Futility Closet - 351-Notes and Queries
Episode Date: July 19, 2021In this week's episode of the Futility Closet podcast we'll explore some curiosities and unanswered questions from Greg's research, including a novelist's ashes, some bathing fairies, the mists of Da...rtmoor, and a ballooning leopard. We'll also revisit the Somerton man and puzzle over an armed traveler. Intro: Amanda McKittrick Ros is widely considered the worst novelist of all time. John Cummings swallowed 30 knives. Sources for our notes and queries: The Pony Express ad is quoted in Christopher Corbett's 2004 history Orphans Preferred: The Twisted Truth and Lasting Legend of the Pony Express. It appeared first in Missouri amateur historian Mabel Loving's posthumous 1961 history The Pony Express Rides On!, but she cites no source, and no one's been able to find the ad. The anecdote about John Gawsworth keeping M.P. Shiel's ashes in a biscuit tin appears in John Sutherland's 2011 book Lives of the Novelists. "The comedian and scholar of nineteenth-century decadent literature, Barry Humphries, was (unwillingly) one such diner -- 'out of mere politeness.'" Sutherland gives only this source, which says nothing about the ashes. (Thanks, Jaideep.) Henry Irving's observation about amateur actors and personal pronouns is mentioned in Robertson Davies' 1951 novel Tempest-Tost. Joseph Addison's definition of a pun appeared in the Spectator, May 10, 1711. Theodore Hook's best pun is given in William Shepard Walsh's Handy-Book of Literary Curiosities, 1892. Richard Sugg's anecdote of the Ilkley fairies appears in this 2018 Yorkshire Post article. The proof of the Pythagorean theorem by "Miss E. A. Coolidge, a blind girl" appears in Robert Kaplan and Ellen Kaplan's 2011 book Hidden Harmonies: The Lives and Times of the Pythagorean Theorem. They found it in Elisha Scott Loomis' 1940 book The Pythagorean Proposition, which cites the Journal of Education (Volume 28, 1888, page 17), which I haven't been able to get my hands on -- the Kaplans couldn't either, until they discovered it had been mis-shelved in the stacks of Harvard's Gutman Library. Neither Loomis nor the Kaplans gives the proof as it originally appeared, and neither gives Coolidge's age at the proof. The anecdote of the Dartmoor fog appears in William Crossing's 1888 book Amid Devonia's Alps. The Paris fogs of the 1780s are described in Louis-Sébastien Mercier's Tableau de Paris (Chapter CCCLXIV, 1:1014), a 12-volume topographic description of the city that appeared between 1782 and 1788, as quoted in Jeremy Popkin, ed., Panorama of Paris: Selections From Tableau de Paris, 2010. "I have known fogs so thick that you could not see the flame in their lamps," Mercier wrote, "so thick that coachmen have had to get down from their boxes and feel their way along the walls. Passers-by, unwilling and unwitting, collided in the tenebrous streets; and you marched in at your neighbour's door under the impression that it was your own." The anecdote about Charles Green and his ballooning companions appears in John Lucas' 1973 book The Big Umbrella. The best image I've been able to find of the Dobhar-chú, the "king otter" of Irish folklore, accompanies this 2018 article from the Leitrim Observer. Does a photo exist of Grace Connolly's entire headstone? According to WorldCat, G.V. Damiano's 1922 book Hadhuch-Anti Hell-War is held only by the New York Public Library System; by Trinity College Library in Hartford, Ct.; and by the Center for Research Libraries in Chicago. If it's available online, I haven't been able to find it. The incident of the dividing typewriters is mentioned in this article from the Vancouver Sun, and there's a bit more on this Australian typewriter blog. The anecdote about Enroughty being pronounced "Darby" appears in the designer's notes for the wargame The Seven Days, Volume III: Malvern Hill. This 1912 letter to the New York Times affirms the pronunciation, and this 1956 letter to American Heritage gives another explanation of its origin -- one of many. A few more confirming sources: Robert M. Rennick, "I Didn't Catch Your Name," Verbatim 29:2 (Summer 2004). Parke Rouse, "The South's Cloudy Vowels Yield to Bland Consonance," [Newport News, Va.] Daily Press, Feb. 23, 1989, A11. Earl B. McElfresh, "Make Straight His Path: Mapmaking in the Civil War," Civil War Times 46:4 (June 2007), 36-43, 5. But even if it's true, there's no consistent explanation as to how this state of affairs came about. Listener mail: Daniel Keane and Rhett Burnie, "The Somerton Man's Remains Have Been Exhumed — So What Happens Next?" ABC News, May 19, 2021. Hilary Whiteman, "The Somerton Man Died Alone on a Beach in 1948. Now Australian Scientists Are Close to Solving the Mystery," CNN, May 31, 2021. "Operation Persist Enters New Phase," Crime Stoppers South Australia, Jan. 30, 2019. "Most-Wanted Iraqi Playing Cards," Wikipedia (accessed Jul. 9, 2021). Leon Neyfakh, "An Ingenious New Way of Solving Cold Cases," Slate, Feb. 1, 2016. Jean Huets, "Killing Time," New York Times Opinionater, Sept. 7, 2012. "1863 Complete Set of Confederate Generals Playing Cards (52)," Robert Edward Auctions (accessed July 10, 2021). James Elphick, "Four Ways Americans Have Used Playing Cards in War," History Net (accessed July 10, 2021). "WWII Airplane Spotter Cards," The Museum of Flight Store (accessed July 11, 2021). "Vesna Vulovic," Wikipedia (accessed July 4, 2021). Richard Sandomir, "Vesna Vulovic, Flight Attendant Who Survived Jetliner Blast, Dies at 66," New York Times, Dec. 28, 2016. "Yeast Hunting," myBeviale, June 1, 2020. This week's lateral thinking puzzle was contributed by listener Sarah Gilbert, who sent this corroborating link (warning -- this spoils 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 11,000 quirky curiosities from a terrible novelist
to a knife-swallowing sailor.
This is episode 351.
I'm Greg Ross.. I'm Greg Ross.
And I'm Sharon Ross. In today's show, we'll explore some curiosities and unanswered questions
from Greg's research, including a novelist's ashes, some bathing fairies, the mists of Dartmoor,
and a ballooning leopard. We'll also revisit the Somerton Man and puzzle over an armed traveler.
Hello, listeners.
Someone mentioned recently that we haven't done a Notes and Queries episode in a while,
and I find, in fact, it's been three years.
So here's a new one.
These are questions that have come up in my research that I can't seem to answer, and also just interesting miscellaneous facts that I couldn't find a place for. I'll put my sources for all this in the show notes, and if you have anything to add, you can write to us at podcast at futilitycloset.com. Here we go. ad appeared in a San Francisco newspaper in 1860. Wanted. Young, skinny, wiry fellows, not over 18.
Must be expert riders willing to risk death daily. Orphans preferred. Wages $25 per week.
Apply. Central Overland Pony Express. Alta Building, Montgomery Street. This is widely quoted,
but no one's proven its authenticity. It appears in a
book on the Pony Express written by a Missouri amateur historian named Mabel Loving. She began
her work in 1913, early enough to interview some of the surviving riders, but she told no one about
her project, and it came to light only at her death 40 years later when her will directed that
it be published. The book describes this ad, but it doesn't name a source. The ad is part of the official account of the Pony Express published
by the U.S. Postal Service, but early histories of the Express don't mention it. In his own history,
published in 2004, Christopher Corbett says this is one of the most disputed claims about the
service. Many people, including me, have searched old newspapers for the ad, but no one's
found it. Although the phrase orphans preferred turns up surprisingly often. I found 345 instances
in American papers between 1827 and 1870. Why did they want orphans specifically?
Well, I'm guessing this. They tend to show up, the ones I found, tend to show up in little mini classified ads, basically, asking for domestic help or actually children to adopt, a couple seeking children.
Okay, children to adopt makes sense, but—
So my inference is that they were just trying to do the most good in each of those positions.
They figured someone who needs a job, an orphan in particular, would be needy, child seeking adoption would you know an orphan would
be particularly because with the pony express one it it sort of implied like they were more
disposable if you don't have family i think that's why that ad is so famous it's one of the
most popular pieces of lore connected to the pony express as i understand it i think it's because
out of context that's how it looks that's how how it sounds, yeah. But once you see, I was surprised to see all these ads and, you know, just decades of...
So that was just a typical thing to say. Apparently. And that's just, people don't do that anymore.
In his 2011 book, Lives of the Novelists, John Sutherland writes that the poet John Gosworth
kept the ashes of novelist M.P. Scheel, quote, in a biscuit tin on his mantelpiece, dropping a pinch
as condiment into the food of any particularly honored guest. I've found this anecdote in several
places, but all of them are quoting Sutherland, and he gives no source. I'm wondering whether
anyone knows any more about this. In Tempest Tossed, his 1951 novel about an amateur production
of The Tempest, Robertson Davies mentions that the
Victorian actor Henry Irving said, the hardest thing for an amateur actor to do is to get over
the habit of stressing personal pronouns. I've never been able to confirm that, and I wonder if
it's true. Joseph Addison defined a pun as, quote, a conceit arising from the use of two words that
agree in the sound but differ in the sense. The only way, therefore, to try a piece of wit is to Incidentally, Theodore Hook held that his own best pun was made on seeing a wall placard
that had once advertised Warren's blacking.
The latter half of the sign had been defaced so that it now read Warren's B,
and Hook observed that what ought to follow is lacking.
Hook, incidentally, was a great practical joker.
He's the one who perpetrated the Burner Street hoax that we described in episode 26,
in which he summoned hundreds of tradesmen to a single address in London in 1809.
In my research on the Cottingley Ferries for episode 347, I ran across this anecdote by the
Durham University lecturer Richard Sugg. Quote, there is a great story about a chap called William
Butterfield who was the attendant at Whitewell's Bath in Ilkley. One morning in 1815, he had trouble opening the door.
When he did, he swore he saw dozens of fairies all taking a bath.
William was reluctant to talk further about his experience,
but locals were keen to vouch for his honesty and sobriety.
He had trouble opening the door?
Like they'd magically sealed it or something?
Or there were just so many fairies in there.
You know how it is.
When you first said it,
until you got to the part about his sobriety,
I just wondered if maybe he was drunk or something.
I can't say.
It would make it hard to open the door.
In their 2011 book, Hidden Harmonies,
Robert and Ellen Kaplan present a proof
of the Pythagorean theorem
by a blind Massachusetts girl, Emma A. Coolidge,
who had lost her sight in a bout of
whooping cough at age one. The Kaplans found her proof in Elisha Scott Loomis' 1940 book,
The Pythagorean Proposition. Loomis found it in an 1888 issue of the Journal of Education that it
turns out I can't get my hands on, and both Loomis and the Kaplans have amended the proof a bit. I'm
trying to get a look at the original version. The girl Coolidge, by the way, graduated from the Perkins School for the Blind, studied at
Wellesley for a year, then returned to teach at Perkins. Interestingly, one of her students there
is said to have been Annie Sullivan, who became Helen Keller's tutor. Dartmoor in southwest
England is prone to impenetrably thick mists. William Crossing, who chronicled the moor and its inhabitants in the late 19th century, wrote,
The wife of Mr. Hooper, who lives at the little farm at Nunn's Cross, went out one evening about six o'clock to fetch in their cows to be milked,
and a mist quickly enveloping her, when, at no distance from the house, she wandered on the moor until four o'clock the next morning,
reaching home in a drenched condition, for the driving mists quickly soak one to the skin.
By her statement to me, she could not have gone far from her house, not more than a mile
or two, but in vain endeavored to find her way to it.
She got into the valley of the Plym and came more than once upon the ruins at Islesborough
Mine, and appears to have been wandering in a circle, which is usual with persons lost
in a mist. Similarly, the autumn fogs of Paris in the 1780s were reportedly so thick that residents
hired blind men to lead them home. The chronicler of the city, Louis-Sebastien Mercier, wrote,
One year the fogs were so dense that a new expedient was tried, which was to engage blind
men, pensioners, as guides. They got good pay, up to five louis a day,
and deserved it, for they know Paris better than those who have made our maps. And this was how
people contrived to get about when some freak of our climate turned day into night. You took hold
of the skirt of the blind man's coat, and off he started, stepping firmly, while you more dubiously
followed towards your destination. The Big Umbrella, John Lucas's
1973 history of the parachute, says that 19th century balloonist Charles Green once went up
on horseback and on another occasion took up a lady and a leopard as passengers. I've never been
able to confirm the details of either of those ascents. According to Irish folklore, a woman named Grace Connolly was washing
clothes at Loch Glenad in northwestern Ireland in 1722 when her husband heard her screaming.
He arrived to find a very large otter-like creature on her body. The creature is known as the Duvercoux,
and from what I understand, it's depicted on Grace's headstone in the cemetery there.
But for some reason, I've never been able to find a good photo of the headstone, and presumably that's the best representation we have of the creature that's
supposed to have killed her. Edmund Lester Pearson's 1929 book Queer Books mentions a strange
volume published by G.V. Damiano in 1922. It's called Hadhuk Anti-Hell War and bears the subtitle Monarchy's Victory, Constitution's
Triumph, Tribute's Annihilation.
I've never been able to find a copy.
Pearson says it seems to have been inspired by the Divine Comedy, but he writes, it will
probably leave most of its readers as mystified as Alice after she first read Jabberwocky
when she was only able to conclude that somebody killed something.
For example, one chapter is outlined,
1. How I opened the infernal vestibule and entered into the first bulge.
2. How I been attacked by certain caravans of cows.
3. How I discovered the first infernal spy.
The cows are described as without horns and with sweet breath,
but they were making a terrible ball in an order to thunder the entire bulge.
Later, quote, I met a lady, one, with her hairs, two, disheveled and naked, three, herself, but, and for authority, were beating her and saying to her that she would not appear as well and making a scandal.
Still later, in the eleventh or twelfth bulge, the hero has a conversation with the princess.
Quote,
Hey, princess, thou shalt not be joyful of my beautifulness as the nature has performed.
Also thou shall not enjoy thyself having me near thee.
All the consequences between us are to yield my pass and for this beg thee.
Otherwise, one of us has to get his fate.
my pass, and for this beg thee, otherwise one of us has to get his fate. This reminds me of the 1855 Portuguese-English phrasebook English as She Is Spoke, which, as we discussed in episode 58,
seems to have been written by forcing French phrases mechanically through a French-English
dictionary. Pearson guesses that Damiano was, quote, rather rashly choosing to write in a
language in which he was not altogether at ease.
But I don't know any more than that. I haven't been able to learn anything more about Damiano or the book, and I've seen only the passages that are quoted in Pearson.
It's amazing that these things actually get published.
Apparently, this is quite a long book, too. Again, I haven't put my hands up,
but that's how Pearson describes it. So I'd love to see it. Probably the whole thing is like that,
just utterly incomprehensible. In 2017, listener Albert Howell sent me an article from the Vancouver Sun that relates
a story told by local typewriter repairman Art Skill about the origin of the typewriter
brand Optima.
He says that during the Second World War, as the Russians were advancing on Berlin,
the workers at the Olympia typewriter factory in Erfurt collected their plans, fled northwest
to Wilhelmshaven, and established a typewriter works there.
In the years that followed, it was ruled that the old works, now in East Germany, couldn't
use the Olympia name, so it became Optima.
I'm trying to find out whether that story is true, and in particular, whether any of
those workers could have made the trip by bicycle, as Skill says they did.
From what I can see, that's a journey of at least 24 hours. Finally, this is an odd one. Back in 2016, listener Alex Johnston sent me an inquiry
concerning an anecdote that appears in the designer's notes for a war game covering the
Battle of Malvern Hill, one of the Seven Days Battles of the American Civil War. The anecdote
says that at one point, Confederate General John B. Magruder was looking
for the Darbytown Road near Richmond, Virginia, but the rebel maps were bad and he couldn't find
a place called Darbytown, much less a road to it. All the likely local places were marked not Darby,
but Enrity or Enrupty, E-N-R-O-U-G-H-T-Y. The designer writes, the explanation for this
seeming mismatch is one of those stories that no one would believe if it were fiction and no writer could invent.
According to the anecdote, in that area, the name Enrufti was pronounced Darby.
The members of the Darby family who had settled around the Willis Church referred informally to the whole area as Darby Town,
so Magruder had spent most of the day looking for a road he was already on.
The reason for this strange state of affairs, supposedly, is that before emigrating to America,
one of the original members of the Enrufti, or Enrity family, had lost a legal decision and was
stripped of the right to use that name. In a fit of obstinacy, he'd adopted the name Darby,
but insisted that it be spelled the same as his former name, and when the family had reached
America, they'd seen no reason to change this.
For five years on and off, I've been trying to find out whether this is true.
I can't find anyone who says outright that it's apocryphal,
but each of the writers who claims to confirm it gives a different explanation.
In 1912, a Lawrence Grant wrote to the New York Times asking how to, quote,
speak your southern name and rufty.
Another reader, H. Lee Sellers, responded,
this word is pronounced Darby. He explains, two men named Enrufti were left a fortune by Mr. Darby,
provided they would change their name from Enrufti to Darby. They did not change the spelling,
but they were ready to fight anyone who did not call them Darby. In 1956, John N. Ware of Shorter College in Rome, Georgia, sent a letter to American Heritage
Magazine in which he recalled playing in a semi-pro baseball game in Richmond in 1903,
in which the name of the opposing team's first baseman was Jim Darby. Looking at the box score
the next day, Ware told a teammate, they've got this guy's name wrong, and rough-dy, it was Darby.
His teammate said, yes, that's the way the nut spells Darby.
The story Ware gives is that in the middle of the 18th century, a daughter of the honorable but poor Enrufti family of England had married a plebeian Darby. The Enruftis had snubbed him,
and when he died rich, he got his revenge by leaving them his money on condition that they
change their name to Darby. Supposedly, the family had met and agreed, let's keep on spelling
it in rough-ty and pronounce it Darby. Ware also gives the story about the Civil War, but in his
version it's James Longstreet who gets confused, not John Magruder. Ware writes, in 1948, I went
over the entire route twice, spending the night each time in a farmhouse diagonally across from
Willis Church, burned down since. I told my host the above story.
Fantastic, isn't it? I asked. Not to me, he said. Bill Darby still lives there and spells his name
Enrufty, and cousin Joe Enrufty lives not far away and spells his name Darby. So Ware concluded,
this version may not be the right one, but the cold fact remains that there are still Enruftys
in Virginia who call themselves Darby. That was in 1948. I've also
found confirming mentions in Verbatim, the language quarterly, in the Newport News Daily Press, and in
the Civil War Times in an article on mapmaking. Unfortunately, as I said, each writer gives a
different explanation. The most plausible one I've found is from Park Rouse, a journalist and
historian in Tidewater, Virginia, who once researched this question for the Richmond Times-Dispatch. He was told that two branches of the Enrufty family had
fallen out, and that one branch, who lived on Darbytown Road in Henrico, took to calling
themselves the Darbytown Enrufties, and this was eventually shortened to the Darbys. Rouse writes,
in later years, sanity prevailed, thank goodness, which I take to mean that the family is reconciled, but I'm not sure even about that. And that's it. Again, I'll put my sources
for all this in the show notes, and if you have any answers or comments or further questions,
you can reach us at podcast at futilitycloset.com. We first covered the mystery of the Somerton Man in episode 25, a corpse that was found on a beach
in South Australia in 1948 and whose identity is still unknown after more than 70 years of
investigation.
I've covered a few updates on this topic, most recently in episode 185,
where I last reported that Derek Abbott, a professor at the University of Adelaide who's been working on this case for several years,
kept being stymied by the South Australian government's refusals
to allow the corpse to be exhumed for DNA testing.
Several of our listeners let us know recently that that has finally changed.
For example, Courtney Rohde from Victoria, Australia wrote,
Hi there.
As always, first off, wanted to say I'm a big fan
after only recently starting to listen to and thoroughly enjoy your podcasts.
Having been relatively new also means I haven't quite made it to all of your content yet,
but your early work is fresh in
my mind. That being said, this week there has been an update regarding the Somerton Man, who was the
topic of podcast number 25. South Australian police exhumed the body of the Somerton Man this last
Wednesday, the 19th of May, in the hopes of using modern forensic technologies to finally put to bed
the mystery of his death and discovery. This is part of SA
Police Operation Persevere, which is in part aimed at identifying unidentified human remains,
and Operation Persist, which involves active investigation into cold case homicides.
I also found it interesting that in Operation Persist, one of the investigative tactics is
distributing decks of playing cards with the photos and details of homicide victims and rewards for any leads to correctional facility
inmates in the hopes that someone comes forward with information. They have seen some success,
although I couldn't find a recent post since the link below from 2019, which stated that at least
two murders had been closed at that time, with 111 cold cases. Take care and thanks
again for the fascination you inspire. So, as Courtney said, they did finally exhume the
Somerton Man, although it didn't sound like this will necessarily provide any answers, or at least
not very soon. The first step will be to determine whether there even is any useful DNA that can be
recovered from the
corpse after this length of time and the embalming chemicals that were used, which preserve remains
by breaking down the proteins so that they aren't available for bacteria to consume. This,
unfortunately, has a rather detrimental effect on DNA. If they do determine that there is usable
DNA available, the next step would be deciding on the best method for
recovering it, and then would come the potentially protracted process of matching any recovered DNA
to other people. The Australian ABC quoted Professor Abbott as saying that assuming any
usable DNA gets extracted from the remains, then the most likely way of identifying him would be
to compare the DNA with that on genealogical websites like
23andMe and Ancestry.com. CNN noted that Australia also has three DNA databases used in law enforcement
that can be checked, and they quoted Abbott as saying, I'm not holding my breath. Similar tricky
cases that have been solved in America have taken anywhere between a few months to a couple of years,
so you know I'm prepared for a two-year haul, if that's what it takes.
And thanks to everyone who wrote in on this and sent helpful links.
And please let us know if you see more updates.
This case gets more attention in Australia than in the U.S.,
so we appreciate the follow-ups.
I suppose even if they're able to identify him by the DNA,
that still won't give us the whole story.
It won't explain everything that happened back then.
Yeah, there were all these weird elements that nobody could make sense out of,
and it might not explain how he ended up dead on this beach.
There may be, I suppose, other people who knew at the time,
but it's been so long now, they're probably not.
Right, right.
Even if they can manage to link him up to some living people
that he shares some DNA with, because it's been more than 70 years,
it's extremely unlikely there's anybody still alive that would know anything really about who
he was. I was also interested in what Courtney said about Operation Persist, a campaign by the
SA police to provide new leads in long-term unsolved murder cases. Some of the tactics of
this operation are distributing
playing cards that describe the cases and potential rewards to prisoners and installing
information screens to display this information at Department for Correctional Services facilities.
Operation Persist began in 2015, and as of 2019, arrests had been made in connection with six
murders, with two convictions and the other four cases still in the courts at the time. I don't think I'd heard of using playing cards like
this to help in criminal cases, but I had heard of the military doing something similar, and
Wikipedia refreshed my memory of how the U.S. Defense Intelligence Agency made playing cards
designed to help troops recognize the most wanted members of President Saddam Hussein's government during
the 2003 invasion of Iraq. Saddam, for example, was the ace of spades, and his two sons were the
aces of clubs and hearts. Wikipedia says that using playing cards in this way dates back as
far as the U.S. Civil War, and that in World War II, the U.S. military had decks of cards printed
showing the silhouettes of German and Japanese fighter aircraft. As for giving decks of playing cards highlighting unsolved cases to prisoners,
it turns out that several states here in the U.S. do that also. An article in Slate from 2016
suggests that this practice began in Florida in 2005 and was inspired by the decks given to U.S.
troops during the Iraq War, and since then several other states have begun doing the same.
The article quotes a spokesperson for the Florida Department of Law Enforcement as saying at the time,
it's kind of like interviewing 93,000 inmates for new leads and it has worked wonders.
And Michael Sullivan, the chief inspector in the Connecticut office of the chief state's attorney,
said that the cards work because inmates brag to each other about their past crimes. So if prisoners see cards that match
stories they've heard, they realize that they might be able to earn a reward or get some time
taken off their prison terms. Sullivan said, they're the only cards in the Connecticut prison
system. You can't get another deck. There are approximately 15,000 folks in the penal system
here in Connecticut
at any one time, and they're kind of bored in there. So they play a lot of cards, and they sit
and talk about these cases. That's a clever idea. Thinking, what's an artifact that they spend a lot
of time paying attention to? Yeah. I mean, it makes perfect sense after someone explains it to
you, but whoever came up with that in the first place is really... It is a good idea. And I think
it would actually make the playing cards more interesting if they have little stories on
them and stuff. And on the cards used in war, I saw several sources mentioning the aircraft spotter
cards from World War II, though it seems that these included both Allied and Axis aircraft for
training purposes. But I had a harder time confirming the Civil War cards. I did come across a couple of
references to decks made at that time that featured either Union or Confederate generals
and leaders, but it wasn't clear that they were used to instruct troops, as it seemed that it
might have been that each side was using cards that featured their own side's leaders. But if
anyone knows that Civil War playing cards were used to help with enemy identification or troop training, please let us know. I wonder, I guess it's been forgotten by
now. Who was the person who actually came up with that in the first place? Using them to help train
the troops? Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, because that predates the whole Iraq war and using them for the
criminals. Yeah, exactly. In episode 344, I covered a story about a pilot who survived the crash of his small plane in the Amazon.
Milan wrote, Dear Greg and Sharon, hello from Serbia.
My boyfriend and I have been longtime listeners of your podcast, and we love it, especially during long drives.
All the interesting topics and lateral thinking puzzles make the trips a lot more fun.
Today, we were listening to the latest episode, and we heard the part about the airplane crash survivor. That brought to my mind a flight attendant named Vesna
Vulevic from my country, who survived the fall from 33,330 feet after the airplane she was in
exploded. According to Wikipedia, although she passed away several years ago, she still holds
the Guinness World Record for surviving the highest fall without a parachute, and I thought you might find it interesting. Here's the link. Keep up the good work.
So this was a pretty dramatic story. Vulović was a flight attendant with JAT Airways and was the
sole survivor after a DC-9 exploded in 1972 as it was flying over Czechoslovakia, probably from a
briefcase bomb.
Investigators concluded that Vulović survived because she was trapped by a food cart in part of the fuselage when it broke away from the rest of the plane,
in contrast to the 27 others on board who were blown out of the aircraft when it broke apart.
The section of fuselage landed in a heavily wooded and snow-covered area,
which is believed to have cushioned the impact.
Vulović was found by a local who had been a medic during World War II and was able to
attend to her until the rescuers arrived.
Vulović was in a coma for some time and was hospitalized for several months with a number
of injuries, including a fractured skull, three broken vertebrae, broken ribs and legs,
and a fractured pelvis.
But she made an almost complete recovery,
and with no memory of the incident, she said she had no qualms about flying again.
Although JAT Airways gave her a desk job as she had become a celebrity in Yugoslavia,
and they thought that her presence on flights would attract too much attention.
And I guess probably remind passengers of what had happened on that earlier flight,
which I guess an airline wouldn't really want to do.
Good point. That's a mercy that she didn't remember, you know?
Yeah.
Apparently, she lost about a whole month where she has just a complete blank memory of an entire month.
Yeah.
Fritz Ulrich Sievert sent a follow-up to the puzzle in episode 344, spoiler alert, about
the woman who was trying to get some yeast from a brewery to use in her own beer.
spoiler alert, about the woman who was trying to get some yeast from a brewery to use in her own beer. Dear Sharon and Greg, the lateral thinking puzzle in episode 344 reminded me of a project
here in Germany. Two scientists are trying to find forgotten strains of brewing yeast in old
beer cellars and breweries. By bringing them back to life, they hope to create beer with more
diversity in flavor and other characteristics. Greetings from Germany and keep up the great work
on your wonderful podcast. And Fritz sent a link to an article in My Bivyala from June 2020 that
explains that yeast is responsible for about 80% of the flavor in beer. Two scientists, the German
Matthias Hutzler and the American Steve Wagner, met at the World Brewing Congress in Portland and
discovered their shared passion for the yeast used in beer.
Hutzler and Wagner began a mission to hunt down old strains of yeast
from decades or even centuries ago that are no longer being used,
as modern brewers turn to using high-performance strains that ferment faster,
causing some unique flavors from the past to be lost.
So, as Fritz said, Hutzler and Wagner are scouring old
brewery cellars in Germany, scraping long unused equipment such as fermentation tanks in hopes of
finding samples of older yeasts. At the time of the article, the scientists had so far found 300
different yeast strains, although most of them were uncultivated yeasts that had probably not
been used in beer making. But 14 of the strains did seem likely
to have been used in brewing, and the two men have been working on getting breweries to develop
products using some of these strains. I wasn't able to find an update on this story to see how
the older yeast strains are working out for the breweries, so if any of our German listeners see
an update on this, please let us know. And not previously knowing much about the significance
of yeast for beer making, the puzzle makes even more sense to me now with this context. I wonder if there's any
systematic effort to save samples of the yeast used in modern beers, today's beers. Yeah, in
case they change again in the future and then we'll lose these flavors. Future historians or
something would ever want to know. Maybe you can start a project. Thanks so much to everyone who
writes to us. We always appreciate how much we learn from all of you.
If you have anything that you'd like to add,
please send that to podcast at futilitycloset.com.
And I continue to really appreciate
all the pronunciation help that I get.
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 try to guess what's going on by asking yes or no questions.
This is from listener Sarah Gilbert.
A man travels for work and plans to be away for several days.
He packs a gun even though he knows he won't use it until he's back home.
Why?
He packs a gun.
Is this a gun that is like a standard weapon?
I'll say yes.
Okay, because there's like different kinds of guns.
Like a starter's gun or a flare gun?
Yeah, there's all kinds of flare guns and...
No, this is what you're thinking of.
A standard weapon.
Okay.
Does it matter what kind of gun it is?
Like, is it a specific kind of gun?
No, I don't think you'd need to say that. Okay. Does it matter what kind of gun it is? Like, is it a specific kind of gun? No, I don't think you'd need to say that.
Okay.
He packs a gun even though he knows he won't need it until he's back home?
Yes.
But maybe he'll need it before he gets into the house.
Will he need it before he gets into his house?
I'll say yes.
So even though he'll be back home, per se. Oh, does he have two homes?
Is he traveling to another home? No. Okay. So he's only has one place that he would call home.
That's right. Okay. But he'll want to have the gun on him. Yes. Before he enters the house. And
that's why he has to pack it with him to take it with him on his trip.
Okay.
Does it matter the nature of the trip?
I'm apparently asking questions you can't ask. No, I'm still considering that last one.
That's all accurate, I think, what you said before.
Okay.
So he has to pack it with him because he'll need it before he gets into the house.
So he would have to have it with him.
He thinks he may need it.
He may need it.
He just can't leave it in the house.
Okay.
Is he expecting there to be something in the house that he might need a gun to deal with?
No.
No.
And does it matter the nature of the trip?
Yes.
Yes.
Is that connected to his occupation?
Yes.
Is he leaving the earth?
Yes.
He is?
He is? Is he an astronaut? Where did that come Earth? Yes. He is? He is?
Is he an astronaut?
Where did that come from?
Yes.
Why does an astronaut need a gun?
Do astronauts typically bring guns with them?
Cosmonauts apparently did.
Oh, like cosmonauts, like meaning from the Soviet Union?
Yes.
Is he from the Soviet Union?
Yes.
Is it the Soviet Union versus Russia?
I mean, does it matter?
No.
I mean, no, basically you've got it.
Okay.
Why?
Why would a cosmonaut need a gun?
Does he feel like he might need it for protection?
Yes.
I mean, you've basically got it it i can just give it would people have moved into his house while he was gone no because i asked if
he expected to find something in his house you said he would need it for protection he if he
needed it at all is it because he doesn't know where he's gonna come down yes is there something
about the expression on my face or something? No, no, no.
I'm like, my mind is trying to come up with hypotheses. Yes. The man is a Russian cosmonaut
and the gun is a TP-82 cosmonaut survival pistol. This would have been carried on many Russian space
missions as even the slightest error could drastically change where they landed. Carrying
the pistol became standard practice after the Voskhod 2 mission, when a delay
of 46 seconds caused the spacecraft to land 386 kilometers from the intended landing zone,
and it landed instead in the Siberian wilderness. Oh! Where you might need a gun. Where you might
need a gun. Wow. Thank you, Sarah. And we are always on the lookout for more lateral thinking
puzzles, so if you have one to send in for us to try, please send that to podcast at futilitycloset.com.
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Thanks for listening, and we'll talk to you next week.