By Sam Loyd. White to mate in two moves.
A man was hanged who had cut his throat, but who had been brought back to life. They hanged him for suicide. The doctor had warned them that it was impossible to hang him as the throat would burst open and he would breathe through the aperture. They did not listen to his advice and hanged their man. The wound in the neck immediately opened and the man came back to life again although he was hanged. It took time to convoke the aldermen to decide the question of what was to be done. At length the aldermen assembled and bound up the neck below the wound until he died. O my Mary, what a crazy society and what a stupid civilization.
— Russian exile Nicholas Ogarev, writing to his English mistress Mary Sutherland, 1860, quoted in Alfred Alvarez, The Savage God: A Study of Suicide, 1971
n. a midday rest
William D. Harvey offered this in Omni in 1980 — a mnemonic for spelling mnemonics:
Mnemonics neatly eliminate man’s only nemesis: insufficient cerebral storage.
China and Afghanistan share a border. The Wakhan Corridor, a slender panhandle only 40 miles wide, reaches between Tajikistan and Pakistan to touch Afghanistan’s eastern border.
Because China does not use conventional time zones, that border requires the greatest time change of any international frontier — travelers must reset their watches by 3.5 hours.
If a “dog year” is equivalent to seven human years, then time passes seven times more quickly for dogs than for humans. So in 1990 Rodney Metts invented a novelty watch that reflects this by advancing at seven times normal speed. This is a reminder as much to you as to your pet:
If a dog is kept locked in the basement of a house during an eight or nine hour day, for example, while its owner is away, the elapsed time on the dog watch will be 56 to 63 hours, or approximately two and one-half days. A one-hour ride in an automobile will register seven hours on a dog watch. Thus the value in dog time of a human activity will become quickly apparent.
That’s the actual patent figure. Part 10 is “dog.”
In 1959 pianist Tommy Flanagan was living on 101st Street in Manhattan while John Coltrane lived on 103rd Street. “He came by my apartment with this piece, ‘Giant Steps.’ I guess he thought there was something different about it, because he sat down and played the changes. He said, ‘It’s no problem. I know you can do it, Maestro’ — which is what he called me. ‘If I can play this, you can.'”
If that sounds ominous, it was: The piece marked the culmination of the “Coltrane changes,” a sophisticated scheme of chord substitutions in which the root descends by major thirds, creating a much richer and more demanding harmonic landscape.
“There was no problem just looking at the changes,” Flanagan said. “But I didn’t realize he was going to play it at that tempo! There was no time to shed on it, there was no melody; it was just a set of chords, like we usually get. So we ran it down and we had maybe one take, because he played marvelous on everything. He was ready.”
“It still remains a heck of a document,” remembered drummer Arthur Taylor. “People all around the world look to that, and musicians also; that’s the thing. … John was very serious, like a magician too. He was serious and we just got down to the business at hand.”
We [Einstein and Ernst Straus] had finished the preparation of a paper and were looking for a paper clip. After opening a lot of drawers we finally found one which turned out to be too badly bent for use. So we were looking for a tool to straighten it. Opening a lot more drawers we came upon a whole box of unused paper clips. Einstein immediately started to shape one of them into a tool to straighten the bent one. When asked what he was doing, he said, ‘Once I am set on a goal, it becomes difficult to deflect me.’
— Ernst Straus, “Memoir,” in A.P. French, ed., Einstein: A Centenary Volume, 1979
(Einstein said to an assistant at Princeton that this was the most characteristic anecdote that could be told of him.)
In 1896 a strange wave of airship sightings swept Northern California; the reports of strange lights in the sky created a sensation that would briefly engulf the rest of the country. In this week’s episode of the Futility Closet podcast we’ll examine some of the highlights of this early “UFO” craze, including the mysterious role of a San Francisco attorney who claimed to have the answer to it all.
We’ll also examine the surprising role played by modern art in disguising World War I merchant ships and modern cars, discover unexpected lions in central Illinois and southern England, and present the next Futility Closet Challenge.
Our post about the California airships ran on March 27. Note the similarity between the newspaper illustration of the “great airship” (above) and Scientific American‘s illustration of Moses Cole’s “aerial vessel” (below), which was patented on Nov. 9, 1886.
On Nov. 23, 1896, the Call published an interview (3.74 MB PDF) with San Francisco attorney George D. Collins, in which he described his wealthy client as “a resident of Oroville and a man of wealth, about 47 years of age, and a fine looking fellow. He does not talk for five minutes without convincing his hearer that he is a man of more than ordinary intelligence.”
The promised revelation never occurred, and Collins faded from the spotlight. The airship sensation spread east, sowing hoaxes as it went — here’s a photo of the 36-foot ship that “landed” in Waterloo, Iowa, in April 1897:
As we mentioned, Dalhart, Texas, is closer to six other state capitals than to Texas’ own capital, Austin. That’s true, but according to Wolfram Alpha, Mountain City, Tenn., is closer to seven other state capitals than to its own state capital, Nashville. All are also shorter drives, except for Columbus:
Mountain City, TN to Nashville: 278.6 miles, 332.1 driving
Mountain City, TN to Charleston, WV: 130 miles, 198.4 driving
Mountain City, TN to Columbia, SC: 174.9 miles, 207.5 driving
Mountain City, TN to Raleigh, NC: 182.3 miles, 212.1 driving
Mountain City, TN to Frankfort, KY: 206.2 miles, 280 driving
Mountain City, TN to Atlanta, GA: 238.3 miles, 302 driving
Mountain City, TN to Richmond, VA: 250.4 miles, 321.9 driving
Mountain City, TN to Columbus, OH: 250.8 miles, 358.6 driving
And Ewing, Va., is closer to eight:
Ewing, VA to Richmond, VA: 334.6 miles, 406.1 driving
Ewing, VA to Frankfort, KY: 133.2 miles, 172.7 driving
Ewing, VA to Charleston, WV: 153.9 miles, 219.6 driving
Ewing, VA to Nashville, TN: 189.8 miles, 248.6 driving
Ewing, VA to Atlanta, GA: 206 miles, 282.5 driving
Ewing, VA to Columbia, SC: 226.5 miles, 299.5 driving
Ewing, VA to Columbus, OH: 232.1 miles, 331.8 driving
Ewing, VA to Indianapolis, IN: 262.2 miles, 331.7 driving
Ewing, VA to Raleigh, NC: 273.2 miles, 345 driving
The Cumberland Gap region of Virginia is also closer to Montgomery, Ala., raising its total to nine.
Our post on the “dazzle camouflage” applied to merchant ships during World War I ran on April 1. Ron Hughes sent the following image of a car prototype bearing a vinyl “wrap” bearing a similar pattern:
Our post regarding the lion that attacked the Salisbury mail coach in 1816 ran on Sept. 30, 2012. I’ve published F. Childs’ full poem about the episode in a separate post on this blog. If we learn anything more about “Nellie,” the Illinois lion rumored to be abroad on Robert Allerton’s estate in 1917, I’ll share it in a future podcast.
Futility Closet Challenge: For those looking for more examples of Tom Swifties, the canonical collection is here. Post your original entry below or mail it to email@example.com by Friday, April 11. Our favorite entry will win a copy of our book, Futility Closet: An Idler’s Miscellany of Compendious Amusements.
Our post about Edward Stratemeyer and his novel-writing syndicate ran on Sept. 16, 2011. If you’d like to know more, the best source I know is Diedre Johnson’s Edward Stratemeyer and the Stratemeyer Syndicate (1993). An interesting side note from that book: In the early years librarians regarded Stratemeyer’s series with dismay and worried about their effect on children. In 1914 Franklin K. Mathiews, chief librarian for the Boy Scouts of America, began a campaign against them, writing:
One of the most valuable assets a boy has is his imagination. In proportion as this is nurtured a boy develops initiative and resourcefulness. … Story books … of the viler and cheaper sort, by over stimulation, debauch and vitiate. … As some boys read such books, their imaginations are literally ‘blown out,’ and they go into life as terribly crippled as though by some material explosion they had lost a hand or foot.
Stratemeyer kept right on going. When his books were banned from the Newark Public Library, he wrote, “Personally it does not matter much to me. … Taking them out of the Library has more than tripled the sales in Newark.”
Thanks again to Doug Ross for the music in this episode.
You can listen using the player above, download this episode directly, or subscribe on iTunes or via the RSS feed at http://feedpress.me/futilitycloset. The show notes are on the blog, where you can also enter your submissions in this week’s Challenge. Many thanks to Doug Ross for the music in this episode.
Next week we plan to recount the story of Henry “Box” Brown, a Virginia slave who mailed himself to freedom in 1849. If you have any questions or comments you can reach us at firstname.lastname@example.org. Thanks for listening!