February 11

On the 11th in 1953, President Eisenhower denied a petition for clemency made on behalf of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg. The Rosenbergs had been convicted on March 29, 1951 of conspiracy to commit espionage. There are those who believe that their convictions were obtained in reliance on specious evidence. The two were executed by electrocution on June 19, 1953. No long, drawn-out, terribly boring appeals of the death sentence in those days. The executioner got Julius on the first try. However, proving yet again that women are the stronger of the species, it took three tries before Ethel bought it. I was unable to find out what Mrs. Rosenberg wore to her execution and I can only hope that it was something demure and in quiet good taste.

February 10

When I think of Oxford, England, I picture a bunch of guys dressed in tweed sport coats that have leather patches on the elbows, smoking pipes and busily engaged in scholastic pursuits. I imagine Oxford resident Lewis Carroll sitting at a desk in a wood-paneled study interrupting his work only to share his thoughts with Colin Dexter, writer of the Inspector Morse mysteries. On occasions, they would break away from their labors to swap interesting anecdotes with T. E. Lawrence, C. S. Lewis and J.R. R. Tolkien. The concentration of writing and scholarly talent so identified with Oxford, England must reach critical mass at times however, and the pressure of being simply brilliant must be released. On the 10th in 1355, which just happens to be St. Scholastica’s Day, following a dispute at Oxford’s Swindlestock Tavern, townspeople and two students from the University of Oxford got embroiled in a dispute over the beer served at the Swindlestock and over the next two days 63 scholars and perhaps 30 townspeople were killed in what is today known as The St. Scholastica Day Riot. The scholars were soundly defeated. This is clearly a 14th century version of East Hampton’s Artist and Writers Softball Game.

February 9

It was on the 9th in 1950 that Senator Joseph McCarthy graciously informed the nation that the United States Senate was simply filled with Communists. Thereby inaugurating a tradition that is currently being honored by, at the behest of our nation’s Commander in Chief, the Patriot Act has not only been renewed but portions of it made permanent.

February 8

On the 8th in 1692, Dr. William Griggs, of the Salem Village, Massachusetts Bay Colony, accused nine-year old Betty Parris and eleven-year old Abigail Williams, respectively the daughter and niece of Samuel Parrish, pastor of Salem, of being possessed by the Devil, opening the door for the fun-filled Salem Witch Trials.

February 7

Charlie Chaplin, a film star who became quite famous in the first quarter of the twentieth century, has had a long and lasting influence on comedy. This is still felt today. One example is Johnny Depp’s character in the movie Benny and Joon; Chaplin more or less carries the movie for Depp. Chaplin’s most famous character The Tramp made its first appearance in Chaplin’s movie Kid Auto Races at Venice, which was released on the 7th in 1914.

February 6

This, the second month of the year should be a time of celebration. At times, it is rather difficult for me to get in the mood for celebrating. There is just too much to worry about. Do you really feel ready to party on down? Before you succumb to the allure of having fun, take a moment or two to consider the fate of the Tybee Bomb (Serial #47782). The Tybee is a perfectly fine (at least one hopes it is) hydrogen bomb which is owned by the United States Air Force. On the 6th of this month in 1958, a search began to find the Tybee Bomb, because on the 5th a B-47, which was piloted by Howard Richardson, was carrying the Tybee Bomb as part of a combat simulation mission. At 2:00 a.m., the B-47 was involved in a collision with an F-86. In an effort to get the plane safely on the ground, Richardson sought and received permission to jettison the hydrogen bomb, which he did. The bomb went into the waters of Wassaw Sound just off Tybee Island, which is off the coast of Georgia near Savannah. That is the last anyone saw of the bomb. Efforts were made to recover it, all of them unsuccessful, and on April 16, recovery efforts were discontinued. It is not very troubling however, because the bomb’s explosive yield is modest, only 1.9 to 3.6 megatons. The Air Force (Those ‘I am from the Government and I am here to help you’ people) calmed the public by saying that everything is just hunky dory so do not worry. Unfortunately, some of the components of the bomb, uranium and plutonium, have half-lives of something in the neighborhood of a gazillion years. Therefore, in spite of the Government’s assurances that there is no danger, I will continue to worry and I suggest that you do the same.

February 5

On the 5th in 1846, the Oregon Spectator began publication, was the first newspaper to be published on the left coast. Printed in Oregon City, The Spectator was four pages long and was printed on a hand press. When Portland eclipsed Oregon City in 1855, the Spectator folded its tents and slipped quietly into the pages of history.

February 4

Sir Hiram Stevens Maxim was born on the 4th in 1840 in Sangerville, Maine. In the 1880s, he moved to England. He was someone in whom the quirky nature of his make-up is clearly illustrated by his accomplishments. He was very good at inventing killing machines, inventing the first portable machine gun in 1881, as well as the ubiquitous mousetrap. His most successful invention, however, was his ‘Captive Flying Machine’ an amusement ride which was incredibly popular. So popular in fact that it earned for him the Sir in his name.

February 3

Buddy Holly (Charles Harden Holley), Richie Valens (Richard Steven Valenzuela) and the Big Bopper (Jiles Perry Richardson, Jr.) were extraordinarily popular stars in the emerging genre of Rock and Roll in the 50s. Iowa apparently is a huge center for surfing enthusiasts. The three, in support of a tour, were traveling together when the tour’s manager filled in an open day by arranging a show at the Surf Ballroom in Clear Lake, Iowa, on February 2, 1959. Hard though this may be to believe, this is back in the 50s when winters featured snow and cold weather. The tour bus the three bands were using had a broken heater and before opening the Surf Ballroom show, Buddy Holly had decided that he had had enough of the bus and convinced both Valens and the Big Bopper to charter a plane to get them to Fargo, North Dakota, which was close to their next show in Minnesota. These three giants, who were trailblazers in Rock and Roll, became inspirations to all people following them in to the rock and roll arena, everyone from promoter Bill Graham to Lynyrd Skynrd and Randy Rhoades, when on the 3rd as they tried to fly to Fargo, the plane they were in crashed, killing all three icons. Yes, folks, as Don McLean pointed out in his song American Pie, the music died on the 3rd in 1959.

February 2

The 2nd in 1709 saw the rescue of Alexander Selkirk from an island in the Juan Fernandez archipelago, where he had been marooned for four years and four months. Daniel Dafoe used the Selkirk story as the basis for his novel Robinson Crusoe. On the other hand, perhaps Russell Johnson used it as the foundation of his screenplay for the epic tale Gilligan’s Island. The records are unclear.

February 1

The State of Texas had a difficult birth. It declared its independence of Spain on March 2, 1836 and fought a war to insure that independence, a war, which they won on April 21. On December 29, 1845 President James K. Polk, whose catchy campaign slogan was 54’40” or fight (Canada just loved him for that one, but that’s another story), signed a bill admitting Texas as a member of the United States. On February 1, 1861, after being in the United States for less than 16 years, Texas seceded from the Union to become a slave state. Apparently, the State of Texas was then more a state of confusion, a condition that persists to this day.

January 30

Oliver Cromwell was the Lord Protector of the Commonwealth of England, Scotland and Ireland from December 13, 1653 until his death in 1658. Throughout his tenure, he maintained an uneasy relationship with King Charles I, Parliament, commoners, pretty much everybody that he met. He was a man of many contradictions; a regicide who curried favor with royalty, a man of devout faith who committed some shocking atrocities, the list goes on and on. He was involved in no small measure in the beheading of Charles I on the 30th of January, in 1649. Cromwell weathered all the storms of his life and died of natural causes on September 3, 1658. The wheels of justice may indeed turn slowly, but justice will not be denied. Proof that some people can really hold on to a grudge was clearly illustrated on the 30th in 1661, when Cromwell’s body was disinterred; he was beheaded, his body thrown in a pit, and his head displayed on a pole outside of Westminster Abbey until 1685. To the great relief of passersby his head would be buried in 1960.