Futility Closet - 259-The Astor Place Riot
Episode Date: August 5, 2019The second-bloodiest riot in the history of New York was touched off by a dispute between two Shakespearean actors. Their supporters started a brawl that killed as many as 30 people and changed the i...nstitution of theater in American society. In this week's episode of the Futility Closet podcast we'll tell the story of the Astor Place riot, "one of the strangest episodes in dramatic history." We'll also fertilize a forest and puzzle over some left-handed light bulbs. Intro: In 1968, mathematician Dietrich Braess found that installing a traffic shortcut can actually lengthen the average journey. What key is "Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds" written in? Sources for our feature on the Astor Place riot: Nigel Cliff, The Shakespeare Riots: Revenge, Drama, and Death in Nineteenth-Century America, 2007. Richard Moody, The Astor Place Riot, 1958. Lawrence Barrett, Edwin Forrest, 1881. Joel Tyler Headley, Pen and Pencil Sketches of the Great Riots, 1873. H.M. Ranney, Account of the Terrific and Fatal Riot at the New-York Astor Place Opera House, 1849. Leo Hershkowitz, "An Anatomy of a Riot: Astor Place Opera House, 1849," New York History 87:3 (Summer 2006), 277-311. Bill Kauffman, "New York's Opera House Brawl," American Enterprise 13:4 (June 2002), 51. M. Alison Kibler, "'Freedom of the Theatre' and 'Practical Censorship': Two Theater Riots in the Early Twentieth Century," OAH Magazine of History 24:2 (April 2010), 15-19. Edgar Scott, "Edwin Forrest, First Star of the American Stage," Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography 84 (1960), 495-497. Adam I.P. Smith, "The Politics of Theatrical Reform in Victorian America," American Nineteenth Century History 13:3, 321-346. Daniel J. Walkowitz, "'The Gangs of New York': The Mean Streets in History," History Workshop Journal 56 (Autumn 2003), 204-209. Gretchen Sween, "Rituals, Riots, Rules, and Rights: The Astor Place Theater Riot of 1849 and the Evolving Limits of Free Speech," Texas Law Review 81:2 (December 2002), 679-713. Michael J. Collins, "'The Rule of Men Entirely Great': Republicanism, Ritual, and Richelieu in Melville's 'The Two Temples,'" Comparative American Studies 10:4 (December 2012), 304-317. Loren Kruger, "Our Theater? Stages in an American Cultural History," American Literary History 8:4 (Winter 1996), 699-714. Dennis Berthold, "Class Acts: The Astor Place Riots and Melville's 'The Two Temples,'" American Literature 71:3 (September 1999), 429-461. Cary M. Mazer, "Shakespearean Scraps," American Literary History 21:2 (Summer 2009), 316-323. Barbara Foley, "From Wall Street to Astor Place: Historicizing Melville's 'Bartleby,'" American Literature 72:1 (March 2000), 87-116. Neil Smith, "Imperial Errantry," Geographical Review 102:4 (October 2012), 553-555. Betsy Golden Kellem, "When New York City Rioted Over Hamlet Being Too British," Smithsonian.com, July 19, 2017. Amanda Foreman, "A Night at the Theater Often Used to Be a Riot," Wall Street Journal, March 20, 2015. Scott McCabe, "At Least 22 Killed in Astor Place Riots," [Washington, D.C.] Examiner, May 10, 2011. Timothy J. Gilfoyle, "A Theatrical Rivalry That Sparked a Riot," Chicago Tribune, April 22, 2007, 14.11. Paul Lieberman, "The Original Star; On His 200th Birthday, America's First 'Celebrity' Actor, Edwin Forrest, Still Has Fans," Los Angeles Times, March 21, 2006, E.1. Michael Grunwald, "Shakespeare in Hate; 150 Years Ago, 23 People Died In a Riot Over 'Macbeth,'" Washington Post, March 28, 1999, G01. Mel Gussow, "Richard A. Moody, 84, American-Theater Expert," New York Times, April 4, 1996. Frank Rich, "War of Hams Where the Stage Is All," New York Times, Jan. 17, 1992. "Theater: When 'Macbeth' Shook the World of Astor Place," New York Times, Jan. 12, 1992. "The Biggest Publicity Coup in the History of the Stage," New York Tribune, May 4, 1913, 4. "Death of an Aged Actress," New York Times, March 17, 1880. J. Brander Matthews, "W.C. Macready," Frank Leslie's Popular Monthly 10 (1880), 97-101. "The Astor Place Riots," New York Times, April 11, 1875. "An Old Story Retold; The Astor Place Riot -- Reminiscences of Macready," New York Times, April 3, 1875. "Dreadful Riot and Bloodshed in New York," British Colonist, May 23, 1849. "Remembering New York City's Opera Riots," Weekend Edition Saturday, National Public Radio, May 13, 2006. Listener mail: M. Ben-David, T.A. Hanley, and D.M. Schell, "Fertilization of Terrestrial Vegetation by Spawning Pacific Salmon: The Role of Flooding and Predator Activity," OIKOS 83 (1998), 47-55. James M. Helfield and Robert J. Naiman, "Effects of Salmon-Derived Nitrogen on Riparian Forest Growth and Implications for Stream Productivity," Ecology 82:9 (2001), 2403-2409. Wikipedia, "Salmon" (accessed July 13, 2019). Paul Clements, "An Irishman's Diary on Football Legend Danny Blanchflower," Irish Times, April 11, 2015. "Danny Blanchflower," Big Red Book (accessed July 13, 2019). Alex Finnis, "Jersey Is Being Terrorised by 100-Strong Gangs of Feral Chickens Waking Up Locals and Chasing Joggers," i, June 18, 2019. "Jersey Residents Annoyed by Feral Chickens," BBC, July 6, 2018. "Channel Islands Residents Cry Foul Over Feral Chickens," Morning Edition, National Public Radio, June 28, 2019. Daniel Avery, "Gang of 100 Feral Chickens Terrorizing Town," Newsweek, July 2, 2019. Will Stewart, "Russian Hermit Cut Off From World Refuses to Leave Despite Rocket Debris Fears," Mirror, June 21, 2019. "Siberian Hermit, 75, Who 'Lives in 18th Century' Refuses to Be Moved by Space Age," Siberian Times, June 21, 2019. A bridge of Königsberg (now Kaliningrad), from listener Alex Baumans: This week's lateral thinking puzzle was devised by Greg. Here are two corroborating links (warning -- these spoil the puzzle). You can listen using the player above, download this episode directly, or subscribe on Google Podcasts, on Apple Podcasts, or via the RSS feed at https://futilitycloset.libsyn.com/rss. Please consider becoming a patron of Futility Closet -- you can choose the amount you want to pledge, 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. 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 10,000 quirky curiosities from a traffic paradox
to a Beatles tonality.
This is episode 259.
I'm Greg Ross.
And I'm Sharon Ross.
The second bloodiest riot in the history of New York was touched off by a dispute between two
Shakespearean actors. Their supporters started a brawl that killed as many as 30 people and
changed the institution of theater in American society. In today's show, we'll tell the story
of the Astor Place Riot, one of the strangest episodes in dramatic history.
We'll also fertilize a forest and puzzle over some left-handed light bulbs.
In the early 19th century, theaters were important gathering places in American democracy.
Before the internet, television, and radio, they were one of the few places in society where people of different origins,
politics, and classes mixed regularly, and where minority voices might hope to be heard over the
elites. So political complaints and social protests were common occurrences. A group with
a grievance would often make it known at the theater, where it could confront its opponents
directly and gain the notice of all the various social groups. What brought these groups together was Shakespeare, who was just as popular in this
vigorous new nation as he was in his homeland. In fact, Shakespeare accounted for nearly a quarter
of American theater performances during the 19th century. Alexis de Tocqueville had found him
in the recesses of the forests of the New World, he wrote, adding, there is hardly a pioneer's hut
that does not contain a few odd volumes of Shakespeare. James Fenimore Cooper called him the great author of America and
declared that Americans had just as good a right to claim him for their countrymen as the English
did. But the Americans adapted him for their own purposes and informed him with their own spirit.
In effect, they made him American. If theater was mass entertainment in those days, its stars were
great celebrities,
and two of them emerged as the undisputed leaders of their field. In Britain, William Charles MacReady practiced the refined, intellectual, nuanced acting of the English tradition. He
refused to compromise his style to appeal to the masses, and so tended to be seen as a conceited
snob. One actress said his artistic vanity and selfishness were unworthy of a gentleman,
and rendered him an
object of dislike and dread to those who were compelled to encounter them. MacReady appreciated
the fine nobility of Shakespeare's drama and hated the compromises that were continually forced on
him. He once told a parliamentary committee investigating the low state of English drama
that an actor's life was, quote, so unrequiting that no person who had the power of doing anything
better would, unless deluded into it, take it up.
He was excoriated for that, but by the mid-1830s, he was largely the king of the English stage.
His counterpart was Edwin Forrest, the first homegrown American star.
Like his country, Forrest was young, brash, unrefined, and energetic.
His performances were stormy, muscular, and sometimes overwrought.
One critic wrote,
if a bull could act, he would act like Forrest. But that style made him immensely popular,
especially with the working classes, who now had an American stage hero to root for rather than a visiting Englishman. In a country that was still searching for an identity, he was helping to show
what America might become. It was inevitable that these two actors would meet and be compared,
particularly as they
began to tour one another's countries. When MacReady went to America in 1825, he'd been
surprised to find a flourishing taste for Shakespeare, and acting was not the degraded
profession he found it in England. Edwin Forrest was making his debut just as he arrived, and
MacReady was impressed with his talent and thought that with careful discipline he might achieve
great things. In 1836, Forrest went to England,
where he was seen as an American star challenging the English on their home ground, and papers on
both sides of the Atlantic made much of it. He was still only 30 years old, but had been the
unchallenged king of American popular culture for nearly a decade and was already the wealthiest
actor in the world. He started uncertainly, but won over the British audiences and received glowing
reviews.
MacReady had been following his progress, and when the two finally met, they became unexpected friends.
MacReady wrote in his diary, liked him much, and he invited him to his house,
though he could not help feeling a bit jealous of the reviews praising Forrest's talent.
When MacReady came to New York in September 1843, the two renewed their friendship.
But on this visit, MacReady found his crowds waning, and when he watched Forrest perform King Lear, he was shocked at his poor understanding of Shakespeare. He would have been surprised to learn that Forrest felt the same about him.
The two nations were settling into different styles, and increasingly their two heroes were
acting in competition. But on the surface, MacReady and Forrest were still friendly,
and MacReady returned to England thinking his visit had been a success.
surface, MacReady and Forrest were still friendly, and MacReady returned to England thinking his visit had been a success. But by January 1845, the gap had widened impossibly, and Forrest arrived
in Liverpool to find himself hissed by the British audience, the first defeat of his professional
life. In his diary, MacReady said he was truly sorry for him without wishing him great success.
The two were still civil in public, but privately Forrest was increasingly angry. He was certain he
was the greatest actor in the world, and his vanity needed a scapegoat.
He decided that MacReady had orchestrated the opposition to him among the public and the press.
It all fell apart on March 1, 1846.
MacReady was performing Hamlet in Edinburgh, and Forrest, in the audience, stood up and hissed.
Once again, it came down to a difference in styles of acting.
MacReady had made an effete dance with a handkerchief that Forrest felt had degraded the play.
The papers denounced Forrest, who unwisely chose to defend himself rather than let it blow over.
And MacReady was furious. He wrote, I do not think that such an action has its parallel in all
theatrical history. The low-minded ruffian, that man would commit a murder if he dare.
That was the end of their friendship, and, strange to say, that hiss would lead to the second bloodiest riot in New York history.
Forrest went home in August bearing a grudge against England, and his country supported him as a matter of patriotism.
When McCready came to America in 1848, he found that opposition was being organized against him.
He was well-received in New York and Boston, but in Philadelphia, the crowd threw pennies and eggs. McCready wrote a notice defending himself and hired 10 police officers to stand
backstage, but this only stiffened the public resolve against him. He was mortified to be
swept up in all this. He'd actually planned to settle in the United States, but the controversy
kept growing hotter. In Cincinnati, someone threw the raw carcass of half a sheep on stage during
his performance of Hamlet.
The papers fanned the flames, and a crisis seemed inevitable. On April 23rd, Shakespeare's birthday,
Edwin Forrest began an engagement at the Broadway Theater in New York. By a terrible coincidence,
MacReady arrived two days later to take up an engagement at the Astor Place Theater nearby.
To be sure, this dispute had a symbolic significance as well. It came to represent conflicts that had nothing to do with theater. Britain and the United States had been feuding
for years over borders, debt, and slavery, and America was struggling with many of the same
internal tensions then that it does now, pitting native-born citizens against immigrants, rich
against poor, and the aristocracy against the people. Anyone who was angry about any of these
issues could find a hero and a villain in the dispute between MacReady and Forrest, and these strong emotions began to mount.
And I think, too, from what I've read, that these men were so famous that they sort of became the
public face of their nations. When MacReady came over here, he sort of represented England to the
audiences he was performing for. So however Americans felt about England in general was
directed towards him? Yeah. I mean, they were, from what I understand, as popular then as sports teams are now and sort
of inspired the same sort of rivalry. Yeah. And I don't think they necessarily wanted that,
but it sort of followed them around. If you were going to build a powder keg,
you'd build the Astor Place Theater. It had opened 18 months earlier in the wealthy neighborhood of
Broadway, but near the working class Bowery, where Edwin Forrest had made his start. The wealthy had built the theater,
deliberately to avoid having to mix with the working classes. The general admission audience
was sent to the balcony, and the subscribers sat below in upholstered seats. One Upper Crust editor
described the theater as, quote, a refined attraction which the ill-mannered would not
be likely to frequent, and around which the higher classes might gather.
With its high prices and aristocratic trappings,
the venue was sometimes called the Opera House,
and Edwin Forrest's supporters saw it as an insult,
both to themselves and to the traditional notion of the theater
as a gathering place for all segments of society.
So they resolved to do something about it.
They bought up books of theater tickets so that troublemakers could get into the play,
and when McCready appeared on stage, he was met with a barrage of catcalls,
crones, pennies, apples, shoes, potatoes, and lemons. In the balcony, a banner was held up
that read, You have been proved liar, and a separate placard read, No apologies, it is too
late. McCready's supporters, who outnumbered the protesters, stood up and started calling,
Shame. A rotten egg landed at McCready's feet, and he walked forward to speak. He said, I feel pain and shame, which the intelligent
and respectable must feel for their country's reputation, and I would instantly resign my
engagement rather than encounter such disgraceful conduct. But no one heard him. After a quarter of
an hour of cacophony, he ordered the other actors to go on, and they put on a hurried pantomime
Macbeth amid all the shouting just to get through it. They did this under a continual barrage of refuse. The crowd gave three
cheers for Edwin Forrest and then three cheers for MacReady. No one could hear the actors who
expressed their sympathy to MacReady backstage between scenes. It didn't get better. At the start
of the third act, Forrest's supporters started tearing up seats and throwing them at the stage.
One landed two feet from MacReady. He carried on, but another seat crashed into the orchestra and the musicians dropped their
instruments and ran. MacReady supporters urged him to continue, but Forrest shouted,
down with the English hog, take off the Devonshire bull, huzzah for native talent.
MacReady bowed one last time to the crowd, walked to the stage manager's stall, said,
I think I have quite fulfilled my obligation,
and went below to change. The curtain fell. The next day, McCready booked his passage home on a
steamship, but Washington Irving arrived to present him with a letter signed by 48 of New York's
leading citizens, including Herman Melville. Irving said it was being delivered to every
newspaper in town. It read, the undersigned take this public method of requesting you to reconsider
your decision and of assuring you that the good sense and respect for order prevailing in this community will sustain you on the subsequent nights of your performances.
MacReady considered and agreed to play Macbeth one more time.
So now the lines were drawn for a final battle.
Forrest's supporters posted handbills that read, The time has come to decide whether English aristocrats shall triumph in this America's metropolis, and asking, shall Americans or English rule this city?
The mayor, Caleb Woodhull, feared a full-scale insurrection
and mustered the 7th Regiment of the New York State Militia.
By 6 p.m., 325 policemen were at the theater, with 200 stationed inside.
By 7 p.m., the streets leading to the theater were jammed with young men.
When the doors opened, they rushed inside, but most of them were pushed out again because they didn't have the appropriate
tickets. One man shouted, I paid for a ticket and they wouldn't let me in because I hadn't kid
gloves and a white vest, damn them. When the ticket holders had been let in, the doors were barred and
the police took up positions in front. The crowd kept growing and by eight o'clock, 10 to 20,000
people filled the streets around the theater. On the stage, McCready went on confidently, but there was enough fist-shaking, hissing, and abuse
that the performance quickly turned into a travesty, like Mondays.
But the organizers were better prepared this time.
One of McCready's men displayed a message on a blackboard that read,
The Friends of Order will remain silent.
McCready's supporters in the crowd sat down, making it easy to pick out the troublemakers,
and police dragged them downstairs and locked them up in the basement.
But during the second act, the noise outside began to increase.
200 protesters were throwing cobblestones at the theater.
They broke windows, shattered a chandelier, and began to knock out the planks that had been nailed up inside the lower windows.
The protesters shouted, fight, fight, tear it down, burn the damn den of the aristocracy.
They also threw stones at the
police, dozens of whom were injured. They retreated into the lobby. Someone put his head out a broken
window and shouted that Forrest's supporters were being rounded up, and that evolved into a rumor
that they were being murdered. Rioters began hurling themselves against the entrance. One door
burst open, but the police stormed out, pushed the crowd back, and dragged some of the stone throwers
inside. Some policemen were badly beaten. The mob was starting to gain the upper hand.
Around nine o'clock, the authorities called in the military, and a unit of cavalry 40 strong
turned out. But the riders were armed only with sabers, and their horses had been trained only
for parade duty. Several men were pulled to the ground, the rest were driven off, and the mob
attacked the infantry behind them.
The mayor entered the theater to find that the mob couldn't be kept out much longer.
General William Hall told him that his men needed permission to fire or they'd have to leave the scene.
They'd be stoned to death otherwise.
Woodhull told him to wait a little, then fled to the New York Hotel where he remained for the rest of the night.
The mob and the troops fought to a standstill, and ludicrously there was a lull of sorts as the fifth act began. MacReady wrote later, I flung my whole soul into every word I
uttered, exciting the audience to a sympathy even with the glowing words of fiction, while those
dreadful deeds of real crime and outrage were roaring at intervals in our ears and rising to
madness all round us. One critic later said he'd never seen the fifth act of Macbeth so splendidly
and perfectly performed.
MacReady took a curtain call, signaled his sympathy to the audience, and left the stage.
Outside, the troops were back on the defensive.
The crowd rushed the entrance, forcing the soldiers away from it and onto the sidewalk.
Some pistols went off in the crowd, and a captain was hit in the leg.
It was clear the military would be forced out of the fight if they weren't given the order to fire.
A municipal officer shouted,
Disperse or you will be fired on. Fall back or we will fire.
A voice called, Fire, damn you, if you dare.
Other generals shouted the warning, but few people heard them, and they were answered with a hail of stones.
General Charles Sanford ordered his men to charge their bayonets,
but the crowd was so close that there was no room to maneuver.
The mob grabbed some of their muskets and forced them back.
General Hall shouted, Fire over their heads. Three rounds went off and smoke filled the air. close that there was no room to maneuver. The mob grabbed some of their muskets and forced them back.
General Hall shouted, fire over their heads. Three rounds went off and smoke filled the air.
Someone shouted, they have only blank cartridges, and the crowd threw another volley of stones.
The infantry reloaded their muskets. A rioter called, you darsent fire. Take the life of a freeborn American for a bloody British actor. Do it, I you darsent. After several more warnings,
General Hall gave the command to
fire low, and two men fell to the ground, one dead. The mob fell back momentarily, realizing it was
facing live ammunition, but then came on again. The soldiers fired again, and more rioters fell dead.
The stones kept coming, but more uncertainly now. At length, the military wheeled two brass cannon
to the scene and threatened to fire them if the crowd didn't disperse, and finally, the fighting stopped. An 1849 account reads,
The scene which followed beggars all description. The wounded, the dying, and the dead were scattered
in every direction. There were groans of agony, cries for help, and oaths of vengeance. Some of
the dead and wounded were laid out upon the billiards tables of Vauxhall Saloon. A large
crowd gathered around, and speeches were made by excited orators.
General Sanford said later,
During a period of 35 years of military service,
I have never seen a mob so violent as the one on that evening.
I never before had occasion to give the order to fire.
More than 50 soldiers and at least as many civilians had been wounded,
and 113 rioters had been arrested.
The total number of dead is impossible to know with certainty, but it was at least 26 and possibly as high as 30. It was certainly
the greatest loss of civilian life due to military action since the Revolution. Citizen
militiamen had killed rioters before, but American soldiers had never fired point blank
into a crowd of civilians. And all, it seemed, over a dispute between two actors. Historian
Joel Tyler Headley wrote in 1873,
Probably there never was a great and bloody riot moving a mighty city to its profoundest depths
that originated in so absurd and insignificant a cause as the Astor Place riot.
A personal quarrel between two men growing out of professional jealousy was able to create a tumult
that ended only by strewing the street with the dead and wounded.
a tumult that ended only by strewing the street with the dead and wounded. In the days that followed, protesters swore vengeance and demanded that the city authorities be indicted for firing
on civilians, but a jury decided that the order to fire had been justified. That September,
the riot's 10 main instigators were convicted, fined, and jailed. McCready sailed back to England,
never to return, and retired gladly from the stage in 1851. He wrote in his diary,
I shall never have to do
this again. Working class audiences still liked Edwin Forrest, but his general reputation suffered.
The Astor Place Theater was converted to a library in 1854 and demolished in 1890. There's now a
Starbucks on the site. The last victim was theater itself as a popular crossroads in American culture.
The cataclysm had been too great.
From now on, Shakespeare and opera were for the upper classes,
vaudeville and variety shows for the lower.
The age of theater as a meeting place for a whole society had ended permanently.
I'm going to be spoiling a couple of puzzles with updates today.
The puzzle in episode 252 was about how researchers were flinging dead salmon out of an Alaskan stream,
and that ended up promoting tree growth in the area.
Flannery James wrote, Hi Sharon, Greg, and Sasha. I always enjoy your lateral thinking puzzles, but I especially
appreciated last episode's puzzle, although I guessed the wrong answer. I was sure it was going
to be another bear-related story. Bears and other terrestrial predators who feed on salmon are
responsible for one of the largest transfers of nutrients from a marine environment to forest ecosystems.
When bears, wolves, and birds of prey carry fish carcasses inland to eat them, the remains left on
the forest floor produce the same effects that the scientists in your puzzle unintentionally
replicated. It's even been theorized that this transfer of fish-derived nutrients, specifically
nitrogen, is one of the factors that have allowed conifers in the Pacific
Northwest to become some of the largest tree species in the world. Thanks for all the work
you put into making an awesome podcast. I hope to hear more ecology-related puzzles in the future.
So there's a challenge to all potential puzzle writers out there. Flannery sent some very helpful
references that discuss how Pacific salmon are a significant means of transporting marine nutrients from the ocean to streams and then onto land.
For those who don't remember the details of the life cycle of salmon, they are born in fresh water, but most species then spend most of their adult lives in the ocean before returning to the stream they were born in to spawn.
before returning to the stream they were born in to spawn.
Nutrients from these returning salmon can then end up on land through flooding,
from the remains of a predator's meal, or by being excreted by a salmon-eating predator.
Trees and shrubs near streams that salmon spawn in appear to derive up to 24% of the nitrogen in their leaves from the salmon,
significantly increasing the growth rates of some plant species,
especially given that the availability of nitrogen can be the limiting factor for plant growth in many forests.
Interestingly, these large salmon-fed trees may in turn help improve spawning and rearing habitats in streams
for subsequent salmon generations.
Large pieces of wood debris that fall into streams can, for example,
create sheltering pools that have increased sediment and lower water flow velocity, and this type of wood debris has been shown to
improve a stream's production of salmon. The probability of a falling tree landing in a nearby
stream increases as the tree's height increases, and larger pieces of wood debris are more likely
to persist in a waterway, as they will take longer to decompose and are less likely to be flushed downstream by the water's flow.
One of the articles that Flannery sent stated that in larger rivers, only pieces of wood that are greater than 50 centimeters in diameter are likely to remain in place.
And it was found that trees near salmon spawning streams reach that diameter more than 200 years earlier than
counterpart trees near non-salmony streams. So the decomposing salmon end up as part of a cycle
that benefits both the trees and future salmon. That all makes sense, but it's a huge amount of
nutrients, you know, to have that big an effect. It makes perfect sense that the salmon would add
nitrogen to the area, but to make trees
grow that much faster and just to have any kind of mineral effect, that's an awful lot of nitrogen.
We've talked a couple of times about celebrities not wanting to cooperate with the old TV show
This Is Your Life after being ambushed by the show. The few instances we'd heard of were for
the American version of the show,
but apparently this happened one time in the UK.
As John Hancock tweeted at us after episode 253,
Ree, this is your life refusals.
Probably the one best known to UK and Irish viewers was footballer Danny Blanchflower.
I've heard that his immediate response was unbroadcastable,
but couldn't find confirmation.
heard that his immediate response was unbroadcastable but couldn't find confirmation.
And John helpfully included a link to an article in the Irish Times from 2015, which said,
in all his time presenting This Is Your Life on television, the host Amon Andrews had only one refusal. The victim, who did not want his life story told to millions of viewers, was Danny
Blanchflower, the Tottenham Hotspur
footballer born in Belfast in 1926. He considered the program to be an invasion of privacy.
Nobody is going to press gang me into anything, he was quoted as saying.
I am still amused that so few people put up resistance to this show, though I guess there
would be a fair amount of social pressure to go along with the whole thing. It seems that this incident with Blanche Flower was a bit of a big deal when it happened in 1961.
The Big Red Book website, which is dedicated to the This Is Your Life show,
has clips of several articles from 1961 from The Guardian and The Times about it.
An article in The Guardian, for example, quotes Blanche Flower as saying
that it was a split-second decision and that he acted instinctively.
And he goes on to say, I did not want to expose myself to the public without the right to say yes or no.
You get Shanghai'd into this situation.
The article says that Blanche Flower ended up entertaining the friends and relatives who had come in for the show, including two distant cousins who had flown in from Detroit.
for the show, including two distant cousins who had flown in from Detroit. Another article in The Guardian stands up for Blanche Flower and absolutely trashes the TV show, calling it
in part an impertinence, in part a fraud, and says that the show has always been more in the
vein of the American studios than in the decent tradition of the BBC. And there is a bit of a
postscript to this story in that three months later, the BBC broke with their customary secrecy and surprise to approach the footballer and ask if he would agree to be on the show.
But he turned them down again.
So, no, this is your life for Danny Blanchflower.
But still, that's just a better way to...
You're not gaining that much by surprising people.
That's not a big part of the show.
I gather it was.
I mean, I guess maybe seeing
people's reactions to being surprised or, I mean, I guess maybe it's all more real.
Yeah. It's sort of like early reality TV. But I like that solution. Just say no,
and then just meet with all your family and friends who have been gathered in case you said yes.
The main story in episode 253 was about how the ruler of Sark, one of the Channel Islands in the English Channel, and its inhabitants tried to deal with the German occupation of the islands.
Alex Baumans wrote,
In what clearly is an example of the Badr-Meinhof effect, I came across this article.
The Channel Islands may have stood up against Nazi terror, but now they are facing chickens.
And Alex sent an article from iNews from June that states that Jersey, the largest of the Channel Islands, is being terrorized by 100 strong gangs of feral chickens.
This seems to be yet another example of what can happen when non-native animals with no local predators end up in the wild.
I found a surprising number of articles on this story, both no local predators end up in the wild. I found a surprising
number of articles on this story, both in UK news media and in the US. In Jersey, the chickens have
become a traffic hazard and a general nuisance as they are waking people up as early as three or
four in the morning, damaging gardens and apparently chasing joggers. A video on the BBC demonstrates
just how loud the chickens can be as you can just barely
hear the person discussing them over their crowing according to a newsweek article these are the
first feral chickens reported in europe although there are known colonies of them in parts of the
u.s and new zealand and i wanted to say that although i found several mentions of the birds
chasing joggers i couldn't find any more details than that. So I'm not quite sure what exactly
these Jersey chickens are doing,
but beware to joggers on the island.
Yeah, that'd be kind of scary.
Alex also wrote about the puzzle in episode 254,
which was about the famous bridges of Konigsberg.
Originally in Prussia and then Germany,
the city is now part of Russia
and has been renamed Kaliningrad.
These bridges are historically famous for inspiring the foundations of graph theory.
When Leonhard Euler proved in 1736 that it would be impossible to devise a path that would cross all of the seven bridges once and once only.
In 2009, Matthias Stallmann managed the feat only because two of the bridges were destroyed in World War II,
and the task is now possible using the remaining five bridges.
Stallmann had said in a blog post that the bigger challenge now is getting to Kaliningrad in the first place.
Alex said in his email,
It would seem that there is a strange synchronicity between your podcast and events in my life.
You mentioned the Seven Bridges of Konigsberg problem and the difficulties of getting to modern-day Kaliningrad. It so happens that I will visit the city next month,
I hope, and I can confirm that getting there as an individual tourist involves jumping through
multiple administrative hoops, paying several fees, and dealing with uncooperative ticketing
websites. Walking over any number of bridges must be easier. And Alex followed up to let us know that
in the end he did successfully make it to Kaliningrad, and he very nicely sent a photo of
one of the bridges that we'll put in the show notes. He also said, I also include a picture
of the old town of Konigsberg, or rather the place where the old town used to be. Konigsberg
had suffered a lot in the war. When the Soviets took over, they weren't particularly concerned
with preserving the German-slash-Polish architectural heritage and simply turned the area
into large squares and parks. Patrick Steinkuhl sent an update on Agafia Laikova, and I was
surprised to discover that it's been a little more than two years since our last update in episode 163.
Agafia's family, whose story Greg told in episode 119, had disappeared
deep into the Siberian wilderness in 1936 to avoid religious persecution under Stalin's regime.
Agafia, who was born 75 years ago in the same isolated wooden shack where she still lives,
is the only surviving member of her family and has been living alone now for over 30 years.
But there was recent news about her as some Russian space agency officials journeyed to her
home to warn her that it was on the flight path of a planned rocket launch from the Baikonur
Cosmodrome in Kazakhstan, and debris from the launch might fall in the area. The officials
offered to temporarily evacuate her, but not surprisingly, Agafia refused to be moved,
and reportedly told
the officials, the rockets fell down before, so what is different now? As I had reported in episode
163, pieces of equipment from the Soviet space program had sometimes fallen into the Lykov's
homestead, which was a bit ironic for a family whose religion shunned science and technology
as being godless and soul-crushing.
The director of the nature reserve in which Agafia lives reported that she's planted her
crops for this year and has sufficient grass for her goats. Apparently in a previous year,
she'd asked for someone to help her kill a goat because she'd run out of food for it.
He said that she's having some pains in her joints but otherwise appears to be in good health
and is still managing to look after her household.
And he noted that she had made it through the recent winter
despite temperatures dropping as low as minus 35 degrees Celsius.
The reserve staff have been trying to pay regular visits to her
and bring her seeds for her crops as well as gifts that are sent to her from all over the world,
according to an article in the Siberian Times.
They report that for her recent 75th birthday, a Russian newspaper sent her headscarves, towels, bed linen, a piece of fabric
for a skirt, needles and thread, and some dried fruit. It was also reported that Agafia had woven
a belt for her favorite nature reserve inspector, Sergei Klybnikov, and wrote on it,
an honest belt to the servant of God, Sergei, from Lykova Agafia Karpovna.
Klebnikoff is quoted in the Siberian Times as saying, She lacks communication. This is her
character. She loves talking to people. When you get to her, you are so tired and exhausted after
the long way, and she sits next to you and talks and talks about everything and does not go away.
You would like to have a rest to sleep after the long journey, but you have to patiently listen so that she doesn't get offended. That's understandable, I guess. the Baikonur Cosmodrome was the concern. I hadn't realized how active the Russian space program is,
and I found mentions of at least two recent rocket launches from the Cosmodrome when researching this
question on July 28th, with three more launches scheduled for the near future. So I don't know
if the one that was feared to be an issue has already occurred or is still to come. So if anyone
hears that rocket debris fell on Agafia's house, please do let us know.
That's a remarkable story.
It shows how much progress we made in the 20th century if she was born in, what, 36?
And now we're here.
Well, she was born 75 years ago.
So her family moved in 36.
But still, just in one lifetime, for that to be part of her life now, that worry is
astonishing.
But she has to worry about rocket debris.
Falling out of the sky.
The articles I read kept mentioning how she lives as though it's the 18th century, but then she still has to worry about-
Falling rockets.
Right, exactly.
Thanks so much to everyone who sends us their updates and comments.
The follow-up we get from our listeners really helps add to so many of the topics we cover.
So if you have anything you'd like to send, please send it to podcast at futilitycloset.com. It's my turn to try to solve a lateral thinking puzzle. Greg is going
to give me a strange sounding situation, and I have to see if I can figure out what's going on,
asking yes or no questions. When the New York City subway system opened in 1904, it used light bulbs that screwed in backward.
That is, the threads were left-handed.
Why?
I'm imagining, like, so the conductor, as he's driving by, he's using his right hand to drive, is screwing the light bulbs in with his left hand.
No, probably not.
I mean, actually, for all I know, they do do that, but that's not the answer.
Okay. Oh, so I was imagining the light bulbs were in the station. Are you talking about light bulbs
in the station or light bulbs in the train? Okay. Light bulbs in the station and they screw in left
handed. Yes. Is that because the person's going to be doing something else important with their right hand? No. Oh. Hmm. Hmm. But is it about where the location of the bulbs are and
how you'd have to be positioned to reach them? No. Okay. All right. Hmm.
Why would you want bulbs that you'd have to screw in with your left hand?
Because the person who designed the station was left-handed and thought, I'll show all of them.
We left-handed people are discriminated against too much.
Nope.
Not it.
Okay.
Is this anything to do with the time period?
No. That I should think about or focus on that it was 1904.
Okay.
From what I understand, maybe this is a clue, some bulbs are still used in that same system
today that are virtually identical.
Are designed to be screwed in with your left hand, specifically.
Or just screwed in the opposite direction.
In the opposite direction.
Did they want it that the bulbs were being screwed in in the opposite direction versus they wanted it that the bulbs needed to be screwed in with your left hand?
I'm trying to figure out which or both or either.
The opposite direction.
Oh, so the left-handed part.
Yeah.
So normally you screw in a light bulb clockwise and these go in clockwise.
Okay.
So I was focusing on why you'd want to do it with your left hand, but it's really just why would you want them to screw the other way?
Yeah.
Hmm.
Why would you want bulbs that you screw in going the other way?
Does any other subway system do this, or is it just in this subway station?
I don't know about others, but it's possible, and for the same reason.
And does it have something to do with it being a subway?
I mean, could you imagine that an above-the-ground train station might do the same thing?
Yes.
Uh-huh.
An airport?
Yes.
A house?
No.
So a place with transportation systems would be more likely to do this?
Than a house?
Yeah.
Yes.
A public place, like a hospital.
Yes.
Might do this too.
Yes.
Oh, okay.
So it's got something to do with the fact that it's in a public location.
Yes.
Because you don't want people stealing the light bulbs.
That's it.
Is that really it?
Apparently, when the New York City subway system opened, it was using 36-watt bulbs
with reverse threads so people wouldn't steal them and use them in lamps at home.
Oh. Oh. I hadn't thought about them using them in lamps at home. I thought, well,
they'll go to try to steal them and they'll be tightening them instead of loosening them,
and then they just won't be able to steal them easily.
We are always looking for more lateral thinking puzzles, so if you have one you'd like to send
in for us to try, please send it to us at podcast at
futilitycloset.com. This podcast is supported entirely by our incredible listeners. If you
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Our music was all written and performed by the incomparable Doug Ross.
Thanks for listening,
and we'll talk to you next week.