History That Doesn't Suck - 82: Best Mini Episodes and Cold Opens of 2020

Episode Date: January 18, 2021

“Gentlemen, what is the cause of this violence?” This is the story of HTDS's 2020. Most people wouldn’t call last year a good one. Doesn’t mean we didn’t have some fun mini-episodes and cold opens here on HTDS. Join Greg for a look at some favorites from both of those camps. ____ Connect with us on HTDSpodcast.com and go deep into episode bibliographies and book recommendations join discussions in our Facebook community get news and discounts from The HTDS Gazette  come see a live show get HTDS merch or become an HTDS premium member for bonus episodes and other perks. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGaming Ontario. From the creators of the popular science show with millions of YouTube subscribers comes the MinuteEarth podcast. Every episode of the show dives deep into a science question you might not even know you had, but once you hear the answer, you'll want to share it with everyone

you know. Why do rivers curve? Why did the T-Rex have such tiny arms? And why do so many more kids need glasses now than they used to? Spoiler alert, it isn't screen time. Our team of scientists digs into the research and breaks it down into a short, entertaining explanation, jam-packed with science facts and terrible puns. Subscribe to MinuteEarth wherever you like to listen. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and as in the classroom, my goal here is to make rigorously researched history come to life as your storyteller. Each episode is the result of laborious research with no agenda other than making the past come to life as you learn. If you'd like to help support this

work, receive ad-free episodes, bonus content, and other exclusive perks, I invite you to join the HTDS membership program. Sign up for a seven-day free trial today at htdspodcast.com membership or click the link in the episode notes. It's July 23rd, 1864 in Baltimore, Maryland. Emily Hoffman sits in a parlor at her parents' mansion on West Franklin Street. Although Emily is a loyal unionist, her family supports the Confederacy. In fact, her younger brother donned a gray uniform and went off to war just last year. Emily's pro-union leanings bother her family, but her engagement to an up-and-coming federal army officer drove the wedge even deeper.

Still, the 30-year-old blonde-haired woman remains true to her cause and to her fiancé. In the late afternoon, there's a knock on the door. Emily's stomach knots as her mother answers it. With a brother and a beau on the battlefield, Emily dreads any telegram. So she's surprised when her mother glances at the telegram, nods, and hands it to her, saying tersely, Here at last is some good news. Her blue eyes fill with tears as the young woman reads,

To Mrs. Samuel Hoffman, Franklin Street, General Berry desires me to say that General McPherson was killed in battle yesterday. His remains were sent to his home last evening in charge of his staff. Signed, J.C. Van Dusen, Captain and Assistant Superintendent. Emily can't believe it. Her fiance, General James B. McPherson, only 35 years old, is dead.

And his body is heading to his home state of Ohio. Emily won't even be able to attend the funeral. The two had planned to marry last month, but James was needed for the Atlanta campaign. They delayed their nuptials at the personal request of General Sherman himself. Now there won't be any wedding. Emily runs to her room and locks the door, crying herself to sleep with no one to comfort her. Three weeks later, the heartbroken woman still mourns alone. Her maid knocks on her door and says that Emily has received a letter from General Sherman. Emily definitely wants to read this. Maybe the letter from a close friend of James

will offer some comfort. She tears open the envelope and reads, My dear young lady, I owe you heartfelt sympathy and a sacred duty of recording the fame of one of our country's brightest and most glorious characters. I yield to none on earth but yourself the right to excel me in lamentations for our dead hero. Better the bride of McPherson dead than the wife of the richest merchant of Baltimore.

Why, oh, why should death's darts reach the young and brilliant instead of older men who could better have been spared? Nothing that I can record will elevate him in your mind's memory, but I could tell you many things that would form a bright halo above his image. I see him now, so handsome, so smiling, on his fine black horse, booted and spurred, with his easy seat, the impersonation of a gallant knight. The lives of a thousand men, such as Davis and Yancey and Toombs and Floyd and Buckner and Greeley and Lovejoy, could not atone for that of MacPherson. But it is in this world some men, by falsehood and agitation, raise the storm which falls upon the honorable and young who become

involved in its circles. With affection and respect W.T. Sherman The letter also includes an official report of James's death so Emily is not left to wonder what happened to him on his final day. But General Sherman's letter doesn't do much to lift the weight off Emily's chest. She remains in her room for the next year, only allowing her sister Dora in to read to her. She eventually leaves her room, but she never forgets James. Emily will mourn her dead fiancé the rest of her life. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson,

and I'd like to tell you a story. And that, my friends, is a poignant reminder that the pain of death on the battlefield follows loved ones back home. It's also the mini-episode that accompanies episode 65. 2020 probably wasn't your favorite year, but today I'm giving you some of HTDS's best seven mini-episodes and cold opens from that Annis Horribilis. That's right, we'll focus on the good. These mini-episodes will be new to most of you, and I hope you enjoy them. They're four-to-five-minute short histories that we release exclusively to our $10 per month patrons on the down weeks between the main episodes that we release here on the podcast. But as I discussed doing a best of 2020 with our patrons, many of them thought you should hear some of these. I think it's a great idea too. And of course, you know the cold opens, those action-packed

stories that open every episode. All that is to say, between the patron minis and the throwback cold opens, this should be a fast-paced episode with something new and something familiar for the longtime listeners, as well as a great way for some of you newer listeners to get to know us here at HTDS. But enough explanation, let's hear another mini. Coming in at number six on our best of 2020 list, we have the many accompanying episode 73. This is the death of the pivotal, influential, radical Republican congressman, Thaddeus Stevens. It's early August, 1868 in Washington, D.C. Pennsylvanian radical Republican Thaddeus Stevens lays dying in the bed of his house on Capitol

Hill. The lifelong politician and current member of the House of Representatives has been sick for some time. He was too sick to deliver his most recent speech to Congress himself. He had it published in the House notes instead. Though his voice and body are failing him, anyone who reads the speech can see that old Thad still has his strong political principles. The speech ends by stating, My sands are nearly run, and I can see only with the eye of faith. If you and your compeers can fling away ambition and realize that every human being,

however lowly born or degraded by fortune, is your equal, that every inalienable right which belongs to you belongs to him? Truth and righteousness will spread over the land. Oof. Thad's call to arms to fight for justice and equality

makes a fitting capstone to his career. The tall, lean man began as a member of the Pennsylvania House of Representatives in the 1830s. He advocated for and achieved free public education for all children in the Keystone State. As friends come to visit him on his deathbed, Thad still refers to that political

triumph as his greatest achievement even though he spent the last 30 years in public service. As Thad grows weaker, his already deep-set eyes seem to sink more into his pale face. One visitor comments, well, Stevens, your appearance has been better. Old Thad quips back, I am not so concerned about my appearance as I am about my disappearance. No doubt the man is pondering whether his actions have been strong enough to leave any mark on the world. As the days wear on, Thad can only see his nephew, sister, and housekeeper Lydia Smith. Lydia, a black woman, has been Thad's house manager and friend for the last two decades. There's rumors that the two are romantically involved, but we can't know for sure.

Thad and Lydia have worked side by side to raise her two sons and his two orphaned nephews. Whether they are romantic or not, Thad respects Lydia. On the evening of August 11th, Thad's breathing grows more labored and shallow. His sister Loretta sits on one side of the bed, tears silently streaking her cheeks. His nephew and namesake, Thaddeus Jr., sits on the other side and holds his dying uncle's hand. Lydia kneels at the foot of the bed. Two black clergymen have already prayed with Thad and left the small family in private mourning. Thad quietly dies just before midnight. A few days later, over 15,000 people attend the revered politician's funeral and

burial in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Before his death, Thad chose his grave himself in the small Shriner Cemetery because it accepts people of all races. His granite tomb stands out among the green lawns and sedate headstones of the small cemetery. Thad's epitaph reads, I repose in this quiet and secluded spot, not from any natural preference for solitude, but finding other cemeteries limited as to race by charter rules. I have chosen this, that I might illustrate in my death the principles which I advocated through a long life. Equality of man before his creator. and I host NerdWallet's Smart Money Podcast. On our show, we help listeners like you make the most of your finances. I sit down with NerdWallet's team of nerds, personal finance experts in credit

cards, banking, investing, and more. We answer your real-world money questions and break down the latest personal finance news. The nerds will give you the clarity you need by cutting through the clutter and misinformation in today's world of personal finance. We don't promote get-rich-quick schemes or hype unrealistic side hustles. Instead, we offer practical knowledge that you can apply in your everyday life. You'll learn about strategies to help you build your wealth, invest wisely, shop for financial products, and plan for major life events. And you'll walk away with the confidence you need to ensure that your money is always working as hard as you are. So turn to the nerds to answer your real-world money questions and get insights that can help you make the smartest financial decisions for your life.

Listen to NerdWallet's Smart Money Podcast wherever you get your podcasts. Napoleon Bonaparte rose from obscurity to become the most powerful and significant figure in modern history. Over 200 years after his death, people are still debating his legacy. He was a man of contradictions, a tyrant and a reformer, a liberator and an oppressor, a revolutionary and a reactionary. His biography reads like a novel, and his influence is almost beyond measure. I'm Everett Rummage, host of the Age of Napoleon podcast, and every month I delve into the turbulent life and times of one of the greatest characters in history, and explore the world that shaped him in all its glory and tragedy. It's a story of great battles and campaigns, political

intrigue, and massive social and economic change, but it's also a story about people, populated with remarkable characters. I hope you'll join me as I examine this fascinating era of history. Find The Age of Napoleon wherever you get your podcasts. Rest in peace, Thad. But we keep moving. Number five in the countdown is the mini accompanying episode 78, The Indian Wars Part II, The Battle of the Little Bighorn, The Greasy Grass. In that episode, I mentioned a Cheyenne woman who rode out in the heat of battle to save her stranded brother.

While it wouldn't have made sense to say more about her in the main episode, it's a really cool moment that we love telling as a mini. Here you go. It's June 17th, 1876 in Montana Territory. About 1,000 U.S. soldiers and 250 of their Shoshone and Crow allies are engaged in a sharp fight against a band of several hundred Lakota Sioux and Northern Cheyenne warriors. The fighting gets fierce as the summer day heats up. The terrain of ridges, ravines, and prairie lands

southeast of modern-day Billings, Montana, makes for a challenging landscape as the two forces battle it out. The main creek in the area, the Rosebud, keeps a few trees alive, but otherwise, there's only rocks and tall, yellowing prairie grass for cover. One Lakota warrior remembers, until the sun went far toward the west, there were charges back and forth. Our Indians fought and ran away. The soldiers and their Indian scouts did the same. Sometimes we chased them,

sometimes they chased us. Distinguished Civil War vet, General George Crook, whom the Cheyenne call Three Stars, leads his men. And several Cheyenne and Lakota warriors of note are on the battlefield too, including Crazy Horse, comes in sight, and his sister, the talented horse rider and fighter, Buffalo Calf Road Woman. Today, Buffalo Calf Road Woman is armed with a six-shooter and wearing a decorated leather belt, but no war paint. As the battle wears on, Buffalo Calf Road Woman and several other warriors

shelter in some trees and rocks on the north side of a ridge above part of the fight. From here, she can take aim at the blue-coated soldiers and the Shoshone battling her kinsmen. Buffalo Calf Road Woman watches as her brother comes in sight, joins the fray in the Shoshone battling her kinsmen. Buffalo Calf Road Woman watches as her brother comes in sight, joins the fray in the ravine below her. His long feathered war bonnet makes him easy to spot, but he rides his horse in zigzag lines at the bottom of the wide ravine to avoid the Shoshone bullets raining down on him from the south ridge. Comes in sight and his fellow

warriors know what they're doing. By riding back and forth, he distracts the Crow and Shoshone warriors from joining other battlefronts and he gets them to waste their ammo on his moving target. But one of the Shoshone bullets finds its mark and comes in sight's horse goes down. The warrior lands on his feet, uninjured but dangerously exposed. The other Cheyenne and Lakota warriors, still on their horses, ride out of the ravine as Shoshone warriors start to descend on the Dry Creek bed. Comes in sight rushes back and forth, around to avoid their bullets, but he can't find adequate cover.

How long can he hold out against the advancing enemy warriors? Buffalo Calf Road Woman decides she won't stand by and watch her brother die. The warrior kicks her horse into action and races down the steep north face of the ravine toward Cumson site. Shoshone warriors now have two targets, these two siblings. As she races, Buffalo Calf Road Woman thinks to herself, I will die today. But she doesn't let fear distract her. Northern Cheyenne historian John Stans in Timber passed down the story of what happens next. As bullets fly past, Buffalo Calf Road Woman rides straight toward her brother.

When she's within feet of him, the warrior turns her horse and pauses for a split second. Comes in sight, grabs her saddle with one arm and the horse's neck with the other, managing to keep his rifle pinned between himself and the horse's body. He swings his leg up onto the horse's haunches as Buffalo Calf Road Woman spurs the horse back up the ravine hillside. Ecstatic Cheyenne warriors cheer her on as she rides herself and her brother back to safety. Shoshone warriors and U.S. soldiers reach the bottom of the ravine, where moments earlier

Kums in sight had stood. Now, he and his savior sister sit on the grass and catch their breath for just a minute before rejoining the fight. The battle rages for a few more hours before General Crook and his men retreat. He calls it a win, though he didn't retain the field. The Cheyenne and Lakota call it a win, returning to the battlefield the following day to build rock memorials to commemorate key events in the fight. In the years to come, the US Army will call this the Battle of the Rosebud,

but the Northern Cheyenne and every other warrior who witnessed or heard the story of Buffalo Calf Road Woman's daring feat will remember it as the battle where the girl saved her brother. That one numbers among Seattle's all-time favorites. And speaking of old-school HTDS, this one is particularly fun. It's the cold open to episode 64, Grant's Overland Campaign, the Battle of the Wilderness, Spotsylvania, Cold Harbor, and Petersburg, and it packs quite a punch. This is the death of

Confederate General Jeb Stuart. Between the battle scene, Jeb's drawn-out dramatic death, and Petersburg, and it packs quite a punch. This is the death of Confederate General Jeb Stuart. Between the battle scene, Jeb's drawn-out dramatic death, and of course, my faux southern accent. I can almost hear you wonderful listeners and friends in the South saying bless his heart in unison. How could it not make the list? Finally, as a throwback to the Josh sound design era, it's really fun to listen to airships fresh new sound design for it. So ranking at number four, here's the death of the debonair Confederate cavalry commander, Jeb Stuart. It's early in the morning, May 11th, 1864. The Confederacy's most beloved cavalry man, General Jeb Stuart, leads his 3,000 or so men down Telegraph Road. They are all that stands between Union General Philip Sheridan's over 10,000-strong cavalry and the CSA capital of Richmond, Virginia.

Jeb's outnumbered 3 to 1, but he can't shirk this fight. General, I believe you love bullets, Private George Freed says to Jeb, half-joking, half joking, half serious, as they ride out to engage this far larger force. No, Freed, Jeb replies. I do not love bullets any better than you do. I go where they are because it is my duty and I do not expect to survive this war.

Shortly after expressing that somber thought and just shy of 10 a.m., Jeb comes to a halt at the Yellow Tavern. His men won't be wetting their whistle here. The three stories tall, long abandoned stagecoach stop hasn't seen business in years. The condition of this decaying mansion of gloom has only worsened throughout the war as soldiers have peeled off its planks, boards, and doors for use as firewood. It sits about half a mile south of where the roads Telegraph and Old Mountain merge to become the Brook Turnpike. Only six miles south on that very turnpike is the Confederate capital. Jeb knows his Union foe is coming down Mountain Road. It's in this vicinity the

Confederate commander will make his stand. Union General Philip Sheridan's far larger cavalry arrives shortly thereafter. Federals take hold of both sides of the turnpike, just above the Yellow Tavern. Jeb and his men are just north of them, holding both sides of Telegraph Road. Artillery and rifle fire fly as blue and gray clad men charge across the grass and through small patches of trees to engage in hand-to-hand combat. Incredibly, the Confederates hold. Around 2 p.m., Jeb gets word from Richmond's defender, General Braxton Bragg, that he has sufficient men to defend the city. Relieved, the Confederate cavalry commander begins to think he might even be able to take the offensive if Braxton could send reinforcements. Little does

Jeb know, though, that Union General Philip Sheridan sees Richmond as a secondary goal. Philip's real purpose is to put an end to the Confederate cavalryman who makes Union men shake in their boots. He's here to capture, injure, or kill Jeb Stuart. It's not long after this that Union General George Armstrong Custer spots a weakness in Confederate lines. The thin mustachioed Union cavalry commander with flowing curly hair prepares to charge. Supported by artillery, George's Michigan Wolverines charge out on their steed, slicing Confederate heads in two with their sabers. Jeb fearlessly rides into the heat of the action. Steady men, steady! Give it to them! He yells out, encouraging nearby K Company while unloading his Whitney revolver on his blue adversaries. The Union cavalry charges repulsed. Mounted and on foot, they fall back. Sitting atop his gray steed,

Jeb unsheathes his sword in triumph and exclaims, bully for old K, give it to him boys. And then, a.44 caliber ball explodes from a Union pistol. The official report credits Private John A. Huff of the 5th Michigan, formerly of the 2nd U.S. Sharpshooters, although some historians will later express doubts. But regardless of who fired it, the ball finds its mark. It enters Jeb's left hip, rips through his stomach, and exits his back one inch from the spine. Jeb reels in his saddle. His head lurches, whipping around his thick, auburn-brown beard and ostrich-plumed hat. The swashbuckling, gray-clad general

barely manages to stay mounted on his gray horse as Captain Gus Dorsey dashes forward and grabs his reins. I am shot, Dorsey! Save your men! Jeb ekes out. The heartbroken captain helps Jeb out of the saddle and places him against a tree, all the while ignoring his shot through general's admonitions to forget about him and get back to the fight. The battle continues to rage as three of Jeb's men place him on a horse and get into the back lines where a mule-drawn ambulance can rush him to a surgeon and hospital. Several of Jeb's officers and staff flocked to him on a horse and get into the back lines where a mule-drawn ambulance can rush him to a surgeon and hospital. Several of Jeb's officers and staff flock to him as a Confederate surgeon gallops at

full speed toward the ambulance. As they try to plot a course for Richmond, Jeb sees his soldiers are retreating. Some have fallen back as far as his ambulance. Weak, pale, and bleeding, the general lifts himself and pleads with his weakened voice, Go back, go back, and do your duty as I have done mine, and our country will be safe. Go back, go back, I had rather die than be whipped. Jeb's men will weep bitterly as word of his injury makes the rounds. The gravely injured commander looks to W.Q. Houlahan. Using his nickname for the staff officer, Jeb asks, Honey Bun, how do I look in the face?

General, you are looking right well. You will be all right. The hopeful officer responds, well, I don't know how this will turn out, but if it's God's will that I shall die, I'm ready. The blood-soaked general returns. With the Union cavalry holding the Yellow Tavern, the ambulance and its entourage can't take the Brook Turnpike and head directly to Richmond, six miles to the south. They're forced to travel circuitously, crossing the Chickahominy River, then swinging through Attlee Station and Mechanicsville. Jeb endures acute pain as they roll over these bumpy roads. Several hours later, and under the dark cover of night, the ambulance finally reaches the Richmond home of Dr. Charles Brewer. Charles isn't only a medical professional. He and his wife,

Maria, are Jeb's brother-in-law and sister-in-law. Maria's sister, Flora, is Jeb's wife. They get Jeb inside, where Charles and other doctors ice the wound. That's as much as medical professionals of the day can do for a shot to the stomach. Visitors come the next day. Jeb seems to improve as Heros von Borca arrives. This Prussian aristocrat crossed the Atlantic to fight for the Confederacy in 1862 and has fought by Jeb's side ever since. Jeb's chief of staff, Henry McClellan, arrives soon thereafter. Jeb feels the end drawing near. He makes an impromptu last will and testament to Henry. Among Jeb's requests are that Andrew Venable receive his gray horse, Henry himself take his brown horse, and that his young son, Jimmy, inherit his sword.

CSA President Jefferson Davis comes to visit. Jeb tells the Confederate executive exactly what he's told so many others, that he's, quote, willing to die if god and my country think i have fulfilled my destiny and my duty close quote seizures come and go as jeb hopes he'll live to see his wife flora one last time she's traveling to richmond as fast as she can jeb asks dr charles brewer if he'll survive the night in the kindest way possible, Charles has to tell his bleeding out brother-in-law that's not likely. It's now 7 p.m. Reverend Joshua Peterkin and those present sing Jeb's favorite hymn,

Rock of Ages. Try as he might, Jeb can't even sing at this point. I'm going fast now, he tells Charles. I am resigned. God's will be done. The 31-year-old cavalry leading Confederate general, with unparalleled panache, draws his last breath at 7.38 p.m., May 12, 1864. His wife and children arrive at around 11.30 that night, roughly four hours too late to say goodbye. She'll mourn him by wearing black every day until her own death more than half a century later in 1923.

I know, three out of four of these clips have been death. What can I say? Civil War does that. Here's one without a death, though honestly, it could have turned quite deadly, fast. We now head to Reconstruction, Louisiana, where the talented poker player-turned-union-soldier-turned-politician Pinkney Benton Stewart Pinchback, known simply as Pinch for short, has just become one of the Bayou State's first Black state legislators, who go on to serve as the first Black governor in American history,

but not without surviving a shootout in New Orleans first. Coming in at number three, here's the mini-episode accompanying Episode 76, Reconstruction Part 4, the Battle of Liberty Place and the Mississippi Plan. It's September 1st, 1868 in New Orleans. PBS Pinchback, better known as Pinch, walks along a busy street in the late afternoon. Pinch, a half-Black Republican with charm and confidence, just won a seat in the Louisiana State Senate. He's worked hard to raise himself up from a riverboat hustler to a respected political activist. Pinch is ready to champion the rights of Black men in the state. But not everyone's thrilled with the election outcome that put Pinch in the state Senate. In fact,

some Democrats think that Pinch colluded with carpetbagger Governor Henry Clay Warmoth to throw the election his way. But Republicans claim it was the Democrats who tried unsuccessfully to steal the election away from Pinch. Voter fraud runs so rampant in the Bayou State that both sides probably have some claim to the truth. But Pinch has taken the Senate seat and everyone has moved on.

Everyone except S.C. Morgan. Morgan, a Democrat, believes that Pinch tricked his way into office. Furthermore, Morgan took offense at several things that Pinch said during the campaign, interpreting Pinch's comments as personal insults. Now, he believes that carpetbagger Henry Warmuth and hustler Pinch have wormed their way into power. This afternoon, Morgan's going to do something about it. Morgan follows Pinch as he strolls down the sidewalk. The crowd thins just a bit. Morgan takes out his pistol and cocks it.

But Pinch spent enough years in high-stakes poker games to know that sound. The state center whips around, pulling his own pistol as he does so. Morgan and Pinch don't hesitate. They both fire at each other, heedless of the crowds around them. People scream and scatter as the gunshots ring out. A policeman blowing his whistle runs toward the source of the chaos. The officer finds Morgan and Pinch staring each other down, but neither man fires a second time. Pinch doesn't have a scratch on him, but the bullet from his gun grazed Morgan's cheek.

Both men are arrested. At the station, the officer attempts to get to the bottom of this mess. I can't tell you exactly what the three men say, but their heated argument goes something like this. Gentlemen, what is the cause of this violence? The policeman asks. Pinch blurts out, he attempted to assassinate me. He was hired by the Democrats to assassinate me. I merely defended myself.

The police officer's eyebrows go up in disbelief at Pinch's claim, but Morgan interjects before either man can say anything. I wasn't hired by anyone. I was simply defending my honor against the insults you hurled at me for daring to speak the truth about the carpetbagger, Henry Warmoth. This sounds more plausible to the officer. Since no one was hurt,

he lets both men go home without charging either with a crime. But as soon as the Democrat-leaning newspaper, the Daily Picayune, gets a hold of the story, it rails against Pinch's involvement in the fray and ignores the fact that Democrat Morgan pulled his gun first. The next day, the newspaper reports, Pinchback managed to be released in time to answer roll call among his peers in the Senate chamber today.

Alas, to what a depth Louisiana has fallen. Was the Sphinx 10,000 years old? Were there serial killers in ancient Greece and Rome? What were the lives of transgender, intersex, and non-binary people like in the ancient world? We're Jen and Jenny from Ancient History Fangirl. We tell you true stories and tall tales of the ancient world. Sometimes we do it tipsy. Sometimes we have amazing guests on our show. Historians like Barry Strauss, podcasters like Liv Albert, Mike Duncan, and authors like Joanne Harris and Ben Aronovich. We take you to the top of Hadrian's Wall to watch the Roman Empire fall at the end of the world.

We walk the catacombs beneath the Temple of the Feathered Serpent under Teotihuacan. We walk the sacred spirals of the Nazca Lines in search of ancient secrets. And we explore mythology from ancient cultures around the world. Come find us at ancienthistoryfangirl.com or wherever you get your podcasts. While no one died in Pinch's shootout, it's time to head to a deadlier exchange of fire. On a cliff in Weehawken,

New Jersey. At dawn. Yes, we celebrated teaming up with Airship and our newly arranged theme song with a Hamilton remix this year. Word is, many of you enjoyed revisiting the last moments of the Federalist's founding father, Alexander Hamilton. I hate to see him go anew, but I love bringing him back. At number two, here's the cold open of episode 71, revisiting the Hamilton-Burr duel in a fair of honor. The morning sun is just cresting over New York City as four oarsmen row out on the Hudson River. One is the dark-featured Hamilton family physician and friend, Dr. David Hosack.

Next is another one of Alexander Hamilton's good friends, the well-respected jurist, Judge Nathaniel Pendleton. And finally, yeah, Alexander. And it's on this beautiful, oddly crisp summer morning, Wednesday, July 11th, 1804, that the founding father of finance will duel against the current vice president, Aaron Burr. Alex watches his adopted hometown slowly shrink into the distance. I wish we knew what's going through his head right now. All I can tell you for sure is that he does, at some point while being rowed up and across the Hudson, wax eloquent about the beauty around him

and New York's potential. Oh, how it's grown since he first arrived some 30 years ago. All the new buildings and houses, the population's more than doubled. The Big Apple now teems with 80,000 residents. But I wonder, does this Caribbean-born New Yorker reflect on his time here too? From palling around with Hercules Mulligan to studying at King's College, fighting the British, practicing law, serving as George Washington's Treasury Secretary, I have to imagine some or all of these New York milestones are passing through his mind. After all, it will take almost two hours to row the nearly three miles from New York's Greenwich Village to Weehawken, New Jersey's shore.

Does he think about his family? This father of eight? Well, it'll always be eight, but seven living. Come December, it'll be three years since a duel took his oldest son, Philip's, life at the same place, with the same guns. Alex, ever the attentive father, hasn't been the same since. Yeah, ever the attentive father, hasn't been the same since. Yeah, I'm sure he's thinking about his kids.

And Eliza. He has to be thinking about his wife, Eliza. I mean, this man of words woke up at 3 a.m. today to write her a hymn. But the small vessel transporting this family man is drawing close to New Jersey's shoreline. Alex's time for reflection is coming to an end. It's now just shy of 7 a.m. The dawn's light washes fully over the Hudson.

The boat's seven occupants disembark on this thin beach just in front of Weehawken's cliffs. The oarsmen and Dr. Hozak stay here. This way, they won't witness the duel and they can claim ignorance of what's about to go down should the law get involved. And so, only Alex and his jurist friend Nathaniel, who's serving as his second, continue on.

The two men ascend a narrow trail hidden by some vegetation. It leads to a ledge roughly 20 feet above the Hudson that's concealed by boulders and trees. This secluded, wooded area is big and private enough for disagreeing gentlemen to settle their differences through an affair of honor. That is a duel. And it's because of these features, well, and New Jersey's lackluster prosecution of dueling, that this ledge on the cliffs of Weehawken is a popular

dueling ground. In this place of wrath and tears, where so many have previously risked or lost their lives, Alex now lays eyes on the man who first accused him of insult 23 days ago. The lame duck vice president recently defeated New York gubernatorial candidate, Colonel Aaron Burr. His age is showing. Aaron's hair has receded and grayed around the ears since they first crossed paths decades ago. But then again, Alexander's face isn't hiding the toll taken by the passage of time or life's disappointments much better. After all, General Hamilton is as down and out politically as the Vice President, with whom he now exchanges ceremonial salutations.

Aaron's second, William Van Ness, now does his duty alongside Nathaniel by counting out ten paces. This done, they draw lots, the equivalent of you flipping a coin, to see which of them will choose positions. Nathaniel wins, but curiously, he, possibly with input from his principal Alexander, chooses the dueling grounds northern side.

This leaves Alex staring into the sunlight with the Hudson River and New York City in the background, while Aaron enjoys the southern side's excellent shaded view. This done, the seconds draw to see who will officiate the duel. Once again, it goes in Nathaniel's favor. Okay, it's time to get down to business. The seconds each take one of the two beautiful, ornate, long, brass, smooth-barreled flintlock pistols from a leather case brought by Nathaniel and Alex. After loading each with a shot shot full sight of the other, they cock the pistols,

then hand them to their respective principals. Alex and Aaron take their marked positions. Nathaniel goes over the rules, which include the following procedure. He'll ask if they're ready. If they say yes, he will say, present. Then they may fire. Ready?

Nathaniel Pendleton calls out, his voice ringing through the woods. Stop. In certain states of the light, one requires glasses, answers Alexander Hamilton. Ah, right. He has the northern position facing the sunlight. The down-on-his-luck founding father now holds up his flintlock pistol, sighting it several times before reaching into a pocket with his left hand, taking out his glasses and putting them on. This will do. Now you may proceed, he hollers back to Nathaniel. Ready? Nathaniel repeats. Both answer in the affirmative.

Present! Present! Present! Once again, I have to say it. Rest in peace, Alex. While I'm sure some of you are thinking of different openings or mini-episodes that you personally would have liked to have seen on this list, and there are many great contenders, the last one might be in a league of its own. It's my all-time favorite open,

and I've heard many of you say the same. We now return to the latter half of 1864 to get a real humanizing look at William Tecumseh Sherman and his wife, Ellen, as they exchange letters about life and their kids, including an expectant soon-to-be-born child. But that child, a son, is born, grows sick, and dies before his warrior father ever gets a chance to meet him. Yeah. Coming in at number one, join Ciel and I as we read the exchange between the at first hopeful, then mourning husband and wife. This is the cold open to episode 65, Sherman's Atlanta campaign in the free state of Jones. It's summer, 1864. Newly appointed commander of the U.S.

military division of the Mississippi, General William Tecumseh Sherman, or Cump, as he's better known to his friends, is advancing with three armies towards Atlanta. But the sharp-jawed, trim-bearded Ohioan isn't just thinking about the fight ahead here in the Peach State. He's thinking of his six kids, the young folks, as he calls them, including his recently deceased favorite child, Willie. Like many of Kemp's soldiers, his cherubic-faced, venturesome nine-year-old

fell victim to fever and dysentery. And yet, the far-from-religious general and his devout Catholic wife, Ellen, will soon welcome another child into their lives. There's no replacing Willie, but this father of four girls hopes for a boy that may prove some kind of balm to the Willie-shaped hole in his and his wife's hearts. All he knows of the child is through the oft-delayed letters and telegrams that are a part of 19th century life.

Headquarters, Military Division of Mississippi. In the field, Big Shanty, Georgia. June 12, 1864. Dearest Ellen, I have received Phil's dispatch announcing the birth to us of another son. I'm glad you are over the terrible labor and hope it is the last you'll have to endure. Of course, I am pleased to know the sex of the child as he must succeed to the place left vacant by Willie, though I fear we will never again be able to lavish on anyone the love we bore for him. Whatever name you give this child will be acceptable to me. Charles is a common family name, would do, but I will suggest none that you may name him as you choose, only that it be simple and common. I am ever yours, W.T. Sherman. Lancaster, Ohio, July 7th, 1864.

Dearest Kump, For the first time since I went to bed the night of the 10th of June, I am able to sit up and hold my pen. I had been sick all that day. About one o'clock I sent for the doctor, and at 20 minutes past two, the baby was born with a cry loud enough to disturb the neighborhood. Like Tommy, he was born with a call over his face,

which the doctor had to remove before his cry came forth. I must thank God that I am spared to my children and not murmur at the trials he sends me. As ever, Ellen. Headquarters, Military Division of Mississippi, in the field, near Chattahoochee, July 9th, 1864. Dearest Ellen, it is now more than two months since I left Chattanooga, and I think during all this time I have but one letter from you. I fear you have been more ill than I supposed.

The enemy and the Chattahoochee lie between us, and intense heat prevails, but I think I shall succeed. At all events, you know I never turn back. Give my love to your father and all the young folks. Yours ever, W.T. Sherman. Lancaster, Ohio, July 16th, 1864. Dearest Kump, I have been ill indeed, in great danger of death, and am left weak.

Charlie thrives, grows, and fattens, and is very strong and healthy. The children dote on him, particularly Tommy and Lizzie. Tommy asked me how long babies wore long dresses, and when I told him six or eight months, he begged me to put pantaloons on Charlie then. He walks with him in his arms and watches him and plays with him and sings 20 times a day. He is so glad the baby is not a girl. I have not told you how very strongly he resembles you in form, face, and shape of head. The likeness is striking and I am delighted to see it. All are well and send love to dear Papa, ever your affectionate, Ellen. Lancaster, Ohio, September 17th, 1864, Saturday morning. Dearest Kump, the baby has a

very bad cold settled on his lungs. May Willie's pure spirit be your guide to his happy home in heaven is the hourly prayer of your truly affectionate Ellen. Cincinnati, Ohio, September 22, 1864. It seems as if I were never to have another letter from you, dearest Kump. Cincinnati, Ohio. September 25th, 1864. Sunday evening. Dearest Kump, the baby has a very bad cough and I feel so uneasy. Lancaster, Ohio. November 8th, 1864. Dearest Kump, dear Willie's picture has just been brought and now stands framed in my room. We need this to keep him fresh in the minds and the hearts of all the children, for all must love and know and talk of their holy brother until by God's grace we join him in his heavenly home.

The baby has such a severe cold which has taken such firm hold on his lungs that I greatly fear he will never get over it, but that it will end in consumption. Ever your truly affectionate, Ellen. Obituary. Charles Celestine Sherman. The New York Times, December 25th, Christmas Day, 1864. Died at South Bend, Indiana on Sunday, December 4th, 1864, of pneumonia. Charles Celestine, infant son of Major General W.T. and Ellen E. Sherman, aged 5 months and 23 days. It will be remembered by our readers that Mrs. Sherman left her former home at Lancaster, Ohio, and took up her residence at South Bend, Indiana, for the purpose of being near her children,

who were being educated at the Catholic institutions near that place. The remains of the babe were conveyed to St. Mary's Academy, where they were received by a procession of lovely children of the holy angels. The beautiful head of the child was crowned with flowers, which flowed like wavelets of light almost to the feet. And his mother, with touching propriety, placed a palm branch in the alabaster hand of the little one. The Right Reverend Bishop of Fort Wayne delivered an appropriate sermon upon infant baptism. The music of the choir, accompanied by the grand new organ just erected in the church,

was indescribably touching and beautiful. South Bend, Indiana, December 29, 1864 Dearest Kump, Long before this you have seen in the papers the notice of the dear baby's death. God grant that his prayers and willies may ensure my perseverance and obtain for you the gift of faith. Ellen E. Sherman. St. Mary's Academy, December 30th, 1864. After writing you a brief letter yesterday, dearest Kump, I came back here to the Academy.

The wound was severe and is keenly tender, yet God grant it may be healed above. My blessed, my holy little ones, pray for us ever, until we join you in the bright home above, when we shall see the face of God and learn to love Him as He deserves. Our hearts can never rest on earthly joys again after witnessing Willie's agony, and that compared with the darling babies was almost light. Ever faithfully yours, Ellen. Headquarters, Military Division of Mississippi, in the field, Savannah, January 5th, 1865. Dearest Ellen, I have written several times to you and the children. Yesterday I got your letter of December 23rd

and realized the deep pain and anguish through which you have passed in the pain and sickness of the little baby I never saw. All spoke of him as so bright and fair that I had hoped he would be spared to us to fill the great void in our hearts left by Willie. But it is otherwise decreed and we must submit. I've seen death in such quantity and in such forms that it no longer startles me.

But with you, it is different. Yours, W.T. Sherman. Man, that one gets me. Thanks for joining me on this little trip through some of our favorite Opens and Minis from the past year. I hope you enjoyed it. I also hope you're ready to head out west, because for the next few episodes, we have some serious rail to lay. That's right. We'll hang out with Irish and Chinese immigrants, civil war vets, blast tunnels through mountains, and get to know the gambling halls, brothels, and saloons of the portable tent town that is Hell on Wheels. It's a race between two competing companies to complete the transcontinental railroad, and America will never be the same.

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