W. C. Fields was born William Claude Dukenfield on January 29, 1880 in Darby, Pennsylvania. His parents, James and Kate, were English immigrants of modest means, his mother a homemaker and his father appropriately enough at the time of his son’s birth, an innkeeper and bartender.
Fields scraped together some money, relocated and made the rounds of the numerous NY agents and bookers that funneled entertainers to the hundreds of venues around the city, but without any references or solid experience, this venture was doomed from the outset. Fields quickly ran out of cash and had no choice but to return home, the only tangible result of his brief move a lifelong loathing of Philadelphia, which, after his exposure to the bustling sophistication of Manhattan, struck him as backward and dull.
WC Fields would whip through several solid performances during the remainder of 1933 and 1934: “Six of a Kind,“ “You’re Telling Me,“ and “The Old Fashioned Way.” Stuck in the middle of these efforts were Fields’ least favorite role as “Humpty-Dumpty” in “Alice in Wonderland, and the dreadful “Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch,” which finally proved to the Paramount brass that casting Fields as a secondary character was a mistake.
To much excitement, it was announced that Fields would next team up with Mae West. One of America’s biggest stars in the mid-thirties, West, now aged 43, had also recently been cut loose by Paramount after her popularity waned. Months would pass before a script and director would be selected, the result of Fields’ cantankerous and territorial approach to his participation. Surprisingly, the two actors were able to co-exist and what was eventually entitled “My Little Chickadee,” came to pass. The film was a commercial success but West was apparently embittered by the experience in which Fields was paid substantially more, got a dubious screenwriting credit and she received poor reviews that caused Universal to pass on another more expensive option for a second film. She would disparage Fields for the rest of her life.
Charles Laughton, against his better judgment, had been persuaded to take the key role of Wilkins Micawber and after three days of shooting, the skilled actor was convinced that he was completely unsuitable to continue. Reluctantly, Selznick and director George Cukor set about getting the man they had initially contemplated casting: WC Fields. Because he was under contract with Paramount, the actor would not come cheap and Fields, always mindful of money and sensing he had MGM over a barrel, held out for $50,000 for two weeks work.
With Paramount reluctant to cast him in anything tangible, Fields decided to head in a different direction and embrace the medium of radio. By 1937, he was appearing on the prestigious Chase and Sanborn hour mostly trading barbs with Edgar Bergen’s ventriloquist dummy, Charlie McCarthy. The radio show quickly became the most popular in the US but the pressure on Fields to perform on a weekly basis was unpleasant and as soon as he got another film from Paramount, he quit.
WC Fields died on Christmas Day, 1946. Despite the legal protestations of his wife and son, he was eventually cremated and interred in a vault in Forest Lawn Cemetery. The plaque adorning his ashes merely lists his stage name and the years of his birth and death. Contrary to urban myth, there is no epitaph concerning the city of Philadelphia.
The Chicago Black Sox and the Scandal Surrounding the 1919 World Series
Almost one hundred years after the Black Sox scandal, the legend of Shoeless Joe Jackson, created by disingenuous journalists and burnished by Hollywood, lives on in the American imagination. An illiterate mill hand, a country boy who escaped small town poverty and obscurity as a baseball savant, Jackson is perceived as tragically victimized by wealthy owners and slickered by hustlers and cheats who took advantage of his childlike innocence. Ironically, without the backstory of the Black Sox scandal, Jackson would have been consigned to the obscurity heaped on such players as Tris Speaker, Nap Lajoie, Rogers Hornsby, Honus Wagner, George Sisler and many other stars of the early 20th century who now are prominent only in the consciousness of obsessive journalists or baseball historians.
It is alleged that earlier in the baseball season, Burns had spoken on several occasions with Eddie Cicotte about the possibility of fixing the World Series. Burns and his buddy Maharg knew that they could never finance such an undertaking on their own and they traveled to New York in late September in an attempt to recruit Arnold Rothstein as their financier.
All of the seven most prominent indicted White Sox lawyered up, renounced their confessions and denied their participation in a conspiracy. Only dogged pursuit of Bill Burns, funded by Ban Johnson and assisted by Billy Maharg, saved the case, the gambler finally agreeing to appear and testify.
Eventually, an explosive interview with gambler Billy Maharg appeared in a September 27 edition of a Philadelphia newspaper. Maharg told the whole story of he and Bill Burns attempts to fix the series, the double cross by Abe Attell, the promise of $100,000, the partial payment of 10 grand and the pivotal role of Eddie Cicotte. Maharg also explained that he and Burns had lost everything on game 3 after Chick Gandil assured them that the Sox would bag the game. The article prompted a national sensation and desperation damage control from Charles Comiskey.
Comiskey responded to the Maharg article by suspending all seven alleged conspirators but also decided on the additional PR strategy of delivering some of the key players to the grand jury with predetermined testimony. They wished to convey the impression that Comiskey wanted to get to the bottom of a conspiracy he had tried to cover up for almost a year.
The highest paid player on the team and the second highest in the league with the exception of Ty Cobb was Eddie Collins, who was shrewd enough to demand his $15,000 salary upon being traded to the White Sox by the Philadelphia Athletics. Already disliked for his Ivy League background, (Collins graduated from Columbia) players like Gandil hated the second baseman and never spoke with him on or off the diamond. Gandil also had his nose broken on the basepaths by the scrappy Collins in 1912, when Gandil played for the Washington Senators, the salary differential an additional element adding to the first baseman’s deep animosity.
On the eve of game one, the center of baseball buzz in Cincinnati was the prestigious Hotel Sinton. Burns, a former ball player and acquaintance of Chick Gandil, was able to set up a meeting with seven of the eight White Sox in on the fix, only Joe Jackson was absent. Burns eventually introduced them to Maharg, a former boxer named Abe Attell and a mysterious Mr. Bennett aka David Zelcer, a high stakes gambler with alleged ties to Arnold Rothstein.
Perhaps on the urging of his wife, Jackson would subsequently attempt to come clean with White Sox management and disown the money but this cannot erase Jackson’s willingness to take the payoff to begin with. Ultimately his own behavior would lay the groundwork for a terrible tragedy.
Understanding that gambling was currently inextricably tied to baseball, various owners proposed hiring Judge Kenesaw Mountain Landis, a federal judge as the commissioner of the sport. Landis was probably the most well known judge in America, Having famously fined John D. Rockefeller 29 million dollars in a previous anti-trust decision. Although this fine would be thrown out on appeal, Landis gained the reputation as a fearless and tough minded jurist of impeccable reputation and was additionally a rabid baseball fan. Initially, Landis was hired to lead a new commission but eventually it was agreed that he would be appointed sole Commissioner with unlimited power and a huge raise over his federal salary.
The Chicago Black Sox and the scandal surrounding the 1919 World Series
“Regardless of the verdict of juries, no player that throws a ballgame; no player that undertakes or promises to throw a ballgame; no player that sits in a conference with a bunch of crooked players and gamblers where the ways and means of throwing games are planned and discussed and does not promptly tell his club about it, will ever play professional baseball.” Today, almost one hundred years later, all eight of these Chicago White Sox remain permanently banned, their statistics expunged from the official record. This expulsion also affected even consideration for the Baseball Hall of Fame, a punishment that definitely affected Joe Jackson and possibly eliminated Eddie Cicotte and Buck Weaver, as well.
The most prominent member of the Black Sox adopted a nonchalant attitude. Shoeless Joe was quoted, “I’m through with organized baseball,” hinting that he would be just fine with his outside business interests which would be as lucrative as major league baseball.
In 1919, Eddie Cicotte, with bonuses and salary, earned $8,000, the second highest sum for a pitcher in the league, only Walter Johnson at 9,500, earned more. Cicotte was also the eighth highest paid player in the league, and the oft repeated legend that Reds game one starter Dutch Ruether earned double what he was making is nonsensical.
On the road, Cicotte gravitated towards the company of first baseman Charles Arnold “Chick” Gandil, a tough, streetwise veteran player familiar to all of the habitués of taverns, pool halls and hotel bars that Gandil frequently haunted. Although the exact origins and catalyst of the scheme to fix the 1919 World Series has never been specifically documented, it is believed that Chick Gandil and Eddie Cicotte were first approached in late September, 1919, in the vicinity of Boston’s Buckminster Hotel by Joseph “Sport” Sullivan, a well known professional gambler.
Kerr, 5′ 7″, 155 lbs, was 13-7 during the regular season but was a big drop-off from Cicotte and Williams. He was opposed by Ray Fisher, a solid major leaguer who went 14-5 in 1919. Surprisingly, in Game 3, Kerr produced a three hit shutout, retiring the last fifteen Reds in a row.
DB Cooper, the man behind the most notorious airplane hijacking in American history
On November 24, 1971, a man walked up to the Northwest Orient ticket counter at the Portland, Oregon International Airport. After waiting on line for a few moments, he paid $20 dollars in cash for a ticket for Flight 305 to Seattle, a scheduled 30 minute trip leaving at 2:50 PM.
He gave his name as “Dan Cooper” for the purposes of ticketing but he was not required to show identification. Dressed in a dark suit, black tie and white shirt with a black raincoat he looked identical to any number of business travelers anxious to make it home for the following day’s Thanksgiving celebration. He was assigned seat 18C, an aisle seat in the last row and boarded the plane with 36 other passengers, not including the crew.
On April 7, 1972, a man flying under the alias “James Johnson” boarded flight 855 in Denver, Colorado. The plane’s flight began on the East coast and was supposed to fly from Denver to Los Angeles. It was a Boeing 727, the identical craft hijacked by D. B. Cooper. James Johnson was actually a Mormon, national guard member , ex-Green Beret BYU student named Richard Floyd McCoy, Jr. He sat in the last row on the aisle in the exact location used by Cooper. Heavily made up and wearing a wig, McCoy hijacked the plane to San Francisco, claiming to have explosives, a grenade and a pistol, which he brandished at the flight attendants and some passengers who became aware of the situation when the plane rerouted to San Francisco. McCoy demanded 500,000 dollars in different denominations and four parachutes. He got the money and the chutes and got off the ground before agents could storm the plane. A duffel bag filled with the ransom money was attached to his parachute harness. This time, the FBI and other law enforcement agencies were better prepared for such an eventuality.
DB Cooper, the man responsible for the most notorious air hijacking in US history.
On Thanksgiving morning, A Portland FBI investigator involved in the case, Ralph Himmelsbach, took it upon himself to use his own single engine plane to fly over the area where it is believed that Cooper might have bailed out. He spends much of Thanksgiving Day flying back and forth over Vector 23, the route that flight 305 took through the area, trying to spot some trace of the hijacker. A parachute, clothing, a campfire, even a body. He comes up with nothing and, because of the poor weather and visibility, a full scale search on foot will not begin until Friday, November 26. D. B. Cooper’s hijacking is the lead national network news story, beginning a public fascination with the case that will only increase over time.
In the immediate aftermath of the hijacking, the FBI, the chief law enforcement agency charged with investigating the case completely searched the airplane and meticulously interviewed witnesses, the flight crew and especially the two stewardesses who interacted with Cooper. They uncovered numerous fingerprints ultimately determined to be useless, two of the four parachutes the hijacker left behind, a clip on tie that will turn out to be from Penney’s Department store, a pearl festooned tie clasp and eight cigarette butts of the brand “Raleigh”, a cheaper alternative to more high profile tobacco brands.
Another notorious potential Cooper emerged in a 2007 New York Magazine article which identified a former deceased Northwest Orient purser named Kenneth Christansen as the hijacker. Christiansen was implicated by his brother, Lyle, who repeatedly told the FBI and various investigators of his suspicion. Along with the usual secretive deathbed confession while dying in 1994 of cancer, Chritiansen was an experienced paratrooper, a long time crew member with knowledge of a 727 and based out of Seattle. Christiansen bought a house with cash shortly after the hijacking. He died with an inexplicably large bank account, a valuable stamp collection, gold pieces and a strange, twenty year Northwest Orient scrapbook of news items that were related to the airline but ended right before the 1971 hijacking. He smoked, drank whiskey and when Florence Schaffner was shown photos of Christiansen she agreed that he was photographically the closest match to Cooper that she had subsequently seen. Unfortunately, Tina Mucklow, the flight attendant with the most contact with Cooper would eventually join a nunnery and refuse any interviews concerning the incident. Two books would be written alleging that Christiansen was the hijacker, but his age in 1971, 45, and his small stature at 5’ 8”, 150 pounds which contradicted most eyewitness accounts make him a poor possibility. The FBI ignored Christiansen from the start and Ralph Himmelsback personally ruled him out based on physical appearance alone. Strangely, though the bureau also said that Christiansen was too skilled a paratrooper to have attempted the jump, implying that anyone who knew what they were doing would never have planned such a hijack in such weather and such a remote location.
Unfortunately, the notoriety surrounding DB Cooper has also precipitated many journalistic attempts to cash in on the topic. This seems to be the case in the allegation that Robert Rackstraw, a former Vietnam veteran, helicopter pilot, ex-con and possible CIA operative is DB Cooper. Rackstraw is a former university instructor and arbitrator who seems to have gotten his life together after a checkered past in the military. In 2011, Thomas Colbert, a television journalist and law enforcement employee, began an extensively orchestrated investigation that concluded that Rackstraw is DB Cooper. Over a five year period, Colbert’s team of various former FBI agents, Marshals and prosecuting attorneys sifted through various leads that lead them to individuals who were allegedly connected to the hijack. It is Colbert’s allegation that three people colluded with Rackstraw and were waiting for him on the ground after Rackstraw jumped out of Flight 305. Colbert’s team searched an area that an anonymous source told them was where Cooper actually landed and unearthed a parachute strap and pieces of a backpack that they turned over to the FBI. In 2016, Colbert’s team also turned over information about Rackstraw and his accomplices that the bureau never investigated, instead officially closing the case on July 8, 2016, claiming that no new information had emerged and that the bureau did not have the resources to devote to a forty year plus cold case. The FBI had already investigated Rackstraw in 1979 and concluded that he was not Cooper. Colbert responded by maintaining that the FBI does not want to be embarrassed by a group of civilian investigators cracking the case and sued the FBI to release their files under the Freedom of Information Act. Among the subsequently released maerial were several letters mailed to newspapers from an individual who claimed to be the hijacker. One letter contains a numerical code that Colbert’s team claims Rackstraw would have known and utilized during his military service. The numbers were a coded reference to Rackstraw’s elite Vietnam Army intelligence unit and as late as 2018, Colbert was trumpeting this as additional proof of Rackstraw’s secret identity and conveniently using this information to fund his second History Channel documentary on the topic. Rackstraw’s alleged motive for the hijack was his anger over his discharge from the Army after falsifying his education and military exploits. A 1970 photograph of Colbert also bears a strong resemblance to the Cooper drawing. Rackstraw’s responses to Colbert’s investigation have ranged from threats to sue to elliptical statements neither confirming or denying his identity as DB Cooper. Rackstraw has even hinted that he is in talks to produce his own version of his connection to the case but currently refuses to publicly discuss any connection to the crime. Based on the FBI’s attitude, the best Colbert will ever be able to do is to convince a television audience that Rackstraw is DB Cooper and it is unlikely that this investigation will result in a prosecution. However, as long as somebody is willing to finance his investigation, Colbert seems amenable to pursuing the case.
Robert E. Lee was born on January 19, 1807. He was the son of Henry Lee III and Anne Carter, Henry and Ann’s fifth child.
Lee was initially assigned to assist in the construction of a fort on the Savannah River, 12 miles from the city of Savannah, Georgia itself. But construction was unsuccessful and it would be sixteen years before Fort Pulaski was completed. Long before that, Lee would be fortuitously reassigned to Fort Monroe, near present day Hampton, Virginia. He visited Mary Custis at her family home, Arlington House, which overlooked the Potomac and Washington, DC. Lee’s initial proposal to Mary Custis was accepted by her and her mother but her father, George Washington Parke Custis, the adopted son of George Washington and the grandson of Martha Washington was initially opposed. Not only was Robert E. Lee from a family with limited financial resources, “Light Horse” Harry Lee’s questionable business practices had brought the hint of scandal to the entire Lee clan.
From a leadership perspective, Lee would also be forced to face the reality of the loss of Stonewall Jackson. Initially thought to be able to recover from his gunshot wounds inflicted by friendly fire, Jackson contracted pneumonia and died on May 10. Lee was uncharacteristically emotional in a letter to his son, Custis: “It is a terrible loss. I do not know how to replace him. Such an executive officer the sun never shone on. I have but to show him my design and if it can be done, it will be done.”
Both of Lee’s parents emanated from two of Virginia’s most aristocratic families. Henry Lee III was a Revolutionary War cavalry officer who earned the nickname “Light Horse” for his equestrian ability during combat. His mother’s family lived at Shirley, one of the oldest and most profitable tobacco plantations in the state of Virginia. At the time of their marriage, Henry Lee was Virginia’s governor and would also serve the state as a member of the US House of Representatives. However, by the time of Robert E. Lee’s birth, his father had suffered significant economic setbacks forcing the family to abandon the Lee ancestral home of Stratford Hall.
George Parke Custis was kicked out of Princeton, left St. John’s College of Annapolis after only one semester and made a living renting out all of the various plantation properties that he had inherited. By comparison to the industrious and spartan Robert E. Lee, Custis was an indolent patrician who lived on the wealth of his ancestors. Eventually, understanding that his daughter was enthusiastic about marrying Lee, Mary Custis’ father agreed to the marriage of his only child, which took place at Arlington House on June 30, 1831.
Lee immediately realized that the attack was not only a failure but a disaster. On his horse Traveller he is said to have galloped forward and greeted his defeated troops by saying “It is my fault.” Of Pickett’s 6,000 men, 3,000 were casualties including all 15 regimental commanders. Other units suffered similarly bringing casualties to approximately 6,500 suffered in less than an hour. Lee quickly became concerned that Meade might follow with a counterattack but when he ordered General Pickett to prepare his division for such an eventuality, Pickett is said to have replied, “General Lee, I have no division.”
Lee’s disappointment in his defeat at Gettysburg was so profound that he submitted his resignation to Jefferson Davis. Lee indicated that he was to blame for the loss at Gettysburg and he questioned whether he could continue to meet the physical demands of military command. Davis emphatically rejected Lee’s offer of resignation, telling him that replacing would be an impossibility.
Lee did not live long enough to observe the post war reality of race relations, especially in the southern United States, but, based on the attitudes that both he and his wife expressed during their lifetime, he would not have found them problematic.
General Lee not even sure as to what he would do with the rest of his life. He was 58 years old but other than the military he had no other occupation. He must have considered it fortunate when the rector of Washington College in Lexington, VA offered him the presidency of the school. Besides a salary which included a percentage of tuition, Lee was promised a residence. In exchange he would administer the school and be asked to teach a course in philosophy. Robert E. Lee accepted the position.
In late September, Lee prepared for the beginning of Washington College’s 1870-1871 academic year. On September 28, at a meeting of the directors of his local church, Lee’s last official act was to agree to make up the remaining $55 of the rector’s salary out of his own pocket. He walked home and when he got to the dinner table, he was unable to lead his family in grace or even speak at all. They sat him down and called a doctor, Lee clearly afflicted by some traumatic event which turned out to be a massive stroke. Robert E. Lee lingered for two weeks, lying quietly in a bed in the main room of his home surrounded by family. He died quietly on October 12, 1870, aged 63. His glorification began immediately with a name change of Washington College to Washington and Lee University, Lee having initiated both law and business schools as part of the school’s curriculum.
Robert E. Lee will always remain a complex and fascinating figure of historical prominence. Hopefully, the pendulum which initially swung too far in favor of insensitive adulation will eventually swing back from strident, out of context vilification to a more sensible middle ground
When he died at age 72, on September 28, 1891, Herman Melville was so obscure that those who even remembered his literary output presumed that he had passed away many decades earlier. Melville’s works were out of print, his last novel published more than thirty years before his death. The title of his epic work Moby Dick was misspelled in Melville’s New York Times obituary and one of his most respected efforts, “Billy Budd, Sailor,” had not even been published.
Despite the initial Shaw family misgivings about how their future son-in-law would make a living as a writer, Herman Melville and Elizabeth Shaw were married in Boston, in August of 1847. They became permanent residents of New York City and the writer spent the next few years grinding out a succession of books.
Packing off his family to his in-laws in Boston, in October, 1856, Melville first set out for Glasgow and then Liverpool and a meeting with his friend, now diplomat, Nathaniel Hawthorne. Their reunion was friendly even warm but Hawthorne’s journal entries, while empathetic, depict Melville as a conflicted, lost soul.
Over forty, Melville need not be concerned with actually having to fight for the Union but in 1863, he and his wife decided to move back to New York City, exchanging Arrowhead, which he was unable to sell, for his brother Allan’s East 26th Street home.
Throughout this time period, Melville continued to toil away at his custom’s officer’s job. When he began working at the Customs House in 1866 he took a horse drawn streetcar to work. By the 1880’s, so much time had passed that Melville took the Third Avenue El, an elevated railway, to his office on the Upper East Side.
Melville would remain in this position until his resignation on December 31, 1885. By that time, his wife had inherited a considerable amount of money from an aunt and other relatives, enough to allow Herman to retire.