Futility Closet - 305-Cast Away in the New World
Episode Date: July 27, 2020Marooned in Florida in 1528, four Spanish colonists made an extraordinary journey across the unexplored continent. Their experiences changed their conception of the New World and its people. In this ...week's episode of the Futility Closet podcast we'll describe the remarkable odyssey of Álvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca and his reformed perspective on the Spanish conquest. We'll also copy the Mona Lisa and puzzle over a deficient pinball machine. Intro: The Russian navy built two circular warships in 1871. When shaken, a certain chemical solution will change from yellow to red to green. Sources for our feature on Álvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca: Andrés Reséndez, A Land So Strange: The Epic Journey of Cabeza de Vaca, 2009. Robin Varnum, Álvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca: American Trailblazer, 2014. Donald E. Chipman, Álvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca: The 'Great Pedestrian' of North and South America, 2014. Alex D. Krieger, We Came Naked and Barefoot: The Journey of Cabeza de Vaca Across North America, 2010. Peter Stern, "Alvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca: Conquistador and Sojourner," in Ian Kenneth Steele and Nancy Lee Rhoden, eds., The Human Tradition in Colonial America, 1999. Rolena Adorno, "The Negotiation of Fear in Cabeza de Vaca's Naufragios," in Stephen Greenblatt, ed., New World Encounters, 1993. Alvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca, The Journey of Alvar Nuñez Cabeza de Vaca and His Companions From Florida to the Pacific, 1528-1536, 1542. Andrés Reséndez, "A Desperate Trek Across America," American Heritage 58:5 (Fall 2008), 19-21. Nancy P. Hickerson, "How Cabeza De Vaca Lived With, Worked Among, and Finally Left the Indians of Texas," Journal of Anthropological Research 54:2 (Summer 1998), 199-218. Donald E. Chipman, "In Search of Cabeza de Vaca's Route Across Texas: An Historiographical Survey," Southwestern Historical Quarterly 91:2 (October 1987), 127-148. Paul E. Hoffman, "A Land So Strange: The Epic Journey of Cabeza de Vaca, the Extraordinary Tale of a Shipwrecked Spaniard Who Walked Across America in the Sixteenth Century," Journal of American History 95:2 (September 2008), 496-497. R.T.C. Goodwin, "Alvar Nunez Cabeza de Vaca and the Textual Travels of an American Miracle," Journal of Iberian & Latin American Studies 14:1 (April 2008), 1-12. John L. Kessell, "A Land So Strange: The Epic Journey of Cabeza de Vaca," American Historical Review 113:5 (December 2008), 1519-1520. Robert Wilson, "A Long Walk in the New World," American Scholar 77:1 (Winter 2008), 137-139. Nan Goodman, "Mercantilism and Cultural Difference in Cabeza de Vaca's Relación," Early American Literature 40:2 (2005), 229-250, 405. Ali Shehzad Zaidi, "The Spiritual Evolution of Cabeza de Vaca in Shipwrecks," Theory in Action 7:3 (July 2014), 109-117. Kun Jong Lee, "Pauline Typology in Cabeza De Vaca's Naufragios," Early American Literature 34:3 (1999), 241-262. "How Cabeza de Vaca, Explorer, Came by His Strange Name," New York Times, March 9, 1930. Donald E. Chipman, "Cabeza de Vaca, Álvar Núñez," Texas State Historical Association (accessed July 12, 2020). "The Journey of Alvar Nuñez Cabeza de Vaca," American Journeys Collection, Wisconsin Historical Society Digital Library and Archives, 2003. Listener mail: Wikipedia, "City of Death" (accessed July 17, 2020). Encyclopaedia Britannica, "Cloud Seeding" (accessed July 17, 2020). Wikipedia, "Cloud Seeding" (accessed July 17, 2020). Andrew Moseman, "Does Cloud Seeding Work?", Scientific American, Feb. 19, 2009. Janet Pelley, "Does Cloud Seeding Really Work?", Chemical & Engineering News 94:22 (May 30, 2016), 18-21. Lulin Xue, Sarah A. Tessendorf, Eric Nelson, Roy Rasmussen, Daniel Breed, et al., "Implementation of a Silver Iodide Cloud-Seeding Parameterization in WRF. Part II: 3D Simulations of Actual Seeding Events and Sensitivity Tests," Journal of Applied Meteorology and Climatology 52:6 (June 2013), 1458-1476. Rachel Hager, "Idaho Power Can Make It Snow — Increasing Water Reserves, Powering Homes. But Is It Safe?", Idaho Statesman, July 25, 2019. This week's lateral thinking puzzle was contributed by listener Eric Waldow. 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
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Welcome to the Futility Closet podcast, forgotten stories from the pages of history.
Visit us online to sample more than 11,000 quirky curiosities from circular warships
to a chemical traffic light.
This is episode 305.
I'm Greg Ross.. I'm Greg Ross.
And I'm Sharon Ross. Marooned in Florida in 1528, four Spanish colonists made an extraordinary
journey across the unexplored continent. Their experiences changed their conception of the
New World and its people. In today's show, we'll describe the remarkable odyssey of Alvar
Núñez Cabeza de Vaca and his reformed perspective on the Spanish conquest.
We'll also copy the Mona Lisa and puzzle over a deficient pinball machine.
In 1526, King Charles of Spain approved an expedition to explore and permanently occupy Spanish
Florida, which was a large area stretching from modern Florida around the Gulf Coast
to northern Mexico.
Five ships departed in June 1527, and after many reverses, they entered the Gulf and reached
the mainland, where the colonists disembarked and claimed the land for Spain.
They thought they were near their goal, Rio de las Palmas, in modern Mexico, an area that was valued for its strategic location and
reputed riches. So the expedition's leader, Panfilo de Narvaez, ordered that the able-bodied
men and horses would proceed on foot toward Rio de las Palmas, which he hoped was not more than
30 or 45 miles away, while the crew members and women would sail directly to the
mouth of the river and meet them there. That would have been a sensible plan, except that due to a
disastrous error, they had really landed near what is now Tampa Bay on the western coast of Florida.
They were 900 miles off target and didn't know it. As the ships sailed away, 300 colonists and
40 horses were left stranded in a completely alien world.
They headed north and walked for two weeks.
When they pressed the local indigenous people for food,
they learned about a province called Apalachee, far to the north, which held gold and valuables.
They set out to find this, but after a month of marching, the vision faded before them.
The natives had probably invented the story to get rid of them,
and they'd abandoned their ships to pursue this phantom. They marched south again through deep swamps and began
to fall ill, and the group dwindled to a little more than 250 people. They pressed onto the coast
but emerged at a shallow bay whose water was only waist deep and where they worried that no ship
would find them. That worry was well founded. After their own ships had put to sea again, the captains had quickly realized they were on the wrong coast. They'd returned to the point
where the colonists had debarked, but in four months of waiting, they'd seen no sign of them.
Finally, as they themselves were running out of food, they had to conclude that their friends
had died, and they left the area. This left the colonists in dire trouble. They spent a month and
a half at the shallow estuary, which they came to call the Bay of Horses because they were reduced to eating a horse there every three
days. With no hope of being rescued, they decided to build five rafts and sail them into the Gulf
of Mexico. To make the necessary tools, they had to melt down their weapons, which was a significant
gamble. Horses and firearms had been their most valuable advantages against hostile natives.
Without them, they would have to survive by their wits. They cut logs of pine, lashed them together
with the manes and tails of dead horses, and fashioned their shirts into sails. After five or
six weeks, they were ready. They crowded precariously onto the rafts, worked their way through the sandbars,
and reached the open sea. Then they sailed west for a month, hugging the coast and husbanding their dwindling supplies of food and fresh water.
This might have looked promising until they reached the Mississippi River, whose mighty
outflow began to separate the rafts. They had covered 370 miles, but their goal, the Spanish
settlement at the Rio Panuco, was still 620 miles away. The expedition's royal treasurer,
Alvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca,
guided his own raft close enough to the leaders to say that he didn't think he could keep up and
to ask Narvea's orders. Narvea's answer was dire. He said that, quote, it was no longer time for
some men to rule over others, but that each one should do whatever seemed best to save his life.
Then they too were separated. Cabeza de Vaca's men sailed
on for several more days. Then, near dawn one day, they heard surf, rode in through the waves,
and landed on a beach. Here they found water and maize and began to recover their strength.
They were on an island off the coast of what is now Texas. The five rafts had landed along
different parts of the same coast. Three of the parties perished, but by coincidence the remaining two had landed on opposite sides of the same island. This was probably either
Galveston Island or the island immediately to its south. Cabeza de Vaca's contingent of 40 men were
soon surrounded by a hundred natives. They exchanged gifts, and the following morning the natives
brought them food. At length, having regained their strength, the castaways tried to relaunch their raft, but disaster struck again and a huge wave overturned it. Three men died and they lost
all their remaining possessions. And the men had removed their clothes to keep them dry, so they
were left literally naked in November. The natives responded with incredible generosity. They shared
their grief, built bonfires to warm them, and literally carried them to their homes, where they
fed them and celebrated through the night.
They themselves had only just arrived at the island, where they traditionally spent the winter,
and they numbered only a few dozen families,
so feeding these 40 unexpected additions would have been a significant drain on their food supplies.
The two groups of Spaniards were soon reunited, but they had both lost their rats and would have to spend the winter here.
They would become the first outsiders to live in the territories north of Mexico and to mix with the people there,
two contingents of humanity reconnecting after 12,000 years. If the Spaniards were miserable at
the start, they were soon wretched. That winter was extremely harsh and it reduced their numbers
from 80 to 15. The natives had been kind at first, but the Europeans were useless to them and weren't
even pulling their own weight. They were given menial work, digging for roots, carrying firewood,
and fetching water, and with no hope of rescue, their stay there gradually lengthened to six years.
Finally, 12 of the remaining castaways decided to try again for Panuco, and they crossed to the
mainland and headed south. Cabeza de Vaca couldn't accompany them. He was lying inland with a prolonged illness at the time. Instead, he began a bold new chapter in his own odyssey. After another
year on the island, he became an itinerant merchant among the indigenous people of that area,
collecting items such as pearls and shells from the coast and taking them as much as 120 miles
into the interior to trade them for hides, red ochre, flints, glue, and the hard canes used to
make arrows. He wrote, this occupation served me well because practicing it, I had the freedom to
go wherever I wanted and I was not constrained in any way nor enslaved. And wherever I went,
they treated me well and gave me food out of want for my wares. And most importantly,
because doing that, I was able to seek out the ways by which I would go forward.
After two years, he got word of three Christians to the south,
all that remained of the twelve who had left the island.
He made his way to them, and they were reunited in the fall of 1532.
They hadn't seen one another in three and a half years.
Cabeza de Vaca wrote,
We gave many thanks to God upon finding ourselves reunited,
and this day was one of the days of greatest pleasure that we have had in our lives.
He wrote, I told them that my purpose was to go to the land of Christians, This opened a surprising new chapter in their journey.
During their six years doing largely menial work for the natives, they set out on their own to the south. This opened a surprising new chapter in their journey.
During their six years doing largely menial work for the natives, they'd sometimes been asked to cure ailing patients. The castaways would protest that they didn't know how to do this, but the
natives insisted, so they would blow their breath onto the afflicted men, as the natives did, and
would sometimes add the sign of the cross, or say a paternoster or an Ave Maria, and beg God to restore the
patient's health. Some of the patients recovered, and now, as they headed south, the four found that
they had gained a reputation as faith healers. As they made their way along the coast, the people
they met would present their sick to be healed. All four of the castaways received patients,
and all four cured them. This wasn't done cynically, that is, they weren't just pretending
to practice healing because they knew it would earn respect. As devout Catholics themselves,
they had come to believe that their long ordeal had been a test, and that God was now revealing
the true purpose of their existence. Their single greatest healing feat happened when
Cabeza de Vaca was asked to cure a man with an arrowhead lodged near his heart. By the time he
reached the man's camp, he appeared to be dead. His eyes were turned up and blank, and he had no pulse. He was surrounded by weeping people,
and they were dismantling his house, a sign that the owner was dead. But Cabeza de Vaca decided to
go through at least the motions of a healing. He ordered that the man's body be uncovered,
and he prayed fervently to God, made the sign of the cross, and blew on the corpse several times.
Then the castaway spent the rest of the day tending to other natives.
Cabeza de Vaca wrote,
At nighttime they returned to their houses and said that the man who had been dead
and whom I had cured in their presence had arisen in good health
and had strolled around and eaten and spoke with them,
and that all of those I had cured had become well and were without fever and very happy.
And we have to take this with some
skepticism. First of all, it happened 500 years ago, and the only account we really have of it
is those of the Spaniards themselves. But it does seem that they must have consistently been able to
help people because they carried this reputation with them for quite a long time. Or at least they
helped some people. I mean, I'm a little skeptical if the man truly had no pulse, and then he's up and walking
around and eating. I mean, that seems a little extreme. Yeah. They said they never cured anyone
who did not say that he was better, which I guess is not impossible. But as these things tend to do,
it grew in the telling so that these things were later reputed to be literal miracles, and by 1723,
they were said to be literally infinite in number. But one of the castaways was the son of a
physician, so it does make sense that they may have had enough knowledge to be of some use.
Yeah, or it's just people thought they felt better afterwards. I mean, I'm still, you know,
the no pulse and getting up thing, but I mean,
you can imagine that for certain things, headaches or whatever, you could decide you felt better because somebody had done something magic over you. I don't know. I guess there's no way to know
for sure. In the spring or early summer of 1535, the four were making their way through South Texas,
greeted as healers and even followed by crowds. At length, they crossed the Rio Grande and began
to see mountains in the distance, probably the Sierra de Pomeranes of northern Tamaulipas. They didn't know it, but they were
quite close to their goal. They'd come 1,200 miles around the rim of the Gulf of Mexico,
and the Rio de las Palmas, which they'd been seeking since Tampa Bay, was now only about 75
to 90 miles to the south. But now they turned aside and headed instead west and north. It's not clear why they
did this, but it shows the confidence they developed making their way through this land
and among its people. Their decision would be historic. They were following an east-west
trading route that connected Tamaulipas to the cultural centers in the interior deserts of North
America, and the people they met showed them intriguing hints of advanced societies in that
direction.
Two women were carrying maize flour, and a trading party gave them a copper bell.
The castaways hadn't seen either of these things in their travels to date.
They suggested agriculture and smelting.
They pressed forward, and as they went, they practiced their healing and were fed, protected, and handed on from one group to the next.
They became the first outsiders to see what would become northern Mexico and the American Southwest,
and the first non-natives to describe it.
They found themselves among crowds of 3,000 to 4,000 people and greeted as friends. At La Junta de los Rios, they passed through a sizable settlement with permanent dwellings,
a community that had stood there for 300 years, its people farming corn, beans, and squash.
Guided by these new friends, they continued upriver, probably along the Rio Grande, veered west through high
plains and tablelands, and somehow crossed the continental divide and began to descend toward
the Pacific. They passed through what they called the Land of Maze, a series of villages that
extended for 300 miles with permanent houses and large stores of grain, probably in the fertile valleys of northern Sonora. Here, too, the people flocked to them,
asking to be touched and to have the sign of the cross made over them, the ill and the healthy
alike. Women brought newborn babies to be blessed. The castaways began to dream of forging a Christian
kingdom here, ruled by Spain but established peacefully rather than through violence.
They were still discussing this around Christmas 1535 when they met a man who wore a Spanish buckle
and a horseshoe nail as an ornament around his neck. He told them these had belonged to, quote,
some men who wore beards like us, who had come from the sky and arrived at that river,
and who had brought horses and lances and swords. These men had been seen by the coast.
The castaways had
mixed feelings about this. They were glad to learn they were so close to deliverance, but dismayed to
hear of the harm that these Christians had been doing to the people, destroying towns and
torturing, enslaving, and executing men, women, and children. The castaways promised their friends
that they would try to intercede. Two of them set out the following morning with a small party.
They pursued a group of Spaniards over 30 miles, passing through three abandoned encampments. Finally, the following
morning, they overtook them. The four Spanish horsemen were astonished at Cabeza de Vaca's
appearance. His hair hung to his waist, his beard reached to his chest, and his skin was leathery
and peeling. But he spoke perfect and delusioned Spanish. Cabeza de Vaca wrote later,
They remained looking at me for a long time, so astonished that they neither talked to me nor managed to ask me anything. He asked them for the Christian date and to see their leader.
That was a man named Diego de Alcaraz, who was angry that he'd been unable to find any Indians
in this area. He grew interested when the castaways told him of the friends who had
followed them, and presently more than a thousand natives joined them.
Cabeza de Vaca laid out his vision of a prosperous society in this fertile area, Spaniards and native peoples living side by side.
The natives, he said, were well disposed and of very good inclinations.
By making war on the indigenous peoples, the Spaniards had driven them to abandon their lands and flee into the mountains, but they had promised to come back if they could live in peace. He waited hopefully for an answer.
But the Spaniards had not lived among these people. What they saw was a fortune in human slaves.
Cabeza de Vaca wrote,
We suffered greatly and had great disputes with them because they wanted to enslave the Indians
we had brought with us. Cabeza de Vaca told his followers to disperse, but they wouldn't go.
They thought it was their duty to remain with the castaways,
and they couldn't believe that their friends belonged to the same race as the cruel Spaniards.
They told him that, quote,
We came from where the sun rose, and they from where it set.
That we cured the sick, and they killed those who were well.
That we came naked and barefoot, and they went about dressed and on horses and with lances.
And that we did
not covet anything, but rather everything they gave us we later returned and remained with nothing,
and that the others had no other objective but to steal everything they found and did not give
anything to anyone. As he reintegrated among the Spaniards, Cabeza de Vaca's hopes were continually
dashed. At Culiacan, the northernmost Spanish town, he encouraged the local Indians to move to the coast to build the kingdom of cooperation that he'd envisioned.
He learned later that those who did so were only enslaved by the Spanish. At Compostela,
the capital of Nueva Galicia, the castaways voiced their dismay at the slavery and suffering they saw
around them, but they were only sent on to Mexico City. When they described and mapped the lands
they had
passed through, these only formed the basis for more Spanish conquests. Cabeza de Vaca eventually
returned to Spain to advance his vision of a more humane colonial occupation, but when he finally
reached it in August 1537, the crown had already given away the commission for the conquest of
Florida. His dream was dead. Later he went to Argentina, Uruguay, and Paraguay to try to
realize his vision there, but his methods were idealistic and ineffective. The people resented
his proselytizing, and his men accused him of mismanagement, and by 1544 he was sent back to
Spain. He spent his last years in the Spanish ancestral village of Jerez de la Frontera,
no doubt wondering what his long journey had taught him. If he reached any answer, he never voiced it.
The main story in episode 298 was about the theft of the Mona Lisa in 1911. Greg mentioned that there is a
widely reported story that this theft had been commissioned by an Argentine criminal who had
supposedly created six forgeries of the painting that he then sold to different collectors after
the theft was reported. But this story was actually invented and then presented as factual
in a 1932 issue of the Saturday Evening Post.
Orion Sauter wrote, Hello, Closeteers. I just listened to episode 298 and the bit about the
mythical six copies of the Mona Lisas caught my attention. I'm a fan of the show Doctor Who and
the author Douglas Adams. Besides his novels, Adams contributed to writing for some episodes
of Doctor Who, including City of Death, which involves an alien planning to sell six copies of the Mona Lisa he commissioned from
Da Vinci in the past and hid away. Adams later incorporated many of the plot elements into his
book, Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency. Tom Baker's run as the Doctor has a special place
in my heart since my big brother looks just like him, and when we were growing up, our mother knit him the iconic scarf. Thanks as always for the work you put into the podcast and
blog. And Charles Hargrove similarly wrote, I enjoyed the most recent episode, but you made
one small, easily understandable mistake. The six fakes did exist, but they were in fact painted by
Leonardo himself at the request of a Captain Tancredi
as part of a complex, century-spanning plot to recreate an ancient spaceship and destroy all life on Earth.
Thankfully, it was averted by two aliens and a rather pugnacious private eye in the late 70s.
The whole story was fictionalized in the second story of the 17th season of Doctor Who.
The earlier 1930s story was obviously influenced
across the space-time continuum by the real story. The story is easily proved as the words
this is a fake will be found under the painting in the museum. Of course, it was painted by Leonardo,
so how can it really be said to be a fake? Keep up the good work. And Charles helpfully included
a link to a Wikipedia page on this four-part serial of
Doctor Who, featuring Tom Baker as the fourth Doctor, that first aired in 1979.
For anyone who wants to read a summary of the rather convoluted-sounding plot that seems
to end with the original Mona Lisa and five of the six copies being destroyed by fire,
so that the one that we have today is not the original painting,
and as Charles noted, supposedly has,
this is a fake written in felt-tip pen under the paint.
Though, as Charles also noted, since it was painted by Leonardo
just later than the original, should we really consider that a fake?
I'm glad that story got some mileage, you know?
Somebody used it somehow.
It's a great story. It's just not true. And Mark Donner wrote, I'm glad that story got some mileage, you know? Somebody used it somehow.
It's a great story.
It's just not true.
And Mark Donner wrote, Dear Sharon and Greg, I thoroughly enjoyed your report on the theft of the Mona Lisa in episode 298.
You may be amused to hear that this particular theft is at the root of a family story.
At the time of the theft, my great-grandfather, ethnically Polish but technically a citizen
of Germany, was living in Ofather, ethnically Polish but technically a citizen of Germany,
was living in Ostend, Belgium with his family.
They had moved there in order to keep their eldest son from the German draft.
My great-grandfather owned and operated an antique store in Ostend.
His passion was painting, however.
On one occasion, he bought some cloth at a building demolition site and stretched canvases from it.
On one of these canvases, he painted a reproduction of the Mona Lisa. After completing it, he displayed it in the window of his shop in Ostend.
Come the theft of the Mona Lisa from the Louvre, a local gendarme saw his reproduction in the shop
window and immediately arrested my great-grandfather and confiscated the painting.
My great-grandfather kept his head and, when questioned by the police, explained that this
was a reproduction that was his own work. He pointed out that his painting could not possibly be the Mona Lisa
because his painting was a canvas and the actual Mona Lisa was painted on a board.
After a telegraphic exchange with Paris, my great grandfather was exonerated and the story became
part of my family history. Sadly, no one in the family seems to have any documentation of this
incident. In my daydreams, I sometimes find the reproduction and joyfully share it with my cousins. And I wonder how much
that might have happened after the theft of the Mona Lisa. A painting that famous would have to
have many copies, and it would be difficult for local police to be able to easily make such a
distinction. And everyone would be sort of attuned to it and on the lookout, you know? Right. So I
wonder if people were getting arrested all over the place for having copies of it. I hadn't thought about that.
The main story in episode 63 was about how in 1915, San Diego hired rainmaker Charles Hatfield
to relieve a four-year drought. After a period of several days in which he released his special
chemical mixture from atop a 20-foot tower, torrential rains caused some of the most extreme flooding in the city's history. Zane Custer from Boise, Idaho wrote,
Dear Sharon and Greg, I have been making my way through the backlog of episodes for the past
month or so and was very intrigued by episode 63, The Rainmaker. In the episode, Charles Hatfield
supposedly caused massive amounts of rain to fall in the San Diego region by evaporating a
secret mixture of 23 chemicals into the atmosphere, but his methods were met with much skepticism.
I can't help but to believe that Hatfield wasn't given the credit he deserved and that he created
the first process of what we now call cloud seeding. Modern day cloud seeding is frequently
used in my home state of Idaho during the winter months by the main electrical utility. Just like Hatfield, towers are built with evaporators on top of them that
then release chemicals into the clouds. The process in Idaho involves using a flame to
evaporate silver iodide into the atmosphere to cause more snow to fall. The silver iodide
particle is hexagonal in form and creates a seed for moisture in the cloud to freeze upon,
thus creating a snowflake. Just as Hatfield said, precipitation cannot be made from a cloudless sky,
but may convert a light rain into a heavy one.
Cloud seeding is only used when favorable clouds are in the area,
in order to turn a light snowfall into a heavy one.
The additional snow then falls in the mountains and creates a snowpack,
which melts in the spring and provides water to the streams and rivers.
This water then flows to reservoirs, where the additional water provides hydroelectricity through the dams and
irrigation to farmers. The process of cloud seeding is especially important in Idaho during
prolonged periods of drought. I know that other places in the world besides just the western U.S.
currently use this method. I believe that Charles Hatfield would have been declared a genius if the
technology was available to prove his theory.
Although we don't have to worry about this modern-day rainmaking causing a massive flood, there are still concerns with the process.
The effects of silver iodide entering the environment and the possible loss of precipitation on downwind locations are both possible issues in the future.
Here is a link from my local newspaper with more information.
Thank you for making my workday more enjoyable and keep up the great work. Cloud seeding is the deliberate introduction of substances into clouds
in an effort to produce or increase precipitation. A number of substances have been used for seeding
over the years, and silver iodide seems to be one of the most effective and commonly used ones.
Cloud seeding may make use of aircraft, rockets, cannons, or, as Hatfield used, towers. It does seem to be widely believed that the first
real experiments with cloud seeding date back to 1946, but perhaps Hatfield did somehow anticipate
the rest of the field by 30-some years and managed to keep his methods completely secret.
While I was reading a bit about cloud seeding, I was trying to keep in mind the question of whether that was what Hatfield was actually doing back then.
One difficulty in making that decision is that there isn't complete scientific consensus even
today about how effective cloud seeding is. Researchers have found it difficult to demonstrate
clearly that cloud seeding actually has a very large effect. Estimates of the degree to which
seeding increases precipitation
seem to often be in the range of about 5 to 15 percent, though in some cases it's been even
lower and in others it appears to have not been effective at all. Although cloud seeding has many
advocates and is used in a number of places, there are still some meteorologists and other scientists
who question its overall effectiveness. On top of the disagreement about the degree of
its effectiveness in general, it's even more difficult to attribute any particular event to
seeding, as you can't say what would have happened in a given instance in the absence of the seeding.
Further, airborne seeding seems to be generally more effective than tower-based seeding,
as you can't specifically target the most promising clouds when using a tower,
especially when using only one tower, so it seems that there would need to be an even higher element of luck in Hatfield's
case, even if he were using an effective seeding substance, which conceivably he could have been.
And lastly, even cloud seeding can't produce precipitation in a total drought, as there are
no clouds to work with, and seeding works solely by increasing the precipitation efficiency of
clouds. A cloud seeding expert said by increasing the precipitation efficiency of clouds.
A cloud seeding expert said in an interview in Scientific American that actually the best time
to do cloud seeding is when you're having normal or higher than normal levels of precipitation.
And as Zane mentioned, Hatfield himself had acknowledged that he couldn't produce rain
from nothing. So did Hatfield manage to what he called convert a light rainfall into a heavy one?
I'm certainly nowhere close to an expert in this field, but in my untrained opinion,
I think I'd have to say that it's not quite as implausible as it originally sounded when
I first heard Greg's story.
But still pretty unlikely that Hatfield could be credited with creating such torrential
rains, and that even if he did have some effect, he was also really relying on a fair amount
of luck.
Maybe he came up with a really effective compound, you know, many times more powerful than silver
iodide.
Yeah.
And I also, you said in the story that he was working for like 17 hours a day, day after
day.
And I didn't see anything about whether there's a cumulative effect.
I don't know if anybody's tried cloud seeding for just hours at a time, day after day.
You could come up with a romantic story that he really did figure it all out.
Yeah.
And the whole technique's been lost now.
He was just 30 years ahead of his time.
Yeah.
Right.
And a quick piece of trivia that I came across while looking into this topic, one of the
lead scientists in the area of cloud seeding who discovered the use of silver iodide for
seeding back in 1946
was Bernard Vonnegut, the older brother of noted author Kurt Vonnegut.
Oh, I didn't know that.
Yeah, I didn't either until I was reading about this.
Wow.
Of course, I didn't know anything at all about cloud seeding until I was reading about this.
Thanks so much to everyone who writes to us.
We always appreciate hearing what you have to say.
So if you have any comments or follow-ups for us, please send them to podcast at futilitycloset.com.
It's Greg's turn to try to solve a lateral thinking puzzle.
I'm going to give him an odd-sounding situation, and he has to work out what's going on, asking yes or no questions. This puzzle comes from Eric Waldo with some minor
rewording by me. The office where I work has an old 1970s pinball machine. It's a company of
engineers, so we have as much fun fixing it as playing it. The score is displayed on reels like
the odometer of an old car. There are five digits,
so when the score reaches 100,000, it rolls over to zero. One day, I noticed that the middle digit
wasn't turning. When I took the cover off the back of the machine, I found that although there
are five digits in the score, there were actually only four reels. Why? Okay.
Okay.
Five digits in the score.
Yeah.
I'm just catching up here.
Right.
So you go up to 99,999.
Yes.
And then you run out of reels, so it rolls over to zero.
Yeah.
And you're saying that when he opened it up, he found that there were only four reels? Yes, even though you see five digits in the score.
Okay.
That sounds straightforward.
Well, one, two, three.
I'm doing this in my head.
All right, it's not that.
My first thought is that there's one of them that's just painted on or something
because it only ever displays a one or something.
But that's not the case here, right?
Right.
You never get, for example, to 100,000.
If you did, that would roll all the way up to a million.
So that ain't it.
So you start it presumably at zero.
Is that true?
Do you start a game at zero?
Yes.
Okay, and start accumulating points.
Yes.
And that goes steadily upward.
Yes.
Do I need to know the increments in which the points are awarded?
Are they all multiples of 10?
Yes.
So the lowermost is always going to be a zero.
Yes.
Yes, that's it.
And Eric says, the scoring targets on this pinball machine are worth 10, 50, 100, 250,
et cetera, but always a multiple of 10.
Because of that, the score will always end in zero.
From the front, it looks like five reels, but the one on the right is a fake.
There was no point in putting in a reel
that would never turn,
so there's just a portion of one with a zero on it.
So really, they could have just reduced everything
by a factor of 10,
and it would mean just as much.
It's true.
So thanks so much to Eric
for a completely non-fatal puzzle.
We didn't even kill the pinball machine.
If anyone else has a puzzle
they'd like to send in for us to try,
please send it to podcast at futilitycloset.com.
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puzzles, outtakes, and peeks behind the scenes. You can find our Patreon page at patreon.com
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Greg's collection of over 11,000 delightful distractions. Browse the Futility Closet store, learn about the Futility Closet books, and see the show notes for the podcast
with links and references for the topics we've covered. If you have any questions or comments
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performed by the always talented Doug Ross. Thanks for listening, and we'll talk to you next week.