Futility Closet - 171-The Emperor of the United States
Episode Date: September 25, 2017In the 1860s, San Francisco's most popular tourist attraction was not a place but a person: Joshua Norton, an eccentric resident who had declared himself emperor of the United States. Rather than shu...n him, the city took him to its heart, affectionately indulging his foibles for 21 years. In this week's episode of the Futility Closet podcast we'll consider the reign of Norton I and the meaning of madness. We'll also keep time with the Romans and puzzle over some rising temperatures. Intro: Amazon customers have been reviewing a gallon of milk since 2005. G.W. Blake patented a flyswatter pistol in 1919. Sources for our feature on Joshua Norton: William Drury, Norton I: Emperor of the United States, 1986. William M. Kramer, Emperor Norton of San Francisco, 1974. Catherine Caufield, The Emperor of the United States of America and Other Magnificent British Eccentrics, 1981. Benjamin E. Lloyd, Lights and Shades in San Francisco, 1876. Fred Dickey, "Norton I: Ruler of All He Imagined," American History 41:4 (October 2006), 65-66,68,70,6. Robert Ernest Cowan, "Norton I: Emperor of the United States and Protector of Mexico (Joshua A. Norton, 1819-1880)," California Historical Society Quarterly 2:3 (October 1923), 237-245. Eric Lis, "His Majesty's Psychosis: The Case of Emperor Joshua Norton," Academic Psychiatry 39:2 (April 2015), 181–185. Gary Kamiya, "How Emperor Norton Rose to Power," San Francisco Chronicle, April 1, 2017. "Street Characters of San Francisco," Overland Monthly 19:113 (May 1892), 449-459. "Death of an American Emperor," Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper 49:1271 (Feb. 7, 1880), 428-429. "Emperor Norton," Sacramento Daily Record-Union, Jan. 26, 1880, 1. "Collections: The Emperor's Cane," California History 82:2 (2004), 3, 59. Alejandro Lazo and Daniel Huang, "Who Is Emperor Norton? Fans in San Francisco Want to Remember," Wall Street Journal, Aug. 13, 2015. David Warren Ryder, "The Strange Story of Emperor Norton," Saturday Evening Post 218:6 (Aug. 11, 1945), 35-41. Julian Dana, "San Francisco's Fabulous Fools," Prairie Schooner 27:1 (Spring 1953), 45-49. Jed Stevenson, "Notes Issued by the Self-Crowned Emperor of the United States Have Become Collector's Items," New York Times, Dec. 9, 1990, 84. "Death of an Eccentric Californian," New York Times, Jan. 10, 1880, 5. Listener mail: Leonhard Schmitz, "Hora," in William Smith, A Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities, 1875. Wikipedia, "Roman Timekeeping" (accessed Sept. 23, 2017). "A Brief Guide to Roman Timekeeping and the Calendar," World History (accessed Sept. 23, 2017). Wikipedia, "Finger-Counting" (accessed Sept. 23, 2017). Aditya Singhal, "Math Teachers Should Encourage Their Students to Count Using Fingers," Math Blog, July 20, 2016. Nancy Szokan, "Think Counting on Your Fingers Is Dumb? Think Again," Washington Post, July 30, 2016. An Indian 5-year-old doing mental sums. This week's lateral thinking puzzle was contributed by listener Sofia Hauck de Oliveira, who sent this corroborating link (warning -- this spoils the puzzle). You can listen using the player above, download this episode directly, or subscribe on iTunes or Google Play Music or via the RSS feed at http://feedpress.me/futilitycloset. Please consider becoming a patron of Futility Closet -- on our Patreon page you can pledge any amount per episode, and we've set up some rewards to help thank you for your support. You can also make a one-time donation on the Support Us page of the Futility Closet website. Get a free audiobook with a 30-day trial at Audible. Many thanks to Doug Ross for the music in this episode. If you have any questions or comments you can reach us at podcast@futilitycloset.com. Thanks for listening!
Transcript
Discussion (0)
Welcome to the Futility Closet podcast, forgotten stories from the pages of history.
Visit us online to sample more than 9,000 quirky curiosities from milk reviews to a
flyswatter pistol.
This is episode 171.
I'm Greg Ross.
And I'm Sharon Ross.
In the 1860s, San Francisco's most popular tourist attraction was not a place, but a person.
Joshua Norton, an eccentric resident who had declared himself Emperor of the United States.
Rather than shun him, the city took him to its heart, affectionately indulging his foibles for 21 years.
In today's show, we'll consider the reign of Norton I and the meaning of madness.
We'll also keep time with theorton I and the meaning of madness.
We'll also keep time with the Romans and puzzle over some rising temperatures.
Joshua Abraham Norton was born around 1818 in the London district of Deptford and emigrated with his parents to South Africa in 1820 when he was two years old.
He grew up there, and when his
parents died, he set out for Rio de Janeiro and then San Francisco, where he arrived in December
1849. He was an ambitious businessman and a successful one. He opened a cigar factory,
a boarding house, and a rice mill. One contemporary historian says he was, quote,
remembered by the early pioneers as having been a shrewd, safe, and prosperous man,
possessing more than ordinary intelligence, fertile of resource, and enterprising. His accent was English and his
bearing was dignified. By 1852, America had begun to refer to itself as an empire, which Norton found
laughable. He opposed republicanism and admired the English system of government. One acquaintance
said he, quote, insisted that that of the United States was infamously crude and should be
reconstructed. What it wanted was an emperor, and he would add, if I that that of the United States was infamously crude and should be reconstructed.
What it wanted was an emperor, and he would add, if I were emperor of the United States, you would see great changes affected.
Apparently, he wouldn't shut up about this, and his friends started to call him emperor.
His fortunes rose steadily through commodities trading and real estate speculation, and he became a well-respected citizen of the city.
But in December 1852, everything changed.
He tried to corner the market in rice by buying up an incoming shipment, and shortly after he signed the contract, several other
shipments arrived unexpectedly. The price plunged and he was ruined. He declared bankruptcy and
dropped out of sight. He reappeared on September 17, 1859, in, of all places, the offices of the
San Francisco Bulletin. The editor, George K. Fitch, wrote,
This forenoon, a well-dressed and serious-looking man entered our office and quietly left the
following document, which he respectfully requested we would examine and insert in the
bulletin. Promising him to look at it, he politely retired without saying anything further. Here is
the paper. At the peremptory request of a large majority of the citizens of these United States,
I, Joshua Norton, formerly of Algoa Bay, Cape of Good Hope, and now for the past nine years and ten months of San Francisco, California, declare and proclaim myself Emperor
of these United States, and in virtue of the authority thereby in me vested, do hereby order
and direct the representatives of the different states of the Union to assemble in the musical
hall of this city on the first day of February next, then and there to make such alterations in
the existing laws of the Union as may ameliorate the evils under which the country is laboring
and thereby cause confidence to exist both at home and abroad in our stability and integrity.
And it signed Norton I, Emperor of the United States.
He would later add Protector of Mexico to that title.
This was the start of a reign that would last for 21 years,
throughout which he regularly published proclamations in the newspapers.
On October 12th of that year, he issued a decree formally abolishing Congress, and the following month he ordered General
Winfield Scott to proceed with a suitable force and clear the halls of the Capitol.
Two weeks later, he abolished the Supreme Court. Congress and the army, and pretty much everyone,
ignored these orders, but Norton kept going. In 1860, he dissolved the Republic and forbade the
former members of Congress to assemble. In 1862, he ordered the Roman Catholic and Protestant churches to publicly ordain him
emperor, apparently thinking this would help to heal the wounds caused by the Civil War.
In 1869, he abolished the Democratic and Republican parties, quote, being desirous
of allaying the dissensions of party strife now existing within our realm. I should note that a
lot of the proclamations that you see today attributed to him are actually hoaxes that
were published by other people as jokes or as satire. One famous one reads, whoever after due
and proper warning shall be heard to utter the abominable word frisco, which has no linguistic
or other warrant, shall be deemed guilty of a high misdemeanor and shall pay into the imperial
treasury as penalty the sum of $25. There's no strong evidence that Norton wrote that one.
But some of his proclamations were prophetic.
In 1872, he called for a suspension bridge between San Francisco and Oakland via Yerba Buena Island, which at the time was called Goat Island.
61 years later, in 1933, the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge was begun.
He also called for a tunnel connecting San Francisco and Oakland, and the Transbay Tube
was completed in 1969.
That's not bad.
The proclamations made him famous throughout the city
and became a familiar figure there. In 1923, historian Robert Ernest Cowan described him in
the California Historical Society Quarterly. In personal appearance, the emperor was always a
picturesque and striking figure. He was of medium height, heavy set, with hair that was inclined to
curl, heavy eyebrows under a massive forehead, mustache and beard that became a royal personage,
and clear and penetrating eyes. His garb was of naval blue cut and military style and profusely adorned with
brass buttons. The shoulders were surmounted with massive gilt epaulets, sometimes tarnished from
exposure. Someone also gave him a tall beaver hat that he decorated with feathers, and he carried a
walking stick with a snakehead top that was inscribed Norton I, Emperor of the United States
and Protector of Mexico.
His sons carried an umbrella at the same time, and on ceremonial occasions he'd wear a sword.
And he carried out the duties of an emperor. Cowan says he was a constant attendant of churches,
theaters, musical affairs, civic gatherings, and school commencements, as well as a frequent visit of the university. He was fond of children and always gentle and courteous with them, and he
was a member of the Lyceum of Free Culture, where reportedly he participated in debates intelligently and reasonably.
In time, he became the city's most popular tourist attraction. His name and face adorned postcards, dolls, cigars, and lithographs sold by merchants throughout the city.
Plays and operettas were written about him, cartoonists caricatured him, and tradesmen hung signs in their windows boasting that they enjoyed his patronage.
and tradesmen hung signs in their windows boasting that they enjoyed his patronage.
In 1876, Benjamin Lloyd wrote,
During the day he passes the time upon the streets,
traveling from one part of the city to another, without apparent object,
unless it be to see that the policemen are on duty, the sidewalks unobstructed,
and the various city ordinances promptly enforced.
He occasionally calls at the offices or business houses of acquaintances,
stops for a few minutes, talking on general topics, and proceeds on his round,
never calling at one place so often as to render his presence offensive,
nor remaining so long as to be considered a bore.
He is a good conversationalist, and having free access to all the libraries and reading rooms keeps well-posted on current topics.
He will talk readily upon any subject, and his opinions are usually very correct,
except when relating to himself.
He is more familiar with history than the ordinary citizen,
and his scientific knowledge, though sometimes mixed, is considerable. Certainly every big city has its share of
delusional citizens. What makes this story unique is that San Francisco embraced him.
In the city directory for 1862, he was listed as Norton, Joshua, Emperor, dwelling in the
Metropolitan Hotel. Every morning as he left the lodging house, the local flower seller would say,
good morning, your majesty, and pin a leftover carnation to his lapel.
In 1933, journalist Herbert Asbury wrote,
He ate without paying at whatever restaurant, lunchroom, or saloon took his fancy.
After he visited an establishment, the owners were permitted to post a sign,
by appointment to the Emperor Norton I.
Invariably, these appointments brought great business to the saloon or restaurant so graced.
Theater owners allowed him to attend performances as a guest of management. The manager would personally escort
him to his seat, greeted by applause from the audience and a fanfare from the orchestra.
He could travel for free on the city's horse-drawn streetcars and ferryboats. No company wanted to
be known for kicking the city's mascot off its car. He went to church every Sunday and to synagogue
every Saturday. He said, I think it my duty to encourage religion and morality by showing myself at church, and to avoid jealousy, I attend them all in turn.
Then, as now, San Francisco prided itself as an enlightened, progressive city that tolerates and
even celebrates differences. Robert Louis Stevenson, who got to know Norton's story,
wrote, In what other city would a harmless madman have been so fostered and encouraged?
His stepdaughter wrote that Norton, quote, was a gentle and kindly man, and fortunately found himself in the friendliest and most sentimental city in the world, the idea being
let him be emperor if he wants to. San Francisco played the game with him. In fact, in 1867,
an overzealous policeman arrested Norton to commit him to involuntary treatment for a mental
disorder. This was met with outrage among the citizens and scathing editorials in the newspapers.
The police chief, Patrick Crowley, ordered Norton released and issued a formal apology to him,
marking that for an emperor he was exceedingly well-behaved.
He wrote, quote,
It's not clear what diagnosis Norton would get today. People who knew him said that he could
speak knowledgeably and intelligently about almost any subject except whether he was emperor of the
United States, where he would tend to get touchy. If you called him Mr. Norton, he'd remind you he
was emperor and asked to be addressed as such, or as your majesty. Of course, it's dangerous to try
to evaluate someone you haven't examined, but San Diego's psychiatrist Robert Solomon said Norton
doesn't appear to qualify for a diagnosis of schizophrenia,
bipolar disorder, or depression-caused psychosis. He suggested a relatively rare condition called
a delusional disorder of the grandiose type. McGill University psychiatrist Eric Liss agrees.
He writes, he appears to have experienced one firmly held encapsulated delusion that lasted
for decades while his functioning was otherwise arguably unimpaired. Given that Norton's delusional system was embraced by his city,
one might almost call it a folie a vu, which means madness of the city, which is a charming idea that
I want to get your thoughts about. Writing in the journal Academic Psychiatry in 2015, Luce writes,
importantly, we must ask whether Norton merits a diagnosis at all. It could be argued that Norton
and a small number of others with psychiatric symptoms do not merit being given a diagnosis because,
with the support of their community, they are not sufficiently functionally impaired to qualify as
disordered. The idea is that if I think I'm Henry VIII and everyone agrees with me, I may be
delusional, but I'm not suffering. I'm not impaired by that belief. What do you think about that?
Right, yeah. I mean, a lot of times the definition of a mental illness or a mental disorder is that it either causes you significant distress or it impairs your functioning with regards to relationships to others or you being able to carry out your responsibilities or duties.
And it doesn't, neither of those applies here. He wasn't distressed and he wasn't impaired in any way right because everybody was going along with it sort of
humored him in it right but if the town hadn't gone along with it you know and he ended up getting
say belligerent when people wouldn't salute him then you'd have a problem yeah uh of course if
if he'd had a family that was impacted or if the community hadn't supported him or i was thinking
if anyone had set out to victimize him yeah things would certainly be different of course but as it
happens none of those things was the case.
Liz writes, he may represent a case that psychiatrists rarely see, an adequately functioning
individual whose disorder harms no one and generally makes the world a more interesting
place.
Certainly, San Francisco seems to have seen him that way.
Politicians courted him because he was popular with the people.
Newspaper editors published his proclamations because they sold newspapers.
And theater managers gave him free seats because he himself was part of the show,
so they were all sort of winking as they did this, but none of it was malicious. Benjamin Lloyd wrote
in 1876, Norton, quote, is much better cared for than many who labor hard every day for a livelihood.
Thus does his affliction secure him a comfortable living, happy today, without care for the morrow,
and free from all the annoyances that to many render life a burdensome existence. He wasn't even a financial burden on the city. In
his early years, he relied on donations from friends and well-wishers, which he sometimes
referred to as taxes. And in his later years, he engaged a printing company to print what he called
imperial treasury bond certificates that he could sell to people. These were important-looking bonds
that bore an etching of his face, and if you bought one, he would sign it for you.
Ostensibly, when the bonds matured, they could be redeemed for gold coin, but no one ever redeemed them.
Instead, they kept them as souvenirs or pasted them in cafe windows to advertise the imperial patronage.
One person who bought one said, I should have kept that bond.
It would have become a valuable souvenir, but being young and inexperienced, I tore it up and threw it away.
Anyway, he supported himself entirely in his later years through the sale of those bonds. After 21 years of this, on the night of January 8, 1880, Norton collapsed at the corner
of California and DuPont streets on his way to a lecture at the California Academy of Sciences.
A local businessman's association paid for a rosewood casket and arranged a funeral that
some accounts say was attended by 30,000 people. His tombstone reads, Norton I, Emperor of the
United States and Protector of Mexico,
Joshua A. Norton, 1819-1880. At his death, Ambrose Bierce wrote,
In his own opinion, he had a divine right to be maintained at the expense of others, to lead a useless vagabond life like other imperial mendicants, to get money and be
supported like other kings out of a place. And who shall say that the emperor was not right?
Who shall presume to question the sanity of a mind that for 23 years enabled its body to live in luxury and idleness without physical and mental toil?
But the historian Robert Cowan wrote,
Poor, sometimes soiled and shabby, pathetic and philosophic, but always with a noble mind, he bore himself with dignity amid his squalid surroundings with one fixed and unvarying purpose, and that was consistently the welfare of his people.
and that was consistently the welfare of his people.
The heritage of honor and integrity that he had handed down while in his affluence was never squandered nor dissipated,
and so he bore the respect and goodwill of the best of his people to the end.
Since 1974, there's been an annual memorial service at his grave in Colma,
just outside San Francisco.
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We've mentioned decimal time a few times on the podcast, most recently in episode 166.
Omer Hertz, who sent some very helpful pronunciation tips that I hope I'm living up to, wrote,
Hello, hello, futility closet.
You've mentioned that keeping decimal time seems easier and more logical than our current timekeeping system,
and you're probably right.
But I thought I'd cheer you up by telling you that at least we are not forced to keep time the Roman way.
The Romans, you see, divided their days into hours.
Only their hours were not structured as
fixed lengths of time. In fact, the concept of minutes would have been completely alien to them.
Instead, the first hour of day began at dawn, the sixth hour was at noon, and the last hour of the
day lasted till sunset, with the hours themselves being of the same length, more or less. In theory,
one twelfth of the daylight period per hour, though these were not always completely uniform since they didn't use exact minutes. The same is true for the Roman
night. This gives rise to some ridiculous situations. For one, the Romans had elaborate
calendars that would tell you exactly when the sun is expected to rise or set based on observations
made on the same day during previous years, and would tell you how long an hour would actually
last each day. For another, there was a huge fluctuation in you how long an hour would actually last each day.
For another, there was a huge fluctuation in the length of an hour. For example, during the summer solstice, the longest day of the year, the sun would rise, in our terms, around 427 and set around
1933, a total of just over 15 hours, whilst during the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year,
the sun would rise around 733 and set around 1627,
incidentally the exact opposite of the summer solstice, meaning that the day was slightly less than nine hours long.
And yet, in both cases, that period of time was considered to be 12 hours long, according to the Romans.
So for the Romans, how long an hour lasted would depend both on what time of year it was and what latitude you were at,
which makes me wonder how often people maybe got it wrong.
Like maybe you're supposed to meet someone at the 10th hour and you're there and he's not.
And they'd have to use that system to administer a whole giant empire.
Right.
As my understanding is, right, it was pretty complex, yeah?
And they've got this incredibly complicated and detailed...
With elastic hours.
Timekeeping system.
It's amazing that you get anything done.
So this whole topic of Roman timekeeping is of interest to scholars now, not just to try
to understand that culture, but to also properly interpret texts from that time.
For example, there's a text describing the death of Augustus, and it mentions that he
died at the ninth hour.
If you want to understand what time of day it was when Augustus died,
you need to work out what day of the year it was and where exactly he was on the Earth's surface.
After you get that far, you can then use a U.S. Navy calculator
to determine the exact length of daylight for that date and location.
So for the day of Augustus's death, that would have been 13 hours and 38 minutes, which you would then divide by 12 to find that each hour would have been 68
and one-sixth of our minutes. Working that out and adding it to the time of that day's sunrise,
you can then work out roughly what time of day Augustus died.
That's a lot of work.
That is a lot of work. But as complicated as all that was,
what I listed actually simplified one step, that of figuring out the date. The text about Augustus'
death lists the date as on the 14th day before the Calends of September. That's because the Romans
gave a special name to three days of the month, and all the other dates were figured out based
on their relationship to those three dates. The Calends was the first of the month, the Ides was the day on which the moon
was full, and the Nones was nine days before the Ides. So Augustus's death on the 14th day before
the Calends of September puts it at August 19. And thankfully, for this timekeeping method,
we don't have to figure out what the year was, because the usual method for indicating a year
was to give the names of the two consuls elected for that year, which meant that you had to have
a mental list of all the pairs of consuls through Roman history in order to date things,
though sometimes they might date things from how many years it had been since the city of Rome was
founded. So as awkward to use as I find our timekeeping and calendar system, Omer is right
that by comparison to the Romans,
I don't feel like I have anything to complain about.
Omer also said,
Oh, and by the way, before the Emperor Constantine's
and the Roman Empire's adoption of Christianity,
the Roman week also happened to be eight days long.
Thanks, and here's to many more years of interesting tidbits
and stimulating stories.
Okay, I didn't like the timekeeping system at all, but I do like the idea of eight days in a week.
Prime numbers just make lousy base units for things.
And that leads to an email sent by Christopher Gibson, who wrote in about Kristen's email, which I read on episode 166,
with regard to people tending to have a bias toward decimal systems,
where Christian advocated duodecimal systems
since 12 has more factors than 10.
Christopher said,
While listening to your correspondence,
Christian's email on episode 166 say,
Evolution giving us 10 fingers and the rest is history,
I suddenly remembered how my wife counts on her fingers,
a method by which she is able to count to 12 on just one hand. I'll use the description I found on Wikipedia.
The thumb acts as a pointer, touching the three finger bones of each finger in turn,
starting with the outermost bone of the little finger. One hand is used to count numbers up to
12. The other hand is used to display the number of completed base 12s. Her family is from the Gujarat region in India, so I guess this system may be common there.
I can see it being useful when you want to be able to count to higher than 5 on your fingers
when one hand is busy being used to hold something.
So evolution has also given us a way to easily count to 12 too,
which may have some reason to do with why that number crops up in some
of our measuring systems.
Thanks for all the podcasts.
And maybe that is an explanation for why 12 does crop up so often.
12 hours in a day and night, 12 months in a year, 12 inches in a foot, 12 does turn
up a fair amount.
Because you can count it in that way.
Maybe.
That's as good a reason as any.
After reading Christopher's email, I tried to look a little more into finger counting
and came across an interesting post on mathblog.com entitled,
Math Teachers Should Encourage Their Students to Count Using Fingers.
And that argues that a student's use of his or her fingers when learning math
is a helpful visual aid that assists in faster learning.
The Washington Post says of the arguments and evidence laid out
in that article, it's always soothing to be told that something that is actually easier to get your
kids to do is the right thing to do. The Math Blog post also demonstrates several different finger
counting methods, including a method that I had come across and memorized when I was a kid that
turns out to apparently be Korean.
And it lets you count up to 99 using your fingers. You use your left hand to keep track of the tens and your right hand to keep track of the ones. And maybe my learning this method over, instead
of the method that Christopher's wife uses, explains my preference for decimal over duodecimal
systems. I'm now just biased towards base 10. You taught me that system. I use that all the time.
It's actually a very good system,
but like I said, maybe it...
Yeah, I can see that.
...biases us against the duodecimal system.
I don't know.
Maybe we'll start trying to use the 12 one, right?
And we'll get prejudice towards that.
In the post, there is also a supposedly old Chinese method
that allows you to count up to 100,000 on one hand and up to 10 billion using both hands.
So it's not fully explained and looks to me like it might require using much more memory than counting on your fingers usually does.
Also on the page is supposedly a video that shows kids using their fingers as an abacus, allowing them to do complex computations
such as multiplying 10-digit numbers and finding the square root of six-digit numbers, but I
couldn't get the video to play, so we'll just have to take their word for that. I tried to find the
video on YouTube and did find kids using the Korean finger counting method, and that allowed
children as young as five to do addition and subtraction, but no
multiplying 10-digit numbers. So if anyone knows how to do that using your fingers, please do let
us know. You can always write to us at podcast at futilitycloset.com.
It's my turn to try to solve a lateral thinking puzzle.
Greg is going to give me an odd-sounding situation,
and I have to try to figure out what's going on, asking only yes or no questions.
This is from listener Sofia Hauk de Oliveira.
When the Bakerloo line of the London Underground was opened in 1906,
it was advertised as a cool escape from the city on hot days.
Today it is known for being unbearably hot in summer.
How come?
So this is like a subway line that you're talking about?
And so it used to be much cooler in 1906 in this subway line than it is today.
Would you say that's is today. Yes.
Would you say that's all correct?
Yes.
Does this hinge in any way in it being in London?
Yes.
Is that germane?
Yeah.
Oh, it is germane.
Did they used to have some kind of technology operating that is not operating or is operating differently now?
I'm sure they did, but that's not the reason.
That's not the reason.
Does this have anything to do with climate change in London?
No.
Does this have anything to do with something else
that was built or developed nearby?
No.
In the same region?
But you are saying it is connected to it being in London.
And when you say cooler and hotter and all that, you are referring to temperature.
Yeah.
The temperature that people would feel, not, hey, this is really cool.
How cool is that?
That's lateral, right?
And this is a really marked effect.
Difference, yeah.
Tunnels that were 14 degrees Celsius in the 1900s can now have air temperatures as high as 30 degrees on parts of the network.
That's 57 versus 86 in Fahrenheit.
Does this have to do with the fact that they just built more tunnels and this affected other tunnels?
No.
No.
So it has nothing to do with...
Okay.
They built some tunnels in 1906.
Mm-hmm.
Okay. If no other building or development of any kind had occurred in the whole area between 1906 and now, would this effect still be seen?
Yes.
Okay.
Does this have anything to do with the trains that are being run through them?
Yes.
That the trains, because they run on something other than what they used to run on,
like they used to run on, I don't know, coal or steam or whatever they used to run on,
and now they run on electricity or something.
No.
I mean, there's a bunch of factors, but there's one in particular that's quite...
Would you say that it's important for me to figure out what's different about the trains?
Like that's what I should focus on?
No, I won't say that's the solution I'm looking for.
Does it have to do with the number of people using the trains? Surprisingly, I won't say that's the solution I'm looking for. Does it have to do with the number
of people using the train? Surprisingly, no. Okay. Or the fact that there are more trains being run
than there used to be. That's not the main thing. The passengers surprisingly account for only 2%
of the heat. Huh. Okay. And I just assume that they probably are running more trains than they
used to run in 1906, but that's not it either. And so there is something about the trains, but that's not what I need to focus on.
Is it something that they, would you say that there's been some change to either the train lines or the stations or anything that I need to figure out?
Not that it counts for this.
Not that it counts for this.
this would you say it's a natural change something naturally changed uh about geology or the weather or no no uh did this have to do with any specific event or series of events no like connected to
the wars or anything no okay so there's been some change to the tunnels would you say i wouldn't
say there's been some change there hasn't been some change okay would you say that the ambient
temperature in the tunnels is warmer now than it used to be yes yes but you wouldn't say there's
been some change to the tunnels is that what you wouldn't say there's been some change to the tunnels. Is that what you wouldn't say there's been a change to?
There's been a change.
No, yes, that's right.
There's been a change in temperature, but not a change.
In the tunnels.
In the tunnels.
Or this would have happened even if there'd been no change.
Or the whole air circulation system,
change in the air circulation system.
No, again, these things,
I'm sure there've been all kinds of changes to all these things,
but the main factor
is something that stayed the same.
Would you say that the main factor
is something that stayed the same?
Yes.
So the fact that something
didn't change.
Right.
Is it the fact that something
didn't change
and something else did change,
like an interaction
between two things,
or it's just the fact
that something
didn't change?
I'm trying to see where I'm trying to go here.
I'm going to say it's just, the factor I'm looking for is just one thing.
That did not change.
That stayed constant since before 1906.
But somehow it staying constant has caused the temperature to go up.
Yes.
You're actually closer than you think.
Has the temperature gone up steadily?
I actually don't know, but let's say yes.
I mean, does that seem the most plausible,
that the temperature was just going up
and would have continued to go up?
Yeah.
Right, so that in 1926,
it was probably a little warmer than in 1906.
Yes.
Ha, so what?
And this doesn't have anything to do
with like geothermal something or others?
Yes, you're close.
It has something to do
with geothermal something or others?
You mentioned geology before.
Right.
You're on that,
that's the right track.
Something geological
and specific to London.
Yes.
Or specific to this area of England?
It happens in London.
I mean, there are other cities with similar status where this doesn't happen.
Okay, so it's something specific to London.
Okay.
Does this have anything to do with water?
No.
Rock?
Molten rock.
Rock is not far.
The Earth's crust.
I mean, you're almost there.
Does that have anything to do with steam?
No.
I'm further away.
Something to do with the earth, the rocks, the mantle.
Any of those things.
Any of those things.
That's characteristic of London.
That's characteristic of London. That's characteristic of London.
You won't necessarily know what it is I'm looking for, but basically what might...
I see I'm thinking like underground springs, underground geysers.
I'm thinking volcanoes and magma.
And I'm trying to think hot things to do with the earth.
The temperature of the earth's core.
I'll tell you that half of the heat is coming from the brakes
on the trains so it's not that the geology is adding heat to the underground oh is it is it
is it that the trains have to break more because they're going at an incline no okay like the
tracks are you know i don't know no that's a perfect guess. Sinking in some ways
and so it's more of an incline.
So half of
the heat is coming from, are the trains
needing to break more than they used to?
No, let's assume that's been
totally constant since 1906.
But just there's heat in the system.
Close enough that I should just give it to you.
I'm like looking at you with a total
puzzled look on my face it's basically that the composition of the soil under London has a lot
of clay in it and that's a strong insulator oh oh so the heat can't dissipate has nowhere to go
Sophia writes it is a true change in temperature not just a perception problem it's not because
the trains are different or because the city itself got hotter. When the tunnels were first dug, they were quite cool,
as caves tend to be, so the ads were honest. Heat built up in the tunnels over the decades,
mostly from the brakes on the trains, increasing the temperature. The tunnels are now much hotter
than natural, even when trains aren't running. The soil beneath London is mostly clay, which is
great for building strong tunnels, but also a strong insulator trapping the heat in the tunnel.
This, combined with how narrow the old London tunnels are, is why other cities haven't encountered Oh, wow.
Yeah, I probably wouldn't have guessed that, but it makes perfect sense once you explain it.
So it's something that's been a constant. Right, right, right. But all the activity, and particularly the
breaking, is just building up heat that now has nowhere to go. No, like I said, it makes perfect sense
once you explain it, but I don't think I would have thought of it. So it's a good thing you probably gave it to me.
So thank you. Oh, thank you, Sophia. Thank you, Sophia.
Sorry, I forgot your name. I was so busy focusing on the clay.
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