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Were the Luddites right all along?

**Luddites attack an English mill in 1812**

Today, Luddite is often used as a derogatory term to describe a technophobe, any person who scorns new technology. But its origin dates back over two hundred years to an early 19th-century English labor rebellion. Luddites railed against mechanized manufacturing that threatened the livelihood of skilled craftsmen and artisans during the Industrial Revolution.

The original Luddites were British cotton/wool weavers and textile makers. They objected to the increased use of new mechanized looms and knitting frames to create cloth. After all, they were trained artisans who had spent years honing their craft. They believed the machinery and the lower-paid, unskilled machine workers were robbing them of their livelihood. Sound familiar?

Their argument was not one against all modernization, but with the way that wealthy factory owners were robbing them of their historic way of life. Angry weavers began breaking into factories and smashing textile machines. The disturbances became known as the Luddite Riots.

The movement began with a folk hero-like figure called Ned Ludd.

He was an angry, young apprentice who in 1799 destroyed the new, stocking knitting frames in Leicester. Ironically, its not clear if Ned Ludd ever existed. But much like Robin Hood, he became a folk hero. He also evolved into the legend others would rally behind years later. His name became synonymous with rejecting new technology that disrupted society – an association that lasts to this day.

Fast forward a decade when British worker frustrations finally came to a head. These weavers and textile workers were highly-skilled, middle-class craftsmen. The advent of factories with new machinery also introduced the employment of lower-skilled and poorly-paid laborers.

The momentum of the Industrial Revolution was impossible to halt. As it grew, so did the level of worker discontent. Weavers protested against this new type of market, based on how much profit the rich factory owners could garner, rather than recognizing skilled craftsmanship. New steam-powered mills fueled by Welsh coal threatened their profession and the livelihood of thousands of textile makers.

The craftsmen initially tried negotiating with the owners. This included demands for a minimum wage, labor standards, and taxes for workers’ pensions. While not unreasonable requests in today’s world, wealthy factory owners at the time balked at the very idea.

After receiving no support from their local government, they took matters into their own hands. With their valid concerns ignored, and no unions yet to fall back on, the first riots of machine vandalism occurred in Arnold, Nottingham in 1811. Here is where the name Ned Ludd resurfaced.

Depiction of Ned Ludd leading the Luddites

The rebel workers called themselves Luddites and claimed they were taking orders from “General Ludd” or “King Ludd.” They even issued threats and a manifesto in his name. Luddites used Ned Ludd’s legend to frighten owners and hopefully shock their government into submission.

The rebellion that began in Nottingham quickly spread throughout the countryside, to factories in Yorkshire and Lancashire in 1812, and to Leicestershire and Derbyshire in 1813. They protested against wage reductions for craftsmen and wanted the new power looms causing unemployment removed from factories.

The Luddites met at night in secret at isolated locations to organize their attacks.

They destroyed factory machines and even burnt entire mills to the ground. Luddites demolished or damaged hundreds of machines in the first year. The attackers used long, heavy sledgehammers, axes and in some cases guns when factory guards arrived to shoot protesters. The Luddites were very effective, some of their biggest attacks involved as many as 100 men, and there were relatively few arrests.

Workers sent threatening letters to employers, signed Ned Ludd. When that had no effect, they attacked employers, magistrates, and textile merchants. Parliament realized that the Luddite movement was getting worse by the day. Their first response was the Protection of Stocking Frames Act, which increased penalties for destroying factory equipment. This had little effect. Luddites wanted a ban of all mechanical weaving machines.

Parliament had no intention of doing that. The wealthy factory owners held great sway over London, so the government responded to help owners not workers. Parliament instead moved to quash the uprisings by making machine breaking punishable by DEATH. Seventeen men were arrested and executed the following year.

The Luddite unrest nevertheless escalated and there seemed to be no end in sight. To catch the culprits, owners hired guards to protect the factories and offered rewards for information. Parliament sent 14,000 soldiers into the manufacturing cities and towns. Luddites actually battled with the Redcoats at Burton’s Mill in Greater Manchester. The military also infiltrated the group with spies.

The Luddite rebellion reached its peak in April 1812, when Redcoats gunned down a dozen Luddites during an attack on a mill near Huddersfield in Yorkshire. Several thousand troops rounded up most of the dissidents in the days that followed.

Dozens of Luddite leaders were publicly hanged.

Groups of Luddites were sent around the world to the dreaded Australia penal colony as punishment. The combined harsh response was enough to finally quell the Luddites. By the end of 1813, their activities had dwindled, and by 1814 the group had more or less vanished. The Industrial Revolution had prevailed. By the middle of the nineteenth century, the British woolen industry had completely moved away from hand-production.

It wasn’t until the 20th century that the name Luddite re-entered popular speech as a synonym for “technophobe.” Today, anyone called a Luddite is often considered a technically incompetent or tech-resistant person, or even an entire older generation. Think, ‘I can’t figure out how to use this mobile phone!’ Or, ‘Hand me a piece of paper, I refuse to scan a QR code!’

In 2015, Elon Musk, Bill Gates and Stephen Hawking jointly were nominated for a Luddite Award by the Information Technology & Innovation Foundation. Why? Because at the time, they raised concerns about the future dangers of AI, artificial intelligence. As innovators, they obviously weren’t rejecting tech, but rather presented a cautious view that not every advance is ultimately good for humanity.

Silicon Valley’s “Launch, then Learn” approach towards new tech has come under increasing scrutiny in recent years. But just like the Industrial Revolution of the 19^th century, it has been largely unstoppable either at the corporate or government level. Robotic assembly lines have cost thousands of jobs around the world. AI will soon replace even more jobs in the unceasing demand for higher profits.

In an age of exponential development of robots, augmented reality, self-driving vehicles, CRISPR, and other futuristic tech, maybe a little Luddite “pumping of the breaks” would not be such a bad thing? That is, before we end up with a worse-case scenario of a Terminator-movie like hellscape.

‘Neo-Luddites’ emerged at the beginning of our 21st century.

Neo-Luddites recognized the motivation of the Luddites and relate it to a growing disconnect between tech and impacts on society. They believe that powerful, responsible tech can positively change the future for the better. But they are also leery of the potential dangers of too rapid, “leap before you look” innovation. They worry that technologies being rapidly launched by unchecked corporations are putting our fragile Earth at risk. Like the Luddites or yore, they too are simply trying to protect livelihoods and communities soon to be obsolete and abandoned on the technology roadside.

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Diane de Poitiers, Royal Mistress Extraordinaire

Diane de Poitiers was a remarkable 16th century courtesan, the mistress of French King Henri II. She wielded considerable power and influence at the French court, garnering considerable wealth along the way. All this, despite a royal rivalry between Diane and Henry’s wife, Queen Catherine de Medici. The Queen and Diane loathed each other and competed for the attention of King Henri and his court. When the king died suddenly after a jousting match, Diane quickly lost power, banished instead by the late king’s wife. Who was Diane de Poitiers and how did she manage to maintain such unusual control?

Diane was born in 1499, the daughter of Jean de Poitiers, the Seigneur of St. Vallier. At the young age of only fifteen, she became the second wife of Louis de Brézé, Seneschal of Normandy, thirty-nine years her senior. At the time, he was also supposedly the ugliest man in all of France. Nevertheless, they had two children together.

Diane entered the French court in Paris as a lady-in-waiting to the mother of King Francis I – then later the king’s first and second wives. Young Diane exuded a shimmering, natural beauty rivaling that of Diana, Goddess of the Moon. Praised as “le belle des belles,” Diane was careful of preserving her valuable good looks. She never used make-up, like the other courtiers, applying only cold water on her face and body. Diane went to bed early and took regular exercise outdoors, avoiding excesses of food or wine. She was centuries before her time!

In 1529, the future Henry II and his elder brother Francis returned to France after four years of captivity in Spain. The king asked Diane de Poitiers to be his young son’s tutor. It would be an appointment that changed her life forever. She and the 11-year-old prince developed a strong bond. As Henry grew into a teenager, he fell in deeply love with his beautiful mentor. They fell into a romantic relationship, despite a 19 year gap in their ages.

Diane’s husband died in 1531 and she would wear combinations of black and white mourning colors the rest of her life. She succeeded in having his title passed onto her, rather than be traditionally returned to the king for reappoint. King Francis was impressed with Diane and allowed her to manage all her inherited estates without male supervision. This allowing Diane to be a rare, financially independent 16th century woman.

In 1533, Prince Henri was married to Catherine de Medici at the age of 15.

A year later, Diane formally became one of his mistresses and a permanent fixture in the French court. In 1536, Henri’s older brother and the heir apparent, Francis, died suddenly, making the young prince Henri dauphin of France! Diane de Poitiers found herself mistress of the future king.

Henri and Catherine had yet to conceive a child, and once Henri was heir, this became a serious concern. Talk at court began to center around the possibility that Catherine was barren – a very public humiliation. Catherine had sophisticated taste and knowledge in art from an early age and greatly impressed King Francis. She had grown up in the Medici household and knew fine art, sculpture and painting. That said, her first role was to produce an heir.

Wary of a new bride for Henri (and a new threat), Diane decided to help her rival. The two courtiers formed an unusual truce to ward off attempts to force Henri and Catherine to divorce. His feeling towards her were not as ‘passionate,’ as they were with Diane. So Diane offered the princess advice on how to arouse the prince’s passion from her own experience with him. One can only imagine those awkward conversations. Catherine soon realized that Henri did not have intercourse with her with the same enthusiasm as he did with his mistress.

Diane even eventually offered to “stimulate” the prince before he entered his wife’s bedchamber. It worked and Catherine eventually became pregnant. She gave birth to a baby boy in 1544, named Francis after his grandfather. A year later, a baby girl, Elisabeth, was born. Ten children would eventually fill the royal household, seven reaching adulthood.

Upon the death of Francis in 1547, he became King Henri II of France.

But while Catherine was now queen, she wielded little influence over the king. It was rather Diane’s star that rose higher, eclipsing that of the queen. Diane was made a permanent member of Henri’s privy council. She was given custody of the crown jewels, as well as the Château de Chenonceau (which the queen had coveted). Diane did not exercise her influence in matters of state, but rather matters of court, increasing her wealth and power along the way, as insurance for her own future, and that of her two children.

The deep relationship between King Henri II and Diane de Poitiers has testimonials embedded in the walls of Louvre, the Chateau de Chenonceau, and even military cannons. Henri II created a royal insignia to display his absolute reign over France. At first glance, the symbol appeared to be two interwoven C’s overlapping to form an H. However, on closer inspection, Henri had in fact encrypted two interlaced D’s. The King even went so far as to sign official documents and letters, “HenriDiane.”

Queen Catherine was no longer a naïve princess. She was shrewd enough to develop a deep jealously and resentment of Diane that would last their respective lifetimes. The Queen had a large portrait of herself placed over the fireplace of the mistress’ chamber at the Château de Chenonceau. Nevetheless, Catherine remained in the shadow of Henri and Diane throughout their marriage. The king continued to shower his mistress with gifts, estates and patronage.

Wherever the king and queen were seen, so too was Diane de Poitiers, walking closely behind them. Diane was named in the same rank as the princesses of France. Henri ignored Catherine’s protests that a mistress should hold the same level in court as their daughters. It was another public humiliation for the queen.

The king gave Diane the responsibility of entertaining foreign ambassadors. English ambassador, William Pickering, and Venetian ambassador Lorenzo Contarini, remarked on Diane’s amazing influence at court. ‘She knows everything; and every single day, after dinner, the king spends an hour with her to discuss everything that has happened,’ Contarini commented.

At tournaments, it was Diane’s colors that the king wore while participating, not those of his queen. Diane de Poitiers oversaw the expansion of Chenonceau, adding the famous arched bridge joining the château to opposite bank of the River Cher. She was, quite literally, the love of his life, although the king never had children with his favored maitresse en titre.

When Henri was out of the country on campaigns, he did entrust Catherine with the regency. However, Diane managed to persuade Henri to appoint Chancellor Bertrandi as co-regent, effectively forcing the Queen to answer to him. Catherine would however, eventually get the upper hand on her hated competitor.

The women’s rivalry came to an abrupt end in the summer of 1559.

Henri had just turned 40. He had spent 26 years married to Catherine de Medici; though in love with Diane de Poitiers. In June, Princess Elisabeth, was married to Philip II, King of Spain, at Notre Dame in Paris. The wedding was followed by a celebratory tournament. Catherine had been warned by an astrologer, that Henri would die in a duel in his 40th year! This knowledge made the superstitious Queen Catherine worried as the jousts started – with the king himself participating.

Henri was always eager to single out his mistress and wore her colors of black and white. The king performed well against his first opponent, hitting the Duke of Savoy in the chest and unhorsing him. Their second bout was a draw. Catherine intervened here and pleaded with him to retire. Henri turned to Diane of course, who smiled and encouraged the king to continue. In the next joust, against Gabriel de Montgomery, Henri fell off his horse unhurt. The king insisted on going again, but his luck had sadly run out.

Montgomery’s lance struck the king’s helmet and the crowd gasped in horror. Both women stood from their seats in shock. The king fell from his horse and his squires quickly removed his helmet. They found Henri’s’ face covered in blood. A piece of Gabriel’s splintered lance had pierced Henri’s eye and entered his skull. The mortally wounded king was carried to his chambers and placed in his bed. Diane and Catherine followed, one at either side, both in tears.

Catherine called for a surgeon to attend the king, but the physician told her he could not be saved. The queen then had Diane removed from the room. Henri lived for 10 more days, in excruciating pain, before dying of infection. Henri is said to have called out for Diane numerous times, but the queen would not allow it. Diane de Poitiers’ influence ended with her lover the king’s death. Power now rested in the hands of her rival Queen Catherine, mother and regent to her son Francis II.

Catherine refused to allow Diane to attend his funeral.

On hearing of Henri’s death, Diane knew she was in jeopardy. She quickly wrote to Catherine. She pleaded for ‘pardon for my past offences against your person,’ signing the letter ‘your most obedient and loyal subject.’ Diane returned the crown jewels in her possession in the hope that it would influence the queen. Diane’s downfall, however, was quick. Catherine banished her from court. She allowed Diane to keep some of what she had acquired over the years, except of course, for Château Chenonceau.

Diane retreated to Château Anet, her late husband’s property, where she lived in comfort, though a virtual exile. After seven years, she would die there in 1566, a year after falling from her horse and injuring herself. She was 66. In accordance with her wishes, her daughter Louise had a tomb and funeral chapel built near the castle for her remains.

For a quarter of a century, Diane de Poitiers had wielded more influence as the French king’s mistress than the queen herself. Henri II showered her with his affection, riches, and power – the only woman he truly loved. Doing so, he ignored the humiliations he was heaping upon his unfortunate queen. Not expecting to outlive the much younger king, Diane de Poitiers eventually suffered the consequences of Catherine de Medici’s scorn.

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Podcast: The Bloody Partition of India and Pakistan

After 200 years of British imperial rule, India had finally achieved its independence in 1947. What should have been a moment of joyful triumph turned into a year of unthinkable bloodshed. The independence and partition of India created three separate, independent states: a Hindu India and Muslim West and East Pakistan. It was the final solution of the British Empire. Few realized the violence that the Partition would unleash.

Partition refugees along the Pakistan-India border in 1947

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King Shaka Zulu – the Napoleon of Africa

In the early 1800’s, in what is now KwaZulu-Natal in South Africa, a powerful kingdom arose. Its leader was the cruel yet clever King Shaka. Under his rule, the small Zulu tribe grew and conquered all other tribes in the region. During his reign, more than a hundred chiefdoms were brought together in a unified Zulu kingdom. His bold conquests created a lasting legacy based on ruthlessness and ultimately, his own insanity. Who was this Napoleon of Africa?

Sigidi kaSenzangakhona lived in southeast Africa, a region populated by many independent chiefdoms. Shaka’s birth itself was controversial. Prince Senzangakhona, chief of the then small Zulu tribe, had sex outside marriage with a woman, Nandi. But she was the daughter of a chief from a different tribe, the eLangeni. Engaging in intercourse with members of different tribes was forbidden.

When Nandi announced she was pregnant, Prince Senzangakhona said was just an intestinal beetle, called an iShaka. When the baby was born in 1787, they were banished from her own tribe and sent to the Zulu’s and Prince Senzangakhona. At first, he denied the child was his, but ultimately admitted he was the father; making Nandi his third wife. Shaka spent his early years at his father’s homestead near present day Babanango.

His adopted name “Shaka” was used disparagingly. He was teased and mistreated by Senzangakhona’s other wives, his half-siblings, and the prince himself. Despite being the eldest son of Senzangakhona, the prince announced to the tribe that Shaka would never become prince. That title would go to Shaka’s younger half-brother, Sigujana.

Publicly humiliated, Nandi and Shaka left the Zulu’s and returned to the mother’s tribe. They sought sanctuary in the Mhlathuze Valley of the eLangeni. The pair were not welcomed there either. The shame that still hung over them led the two to be treated harshly. They stayed until 1802, when famine arrived and forced them to leave again.

They took refuge in the mDletsheni tribe of his mother’s aunt, which was ruled over by old King Jobe. Nandi and Shaka were accepted this time, and Shaka became a cattle herder. In 1803, when Shaka was 16 years old, King Jobe died, and his son Dingiswayo became King, who continued to accept them and treat them well.

Under Dingiswayo’s leadership, the tribe became militarized.

Shaka eagerly joined to became one of Dingiswayo’s warriors. Outwardly, he was now imposing, tall and muscular. His skill and daring gave him a natural mastery over the other boys. Inwardly, he wanted shed his shame, give up cattle herding, and instead rise in both rank and power.

When he was 23, the king placed him in the Mthethwa regiment where he finally found his place. He was no longer judged by his bastard birth. Instead, he enjoyed camaraderie with his fellow warriors. On the battlefield, he showed the tribe both his skills and bravery. Shaka became engrossed in learning battle strategy and tactics as well. Rising rapidly in rank, he became one of Dingiswayo’s commanders.

In 1815, Zula King Senzangakhona died and was succeeded by Shaka’s younger half-brother, Sigujana. Shaka asked King Dingiswayo to attack the Zulu so that he could become the rightful chief of the tribe. The king agreed and Shaka returned to the Zulu with a regiment of mDletsheni warriors. The Zulu were far outnumbered. In a bloodless coup, he had his half-brother captured and put to death. Shaka now became chief of the Zulu tribe, but still a vassal of Dingiswayo.

Shaka quickly proved himself a capable chief. The Zulu were still small, but he militarized the tribe and allied himself with many smaller tribes to grow his numbers. As Dingiswayo’s favorite, the king allowed him to carve out a bigger principality, conquering and assimilating his neighboring tribes, including the eLangeni tribe of his childhood.

Within a year, war broke out with the rival Ndwandwe tribe.

During a battle with King Dingiswayo present, Shaka did not arrive in time to offer support. Instead, he purposely arrived after his overlord’s capture. King Dingiswayo was murdered at the hands of King Zwide of the Ndwandwe tribe. This left a convenient power vacuum within the Mthethwa (mDletsheni + Zulu + other tribes). Shaka immediately stepped in as the new King.

Smelling weakness, King Zwide sent his entire army into Zululand. Shaka pretended to retreat his forces, drawing Zwide’s army deep into his own territory. When half the Ndwandwe had crossed the Mhlatuze River, splitting the enemy army in half, Shaka launched his attack. Despite being heavily outnumbered, Shaka’s Zulu army defeated the Ndwandwe.

Shaka then began conquering even more surrounding chiefdoms, adding their forces to his own and building a new Zulu kingdom. During his ten-year reign, his regiments continuously went on expansion campaigns. When a chiefdom submitted, he left the local chief in charge of the subjegated tribe. If a chiefdom resisted, it was either driven off as refugees or destroyed to the last member.

Shaka used the Bull Horn formation to deadly effect. He deployed his Zulu army with flanks (horns) extending from the main formation. Behind them stood ample reserves waiting as reinforcements. In an age when battles consisted of standing in lines and throwing spears at each other, this tactic was both effective and deadly.

Another change Shaka made was his choice of lethal weapon.

The traditional, long-handled assegai spear, thrown from a distance, was not good during hand-to-hand combat. Shaka instead armed his warriors with Iklwas, short-handled, stabbing spears. He trained them to advance on the enemy in close formation with their long cowhide shields forming an impenetrable barrier.

Shaka prohibited sandals. Instead, he toughened his warriors’ feet by making them run barefoot over rough ground, ensuring greater mobility on the battlefield. His war cry was `Victory or Death!’ He kept his men on near continuous military campaigns, earning them the right to wear the isicoco headring of manhood.

Shaka built a Zulu capital on the banks of the Mhodi River in Babanango. He named it KwaBulawayo [at the place of the murder]. As his kingdom grew, the capital grew as well to about 1,400 huts. Shaka’s constant wars were accompanied by great carnage and mass migrations in the region. Some estimate that during his reign Shaka directly or indirectly caused the death of more than one million.

White traders arrived in Port Natal in 1824.

By this time, Shaka had established a powerful monarchy from the Pongola River in the north to beyond the Tugela River in the south. Two Europeans, Englishmen Henry Francis Fynn and Francis Farewell set out to visit Shaka. Henry Fynn would end up spending 9 years living in Shaka’s capital and the two became good friends. Fynn wrote that he found Shaka both an intelligent and agreeable man.

In 1825, King Shaka sent a goodwill delegation to the British Cape government at Port Elizabeth. Shaka bestowed the white traders with favored treatment, gave them land, and allowed a them to build a settlement at Port Natal. However, Shaka also built large barracks nearby at Dukuza, to let them know they should not take too much advantage of his generosity.

In exchange, he wanted knowledge of their technology. Shaka was particularly eager to learn about British warfare. He was also knew the advantages that trade would bring. He was visited by other European representatives who also wished to have peaceful relations with the Zulu. During Shaka’s reign, there were no conflicts between the whites and the Zulu kingdom.

In 1827, Shaka’s beloved mother, Nandi, died.

This triggered the king’s slow descent into insanity. His behavior became erratic and even more violent. He sent his armies out into the Zulu nation to force other tribes to grieve. Shaka had his warriors execute tribes en masse for not “mourning enough.” Cows were killed so that their calves could experience life without a mother. He banned the planting of crops and the use of milk for an entire year.

This bizarre destructive behavior generated great concern within amongst the Zulu kingdom. What was happening to their once great king? Within the political ranks of power, a plot was hatched to kill King Shaka.

While Shaka’s armies were away enforcing the mourning period, his half-brothers Dingane and Mhlangana, along with a trusted bodyguard stabbed him repeatedly with their spears. As Shaka’s life faded, he called out to Dingane: “Brother! You kill me. You think you will rule, but the swallows (whites) will do that.” According to his family, Shaka’s last words were: “Are you stabbing me, kings of the earth? You will come to an end by killing one another.”

**Statue of Shaka Zulu at the Durban Airport**

Shaka Zulu died on September 22, 1828. His body was hastily buried in a near-by grain pit, then filled with mud. As Shaka left no heir, his half-brother Dingane declared himself the new Zulu king. Under Dingane’s rule and subsequent kings, the Zulu’s continued Shaka’s militaristic ways for another half century. It was not to last. They would come into an unavoidable conflict with the expanding British Empire in South Africa.

In 1878, Sir Henry Bartle Frere, without orders to do so, instigated a war by presenting then Zulu king Cetshwayo with an ultimatum. The Zulu army must disband and accept British control. The British suffered a blistering defeat at the Battle of Isandlwana in January 1879. The Zulu army killed more than 1,000 British soldiers in one day.

The defeat prompted Sir Henry to develop a new strategy. Though outnumbered, the British began winning smaller frontier engagements and later larger battles. The war ended in July 1879 at the Battle of Ulundi, the Zulu capital, with the defeat of the African warriors. It ended the Zulu Kingdom built by Shaka half a century earlier.

In 1986, SABC premiered a 10 episode miniseries, entitled Shaka Zulu, starring South African actor Henry Cele in the title role. An aquatic theme park, uShaka Marine World, opened on the Durban ocean front in 2004. In 2010, the King Shaka International Airport was dedicated at Durban in preparation for the 2010 FIFA World Cup.

Like France’s Napoleon, Shaka was a layered, complex leader. He was hailed as a mighty hero by some, and a despicable villain by others. There is no doubt however that he made his mark on South African history and created the foundation for the Zulu nation that still exists in Africa today.

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The Hickory Polio Miracle

Child polio patients at the Hickory Emergency Infantile Paralysis Hospital. 1944 — Child polio patients at the **Hickory Emergency Infantile Paralysis Hospital.** 1944

In the spring on 1944 , World War II was still raging in both Europe and the Pacific. At the same time, another deadly threat was invading the U.S. state of North Carolina – a dreaded polio epidemic. Regional hospitals were quickly maxed out with young, sick children. Desperate parents needed a solution, but what to do? Then, “The Miracle of Hickory” occurred. A small NC town stepped forward and built the Hickory Emergency Infantile Paralysis Hospital in just THREE days.

Although funds came from the National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis (The March of Dimes), it was the people of Hickory that made ‘the Miracle’ possible. The temporary hospital quickly received hundreds of young patients regardless of race or their ability to pay. Polio was feared by both parents and towns alike. At the time, no treatment or vaccine existed. What inspired the people of Hickory to react with compassion and courage, rather than fear, when the epidemic hit?

Polio epidemics in young children were widespread in the 1930s and 1940s. Fear and paranoia spread too as doctors were not sure how the disease was spread or how to treat it. People called it infantile paralysis because it mostly struck young children and infants. Its medical name was poliomyelitis, caused by an insidious poliovirus. It crippled young adults as well, including Franklin Delano Roosevelt before he was U.S. president.

Some children had only flu-like symptoms. A quarter however became partially and often permanently paralyzed. The poliovirus maliciously attacks the spinal cord, resulting in weakened limbs and often paralysis. Doctors applied hot compresses and fitted weak children with metal arm or leg braces. When breathing muscles of the chest became paralyzed, death was likely without an iron lung.

In parents, polio instilled an overwhelming helplessness. Imagine a perfectly healthy child suddenly becoming paralyzed from polio. Scientists did not know how the virus spread. Some thought flies and mosquitos were the culprit. Some believed the virus was airborne. Health officials wondered if it spread in contaminated water (the actual route of transmission).

In 1944, Hickory was just a small town of around 15,000 people.

Many of the young men were overseas, serving in World War II. The Hickory Daily Record (HDR) announced the first case of polio on June 7th 1944. The 17-month-old girl was hospitalized at Charlotte Memorial Hospital. The following day, they reported a four-year-old girl was also hospitalized in Charlotte. Cases 3 and 4 were announced on June 10th and 12th, ten and twelve-year-old boys.

By June 14^th, there were 10 cases in three counties around Hickory. Parents, doctors, and city officials began to fret. Could this be the start of another polio epidemic? Dr. H. C. Whims, the Catawba county public health physician issued a public statement: “Community hysteria does not help. Do not become panic stricken.” The Charlotte hospital reported a total of 14 cases in all.

The counties shuttered all swimming pools, libraries and movie theaters. The State Board of Health warned parents to not send their children to group activities in summer camps, playgrounds, and even Sunday school. People avoid congregating in stores and even in churches, for fear of contracting the dreaded disease. Drivers passing through infected towns rolled up their windows, despite the summer heat, afraid to breathe contaminated air.

Two days later on June 16th, a headline in the HDR proclaimed: “Polio Epidemic Bars Public Places To Tots.” Dr. Whims was quoted: “An epidemic of infantile paralysis definitely exists in Catawba county. Children are prohibited from attending churches, theaters, playgrounds, swimming pools, nurseries, and similar places.” He again pleaded for calm, pointing out that panic benefited no one. He urged parents to not delay in calling their doctor regarding a suspected sick child.

Radio station WHKY begins disseminating information to the parents and public regarding the symptoms to watch for in children. June 19th brought a news report of nine new cases, just over the weekend. The new patients reportedly had been swimming recently OR drunk unprocessed milk from dairy cows OR lived in homes without screens, the windows allowing flies inside. It also mentioned problems brewing at Charlotte Memorial Hospital.

The hospital’s polio wards were full.

Before long, regional hospitals like in Charlotte were overwhelmed and could not take any more patients. Dr. C. H. Crabtree of the National Foundation arrives in the state to consult with local doctors. The Army provides him three large tents for the grounds outside the Charlotte hospital to be staffed by Red Cross nurses.

The Hickory area, the center of the epidemic, has no such hospital. Dr. Crabtree gets directions and drives to Hickory on Thursday, June 22nd. There, he confers with Dr. Gaither Hahn, chairman of the Catawba County Chapter of the Foundation for Infantile Paralysis, and Dr. H.C. Whims. It was a solemn meeting.

The Charlotte hospital – including the new tent wards – was quickly filled to capacity and would be accepting no more patients. They realized that a local hospital was desperately needed. Dr. Hahn had been considering a daunting solution and offered up his proposal. They should commandeer Lake Hickory Health Camp, three miles north of the city, and turn it into a temporary hospital.

It was a 62 acre, wooded, “fresh air” camp where underprivileged kids could enjoy the outdoors. It had just one small, stone building, erected during the Depression. Dr. Whims had authority over the facility, so he could make it happen. The three men unanimously agreed. It would be called the Hickory Emergency Infantile Paralysis Hospital.

March of Dimes poster from the 1940's. — March of Dimes poster from the 1940’s.

Three doctors then divided up what needed to be done next. Dr. Whims would supervise renovating the camp into a hospital, adding Army tents and wooden buildings. Dr. Hahn would be in charge of communication and finding supplies and hospital equipment. Dr. Crabtree would use his March of Dimes contacts to secure operational money and recruit staff from across the country.

Dr. Hahn then called the HDR to get the word out fast. The headline that day read: “New Polio Cases Will Be Treated At Health Camp.” Provisions are being made to use the Catawba County Health Camp as a center for the treatment of new infantile paralysis cases that develop here and in adjoining counties. The Charlotte Memorial Hospital cannot accommodate additional cases.

Dr. Whims then called a team of local architects and laid out the challenge – build a temporary hospital in less than a week. He drove them out to the camp so they could sketch out plans for the new facility on the spot. By mid-afternoon, three local lumber companies began delivering truckloads of free pine lumber. Before the day was finished, local carpenters, electricians, and plumbers had volunteered to join the construction project.

Floodlights were set up so that work could continue through the night.

Radio station WHKY broadcasted a list of needed items: cribs, beds, bedding, blankets, refrigerators, stoves and office furniture. Rationing for the War kept supplies scarce. All of it shows up, along with women volunteers to staff the offices. HDR editorials encouraged public to both accept and join the humanitarian effort, rather than shunning polio victims like other communities did.

Dozens joined the work effort on Friday, June 23rd, even in the rain. The National Guard cleared trees and brush to make room for the new hospital addition. A prison work team dug a trench for a new three-mile water main from Hickory to the new hospital. Inmates from the Raleigh women’s prison would staff the kitchen and laundry. Volunteer electricians from Duke Power Company wired the hospital for electricity.

Friday’s newspaper contained more pleas for assistance. They needed seamstresses to make hospital gowns. Washing machines and electric fans were needed, plus toys for the children. Dr. Hahn wrangled 55 Army hospital beds and mattresses. An iron lung respirator arrived on Friday. Road signs go up in the city, with arrows pointing to the hospital. Hickory folks came to the site to carry supplies, paint walls, and haul away trash.

By late Saturday afternoon, just 54 hours after it was first conceived by the trio of physicians, the Hickory Emergency Infantile Paralysis Hospital was able to admit its first patients. The hospital’s initial nursing staff consisted of just 12 volunteer nurses. It was truly a miraculous accomplishment, dubbed “The Miracle of Hickory” by the national press.

The patients kept coming — in cars, ambulances, even hearses lent by local undertakers. The three organizers make an early, crucial decision – treatment will be for all races with no segregation. The staff does the best they can to treat the disease with braces, flexibility therapy, limb massages, and hot compresses. No garbage or medical waste is allowed to leave the new facility. It is all burned.

By Monday, June 26th, the hospital admitted 16 new patients over the weekend.

With so many quick admissions, Dr. Hahn knew that additional space would soon be needed. Two military hospital tents were sent for and workers had wooden floors completed by the time the tents arrived. The hospital kitchen was not yet functional, so Hickory women stepped up and prepared hundreds of meals from their homes.

An HDR editorial praised: “The fine spirit of commendable cooperation in Hickory. Long rows of donated hospital cots fill the knotty pine wards. Nurses in crisp white uniforms go quickly about their work. The best-trained doctors and nurses the nation has to offer were at work using every weapon known to modern medicine.”

On June 27^th, the iron lung was first used on a 27-year-old man in critical condition, paralyzed from the chest down. One week after the Hickory hospital opened its doors, 45 patients had been admitted. After only a week, staffing of the hospital with volunteers from around the country was nearly complete.

Within weeks, the temporary hospital had a remarkable unit of doctors, nurses, and therapists from cities as far as Chicago, Baltimore and Boston. Many nurses were serving in the war, so student nurses, called the “Angels of Mercy,” were recruited from nursing schools, They were boarded in local Hickory homes for free. The city provided school buses to ferry them back and forth to the hospital.

Hickory Emergency Infantile Paralysis Hospital in Hickory, NC, 1944. — **Hickory Emergency Infantile Paralysis Hospital** in Hickory, NC, 1944.

Not everyone in the county was on board with the effort. Dissenting voices claimed the patients would spread the disease to the community. Hickory would be labeled a “Polio City,” shunned by the rest of the state with businesses suffering. The latter concern was valid. Even with the miraculous hospital, Hickory couldn’t escape being labelled “Polio City” by some.

The March of Dimes instead bragged about Hickory on its posters and in magazines around the country. Though the word “miracle” implies heavenly intervention, the successful effort came about because of an abundance of courage and compassion. The people of Hickory turned a nightmare epidemic into a badge of honor .

Once the center was built, operational funding came primarily from the National Foundation (March of Dimes), founded by Franklin Delano Roosevelt, himself a victim of polio. In July 1944, a reporter and a photographer from LIFE magazine arrived to do a feature story on the emergency hospital. The result was four pages of photographs plus a photo essay in the July 31, 1944 issue.

In March 1945, with the epidemic waning, Hickory transferred its remaining 87 patients to the hospital in Charlotte. They were moved in a mile-long caravan of 12 ambulances and 70 cars. Ranging in age from 1 to 29 years, the patients left reluctantly because of the care and love received in Hickory. After nearly nine months of operation, the Hickory Emergency Infantile Paralysis Hospital closed on March 5, 1945.

Over that time, 663 patients were evaluated; 528 diagnosed with polio, of which 454 were admitted. Only 12 patients died, the lowest percentage of any polio facility in the U.S. at the time. An accurate accounting of the money expended by Hickory to care for the patients is impossible to estimate. Many donations were made spontaneously with no books or receipts kept.

Following World War II, the facilities were used for returning wounded soldiers. Later, the old stone building would become an Army Reserve armery. Polio would rear its head two more times in the Hickory area before a vaccine finally arrived on the scene. Dr. Jonas Salk invented a polio vaccine in 1955. Parents were quick to protect their families with vaccination.

With a large nationwide vaccination campaign, the threat of polio subsided. In 1962, Dr. Albert Sabin introduced the oral vaccine, administered on a sugar cube. Some baby boomers today may remember standing in long line to receive their vaccine, which effectively ended polio in America. Today, a park’s baseball diamonds occupy the land that once held the miracle hospital.

The people of Hickory exhibited both courage and humanitarian compassion during the 1944 polio epidemic. The true miracle is not constructing a new hospital in three just days, but rather how the people of Hickory opened its doors and helped polio victims in need, while others allowed fear and distrust to hinder any response.

Paul Andrews lives in NC and is the author of several historical Books and Novels.

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The Indestructible Soldier – Sir Adrian Carton de Wiart

Portrait of Sir Adrian Carton de Wiart after WWI — Portrait of General Sir Adrian Carton de Wiart after WWI

British war hero Sir Adrian Carton de Wiart survived both the trenches of World War I and PoW camps of World War II. During battles he was shot in the face, losing an eye, and shot through the skull, stomach, groin, ankle and ear. In WW I, he was severely wounded no less than eight times, including losing his left hand to German shrapnel.

Not all British generals were ‘Chateau Generals,’ issuing orders from safety and luxury. Sir Adrian was in the thick of battle with his men. For most, the loss of an eye and hand would be enough to make one leave the military. Not so for Sir Adrian. He also survived two plane crashes, made multiple escape attempts from an Italian POW camp, and broke his back travelling home. In his memoir, it’s clear that Adrian Carton de Wiart lived for battle. Who was this unkillable soldier?

Adrian Ghislain Carton de Wiart was born on May 5th, 1880, to a Belgian aristocratic family in Brussels. Growing up relatively well-off, his parents sent him to boarding school in England. He eventually studied law at Oxford University. Itching for something more adventurous than law books, he shocked his family by boldly dropping out and enrolling in the British Army.

Carton de Wiart was underaged, not a British subject (he was Belgian-Irish) and did not have his father’s consent. That didn’t stop him from his goal. Carton de Wiart pretended to be 25 (he was 20) and signed up under the assumed name of “Trooper Carton.”

In 1899, he got to experience his first taste of war.

He left for South Africa with the 19th Battalion Imperial Yeomanry for the Second Boer War. He was wounded in battle, having been shot in the stomach and groin. This meant a return to England to recover. In his memoir, he recalled his thoughts, “At that moment, I knew once and for all that war was in my blood. If the British didn’t fancy me, I would have offered myself to the Boers.”

Carton de Wiart’s father was furious on his return, but allowed him to remain in the army. Although wounded, Sir Adrian was eager to get back in action. In 1901, he returned to South Africa. This time around he became a British citizen and enlisted under his real name. He served as a second lieutenant with the 4^th Dragoon Guards until the war ended a year later.

In 1907, he returned to Belgium and played the dutiful role of bored aristocrat – shooting fowl, fox hunting, and attending society parties. He was described as ‘a delightful character who must hold the world record for bad language in male company.’ In 1908, he married Countess Friederike Fugger von Babenhausen, the eldest daughter of an Austrian Prince. They would go on to have two daughters together.

At the outbreak of World War I in 1914, Carton de Wiart was serving with the Somaliland Camel Corps, fighting the forces of the Dervish state of the ‘Mad Mullah’ Mohammed Hassan. During an attack on an enemy stronghold, he was shot in the arm and face, losing his left eye and part of his ear. He received the Distinguished Service Order for his exploits.

Lord Ismay, who served alongside Carton de Wiart described the incident: “He didn’t check his stride, but the bullet must have stung him up as his language was awful. The doctor could do nothing for his eye. He must have been in agony.“

While recuperating in England, his doctors gave Carton de Wiart a glass eye.

He despised the thing, but needed one to be declared medically cleared and fit for service. Upon discharge however, he threw it from a taxi window, instead choosing his trademark black eye patch. He soon got his wish to fight on the Western Front when he was sent to Ypres, France in May 1915.

During the Second Battle of Ypres, shrapnel from a heavy German artillery barrage shattered Carton de Wiart’s left hand. When a field doctor refused to amputate two useless, dangling fingers, the Sir Adrian ripped them off himself! Later that year, a surgeon amputated the entire hand.

He returned to England to recover at a nursing hospital in Park Lane. He would return to this same place after each of his many injuries. It became so regular that they even kept his own pajamas ready for his next inevitable visit.

Despite having lost both his left eye and hand, Carton de Wiart once again managed to convince a medical board he was fit for battle. In 1916, at age 36, he took command of the 8th Battalion, Gloucestershire Regiment as a lieutenant-colonel. While commanding them at the Battle of the Somme, he forever cemented his legend.

In the trenches, he inspired awe in his men by pulling grenade pins with his teeth and hurling them at the enemy with his good arm. The eye patch, empty sleeve, tailored moustache and wild bravery made him famous. Men described his mere presence as helping to ease their fears before going ‘over the top’ into No Man’s Land. Carton de Wiart lead his men with the simple words, ‘Follow me men!’

Military historians have labelled Carton de Wiart as reckless.

During fierce fighting, at the village of La Boiselle, three other commanding officers were killed. Carton de Wiart took charge of all 3 units himself, holding off advancing German counterattacks. He received the Victoria Cross for his gallantry at La Boiselle, Britain’s highest honor. In typical fashion, he later declined to even mention the medal in his memoirs saying, “It had been won by the 8th Glosters, for every man had done as much as me.”

Carton de Wiart’s “batman” (personal servant) noted his commanding officer seemed to have a lucky streak during the Somme offensive. “At Devil’s Wood, that’s where the old man got shot through the back of the head. But fortunately, it missed his spinal cord.” He received what would normally be a kill shot— but somehow survived yet again.

During three subsequent battles, he was shot in the ankle, hip, leg, and ear, but soon regained full mobility after convalescing back in England. Despite his losses of various body parts, he said later, “Frankly, I had enjoyed the war.”

After WWI, he led the British effort to aid Poland, which was engaged in multiple conflicts with the Soviet Bolsheviks. In 1920, Cossacks attempted to hijack his train. He took them on single-handedly (pun intended) armed only with a pistol. Carton de Wiart became quite taken with Poland and decided to remain there. He retired as a major-general in 1923 and spent the next 15 years shooting fowl at the Polish estate of a friend.

When World War II broke out, peace was short-lived for the Poles, who were decimated by attacks from both Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union. Carton de Wiart was forced to escape and headed back to Great Britain. There, he re-enlisted once again, stationed in Northern Ireland with the 61^st division.

Back in the fight once again, he was sent to Norway in 1940 to command an Anglo-French force. His seaplane crashed landed on a fjord when it was attacked by a German fighter plane. In true Carton de Wiart style, he refused to get into a lift raft because it would be a sitting duck. Instead, he waited in the wreckage until the enemy plane ran out of ammunition and flew off.

His men were outgunned and undersupplied. Still, his forces managed to traverse mountains and get to Trondheim Fjord, while avoiding German ski troops and being bombarded by the German Luftwaffe. Ultimately, the Royal Navy had to ferry the men out of Norway to safely. Carton de Wiart arrived in Great Britain on his 60th birthday.

In April 1941, Prime Minister Winston Churchill appointed Carton de Wiart to lead a British mission in Yugoslavia. He never got there though. Flying out of Malta, his Wellington bomber was fired upon and took a nosedive into the Mediterranean Sea. He and the British RAF crew took refuge on the wings until the fuselage started to sink beneath them. Adrian Carton de Wiart helped an injured, struggling airman swim the mile to shore.

On coastline, Italian soldiers quickly captured them.

Carton de Wiart was sent to a POW camp in Vincigliata Castle outside Florence. Being a prisoner didn’t slow down Sir Adrian though. He and five other British officers made five escape attempts over the next two years. They escaped in 1943 through a 60 foot tunnel they’d managed to dig through bedrock for seven months. He spent 18 days disguised as an Italian peasant before he was recaptured. Quite a feat given his distinctive appearance and inability to speak Italian. A one-handed man with a black eye patch proved too conspicuous.

The Italians then decided they wanted to switch sides in the war and took Carton de Wiart to Rome to help negotiate with the British-American Allies. Sir Adrian was brought to Lisbon and his release from captivity was ultimately negotiated.

In 1943, he returned to England but was only back a month before given a new assignment. Prime Minister Winston Churchill made him his special military representative to Nationalist Chinese leader Chiang Kai-Shek. Churchill was a firm admirer of Carton de Wiart, describing him as “a model of chivalry and honour,” and later writing the foreword to his autobiography. After the war ended, Carton de Wiart remained in China at this assignment until 1946. There he managed to survive yet another plane crash!

General Sir Adrian Carton de Wiart after WWII

In October 1947, Carton de Wiart officially retired from the British Army with the honorary rank of lieutenant general. Even then, he sustaining yet another serious injury. On his way back to England from China, he stopped off in Rangoon and slipped down a flight of wet stairs, breaking his back and knocking himself unconscious. During his recovery, the doctors removed a huge amount of shrapnel from his war-torn body.

Along with the Victoria Cross, he was presented with the French Croix de Guerre, the Polish Cross of Valour and the British War Medal. Upon receiving the Victoria Cross, the London Times newspaper posted the following notice in 1916. “For the most conspicuous bravery, coolness and determination during severe operations of a prolonged nature. It was owing in a great measure to his dauntless courage and inspiring example. He displayed the utmost energy and courage. His gallantry was inspiring to all.”

In contrast to life in the wars and battlefields, Adrian Carton de Wiart lived a peaceful life following his retirement. His wife died in 1949. Two years later, at the age of 71, he married Ruth Myrtle McKechnie, a divorcee 23 years his junior. They settled at Aghinagh House, Killinardrish, County Cork, Ireland where he finally spent his time relaxing – fishing and hunting daily.

He wrote a memoir with the ironic title, Happy Odyssey, that Churchill himself wrote the foreword for. Not surprisingly, he humbly made no mention of earning the Victoria Cross. Depending on your viewpoint, Adrian Carton de Wiart was either courageous or reckless – the luckiest or unluckiest person to have ever lived. Having proved indestructible on the battlefield over three wars, he died peacefully at his home on June 5th, 1963, at the age of 83.

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Why is Greenland a part of Denmark?

Map of Greenland in the north Atlantic Ocean

Up until 2025, Greenland generally flew below the world’s radar. All that has changed recently. Facts about Greenland are more well known than ever. For example, it is the world’s largest island, but with a population of less than 60,000 – ninety percent Inuits. It is farther north than any other land mass, including Canada and Russia, and one of the coldest places on earth.

Over 80% of Greenland is covered by a polar ice cap. However, climate change has caused its vast glaciers to start melting. The silver lining of sorts is that this has allowed new access to Greenland’s valuable mineral resources. Potential oil, gas and rare earth mineral reserves have attracted international attention, including from the U.S.

Though a part of the North American continent, Greenland has been associated first with Norway, then Denmark since the 9th Century. Its head of state is King Frederik X of Denmark. It is an autonomous Danish territory with self-government and its own parliament. But how did this all come about?

The first humans to set foot in Greenland were NOT the Vikings. Indigenous people arrived about 5,000 years ago from North America (what is today Canada) when the sea froze in the narrow strait at Thule. Six different Inuit tribes migrated over the centuries. Greenland’s native population is descended from the final Thule culture, which arrived in the 9th century.

This final Inuit immigration took place just before the arrival of Viking Erik the Red and his Norseman in 982 AD. He was called Erik the Red due to his flaming red beard and hair. Erik Thorvaldsson was banished from Iceland, sailed west, and ‘discovered’ the island. Erik the Red was both explorer and entrepreneur. He called his discovery “Greenland” to make it more attractive to settlers. He returned in 986 and established two settlements in the south and west.

Greenland became a part of Denmark in 1380 when Norway’s kingdom united under the Danish Crown.

The Norse colonists vanished from Greenland around 1350 for reasons that remain a mystery. It was likely due to the “Little Ice Age.” A volcano on the Indonesian island of Lombok erupted – the most powerful eruption of the last 7,000 years. The dust in the atmosphere caused temperatures around the world to plummet. In Greenland, summer highs would have been just 6°C/11°F , leading to starvation when their crops failed and livestock died. Many of the Norse settlers’ ruins are still visible in South Greenland and the capital of Nuuk.

A Christian missionary, Hans Egede, convinced King Frederick IV of Denmark-Norway to allow an expedition to Greenland. He arrived in Nuuk in 1721 to set up a mission and search for the lost Norse colony. He never found them, but instead managed to convert the Inuits to Christianity. The Inuits managed to survive the Little Ice Age since they relied upon the sea and not crops for their livelihood. As a result, the Inuits of today are now Lutherans.

In 1814, the Kingdom of Denmark-Norway broke apart following the Napoleonic Wars. Thereafter, Greenland formally became a Danish colony. Greenland’s mining history began in 1854 with the discovery of cryolite, a mineral used in aluminum production. At the time, it was the world’s only commercial source of cryolite, producing 3.7 million tons over its lifetime.

In the 1900’s, Denmark introduced sheep farming in the warmer, southern part of the island and commercial whaling started up. During World War I, the U.S. government, under President Woodrow Wilson, recognized Denmark’s right to Greenland. It was part of an agreement where the U.S. acquired the Danish Virgin Islands (today the U.S. Virgin Islands) for $25 million in gold.

During World War II, Denmark was occupied by Nazi Germany, primarily to establish weather stations for the North Atlantic. Working with the Danish government in exile, the U.S. occupied Greenland to defend it against a possible German invasion. The military built Thule Air Base on the upper west coast. Cryolite output peaked during World War II amid increased U.S. and British demand for aluminum to build military aircraft.

After the war in 1946, the Truman administration offered to buy Greenland from Denmark.

It was in order to secure military bases because of “the extreme importance of Greenland to the defense of the United States.” Denmark rejected the sale, but did allow Thule Air Force Base to remain. In 1950, during the Cold War, Denmark signed a long-term lease agreement with the U.S. allowing them to expand Thule Air Base. It grew substantially in the 1950’s as part of NATO’s radar and missile defense strategy. Unfortunately, many Inuit communities lost their land in the expansion.

By 1953, Greenland became an official part of the Kingdom of Denmark. Parliament made amendments to the Danish Constitution and Greenland was no longer considered a colony. Real decision-making power, however, remained with the Danish parliament and the Ministry of Greenland in Copenhagen.

In 1979, demands by Greenlanders to have control over their own affairs lead to the Home Rule Act. This established a Greenlandic parliament and gave them local control over education, health and industries. The legislation was approved by the Danish parliament and ratified by seventy percent of Greenland voters.

Greenlanders voted on another referendum in 2008, granting even more independence. They wanted greater control over their energy resources and made Kalaallisut (Greenlandic) the official language. Greenland became a self-governing country within the Kingdom of Denmark. The Self-Government Act was approved by over 75% of Greenland voters. Denmark, however, still retained control of defense and foreign affairs.

By 2010, Greenland’s ice sheet began shrinking faster than ever due to climate change.

The retreating glaciers exposed more of Greenland’s rugged tundra coastline. The cryolite mine closed after it was depleted in 1987, but other mines now started in its place. In 2013, Greenland ended a 25-year ban on mining radioactive materials, like uranium. This lead to a parallel boom in exports of rare earth minerals, like lithium, neodymium and dysprosium, needed for electric vehicle batteries and magnets.

Viking Norseman Erik the Red discovered Greenland in 982.

That brings us to 2019, when President Donald Trump made his first offer to buy Greenland from Denmark. The Danish Prime Minister rejected the idea, saying, “Greenland is not for sale. Greenland is not Danish. Greenland belongs to Greenland.” A presidential trip to Copenhagen was quickly cancelled and the deal fell through.

Prime Minister Mute Egede took over in 2021 after his Inuit party won parliamentary elections on a platform of halting a rare metals mining for economic and environmental reasons. Greenland also banned all new oil and gas exploration in its territory. Government officials said the “environmental price was simply too high”.

Today Greenland is a modern, autonomous nation, albeit still a formal part of the Kingdom of Denmark. Snowmobiles have replaced dogsleds as the primary form of transportation outside the modern capital of Nuuk. Like the rest of the world, cell phones and WiFi have become the common means of communication for both young and old alike. Thirty-eight year old Inuit PM Mute Egede is a staunch advocate for Greenland’s full independence.

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Podcast: Jamaica’s Port Royal Sank into the Sea

Jamaica’s Port Royal was the richest, busiest, and most nefarious port in the Caribbean Sea, frequented by smugglers, pirates, and prostitutes. All that changed on June 7, 1692 when Port Royal was hit by a massive earthquake, subsequent tsunami, and literally sank into the sea like the legendary Atlantis.

**A depiction of Jamaican Port Royal sinking into the sea in 1692.**

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Podcast: Marguerite Alibert – from Prostitute to Princess

Marguerite Alibert lived many different lives. She had gone from poverty to prostitution to princes – not just one, but two. She was a beautiful yet hard woman who survived the gritty world of Paris poverty, only to mingle among France’s elite. Marguerite viewed sex and love not from a romantic perspective, but as a means to first survive, and later thrive. She managed to transform herself from a prostitute, to a consort, to a defendant in the trial of her husband’s murder. In 1923, Marguerite shot her second husband three times in the back at the Savoy Hotel in London. In the end, Marguerite went down in history as the French prostitute who got away with murder.

Prince Edward, Marguerite Alibert and Fahmy Bey

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The Real Macaronis – Britain’s Scandalous Mens Club

**A young British Macaroni Club member**

There have always been daring trendsetters throughout history, from fops and dandies to our more modern hipsters and fashionistas. The ‘Macaronis’ of 18^th century Britain outdid them all in their extravagant fashion excesses and pretentiousness. These young, male British aristocrats were famous not just for their extremely elaborate (and often effeminate) dress, but for their snobbish attitudes as well.

By greatly over-exaggerating the current European styles, they managed to start their own unique fashion trend. Then came the odd ‘macaroni’ reference in the patriotic song, Yankee Doodle. But the world wasn’t quite ready for the Macaronis. Their reign in society was short-lived and came to an abrupt end. The subculture sadly fell victim to stereotypical caricature and public ridicule.

How did the Macaronis come about, and come to be named for an Italian pasta?

In the mid-1760s, after the Seven Years’ War ended, Europe had reopened its borders to travelers. Young, aristocratic, British men went on their ‘Grand Tour’ to France, Italy and Greece. For the wealthy, still unmarried male traveler there was a whole world waiting to be experienced. Europe offered a Bohemian frenzy of feasts and festivals. Many indulged in Parisian delights, Roman baths, and Mediterranean wines. It was certainly more rewarding than anything available to them in cold, damp England.

When they returned, they began to appear in London dressed in a distinctive, extravagant style, that copied French court dress in particular. Their penchant for the curved, tubular pasta (quite the exotic delicacy back then) earned them the nickname ‘Macaronis.’ The daringly-dressed gentlemen joined Macaroni Clubs; flaunting their self-proclaimed worldliness, sophistication and enlightenment.

To be a Macaroni, it wasn’t enough just to travel abroad. You had to adopt the latest continental fashions – clothes, shoes, hats and fabrics from Paris and Milan. Lace ruffles exploded from their collars and cuffs. They wore brightly embroidered jackets, along with tightly-fitted silk waistcoats, partly unbuttoned to display a chest brooches. Similarly tight velvet breeches, cut to the knee, that allowed them to display fitted, embroidered silk stockings. And finally, red, Spanish leather, heeled shoes with jeweled buckles.

A Macaroni would also follow a vigorous personal regime – rouged lips and cheeks, powdered wigs, bejeweled fingers, and manicured and painted nails – as was the rage in Versailles. For accessories, he might carry a lace parasol, an elaborate cane, or a ribboned dress sword. Other accessories included a nosegay in a jacket’s buttonhole, oversized buttons, and numerous fobs and watches – all hanging on long gold chains.

The most show stopping feature of a Macaroni was his hairpiece.

18^th century upper class men typically wore perukes (curled and powdered wigs). The Macaronis were famous – and later infamous – for their ‘high hair.’ The front part of the wig was brushed up vertically, jutting up to nine inches above their head, with side ringlets of curls and a thick club of hair hanging down the back. Their bejeweled wigs resembled a giant wave of whipped cream with sprinkles. It was often topped with a very small hat called a Nivernois, a sort of French tricorne.

[As an aside, the Macaroni Penguin is so named because of its distinctive, yellow crested head.]

These daringly outrageous, yet exquisitely tailored gentleman became the public image of the Macaroni – somehow part male and part female at the same time. [Keep in mind, women in the 1770’s often wore ‘high hair’ wigs as well, adding tall plumes to increase their height and thereby garner greater attention.] These androgynous peacocks became an 18^th century version of an influencer, strutting their stuff on London’s society catwalks.

At the start of the trend, their clothing was described as luxurious and extravagant. Keep in mind, men’s everyday dress at the time favored darker colors and woolen cloths. In 1764, Sir Horace Walpole explained in a letter to a friend that the Macaronis were ‘a club composed of all the travelled young men who wear long side curls and quizzing-glasses.’ He attributed their ability to wear such expensive fashions to the wealth their families brought back from India. Dress had long been an indicator of social class in England.

Initially seen as odd and belligerently anti-establishment, their distinctive fashion was tolerated at first, then even enjoyed by an amused public. These well-travelled, dainty aristocrats built a distinct image of themselves through their unorthodox dress and snobbish attitudes. The term became so embedded in British society that all things in vogue, were described as ‘very Macaroni.’

William Hickey in 1769 noted the complete transformation of a friend after joining a Macaroni club. ‘Instead of the plain brown cloth suit we had last seen him in with unpowdered hair, we now beheld a furiously powdered and pomatumed head with six curls on each side, a little dish of a hat on top. His coat was of sky blue silk, lined with crimson satin, the waistcoat and breeches also of crimson satin, bedizened with a tawdry spangled lace.’

At the same time, the early 1770’s saw the rapid growth of printed newspapers, magazines and pamphlets. The British public had an insatiable appetite for ridiculing the upper class and the Macaronis were a gift from heaven for caricaturists. Publications capitalized on the young men’s’ outrageous fashions. All relied on heavily sarcastic jokes at the expense of the Macaronis.

The Oxford Magazine, in 1770 stated, “There is indeed a kind of animal, neither male nor female, a thing of the neuter gender, lately started up among us. You may know one by his fragrance of scented waters. It is called a Macaroni. It talks without meaning, it smiles without pleasantry, it eats without appetite, it rides without exercise, it wenches without passion.’

The origins of the name was explained in the Town & Country Magazine in 1772. ‘The Italians are extremely fond of a pasta dish they call macaroni. Our young travelers judged that the title Macaroni was very applicable to a clever fellow. Accordingly they instituted a club which was supposed to set the standards of taste in the fine arts, the genteel sciences; and fashion. But they soon proved, they had very little claim to any distinction, except in their unusual appearance.‘

What began as a poke at aristocratic privilege soon turned more sinister.

Then came the scandal of Captain Robert Jones in 1772. Jones was described as a ‘sensitive’ military man and Macaroni who wrote books on his favorite pastime of ice-skating. There he extolled the virtues of the artistic poses of young males while in motion. A socialite writer, Hester Thrale, claimed the ability to ‘recognize homosexuals’ and made a public allegation against Captain Jones. He was vilified in both the press and public. Jones was found guilty of sodomy, capital offense at the time, and forced to leave the country to avoid a death sentence. He was caricatured in the press as ‘The Military Macaroni.’

**Caricature in the press of a British Macaroni**

Promiscuous behavior was rampant behind the walls of proper Georgian etiquette. One was just not permitted to flaunt it in public. As Macaronis blurred gender boundaries, homosexual implications abounded If a gentleman was proclaimed a Macaroni now, he was not only a showoff of fashion, but a weak, effeminate, unmasculine xenophile. To the lower classes he was a poof or a bugger.

Macaronis were soon reprimanded as ‘unmanly’ and ‘un-English.’ The French influence on their fashion was now deplored. The London Magazine complained that ‘the appearance of a Frenchman … which formerly set every Englishman laughing, is now adopted in this country’, adding ‘who can see, without indignation, a parcel of powdered baboons bowing and scraping to one another.’

One scything description comes from The Macaroni Jester, purporting to be a ‘Journal of a Maccaroni’: Rise at Eleven – survey my sweet Face in the Glass. Breakfast at Twelve. Dressed by Half-past One to saunter to the Park and stare at Women, for the Reputation of having a Taste for them. At Three o’Clock saunter into the City, to show myself to the Brutes who are void of taste. Dine at Four and saunter off to be seen at a Coffee Shoppe. Nine o’Clock – take a Woman to a play and talk louder than the actors. Sup with our own Club at Eleven – drink, swear and invent new Toasts till Three.

In the late 1770s, Britain was also fighting a long war with its American colonies. Consider the famous song “Yankee Doodle” and the lyrics: “Yankee Doodle went to town – A riding on a pony – Stuck a feather in his cap – And called it macaroni.” The familiar tune was actually created by the British to mock Americans. The joke being that colonists were so unruly and unsophisticated, that by sticking a feather in one’s hat, they thought they were fashionable – like a Macaroni.

The joke was on the British as American colonists enthusiastically adopted the song as their own.

The public’s outcry, like the Macaronis themselves, was short-lived. By the 1780’s, due to relentless public ridicule, the young men had begun to abandon the brightly colored and embroidered silks, the explosions of lace, and red high heels. After a tax on hair powder in 1785, the high-hair wigs went out of fashion.

The Macaroni craze was the last explosion of extravagance in British men’s dress. At the beginning of the 1800’s came the arrival of the more somber, pared-down style that set the standard for men’s clothing for decades. Only the Victorian dandy, a toned-down metrosexual version, would later have its day. A hundred years later, the name macaroni would be remembered for the pasta and not the pastiche.

The forgotten Macaronis were born out of The Age of Enlightenment, which encouraged delving into the arts and sciences, challenging religious dogma, and seeking societal tolerance. But 18^th century British society wasn’t yet enlightened enough for any real discussion on LGBTQ or even the acceptance of effeminate, androgynous dress.

Only aristocratic privilege had allowed the upper-class Macaronis to push the envelope in public without incurring the full wrath of the law. It became a brief period of public amusement and a transient fashion-bending moment before the press and public turned on them. In the end, the Macaroni would not be the flagbearer for an 18^th century gay enlightenment.

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