama whose secret goal was inciting anti-Jewish fear and hatred amongst the German people. It worked all too well. During World War II, Heinrich Himmler required his SS officers to view it. [Remarkably, there was a pro-Jewish British version made a few years earlier.] The Allied Military Occupation banned the German Jud Süss movie after the war in 1945. Then ordered all negatives destroyed. What was it about and why was it so reviled?

Jud Süss was a person, Josef Oppenheimer, an 18^th century German Jew. Born in Heidelberg in 1698, he became the “Court Jew,” chief financial adviser, to Karl Alexander, Duke of Württemberg. Jud Süss was his nickname, German for ‘sweet Jew.’ He was a prominent figure in Stuttgart at a time when anti-Semitism was rampant across Europe. His rise to power, controlling taxes and fees, caused both resentment and hostility among the courtiers, officials, and citizens. They were also unhappy that he enabled other Jews to move to Stuttgart. This was despite laws forbidding them. His lavish lifestyle did not help matters either.

Duke Karl died suddenly in 1737. Oppenheimer was soon arrested and accused of various schemes, embezzlement, fraud and treason. He was put on trial and convicted. Stuttgart judges could find no evidence however that he had broken any laws. So judges convicted him on a old statute where it was illegal for Jews to have sexual relations with non-Jewish women. Jud Süss had numerous, well-known affairs and was sentenced to death.

Authorities offered Oppenheimer the chance to convert to Christianity before being hanged. He refused, responding, “I will die as a Jew, suffering violence and injustice.” His 1738 execution was staged as a public spectacle in Stuttgart. Guards placed him in a cage, hauled to the top of the gallows. There, thirty-five feet above the town square, he was hanged while praying the Shema. His body was left up there in the cage, for six years, as a warning to other Jews. Oppenheimer was seen as a dangerous traitor by Germans.

By Jews, Josef Oppenheimer was seen as a faithful martyr.

His life was the subject of several books and not just one, but two, movies. Two hundred years later, his story was manipulated to serve two different purposes – the first by the British, the second by the Germans. Six years before the German Jud Süss movie, came a British film, Jew Suss, made in 1934. Jew Suss was adapted from a 1925 novel by German-Jewish writer Lion Feuchtwanger. The historical movie tells a slightly fictionalized version of Josef Oppenheimer’s story.

In the British production, Jew Suss was played by a German actor Conrad Veidt, best known as Heinrich Strasser, the Nazi major in Casablanca (1942). In the British version, Jew Suss navigates Stuttgart politics with smooth-talking self-assurance, allowing him to climb the social ladder and grab power. The movie portrays his arrest and execution poignantly due to his refusal to disavow his Jewish heritage. He asserts his dignity, and defiantly cries a Jewish prayer as he is hanged.

This British version boasted a budget of 100,000 pounds, with a large supporting cast and elaborate sets. However, the picture was a box-office flop. It enjoyed a wide release in Britain and the U.S., but was banned in Germany and Austria for its pro-semitic tone. The British film was a veiled petition on behalf of the victimized Jewish population of Nazi Germany. At the time, the persecution of Jews in Europe was well known, thanks to the SS St. Louis incident. But what about the contemptable German version?

Adolf Hitler and the Nazi Party had hoped that 1938’s Kristallnacht (Night of Broken Glass) would produce a surge of anti-Semitism throughout Germany. SA and SS henchmen destroyed Jewish homes, businesses and synagogues. Many Germans had Jewish friends or neighbors and found it difficult to embrace the Nazi-fueled hatred for the Jewish race. German citizens had already been bombarded with anti-Semitic propaganda for years both by newspapers and radio. However, Dr. Joseph Goebbels, Reich Minister of Enlightenment and Propaganda since 1933, was not convinced this had changed the hearts of the people.

By 1940, Hitler’s plan to exterminate the Jews was already in its early stages.

Goebbels believed films would ultimately make Germans accept the Nazi’s solution to the “Jewish problem.” The triumph of his vision was their version of Jud Süss. In this movie, the Nazi’s anti-Semitism was not blatantly in your face. It was placed instead insidiously and subtly inside an engaging historical drama. With quality production values and a well-known cast of actors, Jud Süss engaged the audience on an emotional level. Goebbels knew it would finally change Germans’ minds about their Jewish neighbors.

The German movie was based on a different 1827 novel by Wilhelm Hauff. This Goebbels remake of the British film stressed the Nazi stereotypes of Jews as crafty, untrustworthy villains. Jud Süss was directed by well-known German director Veit Harlan. In this movie, Jud Süss is played flamboyantly by actor Ferdinand Marian as a seductive scoundrel, rather than a victim. He undermines political methods and subverts law and order. Worst of all, he unabashedly satisfies his sexual appetites by raping a Christian girl and having her fiancé tortured.

Movie poster for Jud Süss, 1940 Berlin, Germany — **Movie poster for *Jud Süss*, 1940, Berlin, Germany**

The lead actor, Ferdinand Marian, was forced into playing the role of Süss. Goebbels warned him he would destroy his career if he refused. In the Nazi version, Jud Süss opens in 1733 with Oppenheimer providing the new duke with lavish presents, that entangle Karl in an expensive, extravagant lifestyle. Oppenheimer begins granting the duke large loans to finance pet projects. As the duke does not have the treasury to repay the loans, Oppenheimer demands to serve as Finance Minister to collect his due via taxes, duties, and tolls on the people. He places his Jewish cronies in positions of power as tax collectors, causing suffering amongst the Germans.

In the German film, Oppenheimer also convinces the duke to open the city to Jews. They arrive by the thousands. Süss lusts after the beautiful daughter, Dorothea, of the chief minister, but she rebuffs his advances. He orders her abduction and arrests her fiancé. As the fiancé is tortured in the dungeon, Süss brutally rapes the girl. Burdened with shame and grief, Dorothea commits suicide. Süss is arrested by rioters and condemned at trial to death. He is hauled to the top of the gallows and hanged in the presence of an angry mob of Germans.

At the end of the German movie, the Duke Karl’s final address to the people drives the Nazi’s propaganda message home: “May our descendants hold firmly to this law, so they can save themselves much sorrow … and save the lives and blood of their children and their children’s children.” The duke then orders all the Jews to be expelled from Wurttemberg.

The German film portrays Süss’s execution as a just and poetic ending of an evil, despised Jew. It is followed (before the credits) by a Nazi declaration, warning Germans about the perils of allowing Jews into their midst. The German movie was blatant, anti-Semitic agitation. It builds on the repeated Nazi propaganda message that Jews are ‘sub-human vermin.’ Possessing a talent for disguising themselves as Aryan Germans.

The Nazis injected anti-Semitism into the film in sinister and subtle ways.

Suss’s loans to the duke were both for his own self-glory AND the opportunity to allow more Jews into the city. Nazi propaganda depicted Jews as insidiously disguising and inserting themselves as part of a deep conspiracy to gain power and wealth for the Jewish community. After seeing the film’s final cut, Goebbels wrote in his diary: “An anti-Semitic film of the kind we could only wish for. I am quite happy about it.”

Goebbels opened the film simultaneously in 80 Berlin cinemas to great fanfare. Jud Süss became a hit. It was viewed by 20 million Germans owing to Goebbels’s propaganda blitz and director Harlan’s reputation. A Nazi Party press release issued at the time of the movie’s premier stated, “It is the duty of all to point out that every Jew has only his well-being and that of his brothers in mind, even when he pretends generous motives.”

Jud Süss was a success across Europe as well, where it sparked anti-Jewish violence in France, Italy, and elsewhere. Reichsführer Heinrich Himmler had it shown to all of his elite SS troops AND the Hitler Youth. In the movie, Suss’s crimes included “blackmail, profiteering, indecency, and high treason.” But only one mattered most, a Jew having sex with a Christian. The Nuremberg Law of 1935 banned sex between Jews and Aryans.

The Nazi film documented that laws excluding Jews had been the norm over Germany’s long history. The film prompted street demonstrations in Berlin with crowds shouting “Throw the Jews out of Germany!” As the war progressed, the film was shown to SS Einsatzgruppen units in the Holocaust Death Camps, to “boost morale” and affirm the Nazi Final Solution.

Goebbels propaganda campaign was successful and Hitler was pleased.

The Nazi anti-Semitism message offered to the German people was now affirmed. Fear and hatred of Jews in German was now acceptable. The movie offered a solution to the German Jewish problem as well—deporting and ‘relocating’ Jews. Of course, during Hitler’s Third Reich, deporting the Jews meant eventual genocide in Nazi death camps. But once the idea of deporting Jews was accepted by Germans, what eventually became of them was out of sight – out of mind.

At the end of World War II, the liberation of the Nazi Death Camps allowed a horrified world to witness what had happened to those deported Jews. A public outcry, organized by groups of Nazi victims, led prosecutors to press charges against the movie’s director Harlan for “crimes against humanity.” Victims of Nazi persecution testified to the effects of the anti-Semitic propaganda film.

They stated that Jud Süss had spread fear and terror amongst Jews, and fuel hatred and violence against them. The trial ended with Harlan’s acquittal. Veit Harlan may have escaped criminal liability, but he did not escape guilt. While Jud Süss did not directly cause the Jewish Holocaust, it certainly had a role as a catalyst.

As the Russian Army stormed into Berlin, Adolf Hitler trapped in his bunker under the Reich Chancellery. He shot himself in the head on 30 April 1945. Joseph Goebbels, architect of years of vile Nazi propaganda, was at Hitler’s side, always the loyal sycophant, along with his wife and children. On May 1^st, Goebbels murdered each of his six children (five daughters and one son) with cyanide capsules. Then he and his wife went outside the bunker and took capsules of their own. Soldiers doused their bodies with petrol and set them aflame.

The Nazi threat was finally dead … for now.

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Mad King Ludwig and Neuschwanstein Castle

‘Mad’ King Ludwig II of Bavaria was responsible for building some of the most impressive castles and palaces in all of Europe. Known as the “Fairytale King”, his Herrenchiemsee, Linderhof, and especially Neuschwanstein attract millions of visitors a year. His castles represent an operatic fantasy world built to escape from reality, which was ultimately his downfall. Ludwig took refuge in his fantasies, got into mounting debt, and was eventually ruled insane. “I want to remain an eternal mystery to myself and others,, Ludwig once said.

The Fairytale King’s fate is also surrounded in mystery. Was ‘Mad’ King Ludwig actually mad – or just merely an eccentric introvert? Did he in fact commit suicide by drowning at only 40, or was he murdered by royal ministers? Why was he so obsessed with Medieval fantasy and fairytales?

The heir to the throne of the Bavarian Crown was born 25 August 1845. His parents were Prince Maximilian II of Bavaria and Crown Princess Marie of Prussia. 101 cannon shots announced the good news of his birth to the city of Munich. Princess Marie had suffered several miscarriage years earlier.

King Maximilian and Princess Marie did not love each other, nor their children.

Ludwig and his younger brother Otto were brought up with a strict emphasis on royal duty. Ludwig grew up an introverted loner, left to live within his own imagination. He grew up at Hohenschwangau Castle in southern Bavaria – a mock-Medieval castle built by his father, complete with crenelated towers. It gave birth to the boy’s obsession with Medieval legends and fairytale.

“Ludwig enjoyed dressing up … took pleasure in play acting, loved pictures … and liked making presents of his property, money and other possessions,” said his mother.

Ludwig became king quite suddenly in 1865 when he was just 18. His father died unexpectedly of sepsis and the shocked teenager was thrust upon the throne as King Ludwig II of Bavaria. He had received very little preparation or knowledge of governing by his father or the royal court.

Ludwig immediately faced a variety of foreign and domestic challenges. Bavaria’s sovereignty was in question, the Industrial Revolution was gaining momentum, and the population was growing. Bavaria was a large German state of around five million and a constitutional monarchy. Ludwig initially embraced the business of government. However, it quickly became apparent he was not up to the task.

“I became king much too early. I had not learned enough. Suddenly I was snatched away and set on the throne. Well, I am still trying to learn.” – King Ludwig II

Just a year later in 1866, Ludwig II suffered his greatest, defeat. The state of Prussia conquered both Bavaria and Austria in “The German War.” The loss meant Bavaria was reduced from an independent nation to an annex of Prussia, within the new “German Nation State.” From then on, the king was basically a vassal of his Prussian uncle. Ludwig wanted to preserve Bavarian independence, but was now basically powerless.

Despite the loss, the Bavarian people remained sympathetic to the inexperienced King Ludwig. His subjects saw him as young, handsome, generous, and initially a very visible king to his subjects.

In 1871, the new German Empire was proclaimed with Prussian King Wilhelm as Emperor. For Ludwig, his failure to maintain Bavarian sovereignty was traumatic, causing him to a gradually withdraw from public view. Losing Bavaria would haunt Ludwig for the rest of his life. It caused him to retreat specifically into the Medieval imagination of his youth.

Ludwig yearned to be an omnipotent king of yore, whose rule couldn’t be challenged.

As for his personal life, while a teen, Ludwig had a relationship with his aide de camp, Prince Paul of Thurn and Taxis. They rode together, read poetry together, and staged scenes from Wagner operas. In 1867, Ludwig became formally engaged to Duchess Sophie Charlotte in Bavaria, his 19-year-old cousin; and Prince Paul was married off.

The twenty-year-old king then began a secret affair with a riding master in his royal stables, Richard Hornig, whom he made his private secretary. Much to the royal family’s dismay, Ludwig repeatedly postponed his wedding date, then ultimately cancelled the engagement with Sophie. The king would never marry, have an heir, or have any known female mistresses.

Ludwig also became obsessed with the works of German composer Richard Wagner. From his youth, he was enthralled by Wagner operas and their fantastical German mythology. One of Ludwig’s first actions when he became king was to summon Wagner to his court in Bavaria. The king wanted to realize his dream of a grand Bavarian Opera Festival.

**Painting of King Ludwig II and Richard Wagner**

His summoning of Wagner in fact rescued the composer from numerous angry creditors, as the king paid off all his debts. “He is unfortunately so beautiful and wise, soulful and lordly, that I fear his life must fade away like a divine dream in this base world!” – Richard Wagner.

A tense love-hate, though collaborative relationship developed between them. Ludwig organized huge musical festivals, and built concert halls in Munich to honor Wagner’s work. Wagner in turn acted as Ludwig’s muse, feeding both his fertile imagination and the inspiration for his new palace and castle projects.

Munich became the music capital of Europe with the premieres of “Tristan und Isolde” in 1865, “Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg” (The Mastersingers of Nuremberg) in 1868, “Das Rheingold” (The Rhinegold) in 1869, and “Die Walküre” (The Valkyrie) in 1870. Without Ludwig, Wagner would never have achieved all his works and his greater fame.

Ludwig’s passion with Wagner’s works quickly becomes a dangerous obsession however. He began to lose himself in the Medieval fantasy worlds depicted in Wagner’s operatic myths. He started dressing daily as opera characters from Wagner’s world. From 1875 on, the king began to live at night and sleep primarily during the day.

Ludwig’s obsession reached its ill-fated peak however in architecture.

Having grown up in Hohenschwangau, the mock-castle built by his father, Ludwig also become obsessed with building extravagant palaces of his own, in order to live out his fantasy world. They would be grand fortresses of retreat where he could completely hide, nearly alone from the outside world.

His new Linderhof Palace was built as a refuge for the reclusive king to hide away in the countryside. Completed in 1878, this small palace was designed for one person – Ludwig II. It had only ten rooms, four for servants. The dining table had only enough space for one person – himself. Linderhof also had it own grotto – designed to host small performances of Wagner operas – to an audience of one.

The king then attempted to re-create the grandeur of France’s Versailles. He had the Herrenchiemsee Palace built on a large island in Bavaria’s Lake Chiemsee. Completed in 1885, it was a another place to assure the eccentric King’s privacy. He designed the palace to emulate the sharp rectangular lines of Versailles. Elaborate French paintings were hung in all its rooms.

Of course, Ludwig’s most famous building project – one recognizable around the world – was Schloss Neuschwanstein. His “New Castle” was based on those of the Middle Ages and built in the foothills of the Alps. He designed it as both a mountain refuge and a theatre for Wagner operas. Ludwig broke ground in 1869 and moved into the unfinished castle in 1884.

Mad King Ludwig's Neuschwanstein Castle in Bavaria — **Mad King Ludwig’s Neuschwanstein Castle in Bavaria**

Despite its towering grandeur, Neuschwanstein did not have space for the royal court, only the King’s private residence, a performance Hall of Singers, the Throne Room, and servants’ quarters. The palace served King Ludwig II as a live-in theatrical setting. It was dedicated, with numerous operatic murals, to the works of Richard Wagner, who died in 1883 (without ever visiting the castle).

Ludwig’s obsession with a holy kingdom was the reason he built, and built again, places he could imagine himself as a real-life Medieval king. His fantasy world was reinforced by private performances in the castle of Wagner’s operas, performed for the king alone. Thus Ludwig spent more and more time isolated in the mountains, and less time governing in Munich.

The fantasy world the King built for himself was never compatible with his duties as king.

The new castles and palaces were also beyond the fiscal means of the king. He was wasting away huge amounts of time and money. Ludwig’s castle building did not bankrupt Bavaria though. By 1885, he’d accrued a personal debt of 14 million marks – all held against his own family’s name. Foreign banks threatened to seize his properties. Various tradesmen threatened to sue.

He asked foreign governments for loans as he was unable to rein in his extreme spending. He had also become indifferent to state business. As a result, his government’s leaders began making plots. Ludwig II couldn’t be removed from his throne by constitutional means. But he could be forcibly withdrawn if it was decided he was unfit to rule.

Ludwig no longer received his ministers or secretaries. He avoided the general public, neglecting what was expected of a king. Instead, his life’s purpose became his private performances of Wagner and his 3 elaborate building projects. Ludwig refused to accept the consequences of his spending – the suspension of construction and strict budget management.

As you can imagine, the king’s unusual lifestyle fueled rumors in Bavaria and throughout Europe. Newspapers at home and abroad were openly speculating about the king’s huge debts and even whispering about his sexuality without a wife or heir. Government leaders knew the easiest way to depose of the eccentric king was for him to be declared insane. Senior Minister Johann von Lutz realized that intervention was necessary to save the monarchy and the royal family.

Either Ludwig must willingly abdicate … or be forcibly deposed.

In March, Minister Lutz met with Dr. Bernhard von Gudden, Director of the Upper Bavarian Lunatic Asylum and the physician in charge of Prince Otto. The doctor saw parallels between brother Otto and King Ludwig. He declared the king was “genuinely insane” and incapable of governing. His judgement was accepted by royal ministers and the royal family.

The King’s sudden deposition was proclaimed to the public on 10 June 1886. Ludwig was utterly shocked and forced to resign from the throne under duress. Lutz then ordered him to vacate his beloved Neuschwanstein Castle, nearly but not yet completed at the time.

King Ludwig was instead interned in the small Berg Castle in upper Bavaria. The very next day, he died in mysterious circumstances, drowned in nearby Lake Starnberg, together with the psychiatrist who had certified him as insane! What exactly had happened?

Ludwig arrived at Berg Castle on 12 June 1886, accompanied by the “Fangkommission” (Interception Committee). The royal apartment on the second floor was prepared by removing doorknobs, adding peepholes, and closing the shutters. A “guardian” was always supposed to be near the king – a stipulation Ludwig found humiliating. It was important to Dr. Gudden that the king not be treated like a mental patient.

Berg Castle on Lake Starnburg where King Ludwig was found dead

Dr. Gudden’s first aim was to reintegrate the king into a regular daily routine. Conversations and walks with others were to be added. It should be noted the psychiatrists did not consider Ludwig to be incurably ill. Ludwig II spent June 13^th quietly in Berg Castle. He seemed composed and questioned everyone he spoke to in-depth. After dinner, at about 6:45 pm, he set out with Dr. Gudden for a walk by the lake, not accompanied by the guardian.

Both their bodies were found floating in the waters of the lake that night.

It is possible the king ran into the lake, intending to committing suicide. Gudden also died in the lake, perhaps after a tussle with the King. Afterwards, Ludwig drowned or suffered a heart attack in the cold lake water.

The king’s body was taken to Munich and autopsied at the Residence on 15 June. In addition to the pathologist, representatives of the State Ministry and Foreign Affairs were present. At the autopsy, “no injuries were perceptible anywhere on the body, neck or face.” There was also no evidence of “gunshot, head impact or stab wounds”. Drowning could not be proven beyond doubt as the cause of death, so a heart attack was also deemed possible.

The Bavarian constitution provided for a regency in the event that the king was unable to hold office. Ludwig’s younger brother Otto had also been considered mentally ill since 1876. So only Prince Luitpold, King Ludwig’s uncle, would assume the regency.

Ludwig was laid out in the Residence’s Court Chapel wearing the uniform of the Grand Master of the Wittelsbach Royal Order of Saint Hubertus. A bouquet of jasmine was in his right hand, picked by his cousin, Empress Elisabeth of Austria. The general public appeared in huge crowds; viewing from the galleries of the court chapel. The funeral procession went through Munich to allow as many as possible to express their sympathy. The coffin was lowered into the crypt of St. Michaels Church, where Ludwig II rests to this day.

Schloss Neuschwanstein was opened to paying visitors by the new Regent and completed, though with a slightly simpler interior and exterior, by 1892.

As to the king’s death, one theory was that Ludwig had killed his psychiatrist (there were signs of a struggle), and Ludwig had then either committed suicide, or drowned accidentally after the struggle in the lake. However, Ludwig had never before displayed violent tendencies. He had discussed suicide with his psychiatrist, but did not appear inclined to take his own life. He had also been a strong swimmer from an early age. So it’s unlikely he would have drowned.

Of course, another theory is that the king was murdered and never truly insane. Siegfried Wichmann, a modern art-historian, claims to have discovered an image of Ludwig’s body, painted at Berg just after his death. It shows blood dripping from the side of his mouth, which suggests he died of some violent trauma: not drowning. Perhaps someone from the Committee shot him?

Just 50 years ago, Countess Josephine von Wrba-Kaunitz, a distant relative of the Royal family, presented a grey-jacket with a bullet-hole during a tea-party, which she claimed to be King Ludwig II’s – supposed proof of murder! This crucial piece of evidence was lost however in a house fire a few years later. So, unless his corpse is exhumed and examined – unlikely to ever be allowed – we shall never know ‘Mad’ King Ludwig’s true cause of death.

Today, the odd Ludwig would most likely have been diagnosed with ASD (autism spectrum disorder). One can say that the king attempted to live the life of solitude and fantasy in which he was most comfortable in. And unlike the average person, he had the means to do so. Whether that is the definition of insanity or not, is a question left for interpretation.

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Milton Hershey and his Chocolate Factory

**Chocolate maker Milton S. Hershey, 1900.**

Before Willie Wonka there was Milton Hershey. He created one of America’s most beloved chocolate and candy brands. He made milk chocolate a treat Americans and those around the world could afford. In the process, he created a fortune. Hershey used his vast wealth for philanthropy rather than personal gain. He built an extraordinary orphanage that would not only take in poor children, but also give them a decent home, teach them lessons in character, and instruct them in how to make their way in the world.

In the Pennsylvania Dutch countryside, the Hershey Chocolate Factory provides tantalizing cocoa smells from a 2-million-square-foot production facility. Tree-lined streets with names like Chocolate Avenue are lit by street lamps shaped like Hershey Kisses. Everything in this town of about 13,000 reflects the Hershey’s Chocolate Company. Once little more than dairy farms, Hershey, PA was transformed into the headquarters of America’s largest candy maker. The man behind that amazing transformation was Milton S. Hershey.

Milton Snavely Hershey was born 13 September 1857, on a farm outside of Derry Church, PA—a small farming community near the center of the state. Milton was the only surviving child of Henry Hershey and Veronica ‘Fanny’ Snavely. Young Milton grew up amongst the devout, frugal, and hardworking Pennsylvania Dutch. Hershey spent his formative years idolizing his father, a dreamer and drinker who was always looking for the next big opportunity. Unfortunately, Henry Hershey lacked the persistence and work ethic to make anything happen.

His family suffered because of it.

Young Milton grew up poor, with holes in his shoes and an empty belly. Later in life, when asked about his philanthropy towards orphans, Hershey simply say, “I was a poor boy myself once.” Milton started his schooling at seven, but changed schools often, as his family moved throughout the region, attending seven different ones.

By 1867, his parents separated and Hershey’s father removed himself from the picture. His mother, the daughter of a Reformed Mennonite clergyman, had given up on her husband’s numerous faults and failures. Under her upbringing, Fanny instilled in young Milton the necessity for, and an appreciation of, honest hard work; values he would keep for the rest of his life.

Due to the lack of steady schooling, he dropped out at 14 to work as an apprentice instead. Hershey took his first job, apprenticing at a small, German-language newspaper, Der Waffenlose Waechter, in Lancaster. He was not cut out for the printing business though. He hated the work and was fired when he threw the owner’s hat into the printing press!

Milton always had an interest in candy making and began apprenticing instead with a master confectioner in Lancaster. He took a job at Joseph Royer’s popular Ice Cream Parlor Garden, where he learned the basics of candy-making. Royer was impressed by the teenager and soon promoted him to candy-making duties in the kitchen.

Four years later at 19, Hershey borrowed $750 from his aunt and set up his own candy shop in the heart of Philadelphia. For five years, Hershey poured his heart and soul into his fledgling business. But he could never make a profit. He was forced to close shop and headed west to Denver, where he worked again with a confectioner. It was there he learned about caramels. But the entrepreneur in young Hershey wasn’t content to work for someone else.

Milton Hershey struck out on his own, yet again.

By the time he was 25, he had attempted to launch two more candy businesses. Both were failures. The bank finally confiscated his candy-making equipment after he defaulted on a loan. He used his last dollars to buy a ticket back home to Lancaster. At age 30, he was nearly bankrupt.

These many failures did not squash Hershey’s spirits, however. He set out to raise capital for yet another business. This time however, none of his relatives would offer help. No one trusted his poor track record. In 1883, he was still convinced he could build a successful candy company. He amassed enough money from bank loans to rent a warehouse. In addition to making caramels, he worked as a handyman to make ends meet. His mother and aunt helped wrap the caramel candies.

Finally, Milton Hershey got lucky. An English candy importer had tasted one of his delicious “Crystal A” caramels and asked Hershey if he could sell them in England. Milton knew his product was suited for export as it stayed fresh longer than others. This third attempt, the Lancaster Caramel Company, was finally successful.

Within a few short years, Hershey had a thriving business and was shipping caramels all over the country. By the early 1890s, he had 700 employees and three factories. Never shy of hard labor, he would roll up his sleeves and help shoveling coal or rolling candy. He became known as “Dad Hershey” to his employees, eating lunch with them each day. Orders poured in faster than he could fill them. He was now renting the whole building and bought adjacent properties.

Hershey initially used chocolate only to coat some of his candies.

That changed in 1893. Milton visited the World Columbian Exposition in Chicago. There he viewed the equipment of J. M. Lehmann from Dresden, Germany. Lehmann had built a full-scale chocolate-manufacturing plant for the expo – from roasting-ovens to forming-presses. Hershey eyes popped as he saw his future … in chocolate, not caramel. He impulsively paid $20,000 to buy every piece of equipment Lehmann had on display!

“Caramels are only a fad. Chocolate is a permanent thing.” – Milton Hershey

Milton Hershey had always been far too busy to consider marriage. At 41, he was traveling through New York state on business when he stopped in Jamestown to visit a local confectionary, one frequented by 27 year old Catherine “Kitty” Sweeney. The two met and a relationship began. Jamestown became a regular stop on Hershey’s travels.

Hershey proposed and they married in 1898. At issue with his family was that Hershey was raised Mennonite, and Sweeney was Irish Catholic. They were wed in the rectory of New York’s St. Patrick’s Cathedral. They loved each other deeply and she became as important in his life as chocolate. Sadly, the couple were never able to have any children.

In 1900, the American Caramel Company, his chief competitor, offered $1 million ($24 million today) to buy Crystal A caramels. With such money Milton would be finally able to fully pursue chocolate. Hershey accepted the offer. “This was the best business deal I ever made,” he later said.

Hershey now focused on perfecting the formula for mass-produced milk chocolate. With his new liquidity, he could finally build a proper chocolate factory. Hershey began looking for a new place. He decided against major cities and picked a spot instead next to his hometown, Derry Church. The site was near many dairy farms, which he would need. Three years later in 1903, he broke ground. Hershey began building a mammoth, modern candy-making facility.

The Hershey Chocolate Company opened in 1905.

Hershey did not discover milk chocolate. What he discovered was how to mass produce it at an affordable price. He achieved this through efficiency, technology and design, resulting in a steep cut in cost to him, and price for consumers. Before Hershey, milk chocolate was an expensive European delicacy. After Hershey, a milk chocolate bar could be enjoyed by anyone, for just a nickel.

**The Hershey Chocolate Factory in Hershey, PA. 1915**

During construction, Milton played with a new formula for making milk chocolate. He spent months experimenting with powdered milk, as the Swiss did, then switched to fresh cream. During many long days of experimenting, the heating temperature, cooking time and order of ingredients were all worked on.

The breakthrough finally came from an employee, John Schmalbach. He found the “sweet-spot” combination that Hershey was looking for, yielding “The Hershey Process.” It would form the basis for the company’s production for decades. Hershey Chocolate, although tasting different than Swiss chocolate, was accepted by Americans as the taste for their chocolate. His winning ideas continued with the famous Hershey Kiss in 1907. Milton named them himself for the way in which the chocolate applicator kissed the conveyor belt.

In its first year of operations, the company netted $1 million; five years later, profits topped $2 million. As his wealth grew and new workers were hired, Hershey set about accommodating them properly. He boldly planned to build an entire new town around his chocolate factory. His plan called for “a natural, American town, where right living and well-paid workers lived in safe, happy homes.“

Experience had taught Milton that employees appreciated being treated fairly and worked harder for him. In the town that came to be Hershey, Pennsylvania, he allowed them to live independent of his company. He built parks, churches, schools, stores, trolleys and a fire department. Homes had modern electricity, indoor plumbing and central heating.

He sponsored a nationwide contest to come up with a name for the town. The winner was Hershey, PA, aka “Chocolate Town USA.” Hershey oversaw most every aspect of the town’s construction, from its tree-lined streets to its public transportation and first-rate schools. In 1907, he opened an amusement park (Hershey Park today). In 1915, he built the nation’s largest, free zoo.

Hershey’s greatest philanthropic accomplishment was his orphanage.

At his philanthropical side was his devoted wife, Kitty. Unable to have children of their own, the Hershey’s devoted a great portion of their wealth towards orphaned kids. Hershey deeded 486 acres of farming land to the Hershey Trust Company for the construction of a school for orphaned boys.

Catherine "Kitty" and Milton Hershey, 1910. — **Catherine “Kitty” and Milton Hershey, 1910.**

In 1909, the couple opened the Hershey Industrial School. It became a landing spot for orphaned girls as well, in the 1970’s and is now known as the Milton Hershey School. It surrounded Milton and Kitty Hershey with the children they were never able to have. In 1918, Hershey secretly placed all of his shares of the Hershey Chocolate Company into the Trust.

In 1912, Milton Hershey was in London and almost boarded the RMS Titanic during its fateful maiden voyage. But a last-minute business emergency made him change travel plans. In 1915, a tragedy of a different type struck. Kitty Hershey was hospitalized in Philadelphia with extensive neuropathy in her limbs. When Hershey arrived, his wife smiled weakly and asked for a glass of champagne to lift her spirits. When Milton returned with a bottle, she had already passed. On the day of the funeral, a grieving Hershey gave all his employees the day off.

After Catherine’s unexpected death, Hershey quietly transferred much of his wealth, including his stocks and ownership stake in the Hershey Chocolate Company, to The Hershey Trust, which funds the school to this day. The stock was worth roughly $60 million at the time. In 1919, the Hershey’s Company had earned $58 million ($273 million today).

During World War I, sugar prices skyrocketed, but could not topple Hershey’s chocolate factory. His company ran a deficit and a bank mortgaged the property. Milton Hershey instead decided to increase production and returned Hersheys Chocolate Company to the black by 1921.

During the Great Depression, he launched a risky building campaign to keep townsfolk employed.

More than 600 men worked to build the Hershey Hotel, sports arena, and community theater. All these new sights also created further jobs in maintaining them. In 1935, Hershey gave $20,000 to each of the town’s churches, to help them relieve the hunger of their members. He also established the Hershey Foundation, to support educational and cultural charities. The Foundation created the famous Hershey Gardens in 1942.

He did not reveal the School’s Trust to the public until 1923. “I am 66 years old and do not need much money. I have no heirs, so I decided to make the orphan boys of the U.S. my heirs. The school provides a thorough education, supplemented by instruction in useful trades and a way to make a living.”

Milton Hershey always credited Kitty with the idea for the orphan school. Kitty noted that they now had more money than they could possibly spend in a lifetime and no children. The school also taught the boys to budget and put half of their earnings into a savings account. Upon graduation, Hershey sent them out into the world with $100 cash, a huge amount during the Great Depression.

“I have always worked hard, lived rather simply, and tried to give every man a square deal.” – Milton Hershey.

Jack Kerstetter, one of the thousands who attended the school, described the place as “not one with a white a stone wall around it, but an invisible curtain founded by a man who had an idea and shared his love”.

During World War II, Hershey’s supplied American troops in Europe and the Pacific with more than a billion chocolate bars. He provided special “Ration D” bars and “Tropical bars,” which did not melt in the hot Pacific theater. Parts of the chocolate factory in Hershey were even dedicated to the production of munitions for the war effort.

An introverted and reserved man, Hershey had a demeanor that contrasted greatly with that of the equally wealthy Rockefeller’s and Vanderbilt’s. As he had been forced to leave school early, Hershey was driven to make sure those around him received a solid education. His outward display of wealth was rather modest. His chocolate factory and the community he’d created with Kitty meant everything to him.

Milton Hershey kept busy in his old age.

He continued having business lunches with his managers, keeping close tabs on the company. He made regular appearances at his chocolate factory. On his 80th birthday, 6,000 Hershey’s employees threw him a spectacular party at the ice hockey arena, complete with a 3-foot-tall cake, and all the current and most of the former children from his Hershey School.

**Milton Hershey with one of his orphan school boys. 1940**

Following his Kitty’s death, Hershey never remarried, carrying a picture of her wherever he traveled. Hershey continued to work well into his 80s. Milton Hershey died of a heart attack at age 88 in Hershey on 13 October 1945. He is buried next to his wife and mother. His legacy as a businessman and philanthropist continues to this day. The man often proclaimed, “Business is a matter of human service.” In 1963, $50 million was diverted from the Foundation to create the Milton S. Hershey Medical Center in Hershey, of course.

The Milton Hershey School currently serves about 1,900 students each year, Thanks to his Trust, the school is one of the wealthiest in the world, with about $66 billion in assets. The M.S. Hershey Foundation funds educational and cultural activities across the country. The Hershey Chocolate Company has endured as one of the world’s greatest candy makers.

A new era, without its long-time leader, brought new challenges. Other rival candy giants, Mars and Nestlé, posed new threats to Hershey Chocolate. Even with fierce competition, the Hershey Company rose to the challenge. The company led active development of new candies for the new century and new generations.

The Hershey brand expanded beyond its Kisses and iconic flat chocolate bars with such names as Twizzlers, Icebreakers, Reese’s, Cadbury, Almond Joy, Milk Duds, Mr. Goodbar, and Bubble Yum. Besides becoming the largest chocolate maker on the continent, the Trust continues to run the Hershey Bears hockey team at the arena, the popular Hersheypark, and Hershey Stadium, all situated, of course, in the town of Hershey, PA.

Milton Hershey died with very little personal wealth, mostly the mansion he once shared with his beloved Kitty. Unlike other billionaires, he had given away everything else. “I never could see what happiness a rich man gets from contemplating a life of acquisition only, with a cold and legal distribution of his wealth after he passes away.”

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Heroic WWI Nurse Edith Cavell – shot by German Firing Squad

Edith, Cavell, British Red Cross Nurse during World War I, 1914 — **Edith Cavell, British Red Cross Nurse during World War I, 1914**

Edith Cavell was a pioneering British Red Cross nurse, working in German-occupied Belgium during the World War I. Despite the risks, she secretly helped hundreds of wounded British, French and Belgian soldiers escape from German custody into Holland. She was arrested and executed in October 1915 by a firing squad of German soldiers. Who was this courageous woman you likely never heard of?

Edith Louisa Cavell was born in 1865 in the English village of Swardeston, Norfolk. She was the daughter of a vicar and the eldest of four children. As a child, she raised funds for a new Sunday School room by selling her own artwork. Her favorite pastimes were tennis and dancing, and she once danced till her feet bled in a new pair of shoes. Educated in the UK, Cavell spent five years working as a governess with the Francoise family in Belgium and became fluent in both French and Dutch. She returned home in 1895 to care for her ill father. Nursing her father back to health inspired Cavell to completely change professions and become a nurse instead.

In 1896, she began her nursing training at the Royal London Hospital in Whitechapel. Her instructor remarked that she was not punctual and therefore ‘not a nurse who could be relied upon.’ Edith took it as a challenge and would prove her wrong. She worked in hospitals in Shoreditch, Kings Cross and Manchester before moving back to Belgium. She came close to marriage, but never had a husband or children, devoting herself to her nursing passion instead.

In 1907, she accepted a position in Brussels as Matron in Belgium’s newly established training hospital and nursing school, ‘L’Ecole Belge d’Infirmieres Diplomees’ with Dr. Antoine Depage. There was no established nursing profession in Belgium at the time. Until then, nuns had been responsible for the care of the sick and, however well intentioned, they had no training.

Due to her pioneering work in new nursing techniques, she is considered the founder of modern nursing in that country. By 1910, she had so advanced the nursing profession in Belgium that she began a professional nursing journal, L’infirmiere. In 1911, she was a Training Nurse for three hospitals, 24 schools, and 13 kindergartens. By 1914, she was giving four lectures a week to doctors and nurses alike.

She was in Norfolk on holiday, visiting her mother in 1914, when World War I exploded across Europe. On hearing of the threat to Belgium from the advancing German troops, she felt it was her duty to not run from war but return to Brussels. Over her mother’s protests, she declared, “At a time like this, I am needed now more than ever.”

Edith Cavell headed back to the front line in Belgium.

Cavell worked in hospitals treating all soldiers who needed help, regardless of their nationality. When war was declared on Germany by England in August 1914, Cavell’s training school for nurses in Brussels was taken over by the Red Cross, treating casualties from the trenches on both sides, as well as civilians.

In November, the Germans occupied Brussels and it came under German military law. The Red Cross Journal later reported in November 1915: “Edith Cavell might have saved herself and left Brussels, but she elected to stay at her post. 60 English nurses were sent home. She remained.”

Edith ended up doing far more than nursing. She soon began to work with the Belgian underground intelligence network, La Dame Blanche. They smuggled Allied soldiers into neutral Holland and Edith stepped up to help. Knowing how dangerous this was, Cavell kept her work secret from her fellow nurses. She became part of a network of people who sheltered Allied soldiers, arranging their escape.

**Edith Cavell, center, with her Belgian Red Cross nurses in Brussels, 1914**

In December 1914, La Dame Blanche asked Edith to help two wounded British soldiers trapped behind German lines following the Battle of Mons. She treated the men in her hospital and then arranged to have them successfully smuggled out of Belgium into the neutral Netherlands. She gave one of the men her Bible with a letter to her mother in Norfolk.

Cavell then began harboring other British and French soldiers and smuggling them out of occupied Belgium. She provided them with false papers created by La Dame Blanche. They were then conducted by guides, often to her own house and others who were secretly a part of her cause. The men were then furnished with clothes, money, and led to the Dutch border.

Over the next 11 months, she helped over 200 British, French and Belgian soldiers, sheltering them first in the hospital or her home ,and arranging for guides to shuttle them to the border. She often heard back from the soldiers she helped, thanking her when they arrived safely in Britain.

This was a clear violation of the German military law now in effect in Belgium.

German authorities became increasingly suspicious of Edith Cavell as the source of the missing wounded prisoners. Adding to that suspicion was Cavell’s outspoken opinions about the cruelty of the German occupation. She did not shy away from speaking up publicly in Brussels.

The Germans arrested two members of the escape team on 31 July 1915. Under interrogation, they revealed Edith’s name. She had also been betrayed by a Frenchman, later convicted in French court as a German collaborator. After an investigation, on 5 August 1915, she was arrested by German military police and placed in solitary confinement in St Gilles Prison in Brussels. Edith was charged with harboring enemy Allied soldiers – a crime punishable by death.

She was held in prison for almost 3 months. When German authorities interrogated her, she proudly told truth. She was responsible for harboring and transporting out of the country, 80 British soldiers, 25 French soldiers, and about 100 French and Belgian citizens. Edith was tried at a court martial on 7 October 1915, along with 34 other people involved in or connected to the secret network.

She freely admitting at her trial that she had “successfully conducted allied soldiers to the enemy of the German people,” Edith willingly signed a written statement, confirming her involvement, though never named her co-conspirators. She offered no defense of her actions other than she was simply doing her duty as a nurse.

According to German law, such an offense was punishable by death, a law that also applied to foreigners. Ordinarily, the Geneva Convention protected medical personnel. The German court stated that Cavell’s actions were belligerent and that she had thus forfeited such protection. Most of the 34 were sentenced to hard labor – but not Cavell.

Edith Cavell was found guilty and sentenced to death.

British government officials stated that they were sadly powerless to assist Miss Cavell. There was an international plea for mercy. The United States had not entered the war yet but they did apply diplomatic pressure on Germany, stating that if Germany executed Cavell their already sullied reputation would be irrevocably damaged. The German civil governor was told that, along with the sinking of the Lusitania, the execution of Cavell would cause disgust in the civilized world.

The German civil governor recommended that Cavell be pardoned because of the humanitarian work she did as a nurse. The military governor, however, ordered her execution. The Germans worried that if they gave her lenience, an upsurge of resistance would occur because they would have no fear of retribution.

The night before her execution, she told a British minister, who provided her Holy Communion that, “I expected my sentence. Standing as I do in view of God and Eternity. Patriotism is not enough. I must have no hatred or bitterness to anyone.” These words are inscribed on a statue of Cavell in Trafalgar Square in central London. Edith’s most treasured possessions during her incarceration were the roses sent by her nurses, which she kept in her cell long after they wilted.

Her final words, spoken to a German priest the next day, were “Tell my loved ones that my soul is safe, and that I am glad to die for my country.” Edith Cavell was shot dead by an 8 member firing squad at six paces at the Tir National, the Brussels firing range, at 7 am on 12 October 1915. She was buried in Brussels next to the prison. She was 49 years old. German Private Rimmel is said to have thrown down his rifle when ordered to fire at Nurse Cavell, and to have been shot by a German officer for refusing to obey orders.

Her execution caused outrage in Britain and the United States.

She became a symbol of the Allied cause. Her memory was invoked in recruitment posters and messages in Britain and around the world. News about her death caused British recruiting to double for 8 weeks after her death. Edith’s dying played an important role in further forming American opinion about Germany. The disgust at her treatment eased America’s entry into the war in 1917.

That same year, two British newspapers raised funds in memory of Edith Cavell, dedicated to the creation of six rest homes for nurses around England. Many nurses had also suffered greatly in the war and needed long term care as well.

After the war, her body was exhumed and escorted to Britain. On May 1919, in the Westminster Abbey, a memorial service was held for her. She was laid to rest in Norwich Cathedral, near her birthplace. The Red Cross Journal at the time reported that Edith Cavell was “a brave and patriotic lady, a distinguished member of the nursing profession who had done nothing worthy of death.”

Then Prime Minister Herbert Henry Asquith said: “We cannot at this moment forget, the imperishable story of the last hours of Edith Cavell. Thank God we have examples of all the qualities which have sustained our Empire. Let us be worthy of them.”

Edith Cavell was indeed a brave and patriotic woman who devoted her life to nursing and her country. Perhaps the truest assessment of her would be to recognize her as she saw herself – as simply ‘a nurse who tried to do her duty.’ These values have lived on in her legacy, as she continues to inspire women.

Edith Cavell with her two dogs, Brussels, 1915 — **Edith Cavell with her two dogs. Brussels, 1915**

A memorial statue for Edith Cavell was built near Trafalgar Square for her extraordinary life. The Red Cross remembered her with a bronze medal showing her portraits. On the back it says: 1915 REMEMBER! The Church of England recognizes October 12^th as the day for commemoration of Edith Cavell, patriot and nurse. In 2015, exhibitions took place to mark the 100th anniversary of her death. The Royal Mint created £5 coins featuring her portrait.

As a nurse, Edith Cavell did not shrink from death. “I have seen death so often it is not strange, or fearful to me!” She wrote to her fellow nurses while in prison, “I have told you that devotion will give you real happiness. Your whole duty and a good heart will be your greatest support in the hard moments of life and even in the face of death.”

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The Windscale Nuclear Disaster – Britain’s Chernobyl

**The Windscale Nuclear Facility, England, 1957**

In 1957, in an English seaside town, a new type of disaster occurred when a fire broke out at the Windscale nuclear reactors. The fire, at the two-reactor facility in Cumbria (now Sellafield), was due to poor design and gross mismanagement, leading to deadly consequences. The incident became embroiled in Cold War-era secrecy and proved the desperate lengths the British government was willing to go to become a global nuclear power. All this occurred, decades before Chernobyl or Fukushima.

The origins of the Windscale nuclear fire can be found within the decades long Cold War, specifically the nuclear arms race. Most nuclear projects in Britain and the U.S. were focused on deterring attacks from the Soviet Union, who were also building up their own massive nuclear arsenal.

For the UK, having nuclear bombs was not just about Soviet deterrence; but also about Britain remaining a world power. Following World War II, Britain’s empire and global influence was in steady decline. It needed to prove itself capable of making atomic weapons by itself. It was under these political pressures that construction of the Windscale reactors began.

At the start of the 1950s, Britain built two nuclear reactors, then referred to simply as ‘Piles’, at the Windscale Works in Cumbria on the northwestern coast of England. The reactors were not built to produce electrical power, but rather plutonium-239 for use in nuclear weapons. Each reactor was fueled by 180 metric tons of uranium with 2,000 tons of graphite moderators. In 1952, the British government put the completed Windscale Piles online.

However, several factors had complicated the design and construction process.

The Windscale Piles were planned and constructed far too rapidly. The reactor’s chimneys were partly complete when Sir John Cockcroft, Director of the atomic energy regulator, insisted that radioactive particle filters be added in case of an accident. By then, filters could only be added on top, rather than within the chimneys where they needed to be.

Another issue was that this new nuclear technology was not perfectly understood by the scientists who designed it. The relatively low temperatures at which the Piles were operating caused a build-up of “Wigner Energy,” which could increase temperatures in the reactor if allowed to accumulate. When the engineers finally noticed the problem, their only available solution was to heat the Piles hotter than normal to help release the energy. This process, called ‘Annealing,’ seemed to work.

The reactors were built with an air-cooling, rather than the typical water-cooling, system of most nuclear reactors. This increased the possibility of radioactive air being blown out onto the unsuspecting English countryside. Filters were added at the insistence of John Cockcroft, but at the wrong location on the chimneys.

Other corners were cut to save money and produce plutonium faster than the Piles were capable of safely producing. Windscale was plagued with safety concerns from the start, due to the tight deadlines and time constraints ordered by the British government, who wanted atomic bombs ASAP.

In 1957, the UK faced its worst nuclear power accident in history.

In October, a fire broke out in Windscale’s Pile 1 while it was being routinely “annealed.” When the process was initiated on October 8th, the pile failed to get warm enough to regulate the Wigner energy levels in the graphite moderators. Wigner energy increases because of the displacement of carbon atoms in the graphite lattice. This energy needed to be regularly annealed through the heating process that released the energy.

When the process was tried again the next day, October 9th, the pile became sufficiently hot (uranium temperature of 250 C), but strangely stayed hot. Then as the staff watched in shock, the temperature reading within the Reactor 1 began to rise and rise. It reached an alarming 400 C, the hottest the reactor had ever reached. Air fans failed to cool down the pile.

On October 10th, the site engineers realized in horror what was happening. The interior of the reactor now glowed with heat. A protective aluminum cannister had burst inside Pile 1 allowing the uranium to catch file. Uranium fuel cartridges were now incredibly hot. Engineers discovered flames at the back of Pile 1!

The reactor’s engineers and operators frantically made several different efforts to fight the fire. First, they attempted to knock the burning uranium away manually using long metal poles. Then carbon dioxide was pumped into the pile in an attempt to smother the flames. Neither strategy had an effect.

On October 11th at 9 AM, water was turned on, with the flow increased through the day from an initial flow of 300 gallons per minute, to 800 gal/min, to 1,000 gal/minute by Noon. The water flow continued until the next day, October 12th with no effect. Finally, the engineers closed off the airflow to the reactor and the fire died out. The reactor slowly cooled down to a stable temperature and everyone in the control room breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

Windscale had released radioactive debris into the English atmosphere for four days.

It became the worst accidental release of radioactive materials in British history. Local residents in nearby Nethertown, Gosforth and Seascale were not evacuated or even notified that a facility fire was taking place, There were left in the dark and therefore exposed to radiation. Fortunately, Cockcroft’s filters, nicknamed “Cockcroft’s follies” at the time, had prevented the impact from being far worse.

Following the fire, environmental measurements were taken to determine the spread of radiation. Measurements showed atmospheric dispersion of radioactive materials throughout England, Wales and parts of northern Europe with the highest concentrations to be I-131 and Cs-137. Of the two, the bigger focus was on the I-131 as the most hazardous consequence of the fire.

The most visible action at the time, and the only one the government acknowledged, dealt with milk contamination. Despite fears over the potential cancer risks posed to locals, especially children, the main course of action taken was the destruction of around 250,000 gallons of milk from farms within 300 square miles of the facility.

After radioactive iodine-131 particles were released into the air, they fell onto farmland grasses and were eaten by dairy cows. The milk produced would then contain enough radioactive iodine to raise the risks of thyroid cancer, especially in children who drank it. Further, the government banned sales of milk from within 200 square miles of Windscale, but for only a month.

**Windscale Disaster spread of radiation, 1957**

Other than this, the government insisted the population need not worry. In fact, radioactive particles had spread across the northern UK and eastward over Europe. The disaster would later be rated Level Five on the seven-point International Nuclear Event Scale – the same as the USA’s Three Mile Island disaster.

The British government downplayed the accident. The government’s report on the fire was deemed unpublishable due to the secrecy risk it posed. Harold Macmillan, then UK Prime Minister, mandated that only the summary of the report be published. British nuclear physicist Sir William Penney’s report on the incident was censored and blamed the staff. The pile operators had resorted to shaving down the protective fins of the aluminum cartridges that housed the uranium to increase yield.

The Windscale Piles closed for good.

The members of government, who had ignored safety risks by putting pressure on the factory to produce plutonium faster, were quick to shift blame to the Pile operators. An investigation by Sir Alexander Fleck prompted the 1971 creation of the National Radiological Protection Board (NRPB). The Windscale site, renamed Sellafield in the 1980’s, has continued to host energy generation and waste management since.

Recent reports have concluded that the fire was ultimately caused by the project’s emphasis on speed and output over safety. It was not until the late 1980s, 30 years later, that relevant documents were declassified and made available. In 1990, the director of the UK’s National Radiological Protection Board estimated that the fire had likely caused about 100-240 local deaths from cancer, in addition to countless non-fatal cancers. It was a high price to pay for the Cold War arms race.

For decades, Pile 1 remained sealed away, unused though monitored. In recent years, a slow process of decommissioning has begun including clean-up of the fire’s effects. In 2021, the government announced that it had demolished Pile 1’s infamous chimneys. Spent fuel also needs to be treated and stored. The target date for completing all decommissioning activities at Sellafield is 2040.

It can be argued that 20^th century governments, 75 years ago, believed that the benefits justified the risks. However, in cases like Windscale and later Chernobyl, the politics of the Cold War encouraged governments on either side to take fewer cautions against the public health risks posed by their nuclear projects.

In a post-Chernobyl/Fukushima world, it seems horrifying that governments would have such a careless reaction, but in the 1950s, many countries downplayed or covered up the environmental and health risks posed by their nuclear programs. Both Windscale and Chernobyl were operating with poor designs; pressure for fast results; and with safety risks accepted as a means of rushing timelines and, of course, saving money.

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