On Tuesday, a blast hit the Al Ahli Hospital in Gaza, apparently killing hundreds of people including patients and other civilians who had been using the building as a shelter from Israeli missile attacks. Within minutes of the first news report on the story, accusations were flying on social media: some said that Israel was to blame, and in some cases said that they had video evidence to prove it; Israel said that the blast was the result of a failed missile launch by Islamic Jihad, a group allied with Hamas. Amid a firehose of outrage and takes, journalists worked to try and verify—in some cases publicly and in real time—what had actually happened, wading through testimony and images from sources of varying reliability that said wildly different things at different times.
An official Israeli account on X tweeted a video purporting to bolster its claims that Islamic Jihad was responsible, but took it down after users pointed out that its timestamp didn’t match the apparent time of the hospital bombing. Later, Israel said that its intelligence services had intercepted a conversation between two Hamas operatives referring to a failed Islamic Jihad strike, and released what it claimed was audio of the discussion. Yesterday morning, Shashank Joshi, defense editor at The Economist, said that the evidence he had seen so far was more consistent with the failed missile launch hypothesis than an Israeli strike, but cautioned that this was “NOT conclusive by any means.” (A user accused Joshi of relying on evidence provided by the Israel Defense Forces; Joshi replied that “the relevant image being analyzed, published this morning” was actually posted by an account “thought to be associated with Hamas.”) Other analysts reached a similar conclusion, as did the US government, the White House said. But other observers remained skeptical, pointing out, for example, that the IDF has wrongly blamed Islamic Jihad in the past. At time of writing, the online debate raged on.
From Emma Madden at Narratively: “March 5, 2012. The staff of the San Diego nonprofit Invisible Children had been working around the clock for the past several months. At midday Pacific time, Kony 2012 went live. A beat. A sigh. The view count hardly budged. Everyone returned to their seats. Jason Russell, the video’s protagonist and Invisible Children’s then-33-year-old co-founder, was in Los Angeles. Jason awoke in the middle of the night to a flurry of texts, all saying “Jason, Oprah has tweeted the video.” Jason began receiving messages from late-night TV hosts requesting to interview him, and from celebrities like Justin Timberlake who wanted to show their support. To this day, many of those messages remain unopened.”
Robert Peary’s partner Matthew Henson was the first Black man at the North Pole
From Imogen Lepere for JSTOR Daily: “On April 6, 1909, six men and forty dogs stood on a sheet of sea ice floating 413 nautical miles off the coast of Greenland. Their faces were raw after driving at break-neck speed for five days to reach their objective before supplies dried up. They’d made it to the North Pole. For the two American men, Robert Peary and Matthew Henson, the planting of the expedition flag was the realization of a dream they had risked their lives for many times over during six previous (unsuccessful) Arctic missions. Despite this victory, the atmosphere became increasingly strained after the marking of the pole. The next morning, Peary left and later claimed the discovery of the Pole for himself without even mentioning Hansen.”
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From Sanchia Berg for the BBC: “In the summer of 1944, in a village in German-occupied western France, a slim young woman with dark hair and grey-green eyes sat in a building with a wireless set, tapping out messages in Morse code. She was an agent in the Special Operations Executive, known as Churchill’s Secret Army. Her codename was Genevieve and she was sending urgent messages back to London. The messages being sent by Genevieve were vital intelligence, as they included precise locations for the RAF to bomb, as well as where to drop equipment. Working behind German lines, as the fighting grew closer, was incredibly dangerous, but she never lost her nerve. Genevieve’s real name was Phyllis Latour. After she married, she became known as Pippa Doyle, and rarely spoke about her wartime career.”
Unraveling 40 years of sexual misconduct at a single California high school
From Matt Drange for Insider: “Clara didn’t think much of it when the social science teacher gave her his phone number. She’d met Alex Rai in her fifth-period journalism class. He was friends with the journalism teacher, Eric Burgess, and often stopped by Room 16 during his prep period to kill time. Burgess introduced Rai to Clara, telling her that Rai had been his student a decade before. Burgess thought they’d get along. In the weeks that followed, Rai would perch on Clara’s desk, leaning over as he asked about her day and who she hung out with after school. He’s only a few years older than my sister, Clara thought when Rai texted her one day after volleyball practice.”
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From Ian Sample for The Guardian: “When the blast from the eruption of Mount Vesuvius reached Herculaneum in AD79, it burned hundreds of ancient scrolls to a crisp in the library of a luxury villa and buried the Roman town in ash and pumice. The disaster appeared to have destroyed the scrolls for good, but nearly 2,000 years later researchers have extracted the first word from one of the texts, using artificial intelligence to peer deep inside the delicate, charred remains. The discovery was announced on Thursday by Prof Brent Seales, a computer scientist at the University of Kentucky, and others who launched the Vesuvius challenge in March to accelerate the reading of the texts. Seales and his team released thousands of 3D X-ray images of two rolled-up scrolls and three papyrus fragments, along with a program they had trained to read letters in the scrolls based on subtle changes in the structure of the papyrus.”
Flipped coins found not to be as fair as thought
From Bob Yirka at Phys.org: “A large team of researchers affiliated with multiple institutions across Europe, has found evidence backing up work by Persi Diaconis in 2007 in which he suggested tossed coins are more likely to land on the same side they started on, rather than on the reverse. The team conducted experiments designed to test the randomness of coin flipping and posted their results on the arXiv preprint server. For many years, the coin toss (or flip) has represented a fair way to choose between two options—which side of a team goes first, for example, who wins a tied election, or gets to eat the last brownie. Over the years, many people have tested the randomness of coin tossing and most have found it to be as fair as expected—provided a fair coin is used.”
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From Adam Mastroianni at Experimental History: “There’s something very weird about the timeline of scientific discoveries. For the first few thousand years, it’s mostly math. The Greeks had the beginnings of trigonometry by ~120 BCE. Chinese mathematicians figured out the fourth digit of pi by the year 250. In India, Brahmagupta devised a way to “interpolate new values of the sine function” in 665. Meanwhile, we didn’t discover things that seem way more obvious until literally a thousand years later. It’s not until the 1620s, for instance, that English physician William Harvey figured out how blood circulates through animal bodies by, among other things, spitting on his finger and poking it into the heart of a dead pigeon. We didn’t really understand heredity until Gregor Mendel started gardening in the mid-1800s, and we didn’t really grasp the basics of learning until Ivan Pavlov started feeding his dogs in the early 1900s.”
The MacArthur Genius who discovered that COVID transmission was airborne
From Gabriel Spitzer for NPR: “To understand why the MacArthur Foundation singled out Linsey Marr for one of this year’s fellowships – the so-called “genius grants” – you have to go back to the first days of the COVID-19 pandemic. The early guidance from health experts emphasized washing hands and keeping six feet from others with no recommendation to wear masks or avoid gathering indoors. Linsey Marr, an aerosols expert and professor of civil and environmental engineering at Virginia Tech, became convinced that advice was based on a flawed idea of how respiratory viruses spread. Her groundbreaking research and tireless advocacy showed that the virus is airborne as opposed to traveling in large droplets that fall with gravity. That work helped lead to a course correction in the public health guidelines and likely saved lives.”
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Three years ago, a House of Representatives subcommittee on antitrust released a four-hundred-plus page report that detailed the allegedly anti-competitive practices of the four major digital platforms—Google, Amazon, Apple, and Meta (then known as Facebook)—and called on the Department of Justice to take action. A few weeks later, the government did exactly that, filing a landmark antitrust lawsuit against Google in which it alleged that the company engaged in various anti-competitive practices, including a multibillion-dollar deal that made Google the default search engine on Apple phones. As I wrote for CJR at the time, some observers saw the suit as an attempt by William Barr, then the attorney general, to make the Trump administration look tough on tech; others saw it as correcting what many believed to be the antitrust failures of the past two decades. But many analysts also foresaw a legal quagmire, arguing that the case was likely to be substantially weaker than the federal government’s landmark antitrust action that put the brakes on Microsoft in 1998.
The Justice Department continued to build its case against Google under the Biden administration, and last month, the case arrived in court. According to the suit, Google—which has a market value of almost two trillion dollars—controls more than 90 percent of the online search market. (Its dominance of the search advertising market is the subject of a separate lawsuit that has yet to reach trial.) The Justice Department intends to prove that Google has abused this search monopoly in order to harm its competitors, and that the company has maintained the monopoly through illegal means. (For more details of the arguments, read my newsletter previewing the case just as it was getting underway.)
Observers have compared the Google lawsuit and the 1998 case against Microsoft on various substantive grounds. But legal experts have pointed to one striking difference between the two: whereas the Microsoft trial—including video testimony and other documents—was open to the public, the Google trial has been shrouded in a high level of secrecy. As Caitlin Vogus described it for the Freedom of the Press Foundation, a nonprofit advocacy group, Amit Mehta, the judge hearing the Google case, has already imposed measures limiting transparency—including the sealing of documents and testimony, asking the Justice Department to remove exhibits that were presented in court from the public internet, and the refusal to provide the kind of audio broadcast used in the Microsoft trial.
Note: This was originally published as the daily newsletter at the Columbia Journalism Review, where I am the chief digital writer
From Katie Hafner at Scientific American: “Christine Essenberg had an unusual life and career trajectory. She was married, then divorced and earned her Ph.D. in zoology from the University of California, Berkeley, at age 41. She went on to become one of the early researchers at what is now the Scripps Institution of Oceanography. We know the story of Christine Essenberg only because of a serendipitous find. While searching in an archive jammed with the papers of male scientists, host Katie Hafner came across a slim folder, called “Folder 29,” in the back of a box at the University of California, San Diego, Library’s Special Collections & Archives. There were just eight pages inside to use as a jumping-off point to flesh out a life, which raises the question: How many other unknown women in science are out there, hidden away in boxes?”
How I became a victim of the great Zelle swimming pool scam
From Devin Friedman at Insider: “I was trying to reach Gary Kruglitz, the proprietor of Royal Palace Pools and Spas. Gary cuts a certain figure. Just a hair over 6 feet tall, wears a mustache, square wire-rimmed bifocal glasses, and thin short-sleeved dress shirts. He has an unusually high voice for a man his size, as if a Muppet crawled down his throat one night and couldn’t get out again. Gary spends his days working out of his pool warehouse, in an office covered desk-to-credenza in product manuals and spa brochures and invoices produced in gold-, pink-, and white-triplicate. A man trapped in the amber of another era, the type of guy who answers his phone yellllow and says bye now when he hangs up. But at this moment, Gary was not answering his phone at all. And I was desperate to reach him, because my wife and I had paid him a deposit of $31,500 to build us a pool, and he had apparently disappeared off the face of the earth.”
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From Marco Giancotti at Nautilus: “A synthetic female voice speaks into my ears over the electronic clamor: “top hat.” I close my eyes and I imagine a top hat. For most people, this should be a rather simple exercise, perhaps even satisfying. For me, it’s a considerable strain, because I don’t “see” any of those things. As soon as I close my eyes, what I see are not everyday objects, animals, and vehicles, but the dark underside of my eyelids. I can’t willingly form the faintest of images in my mind. And I also can’t conjure sounds, smells, or any other kind of sensory stimulation inside my head. I have what is called “aphantasia,” the absence of voluntary imagination of the senses. I know what a top hat is. I can describe its main characteristics. I can even draw an above-average impression of one on a piece of paper for you. But I can’t visualize it mentally.”
Note: Some of you who know me will know that this is a topic close to my heart, since I also have this condition. I wrote more about it here.
Aaron Burr pretended to start a water company but actually created a bank
From John Jansen at Why Is This Interesting: “In the late 1790s, following the new US Constitution’s adoption, New York City was enjoying a period of commercial growth and expanding population, but the city lacked a supply of clean water. Aaron Burr observed the need for a healthy water supply and devised a plan to employ the local demand for water into a vehicle he could use to enrich himself. He proposed the creation of a private company—the Manhattan Company—that would provide clean water for street cleaning and firefighting as well as the infrastructure for the project by laying pipes. But Burr had no real intention of conducting business as a water company: what he really wanted to do was start a bank, as his rival Hamilton had done, founding the Bank of New York in 1784. So just before his Manhattan Company was approved, Burr inserted a clause in the bill giving his company the power to function as a bank.”
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From David Pierson at the New York Times: “The boy had seemed destined for a life of affluence and earthly pursuits. Born into the family behind a major mining conglomerate in Mongolia, he might have been picked to someday lead the company from its steel-and-glass headquarters in the country’s capital. Instead, the 8-year-old is now at the heart of a struggle between the Dalai Lama and the Chinese Communist Party. On a visit to a vast monastery in the capital city of Ulaanbaatar, known for a towering Buddha statue gilded in gold, his father brought him and his twin brother into a room where they were given a secret test. The children were shown a table strewn with religious objects. Some of them refused to leave their parents’ sides. This boy, A. Altannar, was different. He picked out a set of prayer beads and put it around his neck. He rang a bell used for meditation. He walked over to a monk in the room.”
Researchers are hoping AI can help them design new psychedelics for therapeutic use
From Natasha Boyd for Pioneer Works: “People have been doing psychedelics for at least three thousand years, and yet our understanding of how these substances interact with our nervous systems is still in its infancy. Until recently, illegality hampered clinical research. Even now, as some psychedelics pass the threshold to decriminalization, large-scale trials remain few and far between—a problem for research into such a variable experience. The temperamental nature of psychedelics is essential to their appeal. Drug nerds love to share their unique experiences with each other. To the researcher, this same variability represents a bottleneck. Last year, however, a group of interdisciplinary researchers announced a simple but powerful work-around: using AI and brain imaging, they found a way to draw directly from the experiences of some of the internet’s psychonauts—potentially paving the way for a new class of hybrid drugs.”
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In 2010, Mario Costeja González, a Spanish citizen, filed a complaint with the Spanish Data Protection Authority against Google and La Vanguardia Ediciones, a Spanish newspaper. González said that a Google search for his name returned classified ads showing that his house was being auctioned off in order to repay his family’s debts. González said that these ads were more than a decade out of date and argued that their appearance in a Google search violated his right to privacy. A lower court ruled in his favor; the matter was then referred to the European Union’s Court of Justice, or ECJ, which, in 2014, also sided with González. The ECJ decided that a right to be forgotten—also known as the “right of erasure”—was implied by the Data Protection Directive, a 1995 EU rule, and that this gave EU citizens a right to the rectification, erasure, or blocking of their personal data, as well as a right to object to the processing of their personal data by corporations for a number of reasons.
In 2018, the EU’s General Data Protection Regulation took effect, superseding the Data Protection Directive. Article 17 of the GDPR outlines how and when the right to be forgotten should be applied, stating that people may request the removal of their personal information when the information is no longer relevant to the purpose for which it was collected, when the individual withdraws their consent to the information’s publication, and when there is no overriding legitimate interest to process the information, among other circumstances. The EU has stated that the GDPR’s right to be forgotten is “not an absolute right,” and is “much more complicated than an individual simply requesting that an organization erase their personal data”; the right might not apply, for example, in cases involving the right to freedom of expression, compliance with a legal ruling, or the public interest. But critics have argued that this kind of complexity is too great for search-engine companies to be expected—or allowed—to navigate on their own. And they have often argued that the right to be forgotten ultimately amounts to censorship.
The EU’s rules only endow citizens of EU member states with the right to be forgotten, but the duty to remove content if an EU citizen makes such a requests applies to global search engines and services, even if the data is kept on servers that are located elsewhere. Within days of the ECJ ruling, Google and Microsoft began fielding thousands of requests from users who wanted to have their personal information removed from those search engines; in March of this year, Forbes reported that Google and Bing, a search engine owned by Microsoft, received more than a million such requests between 2015 and 2021, with cases rising dramatically during the pandemic. Surfshark, a data-tracking service, told Forbes that half of these requests came from users in western Europe; France accounted for nearly a quarter of the total, while Estonia had the most per capita. German users submitted requests equivalent to 17 percent of the total, while requests from the UK made up 12 percent.
From Stephanie Clifford at Esquire: “I met Leon in the fall of 1993, when we were new sophomores at Phillips Exeter Academy, a competitive New Hampshire boarding school. He seemed instantly at ease—tall, with excellent posture, a puffed-out chest, and an easy grin. He made the soccer team and soon traveled in a pack with other sporty, handsome guys wearing white baseball caps backward and smooth-haired girls so sophisticated they knotted silk scarves at their necks. He was assured about his life plan: He was going to become a surgeon in Texas. Then I heard a piece of news so unbelievable I thought at first that I’d dreamed it. Leon had been convicted of hiring a hit man to carry out the double murder of his ex-girlfriend and his new partner’s ex-husband and had been sentenced to life in prison. As I began to dig into the wreckage of Leon’s life, a very different picture emerged that was far more complex—and deeply disturbing.”
A touching story of young love emerges from a decades-old comment on YouTube
From Mark Slutsky: “Longtime readers and friends will know that I spent several years of my life poring over YouTube comments and collecting the most poignant I could find for my project Sad YouTube. It was my impossible goal to rescue the countless personal stories I found in the comments sections of old songs. A couple of weeks ago I received an email out of the blue. The message read, “Just wondering if you knew who this 1912Universal person is?” It then quoted a comment I had posted to Sad YouTube in 2012 by a user who went by that name, which talked about how “when this song hit I was totally crazy about a girl named Irene Eckstein from Forest Hills NY.” I had no idea who 1912Universal was. So I wrote back, “Sadly, I do not! You might want to look up Irene Eckstein.” The reply came back a few hours later: “I am Irene Eckstein.”
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From Joaquim Salles for Atlas Obscura: “Just off the coast of Astoria, Queens, at the confluence of the Harlem and East Rivers, is a narrow tidal channel. Hell Gate. Its fast currents change multiple times a day and it used to be riddled with rocks just beneath the surface. Visitors to Randall’s Island Park can see the swirling churn and watch pleasure boaters struggle through. American author Washington Irving wrote an essay about it: “Woe to the unlucky vessel that ventures into its clutches.” But many a vessel did venture into those clutches over the centuries. Traversing it could save sailors navigating between New York Harbor and Southern New England days of travel around Long Island. This expediency often came at a cost. Hell Gate is the final resting place of literally hundreds of ships. Most of them are forgotten but one continues to captivate. Because down there, under the minor maelstroms, is the promise of gold.”
Famous naturalist Alfred Wallace owed some of his fame to a Sarawak teenager
From Matthew Wills for JSTOR Daily: “This year marks the bicentennial of the birth of Alfred Russel Wallace, explorer, naturalist, and co-developer of the theory of evolution by natural selection. Sarawak teenager Ali was initially hired by Wallace as a servant and cook. For seven of the eight years between 1854 and 1862 that Wallace traveled around the Malay Archipelago, Ali ended up being the actual collector of most of the birds (approximately 5,000 of the total 8,000) in Wallace’s collection of 125,000 natural history specimens, many of them new to science. Ali was Muslim, about fifteen years old when hired, and had “grown up on and around boats,” write van Wyhe and Drawhorn in their biography. Together, Ali and Wallace braved fevers, pirates, monsoon downpours, ant invasions, at least one tiger, giant snakes, and the threat of head-hunters.”
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From Tom Donaghy for The Atavist: “In the early 1960s, Harry had a string of Copper Kettle Fudge shops up and down the Shore. So revered were his stores that Harry was known far and wide as the Fudge King. He was even in talks to build a fudge factory—something that would’ve taken his Willy Wonka–ness to the next level—when he was savagely beaten to death on Labor Day 1964. His body was stuffed under the dashboard of his Lincoln Continental, parked at an after-hours nightclub called the Dunes. The case was never solved. I spent the next two years sorting through a trove of whispers and accusations around the murder. At first I was just curious, but the more I learned about Harry—a figure beloved by friends and strangers alike—the more intent I was to identify his killer.”
Researchers who became famous for studying honesty are accused of making up data
From Gideon Lewis-Kraus for The New Yorker: “Honesty researchers have found that fewer people lie about a coin flip—a binary outcome—than exaggerate the number on a die roll, reporting that they rolled a four when they actually rolled a three, especially if a four had come up on a test roll. Ariely has long used conclusions like these to maintain that most people lie a bit. Other researchers argue that the averages are misleading: most people don’t really lie much, but some people are prone to lie a lot. It now seems as though the “fudge factor” was less of an explanation of a phenomenon than a license for it—yet another just-so story about why a little deceit isn’t so bad after all. “I’ll tell you what the research on dishonesty says, but all that came from Dan and Francesca!” the former senior researcher said. “It’s like everything we know about this situation comes from the data that might have been fabricated.”
From Andreas Babst for Neue Zircher Zeitung: “In 1969, the Intercontinental Hotel, Afghanistan’s first luxury hotel, opened. It was built in a time that feels much further away than the year suggests. Afghanistan was at war for more than forty years. Rulers came and went, and every one of them was here, at the Intercontinental. Its former luxury has faded, but the Intercontinental has remained a symbol: Those who rule Kabul rule Afghanistan, and those who rule Kabul rule the Intercontinental. Today, the hotel is run by the Taliban. The new government is forcing Taliban and non-Taliban to work together – in the administration and in government-related businesses. Young men share an office with young fighters they once feared, and young fighters sit next to young men they once despised. A lot depends on this experiment.”
The first algorithmically generated music was developed in the seventeenth century
From Amelia Soth for JSTOR Daily: “The first device for algorithmically composing music comes to us surprisingly early: in the 1600s. Looking something like an overcomplicated and miniaturized chest of drawers, it allowed even complete amateurs to compose four-part church music. They could start with a text in verse to set to music, choose whether they wanted music in a simple or florid style, and the rest was achieved by mixing and matching the entries carved into the device’s many little wooden tablets, ultimately converting the results into musical notes. Only a few examples of the device, known as the Arca musarithmica or “Musical Ark,” remain today. The famous diarist Samuel Pepys owned one, as did Ferdinand III of the Holy Roman Empire. The idea for the device came from polymath and all-around oddball Athanasius Kircher.”
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From Emily Zarevich for JSTOR Daily: “Flamboyant, swashbuckling cross-dressing was nothing new in late nineteenth-century France. Paris’s unique and bohemian lesbian subculture allowed these women to thrive, though it was still illegal for French women to wear pants in public. Yet despite the dangers and the occasional assaults, Belle Époque aristocrat and performer Mathilde de Morny (1863–1944)—better known by her alias “Missy”—still committed to her daring butch look, cutting her hair short, donning tailored three-piece suits, and smoking as many cigars as she pleased. Missy built her artistic career on the publicity raked in from her mannish attire and character, her queer-coded tendencies, and her adoption of masculine nicknames. Besides “Missy,” she answered to “Oncle (Uncle) Max” and “Monsieur de Marquis.” Like the French writer George Sand, who bunked down with composer Frédéric Chopin and poet Alfred de Musset, Missy selected her lovers from among France’s creative elite.”
At Japan’s dementia cafes, forgotten orders are all part of the service
From Michele Ye Hee Lee for the Washington Post: “The 85-year-old server was eager to kick off his shift, welcoming customers into the restaurant with a hearty greeting: “Irasshaimase!”or “Welcome!” But when it came time to take their orders, things got a little complicated. He walked up to a table but forgot his clipboard of order forms. He gingerly delivered a piece of cake to the wrong table. One customer waited 16 minutes for a cup of water after being seated. But no one complained or made a fuss about it.Each time, patrons embraced his mix-upsand chuckled along with him. That’s the way it goes at the Orange Day Sengawa, also known as the Cafe of Mistaken Orders. This 12-seat cafe in a suburb in Tokyo, hires elderly people with dementia to work as servers. A former owner has a parent with dementia, and the new owner agreed to let them rent out the space each month as a dementia cafe. The organizers now work with the local government to get connected to dementia patients in the area.”
The World Brain: H.G. Wells’ prophetic 1930s vision for the internet
From Maria Popova at The Marginalian: “On August 20, 1937 H.G. Wells addressed the archivists, librarians, and bibliographers gathered at the World Congress on Universal Documentation in Paris, where the encyclopedia had been invented two centuries earlier. Wells made a daring proposition: Saving humanity from itself calls for the creation of a new system for “universal organisation and clarification of knowledge and ideas.” He called it a World Brain — a “permanent central Encyclopaedic organisation with a local habitat and a world-wide range,” democratizing that supreme antidote to propaganda and manipulation: knowledge. The World Brain would be readily available to every human being, no matter their income level or the political rule of their society “a sort of cerebrum for humanity, a cerebral cortex which will constitute a memory and a perception of current reality for the entire human race.”
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The lost history of Sextus Aurelius Victor
From Justin Stover for Antigone Journal: “Around 380 AD, the famous and irascible translator, Christian theologian, and general polymath, St Jerome, sat down to write a letter. Unsurprisingly, it was about books. One of them was the History of Sextus Aurelius Victor. Born in rural poverty in North Africa to an unlettered father, Victor rocketed to fame in 361, when he was summoned to Naissus by the Emperor Julian. Julian was so impressed by the North-African historian that he commissioned a bronze statue to be set up in his honour and made him governor of the province of Pannonia Secunda. It is no exaggeration to suggest that Victor was the Latin historian of the later 4th century. Most readers might reasonably wonder, therefore, why they have never heard of him.”
Instructions on how to use the new device known as a telephone, from 1896
From Futility Closet: “To Listen: Place the telephone fairly against the ear, with an upward motion, so that the lower extremity or lobe of the ear is gathered in, into the cavity of the telephone; in this position it will be found to fit snugly and comfortably — the lobe of the ear acting as a cushion and at the same time closing out all ulterior sounds, thus enabling the voice to be heard with clearness and precision.” AT&T promoted a Telephone Pledge that read, “I believe in the Golden Rule and will try to be Courteous and Considerate over the Telephone as if Face to Face.” The winner of a 1910 Bell essay contest wrote, “Would you rush into an office or up to the door of a residence and blurt out ‘Hello! Hello! Who am I talking to?’ No, one should open conversations with phrases such as ‘Mr. Wood, of Curtis and Sons, wishes to talk with Mr. White. In America Calling (1992), Claude S. Fischer notes, “Companies cut off service to abusers and obtained legislation that fined or even jailed profane customers.”
The perils of Pearl and Olga: A true crime story from 1950s Manhattan
From St. Clair McKelway in the New Yorker, in 1953: “On the morning of December 31, 1946, two young women got on a subway train separately at the Fifty-fifth Street station in Brooklyn, and sat down across from each other in a car as the train moved off. They had never met, had never spoken, but their lives had been drawn together and the entwinement was a sinister one. They were both working girls and more than ordinarily attractive. One of them was tall, with pale, clear skin and large, dark eyes and shining black hair; she was twenty-eight years old. She had noticed that the other girl was carrying a gift-wrapped package about the size of a large shoe box. It had an aperture at one end, from which protruded what looked like the lens of a camera. The other girl was barely nineteen and was small and blond. Her name was Pearl Lusk.”
The “Thirty Days Hath November” rhyme dates back to the 1400s
