"That's "Hedy," not "Hedley!" Tuesday: As mysterious as Dorothy Kilgallen's death on November 8, 1965, is the 1965 blackout that overtook much of the Northeast United States and Ontario, Canada on this day. While the official cause was a series of mistakes and blown relays, there were also reports of UFOs near some of the power stations. We don't necessarily believe the reports; we're just saying ... Not all of the Northeast was affected, however, and a full moon that night kept things surprisingly safe, with New York City reporting only five instances of looting. When one speaks of New York, it's difficult to not think of Stanford White (whose 157th birthday falls on this day). White's distinctive architectural fingerprints can still be found all over Manhattan more than a century after his death. Such structures as the Municipal Building, the Washington Square Arch, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art – not to mention many of the millionaires' mansions on Fifth Avenue - were his designs. While White's firm designed things to be built, it's a demolished object that we take special notice of today, as it's the 21st anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. The wall itself was the literal dividing line between East and West Berlin, constructed to keep East Germans from escaping the Communist regime. When that government fell, so did the wall. Something that irriatated those killjoy East German officials was rock music, and on this day in 1967, the first issue of "Rolling Stone" was published. While "Rolling Stone" was originally dedicated to rock, pop, and blues music and musicians – and those are still its primary focus – it's expanded in the decades since to become one of America's most respected magazines, known for its reporting on politics and entertainment. Speaking of respect, we throw a little of it to the creative community today as it's Inventor's Day, celebrated today because it's the birthday of actress Hedy Lamarr. Lamarr was not only one of the most glamorous and beautiful actresses of the 1930s and '40s, but was also something of a scientific genius. In 1942, she was granted a patent for a communication system that would "hop" frequencies in order to make radio-guided torpedoes harder to detect. While the technology went basically unused until the '60s, today it forms the basis for wi-fi networks and cell phones. Suggested Sites... November 9th, 1965 Blackout - sometimes Occam's Razor is a UFO. New York Architecture Images: McKim, Mead, and White - a century later, still some of Manhattan's most beautiful buildings. The Fall of the Berlin Wall: A Personal Account - the wall came a-tumblin' down. Hedy Lamarr Foundation - devoted to cultivating both brains and beauty. 5 Surprising Inventions From Famous People - Isaac Newton invented the cat door?

Directory categories: Electricity, Berlin, Rock and Pop Musicians, Magazines, Classic Hollywood Actors

Archived under: 1940s, 1960s, 1980s, 19th Century, Actors, American History, Anniversaries, Architects, Architecture, Arts, Beauty, Berlin, Birthdays, Buildings, Canada, Celebrations, Celebrities, Cell Phones, Communism, Communists, Electronics, Entertainment, Europe, European History, Events, Germany, History, Holidays, Ice, In Character, Invention, Inventors, Journalism, Magazines, Men, Museums, Music, Music History, New York, Rock and Roll, Science, Scientists, Tourist Attractions, UFOs, United States, Urban Legends, Weird Stuff, Women

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"Dick, you're from Orange County. Can't you get me in? I've got a fistful of E-tickets!" Welcome back to The Spark. It's a brand new week with some brand new chances to dig deep into upcoming events and anniversaries. Let's begin, shall we? Monday: Today is International Chocolate Day, a chance to indulge your sweet tooth and not feel guilty -- or, at least, unduly guilty. We don't know if the holiday is timed to coincide with the 1857 birthday of Milton Snaveley Hershey (the man who founded both the Hershey chocolate company and the town of Hershey, PA), but if it isn't, it's a sweet coincidence. (Of course, it's also Fortune Cookie Day, so it may not be honoring him, after all.) In our youths, this time of year was always looked forward to anxiously, as the new television season was starting. For example (as we’ve noted previously, both "Law & Order" (1990) and "Scooby-Doo, Where Are You?" (1969) began their seemingly endless runs on this day, as did "The Muppet Show" in 1976. The season still starts this week, but it's nowhere near as exciting as it used to be. Regardless, it's not without interest. For example, Martha Stewart's new show premieres on the Hallmark Channel, and both Oprah and Mary Hart begin their final seasons on their respective shows. (In the latter cases, we guess that hoping for such events paid off -- especially with this being Positive Thinking Day). Maybe the most notable thing to happen on this day was in 1814, when lawyer Francis Scott Key observed the British attacking Fort McHenry in Baltimore and was so moved by the stars and stripes surviving intact that he penned a poem that soon became known as the "Star-Spangled Banner," which was eventually adopted as the American national anthem in 1931. Tuesday: We begin the day by noting some passings. First, in 1927, Isadora Duncan died. Duncan is usually considered the mother of modern dance. Her bohemian lifestyle and exuberant dancing made her world famous -- as did her death, when a scarf she was wearing became tangled in the wheels of the automobile she was riding in and broke her neck. Next is Irving Thalberg. Thalberg was a film producer at Universal and MGM in the 1920s and '30s, who turned out such classic films as "The Hunchback of Notre Dame," "The Big Parade," "The Broadway Melody," "Tarzan the Ape Man," "Grand Hotel," and "A Night at the Opera." After his premature death in 1936 at the age of 37, F. Scott Fitzgerald immortalized his in his novel "The Love of the Last Tycoon," which painted him as one of the few men who was able to hold the formula for successful motion pictures in his head. On a lighter note, it was on this day when major league baseball owners, in an attempt to break the players' union, cancelled the rest of the 1994 season – including the World Series. Not all the news of this day is bad, though. For example, in 1961. Wendy Thomas, namesake of the eponymous hamburger restaurant chain, was born, just a year after the Organization of the Petroleum Exporting Countries -- or OPEC -- was founded -- well, maybe that second one isn’t so good, after all. How about we finish the day by remembering the 1985 premiere of "The Golden Girls," or by telling you to get out the vote, as there are primary elections in Minnesota, Delaware, Washington DC, Maryland, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, New York, Rhode Island, Vermont, and Wisconsin? Wednesday: Today’s birthdays include: Marco Polo (1254), the Venetian who was one of the first Westerners to explore China and Central Asia, and who later inspired kids playing in pools to shout his name. In 1907, it was Fay Wray, the actress who so captivated the original King Kong and whose screams pierced the eardrums of the world. (Peter Jackson even wanted to cast her -- at the age of 96 -- in his ill-fated remake of "Kong," but she unfortunately passed away before filming could begin.) Jackie Cooper (1922) was one of the first child stars of the talkie era. Beginning at age 7, he worked as an actor, writer, producer, and director until his retirement in 1989. He was the youngest performer ever to be nominated in a leading role for an Academy Award (for 1931's "Skippy"). "Skippy" was based on a comic strip of the same name that also gave its name to the peanut butter brand (a fact which has caused a some controversy over the years), but peanut butter also plays a weird part in the death of Jumbo the elephant. Jumbo was the star attraction at the London Zoo in the 1860s and '70s. P.T. Barnum, seeing the marketing possibilities, bought Jumbo in 1882 for $10,000, and brought the pachyderm to America where he became a huge hit -- even lending his name to large-sized items. Unfortunately, Jumbo was hit by a train in 1885 and crushed. His skeleton was donated to the American Museum of Natural History in New York, but his hide was stuffed and eventually donated to Tufts University, where it was displayed until 1975, when it was destroyed by a fire. But Jumbo's ashes were recovered and now reside in a 14-ounce jar of Peter Pan Crunchy Peanut Butter in the office of the college's athletic director, where Tufts athletes still rub the jar for luck. Three literary birthdays: James Fennimore Cooper (1789), who wrote "The Last of the Mohicans" and other adventure novels, and who was later eviscerated by Mark Twain, who called him one of the worst writers who ever lived. Robert Benchley (1899) was a master of an-but-dead art form, the short humorous essay. Working initially as drama critic for the original "Life" magazine and "The New Yorker," he eventually became a character actor whose droll cameos enlivened any movie. And in 1890, Agatha Christie was born. The mistress of mystery, she turned out 80 novels featuring Hercule Poirot, Miss Marple, and others, along with a number of plays -- one of which, "The Mousetrap," has been running continuously in London since 1952 -- to become (according to Guinness), the best-selling author of any kind in history, with over four billion copies of her books sold. In 1902, the trio of Joe Tinker, Johnny Evers (pronounced "EE-vers," if you please; not "EVV-ers"), and Frank Chance pulled off their first double play for the Chicago Cubs. They were later immortalized in a poem by columnist Franklin P. Adams. More TV. In 1949, "The Lone Ranger" premiered, just a day after the 35th birthday of star Clayton Moore, who made a lifelong career of portraying the masked man. Speaking of birthdays and TV stars, in 1971, "Columbo" first aired, the day before Peter Falk turned 44. Falk will be forever identified with the detective whose cigar, rumpled raincoat, and equal amounts of annoyance and inquisitiveness endeared him to millions. The 1965 debut of "I Spy" was notable for two things. One was that it did a lot of its filming overseas, an unheard-of practice for the time. The other -- and far more important one -- is that it was the first series to feature a black actor (Bill Cosby) and a white actor (Robert Culp) as co-stars in equally important roles. There had been other shows featuring black actors, but, until then, all had traded in stereotypes and comic relief. Finally, in 1971, Greenpeace was founded, dedicating itself to increasing public awareness of such issues as global warming, deforestation, overfishing, commercial whaling and nuclear power. Thursday: Lots of music today. First of all, the 1782 death of Farinelli. Farinelli was the stage name of Carlo Maria Broschi, who was probably the greatest castrato of all time. While it seems barbaric now, castrati were boys with beautiful soprano voices whose, um, manhood was cut short before adolescence in order to maintain the purity of their tone with the power of masculine singing. He traveled throughout Europe, becoming (somewhat surprisingly) a ladies' man, and retired a wealthy man. While Farinelli sang opera, it was different from what we know today; not really the sort of thing that's much heard these days at the New York's Metropolitan Opera House, which opened in 1966 at Lincoln Center with the world premiere of Samuel Barber's "Antony and Cleopatra." About as far away as you can get from the Met, Riley B. King was born in 1925 on a plantation in Mississippi. At the age of 21, Riley began singing on the radio in Memphis, and gained the nickname "Beale Street Blues Boy," which was later shortened to "B.B.," and combined with his last name, gave us B.B. King, one of the greatest blues singers and musicians in history. At the other end of the spectrum from the blues and opera are cheesy animated musical TV specials such as the kind brought to us by Jules Bass, who was born in 1935. With his partner Arthur Rankin, Bass formed an animation company that gave us such "classics" as "The Year without a Santa Claus" and "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer." Such shows could really drive a person to drink, so if that's the case, you may want to head to Denver, where the 2010 Great American Beer Festival will get underway today, featuring brewers large and micro, bringing you the finest in suds. (Not to mention Oktoberfest, which begins in Munich, Germany, tomorrow for the 200th time.) We don't know if they indulge in the occasional brewski, but if they do, Queen Elizabeth will be meeting Pope Benedict today, and that would seem to be the right time to hoist one. Friday: Since April 2, 1956, many Americans have been following events in Oakdale, IL with great enthusiasm, but that all comes to an end today when "As the World Turns," the venerable soap opera, airs its last broadcast. Its death is another nail in the coffin of daytime drama, which once gave millions hours of entertainment, but is now just a relic of an earlier era or broadcasting and American history. Speaking of American history, it was on this date in 1787 that the U.S. Constitution was ratified, setting in motion a series of debates that continue to the present day as to just what the Founding Fathers did mean. With such confusion, it's no wonder that in 1859, the otherwise-harmless Joshua A. Norton declared himself "Emperor Norton I" of the United States. Norton was humored by his fellow San Franciscans and treated with honor, and was given all the perks of royalty with none of the responsibilities. When he died in 1880, he was given a funeral whose procession stretched for two miles and drew 30,000 spectators. A less inglorious send-off was received by guitarist Jimi Hendrix, who died of an overdose of sleeping pills in a London hotel in 1970. Hendrix's flashy and virtuosic musical style has influenced almost every rock and jazz guitarist since. Lastly, we note that Yom Kippur, the Jewish day of atonement, begins at sundown. Saturday: Beginnings of note today: In media, in 1851, The New York Times began publishing. While the "Grey Lady" is still the "paper of record," we also have to wonder if it, soon, will go the way of the soap opera. (We hope not, as we still enjoy settling down on a Sunday with the Times.) And, in 1927, the Columbia Broadcasting System, better known as CBS, went on the air for the first time. On another network (ABC) in 1964, "The Addams Family" premiered. The series, based on the New Yorker cartoons of Charles Addams, took a delight in black humor and the wholesomely perverse, and inspired the current Broadway musical. In 1895, Daniel David Palmer gave the first chiropractic adjustment in history to one Harvey Lillard, in Davenport, IA, which is now the home of the Palmer College of Chiropractic. In 1905, in Stockholm, Sweden, Greta Gustafsson was born. By the age of 19, as Greta Garbo, she was one of the greatest movie stars in history. Iconic and reclusive, she grew tired of the film industry and retired in 1941, and spent the half-century of her life avoiding the press and public. Not so reclusive is birthday girl June Foray. Born in 1917, Foray is the voice behind most of the female characters in the classic Warner Bros. cartoons, not to mention playing both Rocket J. Squirrel and Natasha Fatale on the "Rocky and Bullwinkle" show. And she’s still working in her 90s! One of the unluckiest men in sports history was born in 1925. Harvey Haddix was a pitcher for, among other teams, the Pittsburgh Pirates. On May 26, 1959, Haddix accomplished something no other pitcher in history has ever accomplished: he pitched 12 innings of perfect baseball; that is to say, he faced the first 36 batters without allowing a baserunner. Unfortunately, the Pirates being the Pirates, they didn't score any runs for Haddix. The 37th batter got on on an error, and was bunted to second. The no-hitter was still in place when Hank Aaron was walked, but the next batter, Joe Adcock, hit a home run to end the game (and even that went screwy went Adcock passed Aaron on the basepaths and was called out). That game was tragic for Haddix, but nowhere near the tragedy of actress Peg Entwistle who, in 1932, despondent over her lack of success in the movies, committed suicide by jumping from the letter "H" in the famous Hollywood sign. Sunday: We end the week by letting you know that it's the beginning of TV Turnoff Week, which asks parents and kids to turn off the boob tube and read, play, talk, or just sit in quiet contemplative silence. Given that it’s Adam West's birthday (1928), his culpability in the "Batman" TV series of the '60s, makes it easy to think about never watching television again. If you do watch, though, the Martin Scorsese-produced "Boardwalk Empire" premieres tonight on HBO. Being that it's from Scorsese, you can almost predict that it's about gangsters -- this time in the wide-open Atlantic City of the 1920s. Speaking of thugs and villains reminds us that, in 1959, Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev was prevented him from visiting Disneyland. Police authorities cited security concerns, though many speculated it was punishment for his being the top Communist. (Though to some of us, having to go to the Magic Kingdom at all would be punishment indeed.) To round out the week, we give our hopes that, at some time during the day, you'll celebrate International Talk Like a Pirate Day by shivering your timbers, avasting your keelhaul, or doing whatever it is buccaneers do. See you next time! Suggested Sites... An Elephant's Tale - "An Unadulterated and Relatively True Story Chronicling the Life, Death and Afterlife of Jumbo, Tufts' Illustrious Mascot." Fenimore Cooper's Literary Offenses - Mark Twain takes on Cooper. Guess who wins. Robert Benchley: A Profile in Humor - biography of the writer and actor. Wikipedia Springs "Mousetrap" Ending - after six decades, it's really not a "spoiler," is it? Snopes: Nyet! - the history of Nikita's zip-a-dee-don't-dah day.

Directory categories: Animation, War of 1812, Classic Hollywood Movies, Mystery Authors, Major League Baseball

Archived under: 17th Century, 18th Century, 1900s, 1910s, 1920s, 1930s, 1940s, 1950s, 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, 1990s, 19th Century, Actors, Adam West, Agatha Christie, Alcohol, American History, Amusement Parks, Animation, Anniversaries, Arts, Asia, Athletes, Authors, Baseball, Baseball Players, Batman, Beef, Beer, Biographies, Birthdays, Black History, Books, Broadway, California, Cartoonists, Cartoons, Celebrations, Celebrities, Charles Addams, Children, Children´s TV, China, Classical Music, Coincidence, College Sports, College and Universities, Comic Strips, Communists, Conservation, Critics, Dance, Dead Celebrities, Death, Detectives, Dictators, Directors, Disney, Disneyland, Elephants, Entertainment, Environment, Europe, European History, Events, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Fast Food, Festivals, Fiction, Food and Drink, Germany, Green Living, Hamburgers, Hanna-Barbera, Hershey, History, Holidays, Homebrewing, Humor, Jimi Hendrix, Journalism, Journalists, Junk Food, Los Angeles, MLB, Magazines, Mark Twain, Martha Stewart, Meat, Media, Men, Mickey Mouse, Movie History, Movies, Muppets, Music, Music History, Musicians, News, Newspapers, Nostalgia, Oprah, Performing Arts, Pirates, Poetry, Recluses, Russia, Sweden, TV, TV Turnoff Week, Talk Like a Pirate Day, Talk Show Hosts, Tarzan, The Addams Family, The Golden Girls, The Lone Ranger, The New Yorker, Tourist Attractions, United States, Vintage, Voice Actors, War, Weird Stuff, Westerns, Women, Writers, Writing

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Alex had a vocabulary of 150 words. That's more than some people we know. Welcome once again to The Spark, your guide to the week's events, anniversaries, and commemorations. We'll be frank about this week in particular, though; it's always tough to find events around September 11. It's not easy to maintain our (hopefully) snarky tone around such an anniversary, but we'll do our best. Monday: Well, obviously, it's Labor Day, which leads us to ask just where in the world the summer went. Wasn't it Memorial Day about ten minutes ago? We also look at a couple of deaths today. In 1901, anarchist Leon Czolgosz went to the Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo, NY, and shot President William McKinley. McKinley didn't die right away; he lingered for a couple of days before passing. Czolgosz never expressed remorse for the murder and was electrocuted on October 29, 1901. So outraged were people by the murder, though, that his family was refused the right to take the body for interment, and it was buried in the prison grounds, where it was dissolved with a combination of quicklime and acid. In 2007, Alex, the African Grey parrot who was trained by Dr. Irene Pepperberg, died of sudden and unexplained causes. Alex had a vocabulary of about 150 words, and his intelligence was rated at about the level of a five-year-old human. He could distinguish between shapes, colors, and numbers; had an understanding of the concepts of "zero," and personal pronouns; and could lie and joke. Two TV premieres tonight. One is "The Cat in the Hat Knows a Lot About That" on PBS. It's another one of those public television shows that teaches things to kids, but we have to ask when the Cat, who's nothing but a disruptive anarchist in his books by Dr. Seuss, became an authority figure to be listened to. The other premiere is a show on Cartoon Network based on "Mad" Magazine. Guess there's just not enough content out there for adolescents with undeveloped senses of humor. What hath Judd Apatow wrought? Tuesday: In 1921, 16-year-old Margaret Gorman won the Golden Mermaid pageant in Atlantic City, NJ. The pageant was a publicity stunt designed to keep tourists in the city after Labor Day, and officials, no slouches when it came to hyperbole, named Gorman "Miss America." The pageant, which morphed from a beauty contest to a scholarship event, used to be a major part of American pop culture, but in recent years has faded to become a failed reality show followed by yet another Vegas spectacle. Sic transit gloria mundi. (Though we don't know if she ever won the crown.) On this day in 1930, the "Blondie" comic strip debuted. We've all run across "Blondie" in our time, but we'll wager you didn't know that Blondie's maiden name was Boopadoop, that she started out life as a gold-digging flapper, or that Dagwood was the son of a millionaire, who disowned him for marrying Blondie. Regardless, the Bumsteads have been married since 1933. That’s a heckuva lot of sandwiches. Wednesday: So, Monday, we were talking about Leon Czolgosz, and today we'll mention the 169th birthday of Charles J. Guiteau, who shot President James Garfield in 1881. Guiteau was probably the craziest of all Presidential assassins, shooting Garfield because he had never been appointed consul to France, despite his lack of any qualification. Speaking of unusal political figures, Lyndon LaRouche turns 88 today. LaRouche, is a perennial Presidential candidate who holds, shal we say, "unique" views, including his belief that Queen Elizabeth is the head of an international drug cartel. While it’s easy to laugh at LaRouche for the wrong reasons, it's also the birthdays of two men at whom it's easy to laugh for the right reasons: Sid Caesar (1922) and Peter Sellers (1925). Caesar was a television superstar in the 1950s, headlining two comedy programs that, thanks to writing staffs that included Mel Brooks, Neil Simon, Woody Allen, and Larry Gelbart, turned out 90 minutes of classic live comedy every week -- just like "Saturday Night Live," only funny! Sellers came to fame as a writer and actor on the legendary "Goon Show," whose crazy comedy paved the way for "Monty Python’s Flying Circus," among others. He soon moved on to films, playing multiple roles in such classics as "The Mouse That Roared" and "Dr. Strangelove," before finding film immortality as the blithely incompetent Inspector Clouseau in the "Pink Panther" films. A couple of musical anniversaries today. In 1932, Patsy Cline was born. Her soulful singing style made her one of the first country singers to cross over to the pop charts. Unfortunately, she was killed in a plane crash at the age of 30. In 1935, a 19-year-old Frank Sinatra made his radio debut as part of the "Hoboken Four" on "Major Bowes' Amateur Hour." The Amateur Hour was a fixture of American entertainment for nearly 40 years and was the "American Idol" of its day; the only difference being that Major Bowes’s contestants were usually talented. Speaking of talent, it was on this day in 1504 that Michelangelo's "David" was unveiled in Florence. The 17-foot-tall statue on a naked male soon became iconic, and has probably been as mocked and imitated as any work of art since. While the David was quite an invention, it's not quite as useful as Scotch tape, which made its debut in 1930, when Richard Drew was trying to come up with a product that would allow the painting of sharp lines on automobiles. In 1892, an early version of the Pledge of Allegiance appeared in "The Youth's Companion" magazine. Suffice it to say, the original did not include the phrase, "One nation under God," which was added by Congress in 1954 at the height of the Red Scare, in order to distinguish America from the Godless Communists of the Soviet Union. Those very Communists were provided with some kind of help -- divine or not -- starting in 1941, when the Siege of Leningrad began. For 872 days, the second-largest city in the Soviet Union was held under siege by the German army. No supplies got in or out, and Leningrad's citizens were forced to scavenge everything they could in order to survive harsh winters and constant bombardment. There are stories that they even had to resort to cannibalism. Regardless, their withstanding of the Nazis is one of the great stories of perseverance in world history. Not as heroic, but certainly persistent and hard to avoid is "Star Trek," which premiered in 1966. Trekkies may be nerdish and obsessed (for example, we're sure there are those of them who would object to not being called "Trekkers"), but they're certainly literate. And they may well be celebrating International Literacy Day today. Finally, we note that it's Rosh Hashanah and the beginning of the Jewish high holidays. Thursday: A number of birthdays today, including two that run from the sublime to the ridiculous -- which man fits into which category, we leave to you. Colonel Harland Sanders, the founder of Kentucky Fried Chicken was born in 1890, and Mario Batali, the chef who revolutionized American cooking, by, for nothing else, his use of offal and internal organs in his recipes. To our uncultivated palates, such a diet would lead to a mutiny, which is ironic in that it's also the 256th birthday of William Bligh, whose harsh treatment of his crew led to the mutiny on HMS Bounty. On the other hand, such victuals may well have appealed to Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, the diminutive French artist who died in 1901. (We can’t speak as to whether such a diet led to either his diminished stature or his death. We just report 'em.) In more baffling events, the NFL season begins tonight with the Minnesota Vikings taking on the New Orleans Saints. (It's baffling because football is a sport for the fall and winter months, and we're still a couple of weeks from the Autumnal Equinox). Also, the new season of "The Vampire Diaries" begins tonight, and we have to wonder just what we have to do to stop this mania for vampires and zombies! Enough already! (Although, maybe Viking quarterback Brett Favre's eerie longevity is due to his being either a vampire or a zombie. Just sayin'.) Friday: It's a day for things we like and admire. For example, it's Raymond Scott's 102nd birthday. Scott was a composer and bandleader in the 1930s and '40s who wrote avant-garde songs, many of which (most notably "Powerhouse") were used by composer Carl Stalling when writing the scores for Warner Bros. cartoons. We're also glad to celebrate the big 5-0 with actor Colin Firth, who always turns in good work, but who especially endeared himself to many a Janeite with he portrayal of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy in the 1995 version of "Pride and Prejudice." Musician Jerry Lee Lewis will perform on Broadway tonight with the cast of "Million Dollar Quartet."And we like the "Stand Up to Cancer" telethon, which will take over the television airwaves tonight in order to raise funds to beat cancer. Of course, not everything today is likeable. For example, you may recall that last week we mentioned the anniversary of the shooting of Louisiana politician Huey Long. Well, after a couple of days of being hospitalized, Long died-- though whether the fatal bullet came from the alleged assassin or his own bodyguards, no one knows. Saturday: As we alluded to earlier, it's hard to be snarky this week, and this day, especially, but we'll try. First of all, we note the coincidence of ground being broken on this day in 1941 for the construction of the Pentagon, when 60 years later, it would be attacked along with the World Trade Center. When we were kids, we all knew the words to "Oh, Susanna." (You know, "I come from Alabama with a banjo on my knee ...") Well, it was first performed by its composer, Stephen Foster, in 1847 at the Eagle Saloon in Pittsburgh, PA. And how was Foster paid for the song? With a bottle of whiskey, which is an ending appropriate for the work of O. Henry, the writer who specialized in twist endings, and who was born in 1862. Sunday: We have a mixed bag to end the week. First, the birthdays of two groundbreaking men. In 1880, H.L. Mencken was born. Mencken, "the Sage of Baltimore," was a reporter, critic, and etymologist, who acid coverage of politics and the Scopes "Monkey Trial" alone would have assured him immortality, but who crowned those accomplishments with his investigations into the roots of American English and by coining such maxims as "No one in this world, so far as I know -- and I have searched the records for years, and employed agents to help me -- has ever lost money by underestimating the intelligence of the great masses of the plain people." -- usually misquoted as "No one ever went broke underestimating the good taste of the American public." The other is Jesse Owens, born in 1913, Owens won four gold medals at the 1936 Berlin Olympics, forever destroying Hitler's dream of using the games to establish his myth of Aryan superiority. As groundbreaking as those men were, though, their accomplishments fade in contrast to the French artisans who, 17,000 years ago created a series of cave paintings in Lascaux, France, that were discovered in 1940. The paintings, which depict thousands of human and animals, give paleontologists irreplacable insights into the lives and psychology of paleolithic humans. Speaking human psychology, we’ll note that today in Russia is the Day of Conception. The Russian government is encouraging citizens of the Motherland to propagate today in hopes that there will be a baby boom on Russia Day, which is nine months from now on June 12. We'll close this somewhat somber week by noting the 1995 death of actor Jeremy Brett. Brett labored in relative obscurity until in 1985, when he was cast as Sherlock Holmes. Almost overnight, he became the definitive Holmes for many of us, as his strong and quirky characterization matched the downright oddness of the literary Holmes. See you next time. Suggested Sites... The Alex Foundation - Polly want a donation. Seussville - would you click upon this link? Would you do it with a drink? Miss America Organization - combining brains and beauty. The Mencken Society - honoring the Sage. Sherlock Holmes.com - the world's greatest detective. Makes Batman look like a bumbler.

Directory categories: Holidays and Observances, Beauty Pageants, Comic Strips, Star Trek, Journalists

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The most famous shot in "A Trip to the Moon." Special effects have gotten slightly better in the century since. Welcome once more to The Spark, your weekly digest of events and happenings and information in the Yahoo! Directory to help you appreciate them more. As we begin this last Spark before the Labor Day holiday, we have to ask just where in the heck the summer went. Seems like it was Memorial Day about five minutes ago, and now kids are back in school and Fall is lurking around the corner. Anyway, let's look at the week ahead. Monday: It's a day for monsters and creators. In the former category, we have Benedict Arnold, who on this day in 1780, secretly promised to surrender the Continental Army's fort at West Point, NY, to the British. Arnold was an egomaniac, who was frustrated with the lack of attention he had received, and what better way to get attention than to commit treason? Speaking of outsized egos, we note that today would have been the 127th birthday of Huey Long, the "Kingfish" who ran Louisiana like a private fiefdom until he was gunned down in 1935. Long ruled the state as both governor and senator, and his campaign slogan of "Every Man a King" mixed populism and fascism in equal measure. But let us not mention only those who destroy, let's celebrate those who create. When thinking of monsters, one almost automatically turns to thoughts of Dr. Frankenstein and his creation, for which we owe thanks to Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, born in 1793, she wrote her novel, "Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus," at the tender age of 18. And where would kids (and parents) be today without Babar? Laurent de Brunhoff (born in 1925), is son of Jean de Brunhoff, who created the elephant king, and who continued his adventures when his father died. Of course, those kids grow up to be teenagers and young adults, and where would they be without Robert Crumb, who turns 73 today? Crumb was in the vanguard of the underground comix movement of the 1960s, and he’s still active and creative, and his influence on modern pop culture is incalculable. And what would pop culture be without the Beatles? One hesitates to guess, but you can try to get a handle on it this week at the International Beatle Week in Liverpool, England. Of course, the Beatles played in the Ed Sullivan Theatre in New York when they made their American debut in 1964, and that theatre is today home to the Late Show with David Letterman, which made its own debut in "the Ed" in 1993. A nice contrast to end the day. Gazillionaire Warren Buffett hits the big 8-0 today, and out in the Nevada desert, Burning Man begins. The best thing we can say about Burning Man is that it gets all those people who want to go to Burning Man in one spot away from the rest of us. Tuesday: More monsters. In 12, Gaius Caligula was born. Though the surviving sources are incomplete, Caligula was one of the most notorious Roman emperors of them all, known for the stories of his cruelty, instability, and sexual perversion. (We won’t deal with them here, but you can find the stories easily enough.) But Caligula isn't the only monster we note. On this date in 1888, Mary Ann Nichols was murdered and became the first of known victim of Jack the Ripper. And, of course, in 1928, Berlin saw the premiere of Bertolt Brecht and Kurt Weill’s "Die Dreigoschenoper" (known in English as "The Threepenny Opera"), with its main character, the vicious murderer Captain Macheath, better known as "Mack the Knife." In 1959, Bobby Darin had a huge hit with that song (which is really odd, when one considers it's about a mass murderer killing people), and Friday will see the 51st anniversary of that song being banned by WCBS radio in New York City. At the time, there had been a series of teenage stabbings in the city, and the station didn't want to those crazy teens any ideas. And while marijuana possession is small potatoes compared to all of the above, we see that, in 1948, actor Robert Mitchum was arrested in a Hollywood drug bust, and was eventually sentenced to 60 days in prison, a scandal which in those days threatened to kill his career, but nowadays would rate only a passing mention on "Entertainment Tonight." All this talk of criminals and murderers makes us long for a hero, and fortunately, in 1942, "The Adventures of Superman" radio series began airing on the Mutual Broadcasting System. Wednesday: All we have for today is that in 1902, George Melies’s "A Trip to the Moon," was released in France and became the world’s first science fiction film. Thursday: So, in 490 BCE, the Athenian army was at Marathon, battling with Persia. The herald Pheidippides was sent to Sparta for help. He ran the 150 miles in two days, but because of religious laws, the Spartans couldn't send any help, so he ran back. In spite of not having the extra troops, Athens won the battle. And poor Phidippides took off again, this time running the 26.2 miles from Marathon to Athens to carry the news of the victory. He gasped out his last words, "We have won," and dropped dead of exhaustion. The lesson: do not underestimate the usefulness of warm-ups and warm-downs. In 1666, the Great Fire of London began in the wooden house of King Charles II's baker. By the time it ended three days later, more than 13,000 houses, including St Paul's Cathedral, had burned to the ground -- but amazingly, only six people had died. If you were living in England in 1752, tomorrow would have been September 14th. While most of the rest of the world had switched from the Julian Calendar to the Gregorian Calendar in 1582, the stubborn Brits had stuck to their guns. But, after nearly 200 years, there was an eleven-day discrepancy between the two calendars, and the English had no choice but to convert. There were actual riots, as people cried, "Give us back our eleven days!" But it was to no avail. Great Britain and her colonies were dragged kicking and screaming into the 18th century. Speaking of fighting against reality, in 1934, singer Russ Columbo accidentally shot himself to death. Columbo was a wildly popular singer and actor, and when he killed himself (with an antique gun that was supposedly unloaded), his friends thought the news would prove fatal to his mother, so for the last years of her life, those friends created an elaborate ruse, sending postcards and letters from far-off locations, and using his records to simulate a radio show. In 1944, Mrs. Columbo died, never suspected that her son had died a decade before. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday: Let's talk about pioneers this weekend. First, there's Louis Sullivan, born in 1856. Sullivan is, for all intents and purposes, the man who invented the skyscraper. Since Chicago had had its own giant fire in 1871, Sullivan had the opportunity and the laboratory to erest steel-framed buildings that towered over anything built before. In 1833, 10-year-old Barney Flaherty answered an ad in "The New York Sun" and became the first world's first newsboy, which is why we celebrate Newspaper Carrier Day today -- at least for those relatively few Americans who still have newspapers carried to them. Sunday would have been the 163rd birthday of Jesse James. Jesse was not the first Western outlaw, but he was the first to become world famous while plying his dubious trade. 1885 saw the opening of the Exchange Buffet in New York City. It was the first self-service restaurant (read, "cafeteria") in the United States. We don't know if they served chocolate (we'd guess yes), but whether they did or not, it's World Chocolate Day Friday, so you can serve yourself and indulge. In 1888, George Eastman registered the trademark "Kodak" (for the clicking sound a camera's shutter makes) and received a patent for his camera that used rolled film. Eastman's "Brownie" camera came from the factory loaded with enough film for 100 photos. When the roll was complete, the customer would mail the whole camera back to the factory in Rochester, NY, where the pictures would be developed and sent back along with a new camera. Sunday is the 81st birthday of comedian Bob Newhart. Newhart is a two-time pioneer, having been in the forefront of the stand-up comedy revolution of the 1950s, when he transformed himself from "button-down accountant" to a comedian with the top-selling album in America. Then, in the '70s, his sitcom, "The Bob Newhart Show," set new standards for writing, ensemble acting, and just plain goofiness. The weekend before Labor Day always marks the annual Jerry Lewis MDA Telethon. While it's easy to criticize the telethon for its corniness and out-of-date show business aesthetic, it's impossible to deny Lewis's commitment and ability to raise money -- nearly a billion-and-a-half dollars since 1966. Lastly, we'll note the 98th birthday of the late avant-garde composer John Cage with 4 minutes and 33 seconds of silence. Suggested Sites... United States Military Academy at West Point - for sale, cheap. Contact Gen. Arnold. Official R. Crumb Site - keep on truckin'. The Beatles - the core of the apple. Dangerous Minds: Early Technicolor - the good folks at Kodak bring you color movies from 1922. Jerry Lewis Telethon - mock him if you will, but he does good work.

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When this guy says he was on a toot last night, you'd better believe him (Photo by David Wright) The last time you had a pest problem, who did you call? Chances are it probably wasn’t a guy dressed in a crazy multi-colored outfit, brandishing a flute. But back in the Middle Ages, there were neither the Yellow Pages nor a database of exterminators to consult, so if you had a problem and no one else could help, well, you’d have probably hired a Pied Piper yourself. (Please note, in this case, "pied" refers neither to baked goods nor a state of intoxication, but rather to a colorful costume.) In 1284, the German town of Hamelin was infested with rats. This sort of thing was far from an unusual occurrence in the Middle Ages, so if they went to the trouble of recording the problem, they must have had a lot of rats. Fortunately, like an ambulance-chasing lawyer at an auto accident, a Pied Piper was on hand to offer his services. For a price. Eschewing the more traditional rat poisons, traps -- or even large sticks -- the unnamed Piper used the power of his pipes to charm the town's rats into following him, leading them out of the town and straight into a river. Evolution has since favored rats that can swim, but in the Middle Ages, non-aquatic rats were apparently the norm, and all of them drowned. Congratulating himself on a job well done, the Piper then invoiced the townsfolk of Hamelin for his services -- but was shocked when they reneged on the contract, barely paying even his out-of-pocket expenses. Again, it being the Middle Ages, there were no legal or reconciliation services for the Piper to contact, and one man against an entire town is never good odds (despite what Clint Eastwood teaches us), so, on June 26, 1284, that one solitary Piper who'd been pushed too far was forced to go all Middle Ages on the burghers of Hamelin. ("going Middle Ages" being quite different from "going Medieval," as you'll see). Like some terrible forerunner of Simon Cowell, the Piper began to play another tune, one the children of Hamelin couldn't resist. Adults were at a loss to understand the Piper's hold over their offspring (just as they are today with the Jonas Brothers), and he walked out of Hamelin followed by all but two of the children. Legend says these fortunate two were a deaf child and another who ran back to get a coat, but it could just as easily have been a skate punk boy and a little goth girl, both unimpressed by the 13th-century equivalent of a boy band. The Piper led his listeners into a deep cave outside Hamelin, from which neither he nor the children ever emerged again. And even today, 726 years later, the adults of Hamelin are still mystified by their childrens' music tastes... Suggested Sites... Wikipedia: Pied Piper of Hamelin - what do we really know about this guy? The Pied Piper of Hamelin - told properly by the Brothers Grimm. Related Pied Piper Legends - you mean there's more than one? The Generation Gap - how wide is it?

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