A friendship between the famed writer Mark Twain and inventor Nikola Tesla might, on the surface, seem unlikely. And yet, before the two met, they already shared some significant interests. Tesla had once been bedridden for nine months with a severe bout of cholera, during which time he read some of Twain’s earlier works. He later described them as “unlike anything I had ever read before and so captivating as to make me utterly forget my hopeless state.” Twain, meanwhile, was fascinated by technological innovations and, in particular, electricity. When the two men eventually met in the 1890s, they became friends and spent a lot of time together in Tesla’s lab and elsewhere. One famous account tells of Twain’s participation in an experiment involving an electromechanical oscillator, which Tesla believed might be therapeutic. But when Twain sat on the vibrating plate, it served as something of a laxative, forcing the acclaimed author to run for the bathroom.
Calvin L. Graham was the youngest U.S. military member during WWII, and is still the youngest recipient of the Purple Heart and Bronze Star. It wasn’t unusual for boys to lie about their age to enlist, but Graham was just 12 years old when he forged his mother’s signature and headed to Houston to enlist. The 125-pound, 5-foot-2 boy was miraculously cleared for naval service and assigned to the USS South Dakota as an anti-aircraft gunner.
On November 14, 1942, the South Dakota was ambushed by Japanese forces at the Battle of Guadalcanal. Graham was severely burned and thrown down three stories of the ship, but still mustered the strength to tend to his severely wounded shipmates. He was honored for his heroism, but when his mother found out about the honor, she informed the Navy of his real age and he was stripped of his medals and thrown into the brig for three months. In 1978, President Jimmy Carter learned of Graham’s story and restored his medals, except for his Purple Heart, which wasn’t restored until two years after Graham’s death.
First developed in the late 1820s, photography combined art and science into one medium capable of capturing an image in the moment. The innovation transformed recorded history into something that could be documented in pictures as well as text. As the technology advanced, the medium exploded in popularity, making it possible for families to create snapshots of memories for future generations to appreciate. These early photographic portraits transport us back in time, painting a picture of a different way of life: Families were larger, clothes were bulkier, and postures were noticeably stiff and formal. But perhaps the most conspicuous difference of all is that no one ever seemed to smile.
The somber expressions preserved in early photographs might lead us to assume that past generations led austere and joyless lives. However, the lack of joviality in these snapshots can be attributed to several other factors. Here’s the truth behind those stern expressions in old photos.
In the earliest days of photography, the lengthy exposure periods made it impractical to photograph people. For instance, French inventor Nicéphore Niépce’s 1826 “View from the Window at Le Gras,” credited as the oldest surviving photograph, required an exposure time of eight hours. It was more than a decade before Louis Daguerre’s 1839 invention of the daguerreotypemade portrait photography practical. But even then, it was a relatively slow and meticulous process that required the subject to remain still for as long as 20 minutes.
By the early 1840s, photographic technology had advanced further, and the daguerreotype images that once required a 20-minute exposure neededonly 20 seconds to process. Still, even modern photo subjects understand the difficulty of maintaining an open-mouthed smile for any amount of time. It only takes a few moments for a candid smile to turn into something more like an awkward grimace. And anyone who has dealt with a restless child can attest that more than a few seconds of remaining motionless is a formidable challenge. To minimize movement and guarantee a sharp image, children were sometimes put into restraints for the length of a photo shoot.
Additionally, until the 20th century, the expense of photographic equipment and the toxic and dangerous chemicals needed to process film meant that most photographs were taken by professional photographers working out of studios or traveling with their equipment. A photography session was a time-consuming and pricey undertaking; it cost the average person as much as three or more months’ salary, and a person might only be photographed a few times in their life. The requirement for stillness, combined with the novelty and cost of posing for a professional photographer, created an atmosphere where it was simply easier to maintain a neutral or serious expression. But even once the technology existed to capture more relaxed expressions, it was a long time before smiling in photos became the norm.
Though technological limitations are frequently cited as the reason for the solemn expressions in old photographs, it wasn’t the only reason our ancestors so often appeared solemn in front of the camera. One notable feature shared by artist portraits from the 17th and 18th centuries and photographs from the early 19th century is the presence of stoic, enigmatic expressions on the subjects’ faces. As portrait artist Miss La Creevy observes in Charles Dickens’ novel Nicholas Nickleby, only two types of expressions existed in portraiture: “the serious and the smirk.”
Before photography, a painted portrait was the only way to preserve someone’s image for posterity. Having your portrait painted was an activity associated with wealth and social status, and accordingly, the art form had its own rules and expectations. This formal portraiture proved to be a big influence on early photographers, who featured their subjects in ways that represented their social status, occupation, or other interests. The social mores associated with painted portraits carried over into photographic portraiture, and smiling was discouraged.
What is the oldest continuous culture in the world? Some might say it’s the Egyptians, since they’ve been kicking around for several thousand years, or perhaps the Indians living along the Indus River Valley — one of ancient history’s greatest (and least-known) civilizations. However, the real answer lies far away from these centers of ancient wonder, in the Land Down Under, among that continent’s first peoples — the Aboriginal Australians. A study in 2016 by an international team of researchers gathered genomic data that showed this group first arrived on the continent some 50,000 years ago, after leaving Africa about 70,000 years ago.
However, it’s worth noting that Aboriginal peoples are far from a homogenous unit. After the first peoples arrived on the continent, they quickly spread across Australia, forming isolated pockets that developed independently of one another. By the time Europeans arrived en masse in the late 18th century, some 200 nations of Aboriginal Australians — each with their own language — lived throughout the continent. But that diversity goes beyond just tribes or nations; a study in December 2023 concluded that Aboriginal peoples have high levels of genetic diversity compared to European or Asian populations.
Unfortunately, Aboriginal Australians continue to struggle compared to non-Indigenous Australians, and experience an eight-year shorter life expectancy, poorer health and educational outcomes, and other ill effects stemming from colonialism and mistreatment. But if the past 75,000 years have taught us anything, it’s that Aboriginal Australians are a resilient culture, and they aren’t going anywhere.
For the estimated 30% of Americans with ophidiophobia (fear of snakes) — one of the world’s most common phobias — Ireland may seem like heaven on Earth. That’s because throughout its entire modern history, the Emerald Isle has been home to precisely zerosnake species. Although one of the nation’s most popular legends tells of St. Patrick driving serpents from the island in the fifth century CE, snakes haven’t slithered along Ireland’s soil since at least before the last ice age.
Ireland’s geological history makes it perfectly inhospitable for snakes. During the last ice age, the northern latitudes of the British Isles were just too cold for ectotherms (animals dependent on the sun to warm their bodies), so these creatures migrated south. As the ice age receded, glaciers retreated to the poles, and water levels rose; the land bridge to Ireland became submerged around 8,500 years ago, whereas the land bridge to England stuck around for 2,000 more years, allowing snakes more time to migrate north as the planet warmed. This is why England has endemic snakes, while Ireland does not. (New Zealand and Iceland lack snakes for similar reasons.)
However, this doesn’t mean you won’t run into any snakes in Ireland. While the island has no endemic snake species, it isn’t illegal to have one as a pet (like it is in Hawaii) — in fact, pet snakes were seen as a status symbol in Ireland during the 1990s. With many people setting their pet snakes free during the economic recession around 2008, it’s possible a few populations of snakes are slithering about, though not nearly in large enough numbers to threaten Ireland’s ecosystem or its residents.
N ot unlike Leo the Lion, who roars at the beginning of many a movie produced by MGM, the eagle seen on early U.S. coins was a real creature with a surprisingly common name: Peter. In a rather patriotic confluence of events, none other than an eagle took residence at the U.S. Mint in the 1830s — roughly 50 years after the bald eagle was added to the national seal. The noble raptor would reportedly while away his days at the mint before being shooed away after working hours. As he and his human colleagues would eventually find out, however, industrial workplaces are no place for birds. Peter was mortally injured after his wing was caught in a coining press in 1836, and died a few days later despite workers’ best efforts to save him.
But his story does not end there. Peter’s friends and colleagues were not ready to say goodbye to him, as he’d become both a companion and mascot, so they hired a taxidermist and placed his stuffed remains on display in the building’s entrance; he still inhabits the current Philadelphia Mint. Historians believe the eagle featured on the silver dollar issued from 1836 to 1839 was based on the “magnificent specimen” that was Peter, as was the Flying Eagle one-cent piece issued in 1857 and 1858 — a fitting tribute to a bird who clearly inspired many.
Esoteric Meandering Shouting Into the Void 
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