Tag: history

Lost Warriors

I’m pretty sure at some point in the past ten years I’ve written about my mini-fascination with soldiers, mostly Japanese, who disappeared into the jungles of the Pacific during the closing days of World War II and lived for years thinking that the war was still being fought only to eventually learn that peace had been declared long ago. I suppose it’s just an extreme take on the marooned in the wilderness fantasy. Instead of just being Robinson Crusoe, or Chuck Noland, who were stranded because of accidents, these men were sent into the wilds with orders to fight to the death. When they emerge, the world has moved on in amazing ways. What a way to live your life!

Anyway, one of the most famous of those men, Hiroo Onoda, died last week. A fine summary of his life appeared in the New York Times.

The last holdout, Lieutenant Onoda — officially declared dead in 1959 — was found by Norio Suzuki, a student searching for him in 1974. The lieutenant rejected his pleas to go home, insisting he was still awaiting orders. Mr. Suzuki returned with photographs, and the Japanese government sent a delegation, including the lieutenant’s brother and his former commander, to formally relieve him of duty.

Hiroo Onoda, Soldier Who Hid in Jungle for Decades, Dies at 91

Conspiracy

It’s assassination season, amped up 10,000% by this being the 50th anniversary of JFK’s death. I’ve watched bits and pieces of several shows about the assassination over the past week, and plan on settling down with the History Channel later and watching some more.

This is nothing new.

It’s long gone now, but in high school I taped a rebroadcast of the original NBC coverage on Nov. 22, 1963 and watched it over-and-over again, fascinated by history unfolding on live TV. When Oliver Stone’s JFK came out, I viewed it dozens of times, not necessarily buying Jim Garrison’s theories, but engrossed by the mystery of the whole event. How could a murder that was so open be so layered in so many questions?

I’m not going to lay out what I believe and don’t believe here. I do think it’s interesting that as technology keeps getting more advanced, the mechanics of the actual shooting get honed down to a smaller pool of possibilities. I know, I know, skeptics will say that these pieces are biased, ignore other important information, etc. but at least two different technology-based investigations put the most likely origin point of the bullets that hit JFK’s limousine at the sixth floor of the Texas School Book Depository. Now that still doesn’t answer the why question, or the who beyond Lee Harvey Oswald, or whoever was in that window, question. But technology does seem to be stripping credibility away from some of the theories that have popped up over the past 50 years.

1963 was just at the dawn of when technology was reaching the masses. Famously Abraham Zapruder’s 8MM film gives us a clear view of what happened in the limo. There were dozens of other handheld film and photo cameras in Dealey Plaza. But there were still enough holes in what those cameras captured to give doubters the opportunity to insert their claims into the discussion.

My initial thought was that would not be the case today. A big event like a presidential visit would be blanketed in both official media coverage and likely hundreds, if not thousands, of regular citizens training their cameras and smartphones and camcorders at the event. In a disaster today, we would have an endless supply of photographic evidence to examine, allowing for easy conclusions. Right?

But then I remembered a moment when I was in grad school. I was writing a profile about a local peace activist, and followed her to an anti-war demonstration at the state capital. I was standing there, taking in the event and thinking of how I could wrap the details into my story, when an older man walked over to me and began quietly explaining how the Bush family flew several members of the Saudi royal family out of the Indianapolis airport after all air traffic had been shut down on 9/11. He rambled on for a while, and the object of my story gave me an embarrassed shrug.

The point is that people will always believe what they want to believe, regardless of how much information we have that seems to point toward a logical explanation. Think about 9/11. We know what happened. But there are countless conspiracy theories out there about “what really happened.”

Israel was behind it, thus there were no Jews in the World Trade Center towers that morning.
The US government was behind it, either as a tool for cracking down on domestic freedoms or as an excuse to begin a broader war in the Middle East. Or the Bush Administration was aware of the details of the attack but let it proceed, again as a way of gaining public support for a Middle East war.
It was the Saudi government, hoping to goad the US into attacking its enemies in Iran and Iraq.
It was an inside job, as jetliners aren’t big enough to create a fire hot enough to cause the Towers to collapse.
No plane hit the Pentagon, it was an American missile that hit it.
And on and on.

You would think technology would curb conspiracy theories regarding public events. But there are always limits to what technology can tell us about historical moments. There are always mistakes made in the moments of confusion surrounding a disaster that can be picked apart, linked together, and turned into something more than they really were. There will always be people who distrust any story told by government, or who see dark plots in even the most explainable of moments. And technology makes it easier to spread these theories.

If November 22, 1963 took place in 2013, with full network news coverage and the added evidence provided by average citizens, there would still be doubters. Even if an indisputable explanation became clear after sifting through the photos and videos and accounts, some, seeking a more definitive explanation, would find inconsistencies and missteps and put them together to create a narrative that fit their needs and soothed their fears.

So as much as I’d like to think the cottage industry surrounding the Kennedy Assassination would be neutered by modern technology, it’s clear that’s not the case. In another 40 years someone will still be sifting through the 9/11 evidence, uncovering new information and “finally settling” the story behind the attacks. And odds are every November, right around Thanksgiving, I’ll be refreshing my memory of the details of that day in Dallas.

 

For The Love Of Baseball And Radio

OK, cramming three things together that aren’t each related to the others, but I can link them enough to justify the single post. And, I know, all of these would have been much more timely a week ago. You were busy, too. Let’s get caught up together.


First, radio. Last week was the 75th anniversary of the War of the Worlds broadcast. I’ve always been fascinated by it for a variety of reasons. And I had heard many times before that the “panic” wasn’t nearly as widespread as legend insisted.

But this piece does the math, checks the historical record, and then delves into why there was a “panic” in the first place. The answer is awfully interesting.

How did the story of panicked listeners begin? Blame America’s newspapers. Radio had siphoned off advertising revenue from print during the Depression, badly damaging the newspaper industry. So the papers seized the opportunity presented by Welles’ program to discredit radio as a source of news. The newspaper industry sensationalized the panic to prove to advertisers, and regulators, that radio management was irresponsible and not to be trusted.

Orson Welles’ War of the Worlds Did Not Touch Off a Nationwide Hysteria. Few Americans Listened. Even Fewer Panicked.


Now, radio and baseball.

A wonderful look at the tremendous reach of St. Louis station KMOX, and how its power and the geography of baseball before expansion made the Cardinals, arguably, the most popular team in America, even at the height of the Yankees dynasties.

Supposedly, it still is, despite the proliferation of televisions and Internet access. But can it really still be heard clearly in other states, without the harsh accompaniment of static and interference from other stations trying to muscle in on the signal? Surely there must be some exaggeration.
To put it to the test, I set out in my rental car Sunday, the day of Game 4 of the World Series, between the Cardinals and the Boston Red Sox, and headed south, the radio tuned to 1120 AM, to see if I could I outdrive the signal before the end of the game.

Trying to Outrun The Cardinals’ Long Reach


And, finally, just baseball.

I love the site Flip Flop Flyball. Artist Craig Robinson uses his mastery of Photoshop and his new-found love of baseball (He’s a native of England), to create kickass, 8-bit-style graphics of famous players and historical moments. He also makes cool infographics that are not necessarily 8-bit.

He currently resides in Mexico and using the Mexican sculpture style known as Árbol de Vida (Tree of Life), he created an Árbol de Béisbol: the history of baseball in one, cool, 8-bit graphic. Here is the image, but he sure to go to the page and read up on all the elements. It’s really fantastic.

arbol

Árbol de Béisbol

And while you’re over there, look at some of his other work.

Of Cold Wars, Nuclear Nightmares, And Safety Dances

Man, it’s like there was some kind of conspiracy to troll the over-energetic part of my brain that is responsible for nostalgia last week.

First, Alexander Zaitchik wrote for Salon about how close we may have come to nuclear war in 1983, and how that, along with The Day After, freaked out some of us Gen Xers with nightmares about the nuclear apocalypse. Then Sunday’s American Top 40 was from ’83. And you know how AT40’s mess with my head.

Seriously, people. Stop getting inside my mind.

I’m going to spare you the 3000 words I could easily write about 1983 and just link to the Salon article. But know that I’m doing it with “PYT,” “The Safety Dance,” and “Puttin’ On The Ritz” playing on an endless loop in my head.

By definition, autumn forebodes a coming darkness. Death’s answer to spring, a poet called it. The emotional link between autumn and nuclear fear was forged for the previous generation during the Septembers and Octobers of 1961 and 1962, when back-to-back crises in Berlin and Cuba nearly trip-wired WWIII. Our nuclear autumn was condensed into those three months in 1983, covering a host of landmark Cold War events now at their 30th anniversary mark. If our generations still think about nuclear war, we likely share the expectation that nuclear crisis and war, should it come, will occur during the months of September, October and November.

Inescapable, apocalyptic dread: The terrifying nuclear autumn of 1983

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