George Washington's Christmas Day decision ...

In December 1776, George Washington’s Continental Army was in bad shape, but that changed a bit for the better on Christmas Day, thanks in large measure to a quick decision he made in the face of an extreme challenge on that very day.

As 1776 neared its end, Washington and his men had been driven out of New York and westward across much of New Jersey by British forces. The American fighting force faced mounting problems as soldiers’ enlistment periods expired, food and supplies were in short supply, and desertions increased. But these desperate times gave birth to one of the key American victories in the war – the crossing of the Delaware and subsequent defeat of British-hired Hessian mercenaries at the Battle of Trenton on December 25, 1776.

As the river-crossing plan was put into play, almost everything went wrong. Preparations for the crossing, to be carried out by American forces at three points along the Delaware, ran hours behind schedule. The weather turned worse, with an strong wind accompanied by sleet and snow. Floating chunks of ice and ice jams threatened the boats, and several inches of water in most of them made the soldiers they carried even colder and wetter. Some men fell overboard, into the icy water.

Under those conditions, only one of the three American crossings – the one that happened to carry Washington – was successful. In despair, Washington came close to calling off the entire operation, and probably would have done so had going back been even more dangerous for his men than pushing on. In his 2006 book Washington's Crossing, historian David Hackett Fischer described the scene:

“On the Jersey shore Washington wrapped himself in his cloak, sat on a wooden box that had once been a beehive, and brooded over the demise of his plan. The operation was now three hours behind schedule. Later he wrote that the delay ‘made me despair of surprising the Town, as I well knew we could not reach it before the day was fairly broke.’ … But desperate as the mission had become, he decided that it might become more difficult to abandon it. Washington wrote, ‘As I was certain there was no making a Retreat without being discovered, and harassed upon repassing the River, I determined to push on at all Events.’”

So in a single moment, one man's simple, on-the-spot decision -- to go or not to go --gave American patriots a badly needed victory, one without which the American Revolution might have fizzled.

When European-Americans Didn't Celebrate Christmas ...

Were America’s early English settlements home to widespread mirth and joy during the Christmas season? Did many of America’s English settlers – especially the most pious groups, such as the Puritans -- have a strong affinity to Christmas celebrations and what they represent?  The answer, perhaps surprisingly, is no. In fact, some of those first people to successfully settle in the New England had a strong aversion to Christmas celebrations, notes historian Stephen Nissenbaum in his book The Battle for Christmas.

“In New England, for the first two centuries of white settlement most people did not celebrate Christmas,” writes Nissenbaum. “In fact, the holiday was systematically suppressed by Puritans during the colonial period and largely ignored by their descendants.  … It was actually illegal to celebrate Christmas in Massachusetts between 1659 and 1681 (the fine was five shillings) … Puritans were fond of saying that if God had intended for the anniversary of the Nativity to be observed, He would surely have  given some indication as to when that anniversary occurred.” Indeed, many scholars report that there is no biblical reference to December 25 as the date of Jesus Christ’s birth.

Nissenbaum also notes, among other interesting details, that Puritans had other reasons for opposing Christmas celebrations, too, based largely on what they had witnessed of those events – “… rowdy public displays of excessive eating and drinking, the mockery of established authority, aggressive begging (often involving the threat of doing harm), and even the invasion of wealthy homes.”

Franklin Roosevelt and Al Capone's car ...

On December 8, 1941 – one day after the Japanese surprise attack on American forces at Pearl Harbor -- U.S. President Franklin Roosevelt was set to make one of the most important speeches of his political career.  He was to address Congress (and millions of Americans via radio broadcasts) from the House Chamber at the U.S. Capitol, noting the “Day of Infamy” and seeking a declaration of war against Japan.

But before he could do that, there was a problem to overcome. Government regulations had prohibited spending more than $750 for a car, even for the president. So on previous trips around Washington, Roosevelt had used a typical, non-bullet proof car. But on this day, when suspicions ran unusually high so soon after the Pearl Harbor attack, the possibility that Japan might have agents in place to try to kill the president couldn’t be easily dismissed. So riding in a standard, off-the-rack-type of car from the White House to the Capitol seemed to be a tremendous risk for the American leader.

Steven M. Gillen’s 2011 book Pearl Harbor: FDR Leads the Nation Into War offers the resolution to the problem. According the Gillen, it went down like this:

   “'Mr. President, I’ve taken the liberty of getting a new car,’” White House Secret Service head Mike Reilly said to Roosevelt after he stepped out of the White House for the trip to the Capitol. “‘It’s armored, I’m afraid it’s a little uncomfortable, and I know it has a dubious reputation.’
   ‘Dubious reputation?’ FDR asked inquisitively.
   ‘Yes sir. It belonged to Al Capone. The Treasury Department had a little trouble with Al, you know, and they got it from him in the subsequent legal complications. I got it from treasury.’
   Roosevelt seemed amused. ‘I hope Al doesn’t mind,’ he said.”

Al Capone was a notorious gangster who was convicted in 1931. Roosevelt continued using Capone’s car for trips into 1942, when it was replaced by a specially designed armored car that the federal government leased from Ford Motor Co. for $500 annually.

The Capone car has been in private hands for many decades, according to a history of the car provided by RM Auction in 2006. Wonder where it is now ...

(The History Insider note: More recent information suggests that this story is false, despite what would seem to be evidence from a solid source here.)

Jefferson, Adams, and Shakespeare's chair ...

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Not long after America won its independence from England, Thomas Jefferson was appointed the U.S. ambassador to France and John Adams was appointed the U.S. ambassador to England. In 1796, Jefferson traveled to England to work with Adams in negotiating commercial treaties with some other countries. As those efforts dragged on, the two Americans decided to take time to tour the English countryside together. Their travels included a visit to Shakespeare’s home at Stratford-on-Avon, as noted in David McCullough’s 2001 book John Adams.

“Told that an old wooden chair in a corner by the chimney was where the bard himself had sat, the two American tourists cut off souvenir chips … ,” McCullough writes. McCullough also reports that Adams himself later wrote, in describing the visit, that the American tourists’ souvenir-taking act was “according to the custom.”  

Despite the continuing damage the chair might have suffered at the hands of like-minded visitors, did it survive? Possibly, if in fact it is the same Shakespeare’s chair sold at auction in London for $223, as noted in the March 25, 1877 edition of The New York Times. Or could it have been another chair, such as this “courting chair”? And what became of the chips that Jefferson and Adams cut? Did they make it back to America?

Janis Joplin writes to her parents ...

The unmistakably voice of blues singer Janis Joplin, so filled with raw emotion, was silenced with her demise from a heroin overdose in 1970. Only 27 at death, the Port Arthur, Texas native – who attended school there with t.v. football commentator and former NFL coach Jimmy Johnson and actor G. W. Bailey – had struggled with substance abuse, particularly alcohol, for years. Her addictions became so threatening in 1966 that her friends in San Francisco, where she lived, successfully encouraged her to return to her hometown in Texas to get a better grip on her life. There, she was able to avoid alcohol and other drugs, entered college, and sometimes went to Austin to perform alone. But soon, the appeal of the life she had led in California became too much, and on one trip to Austin, she continued on to San Francisco, one of many episodes that filled her short life as chronicled in Alice Echols’ book Scars of Sweet Paradise: The Life and Times of Janis Joplin.

Upon arriving in California in mid-1966, Joplin wrote to her parents, in an effort to explain her move to them. Published in the book Letters of the Century: America 1900-1999, edited by Lisa Grunwald and Stephen J. Adler, the letter begins:  “Mother & Dad, With a great deal of trepidation, I bring the news. I’m in San Francisco. Now let me explain – when I got to Austin, I talked to ... who gave me a spiel about my singing w/ a band out here.” And later,“I’m sure you’re both concerned about my self-destructive streak has won out again but I’m really trying. I do plan on coming back to school – unless, I must admit, this turns out to be a good thing.” And in the final paragraph, “I’m awfully sorry to be such a disappointment to you. I understand your fears at my coming here & must admit that I share them, but I really do think there’s an awfully good chance I won’t blow it this time.” ... "And please believe that you can't possibly want for me to be a winner more than I do."

The Scopes "Monkey" Trial ... behind the scenes (Part 3)

The bizarre nature of the Scopes Trial, which was documented so well by Edward J. Larson in his book Summer for the Gods: The Scopes Trial and America's Continuing Debate Over Science and Religion, seemed to follow some of the main participants after the proceedings.

• Only five days after the trial, prosecution team member William Jennings Bryan was in Dayton, Tennessee. He died in his sleep as he napped on a Sunday afternoon, about a year before the Tennessee Supreme Court ruled on the appeal of John Scopes’ conviction. Bryan was 65 at death.
• Defense team member Clarence Darrow retired from full-time practice after the Scopes Trial, but later suffered financial difficulties as a result of the Depression.  Needing money, he came out of retirement in 1932 to defend a group of Anglo-Americans charged with the murder of a Japanese-American in Hawaii’s infamous Massie Trial (see David E. Stanner’s book Honor Killing: How the Infamous "Massie Affair" Transformed Hawai'i), which became national news much in the tradition of the Scopes Trial. Darrow was 80 when he died in 1938.
• John Scopes, the accused, gave up teaching soon after the trial. He then studied geology at the University of Chicago before taking a job with an oil company in Venezuela. He returned to the U.S. years later, working at a Louisiana refinery. He was 70 when he died in 1970.
• George Rappleyea, the businessman who engineered the trial as a publicity/economic development stunt, later became vice president of the boat company that designed and built innovative landing craft that put Allied troops on enemy beaches during World War II. Later, in 1948, he served one year in prison for violating federal firearms laws in an attempt to ship weapons and ammunition to British Honduras. In the early 1950s, he reportedly developed and promoted “Plasmofalt,” a construction material composed of molasses, sand, and plastic, which was featured in Popular Mechanics magazine. Rappleyea was 72 when he died in 1966.

The Scopes "Monkey" Trial ... behind the scenes (Part 2)

The publicity-stunt origins of the Scopes trial continued into the trial itself. People supporting the prosecution succeeded in enlisting three-time presidential candidate and conservative Christian William Jennings Bryant, noted for his oratory skills, as a volunteer member of the prosecution team. In response, nationally recognized defense attorney Clarence Darrow, known for his opposition to government overreach, volunteered to join the defense team. Bryant and Darrow’s participation helped ensure national interest in the trial, which lasted seven days.

The trial was the first in American to be broadcast on the radio, and was filmed for newsreels, to be shown in movie theaters throughout the country. To accommodate these efforts, microphones replaced the jury box, and a cornfield outside of town was cleared for an airfield to for airplanes to pick up newsreel film daily.

The circus nature of the trial probably reached its zenith when Darrow put Jennings on the stand, in an apparent effort to show that Jennings’ literal belief in some biblical stories was irrational. The judge later ordered Jennings’ testimony to be stricken from the record, which in effect then prevented Jennings from putting Darrow on the stand.

Curiously, Darrow wanted a conviction so that the issue could be appealed to a higher court for a test of the entire law in question, rather than just a decision on Scopes’ guilt or innocence.  At the end of the trial, Darrow even asked the jury to convict Scopes for that very reason. Scopes, too, wanted a conviction:  “Scopes had urged … students to testify against him, and coached them in their answers,” wrote Edward J. Larson in his book Summer for the Gods: The Scopes Trial and America's Continuing Debate Over Science and Religion. Indeed, Scopes never testified in the trial, probably because it was less than certain, or at least subject to interpretation, whether he had actually taught evolution in the classroom.

After the trial, the jury couldn’t use the jury room for deliberations because it was filled with newsmen working on their stories. But no matter, because jurors, meeting only about 20 seconds in a hallway, followed Darrow’s request and agreed to a conviction.

Upon appeal to the Tennessee Supreme Court, the conviction was overturned, but only because the judge had imposed Scopes’ $100 fine instead of the jury – and without review of the statute as desired by Darrow, Scopes, and others who disagreed with it.