The other musical selections came from the Audioblocks royalty free music website and in order are: “Modern Elegance”, “Rich Man Going Crazy”, “Logro”, “Birth of a New Morning”, “All Across America.”
Amelia Earhart was born on July 24, 1897 in Atchison, Kansas. Although her mother came from a wealthy family, her father was an attorney but also an alcoholic with an erratic work history that lead to an unstable childhood for both Amelia and her sister, Muriel. Amelia would attend six high schools before graduating from Hyde Park High School in Chicago.
Although Amelia dismissed speculation about a global flight, George Putnam began corresponding with Lockheed during the mid thirties about the potential purchase of their latest and most sophisticated aircraft; the Lockheed Electra 10E.
It was suggested by Paul Mantz that because Howland Island, at two miles long and one half mile wide would be a navigational challenge, that Fred Noonan an experienced navigator who had mapped many of Pan American World Airways’ American Clipper routes in the Pacific handle this responsibility. Noonan had left Pan American and was intent on starting a navigational school as his next commercial venture, an endeavor that would certainly be helped by the publicity generated by Amelia’s flight.
From his very first days, Gauguin’s life was filled with a volatile instability that must have affected his development. He was born in Paris on June 7, 1848. His father, Clovis, was a journalist, his mother, Aline, the daughter of Flora Tristan, a seminal feminist writer of the early nineteenth century. Aline’s father had been imprisoned for the attempted murder of Flora, an indication of the chaos surrounding Gauguin’s immediate family. Flora Tristan died in 1844, and in 1847 Aline married Clovis and soon settled down to married life and the birth of a daughter in 1847 and Paul in 1848. But the political unrest of Paris forced the young family to think about heading into exile.
It was at the home of Gustave Arosa that Gauguin, in November of 1872, met two female guests, travelling from Denmark. One of these woman, Mette-Sophie Gad, was immediately attracted to Gauguin and a yearlong courtship began. Mette was no great beauty, but all accounts indicate that she had a great deal of personality and a practically masculine outlook that could handle the rough edges of an ex-sailor. A year later the couple would be married and Mette would rapidly become pregnant, Paul’s stock market employment providing a comfortable lifestyle.
With the death of Theo Van Gogh and the realization that none of his compatriots would leave France for the exotic destinations that he continually fantasized about, Gauguin became fixated on a newer and even more remote destination: Tahiti. Again he held out for a major sale and a large check that would get him out of France. He had maintained this fantasy for decades but this time his growing reputation and a newspaper article published the day before a planned sale at the prestigious auction house at the Hotel Druout insured that his paintings would generate a substantial sum. In all thirty paintings were sold on February 23, 1891, including “Vision After the Sermon” and the portrait “Beautiful Angela” which was purchased by Degas.
Vincent Van Gogh had spent the summer writing to all of the artists of Pont-Aven, imploring them to participate in a “colony” in Arles, where he had already relocated. Gauguin repeatedly put him off by claiming that he would have to wait until he sold some paintings and raised the money to pay off his debts in Brittany. But when Theo Van Gogh sent him some money and promised more if he would merely agree to join Vincent in the south of France, Gauguin acquiesced. The overjoyed artist sent him a remarkable, jade green self portrait dedicated to “mon ami Paul” and typically began to fixate on when Gauguin would arrive or if he would even show up at all. Thus the stage was set for one of the most notoriously tragic incidents in art history.
A sequence of events in late December brought about Gauguin’s inevitable departure. As the weather kept them painting indoors, Van Gogh returned to his familiar motif of sunflowers, Gauguin painted a portrait of Vincent at work. The result horrified and angered Van Gogh. “It is certainly I, but it’s I gone mad!” That night at a cafe an argument culminated in Van Gogh throwing a glass of absinthe at Gauguin, who dragged him home and put him to bed. Although Van Gogh tried to apologize, Gauguin responded by saying he could no longer stay because he might respond to such future outbursts by strangling Vincent.
A terrible rainy season insured that Gauguin and Van Gogh would spend most of their time shut up in the Yellow House, unable to paint outside. They spent much of their time in philosophical discussions that ultimately became hostile, Gauguin condescendingly dismissive towards all of Van Gogh’s opinions especially when it came to art.
Gauguin’s deteriorating health affected his productivity but he still would produce some of his greatest works during this time period, especially, “Two Tahitian Women”, now in the permanent collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
He also produced the allegorical “Where do we come from? What are we? Where are we going? that is now in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts.
Jack Johnson was born on March 31, 1878 in Galveston. Very little can be verified about his early life. Most historical information about him comes from autobiographies that he published himself. Had he not gone on to achieve boxing notoriety, both he and his family would have been completely forgotten.
By the end of the fourteenth round Jeffries could barely see, his nose was broken and face and upper body streaked with his own blood. He lumbered gamely toward Johnson at the beginning of the fifteenth round, attempted to clinch but was too exhausted to avoid Johnson’s repetitive combinations. Finally, perhaps attempting to avoid punishment, Jeffries turned away from Johnson and lurched awkwardly along the ropes. Johnson responded with a string of rights and lefts that put Jeffries on the canvas for the first time in his pro career. The stunned crowd watched as Jeffries got to his feet, literally with the help of spectators, but was immediately knocked down by a more direct punch that put him back on the canvas. Boxing rules at that time allowed a fighter to stand over a fallen opponent and hit him as soon as he got up. Rickard attempted to shield Jeffries for a brief moment but when the defenseless fighter staggered to his feet, Johnson draped him on the ropes with another succession of brutal punches. Jeffries corner men stormed into the ring, one tossed a towel in Jeffries direction. The fight was over.
Within days of signing the contract, Jack Johnson would attend Long Island’s Vanderbilt Cup auto race. Although he would barred from the finish line reviewing stand where he was told that no blacks were allowed, he would meet Mrs. Etta Terry Duryea, an elegant, very attractive Caucasian female currently separated from her socially well connected husband. Mrs. Duryea was clearly a cut above the usual women in Johnson’s entourage. While the two promised to keep in touch, Johnson spent the interim between his fight with Jeffries on a vaudeville tour of the Midwest and northeast.
By the twenty first round, Johnson was still scoring but he had not hurt Willard and his usually confident demeanor had disappeared. There were no smiles or taunts as Johnson’s thirty-seven years and grueling lifestyle seemed to be catching up with him. In the twenty-fifth round Willard landed a punch to the body that made Johnson gasp audibly and the challenger was visibly the quicker, fresher fighter. When the bell rang for the twenty-sixth round Willard quickly hit Johnson with another right to the body that had Johnson desperately trying to clinch but the challenger shrugged him off and feinted for a few seconds before unleashing a pulverizing right that landed flush on the jaw. Johnson began falling to the canvas and tried to grab Willard unsuccessfully. He landed on his back, both of his arms extended over his face as the referee counted him out. The fight was over, the heavyweight championship of the world had changed hands.
On Monday, June 9, 1946 Jack Johnson was returning to New York by automobile from a stint in a Texas tent show. These were the types of appearances that he essentially survived on in the last twenty-five years of his life. He was near the town of Franklinton, North Carolina, driving his Lincoln Zephyr at over seventy miles an hour when he lost control and hit a telephone pole. His assistant was thrown from the car and survived, Jack Johnson died in a hospital three hours later.
Jack Johnson’s funeral was held in a Baptist church in his mother’s old neighborhood and attended by twenty-five hundred spectators and thousands more milling outside. He was buried next to Etta Duryea in Chicago’s Graceland Cemetery, resting place of some of the city’s most prestigious citizens including Potter Palmer, Cyrus McCormick and Marshall Field.
Ludwig II was born on August 25, 1845. His father, Maximillian, was then the Crown Prince of Bavaria. His grandfather, Ludwig I, was the King of Bavaria and a member of the House of Wittlesbach, the ruling dynasty that had governed the Kingdom of Bavaria, for over six hundred years.
Upon Maximilian’s death, Ludwig became Ludwig II at the age of eighteen. His childhood had not been particularly happy, raised by governesses and without interaction with or affection from either of his parents, he spent much of his time in emotional isolation. He also developed a hostility toward his younger brother Otto, feeling that because he was the heir and expected to reign eventually as the king, he was held to a much higher standard.
Unfortunately, Ludwig immediately had misgivings and began to realize that moving forward with the marriage would be a disaster. Publicly, he initially attempted to maintain an appropriate veneer of enthusiasm and affection, privately the courtship featured nothing more than an occasional furtive kiss on the brow. Ludwig spent much of the summer arriving at Sophie’s family’s palace at Possenhoven at all hours of the night where the couple would engage in awkward small talk and interact without any real passion. By the end of the summer and the impending August wedding date, Ludwig decided to postpone the event. His explanation was that the wedding would be rescheduled for October 12, the anniversary date of his grandfather, Ludwig I, and father, Max II. But when Ludwig also cancelled the wedding on this date, Sophie’s parents demanded that he either set a permanent date or call it off for good. Ludwig chose to characterize this demand as impertinent and informed Sophie that as a result, the engagement was officially ended.
As Ludwig became more isolated from day to day reality, his preoccupation with architecture and building became more prominent. As early as 1868 he had written to Wagner of his desire to build a castle in the style of German folklore, something that might be occupied by one of the heroic figures of a Wagnerian opera. Having thoroughly explored the area surrounding Hohenschwangau, Ludwig selected a dramatic location on a raised plateau known as the Pollat Gorge. Sketches were composed by architects after consultations with Ludwig II about his vision for the building. Construction began in 1869, it would not end until after Ludwig’s death. Initially called New Hohenschwangau Castle it would ultimately be named Neuschwanstein, or “New Swan Stone” Castle.
During Ludwig’s lifetime, the public was forbidden to enter the palace grounds. Only servants or an occasional expressly invited visitor were permitted. This was in line with the ever more reclusive life that Ludwig began to pursue in the 1870’s. He spent his days sleeping and nights reading obscure literature frequently from the era of Louis XIV. He commissioned plays and operas to be performed privately in large theaters in Munich for his benefit with no other audience. He would take evening rides in his gilded carriage or sleigh in winter, his footmen dressed in the manner of the court of Louis XIV, the king drawn by white horses that made a spectacular impression on the rural inhabitants of backwoods Bavaria.
The death of Ludwig II was met by shock and grief throughout Bavaria. The king’s body was conveyed to the capital where it would publically lie in state for three days in the chapel of the Residenz. An immense funeral procession would convey the king to St. Michael’s Church and his burial place in the church crypt, a procession that would take over two and a half hours. The funeral of Ludwig is believed to be the largest state occasion in the history of the city of Munich.
Both pieces of music at the beginning and conclusion of this podcast are by Richard Wagner.
The introduction is from the Wagner opera “Die Walkure” and is better known as “The Ride of the Valkyries.” It is performed here by the US Marine Band.
The conclusion is from “The Funeral March and Finale” from the opera “Siegfried.” It is also performed by the US Marine Band. Both selections are in the public domain.
Sometimes the most remarkable artistic genius can emerge from the humblest of beginnings. Sarah Julia Harris was born on August 16, 1895 in Baltimore, MD. Disowned by her father, she was raised by her mother, who ultimately married another man and had two more children. Like her siblings, Sarah, nicknamed “Sadie”, began working at cleaning jobs at an early age, a lack of education rendered her virtually illiterate. She was employed on the railroad trains that operated between Baltimore and Philadelphia. When she became pregnant at age nineteen, she was kicked out of her family’s home and fired from her job. With few options, she agreed to be admitted into the Philadelphia General Hospital, performing menial tasks in exchange for shelter and care. Her child was born on April 7, 1915. This child had several versions of her first name listed on official documents, various approximations of the name Eleanora. Although she started life as Eleanora Harris, eventually the world would come to know this illegitimate daughter of an unemployed domestic by a different name: Billie Holiday.
Fortunately, addiction had not yet seriously diminished her talent. Performing mostly in New York, her trademark gardenia in her hair, 1943 and 1944 would be the high point of her live career.
This behavior would come to public attention when Billie Holiday and Joe Guy were arrested by federal narcotics agents in New York City for possession of heroin. Drugs and hypodermic needles were found in a search of a room that both individuals had occupied in Philadelphia. Despite a flimsy case, Billie disdained legal advice and plead guilty and was sentenced to a year and a day in a federal reformatory in Alderson, West Virginia.
Despite her legal problems and her lack of any recently recorded hits, Billie remained immensely popular. Her persona, which had been that of someone “unlucky in love,” was now changing towards someone unlucky in life. It didn’t take long for her to lapse back into addiction, which became the cause of cancelled recording sessions and missed concert dates. If she did show up she would seem disinterested, would play a short set and disappear. Clearly, her lifestyle was beginning to affect her performance.