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How Do Aztec Death Whistles Make That Chilling Sound?
Credit: Classic Image/ Alamy Stock Photo
AuthorMark DeJoy
February 13, 2025
Love it?30
As far as cultural artifacts are concerned, few sound quite as intimidating as the Aztec death whistle. Not only is the word “death” right there in the name, but the Aztec culture has a reputation for religious ceremonies involving sacrificial rituals. Add to that the fact that the whistles are shaped like human skulls, and the imagination can run wild with macabre possibilities for the meaning and purpose of the death whistle. But the instrument was not necessarily deployed for morbid uses. Let’s take a closer look at the function of these ominous-sounding objects.
The name “Aztec death whistle” is actually a colloquialism. The whistles are also known as ehecachichtli, and in scholarly circles, they’re referred to as skull whistles due to their shape. Their exact origin is unclear, but researchers estimate they date to between 1300 CE and 1521 CE. The whistles were made of clay or bone and were small enough to be held in the palm of the hand. The holes for blowing into them were located at the top of the skull.
Some scholars have theorized that the skull design represents the winds of the mythological underworld Mictlan, while others suggest the whistles symbolize the Aztec wind god, Ehecatl. And due to the fact that many whistles were discovered during burial site excavations, it’s commonly believed that they served a purpose in burial ceremonies, and possibly human sacrifice rituals. There is also speculation that they were used as a warfare instrument, played on the battlefield in order to intimidate enemies.
The skull whistles are capable of producing sounds that are unsettling and even frightening to the listener. They make a chilling sound often compared to a high-pitch human scream or shriek. In 2024, a team of researchers at the University of Zurich led by neuroscience professor Sascha Frühholz conducted a study to analyze the whistles, including their psychological impact, and published the findings in the journal Communications Psychology.
Participants were asked to listen to recordings of original and replica skull whistles (without being told what the sound was), identify what they were hearing, and rate their feelings about the sound. Researchers also recorded the brain activity of the participants while they were listening to the recordings.
The study resulted in listeners identifying the skull whistle recordings as the sound of a human scream and rating it, according to a press release issued by the researchers, as “extremely chilling and frightening.” Brain activity indicated that regions belonging to the affective neural system were activated during listening, confirming the unsettling nature of the sound.
Consider that fair warning, then, before listening to the sound of the skull whistle, though for anyone who’s curious, a selection of sound samples from the University of Zurich study can be found here. The variety of samples includes recordings of the whistles being blown with different air pressures; lower pressures result in a more windlike tone, while higher air pressures are more screamlike. A longer clip, played in a more varied style, is available here. And a popular video (below) features a demonstration by Indigenous instrument maker Xavier Yxayotl.
To learn what causes the skull whistle’s distinctive sound, Frühholz’s team used CT scans and 3D imaging to visualize the inner mechanisms of the instrument. The scans revealed a cylindrical duct leading from the top opening, tapering to a point of constriction along three opposing chambers, known as the counter pressure chamber, collision chamber, and bell cavity.
The design results in an unusual, turbulent airflow that creates a Venturi effect — a drop in pressure that occurs when air (or liquid) flows through a constricted point, and results in increased velocity. (An everyday example of the Venturi effect is how placing your thumb over the opening of a garden hose results in a faster stream.) In the case of the skull whistle, the increased air velocity results in acoustic distortions, which become all the more pronounced the harder the whistle is played. To quantify the sound, the researchers ran a spectrum analysis, which showed elements of pink noise and, not surprisingly, a great deal of high frequencies. The whistles also corresponded to a distinctive pitch associated with primate screams.
The result was something truly unique. The skull whistle, as Ars Technica pointed out, “doesn’t fit into any existing Western classification for wind instruments.” In the study, Frühholz similarly expressed the prevailing, almost supernatural mysteriousness of the skull whistle, noting, “We don’t know of any comparable musical instrument… from [any] other historical [or] contemporary contexts.”
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Why Are Old Photos Sepia-Toned?
Credit: Fototeca Storica Nazionale/ Hulton Archive via Getty Images
AuthorKristina Wright
February 13, 2025
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Developed in the late 1820s, photography revolutionized the way history could be documented, blending art and science to create lasting visual records. Early photographs were exclusively black and white, featuring stark, contrast-heavy images that showcased the technical brilliance of the new medium. By the 1880s, however, photographs began taking on a warm, brownish tint. This distinctive aesthetic, known as sepia toning, became a hallmark of photography, particularly portraiture, around the turn of the 20th century.
Sepia-toned photography was not just an aesthetic preference, but a direct result of technological advancements aimed at improving the longevity and visual quality of photographs. As pioneers in the field experimented with ways to improve the durability of their images, sepia toning emerged as a practical and widely adopted solution. The process extended the lifespan of photographs, preventing fading and deterioration over time. As a result, sepia-toned prints dominated photography for several decades.
Despite their brownish hues, these photographs are still considered a form of black-and-white photography. While the sepia toning process adds warmth to the monochromatic image, it doesn’t technically introduce additional colors.
In the early days of photography, creating an image was a complicated chemical process that required precise control over light-sensitive materials. Photographers used silver-based compounds, such as silver halides, to develop images on a variety of surfaces, including glass, metal, and paper. When exposed to light, these silver compounds would undergo a chemical reaction and form a visible image.
Despite their remarkable ability to capture detail, early photographs were highly susceptible to environmental damage. Over time, exposure to light, heat, and air caused the silver particles to oxidize, leading to fading and discoloration of the photographs.
To address this issue, photographers developed a technique known as “toning,” a process that involved treating photographic prints with chemical solutions both to enhance their color and to improve their longevity. Sepia toning, named after the ink from the cuttlefish species Sepia officinalis, became one of the most effective and widely adopted methods of toning.
This process replaced some of the sensitive metallic silver in a print with silver sulfide, a more stable compound that was less prone to oxidation and fading. The chemical transformation not only gave the photographs their characteristic warm, brownish hue but also extended their lifespan, making it possible to preserve images for generations to come in an era when photography was an expensive and time-consuming process.
Sepia toning gained popularity in the 1880s as photographers experimented with ways to create prints that were visually appealing as well as long-lasting. In fact, sepia-toned photographs last up to 50% to 100% longer than black-and-white images. However, there was no universal formula for creating sepia-toned images, so each photographer had to develop their own chemical combination. This resulted in a variety of brown hues, ranging from light golden brown to dark reddish brown. The toning process remained in widespread use well into the 20th century, allowing countless photographs from that era to survive to the present day.
It Was Aesthetically Appealing as Well as Practical
While sepia toning was primarily adopted for its preservation benefits, its aesthetic qualities also contributed to its widespread appeal. The warm, brownish hues of sepia prints conveyed a sense of elegance and timelessness. Unlike the stark contrast of black-and-white images, sepia tones were considered more flattering, making them particularly popular for portraits and sentimental keepsakes. The process deepened contrast, refined tonal gradation, and offered a softer, dreamlike image compared to black-and-white photography.
Culturally, sepia-toned photographs came to define the late-Victorian and Edwardian eras, a period marked by industrial progress and significant social and cultural changes in both Europe and the United States. Photography during this time captured moments from everyday life, such as family portraits, weddings, christenings, and postmortem photos of deceased loved ones, as well as architecture, nature scenes, and historical events. As a result, sepia-toned photography became linked to collective memories of the past, reinforcing its association with history and nostalgia.
The dominance of sepia-toned photographs began to fade in the early 20th century as advancements in technology introduced more efficient and affordable ways to preserve images. Black-and-white photography became the standard because it was simpler, faster, and less costly than the additional chemical treatment required for sepia toning. By the 1920s and ’30s, photographers increasingly preferred gelatin silver prints, which produced high-quality black-and-white images without the need for sepia toning.
The decline of sepia toning continued with the rise of color photography in the mid-20th century. As color film became more widely available and affordable in the 1940s and ’50s, both sepia and black-and-white photography fell out of fashion. Sepia tones remained relevant in some artistic and archival contexts, but today that nostalgic aesthetic is often recreated digitally rather than through chemical processing.
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What Were the First Units of Measurement?
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AuthorTimothy Ott
February 6, 2025
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The use of measurements has become such an indispensable part of everyday existence that it’s virtually invisible. We check the clock to determine how much time we have before running out the door. We put on clothes that are generally tailored to our bodily dimensions. We measure out a cup for our favorite recipe, run a mile for our daily exercise, or tell the barber to take an inch off the top. And these basic actions don’t even touch on the immense calculations behind the machinery that powers our phones, computers, homes, and vehicles.
It’s difficult to imagine life without these widely accepted designations to provide order to our actions. Indeed, it was in large part the consolidation of disparate measurements within the earliest human communities and villages that enabled the world’s first great cities and nations to take shape. From Babylonian minas to Egyptian cubits, here are some of those earliest known units of measurements.
Prehistoric People Formed Primitive Measuring Devices
There’s evidence that our prehistoric ancestors used tools to fashion rudimentary measurement systems. The 40,000-year-old Lebombo bone and the 20,000-year-old Ishango bone are two such examples. Unearthed in Africa, both are notched at regular intervals to indicate functionality as a ruler, and the latter bone was possibly also used to track lunar cycles.
Some of the earliest measurement systems began to coagulate around the Neolithic people who settled in Mesopotamia. Clay tokens used to mark possessions and transactions appeared as far back as 7500 BCE, and these eventually morphed into the cuneiform indentations that appeared around 3500 BCE and were largely used for accounting purposes. While the Sumerians of this era developed a complex counting system, by around 3100 BCE it had been simplified into the base-60 sexagesimal system (60 seconds in a minute, 60 minutes in an hour, 360 degrees in a circle, and so on) that went on to enable developments in timekeeping and astronomy.
As described in James Vincent's bookBeyond Measure: The Hidden History of Measurement From Cubits to Quantum Constants, some of the earliest unifying forms of measurement involve those inspired by body parts. Such systems have been adopted by cultures around the world: The Aztecs of Mesoamerica had measurements that included the tip of the fingers to the armpit and shoulder, while the Indigenous Māori of New Zealand had sizes that ranged from a finger joint to the length of a person's body with arms raised above the head.
The Egyptians are credited with developing perhaps the earliest and best known of the body measurements: the cubit. Created around 3000 BCE, this basic unit derived from the length of the arm from the elbow to the tip of the middle finger. The primary subunit was the digit, with 4 of those making up 1 palm, 5 becoming a hand, 12 comprising a small span, 14 a large span, 16 named a t’ser, 24 equal to a small cubit, and 28 serving as the amount for a royal cubit. The cubit was used to measure the Nile's floodwaters, from which estimates of crop production could be determined, and provided for symmetrical construction of the Great Pyramid of Giza.
The Egyptian system of weights was based on the kite, which varied from 4.5 grams to nearly 30 grams throughout its history. Building from this basic unit, 10 kites equaled 1 deben, and 10 deben marked 1 sep. Liquid measurements were based around the unit of the hin, which was about 0.48 liters; 10 hin equaled 1 heqat, with 10 of those adding up to 1 khar.
Civilizations in Asia Devised Their Own Measurements
Around the same time the Egyptians were thriving, the Harappans leveraged a standard system of measurements to raise their own civilizations in the Indus Valley of Central Asia. Although much remains to be learned about their methods, discoveries have revealed a system of weights that increase by consistent ratios, as well as length markers that roughly correspond to those of the modern foot and Egyptian digit.
Additionally, the Chinese independently formulated a system of body-based measurements similar to those in Egypt, with a noticeable difference in the form of an acoustic element. Following the establishment of the 12 fundamental pitches of the octave, known as the lü, in the third millennium BCE, measuring containers were required to produce a specific sound when struck, as evidence of conformity to a standard size.
Babylonians Made Their Mark With the Mina and Shekel
Emerging as the dominant culture of Mesopotamia following the Sumerians, the Babylonians developed a calendar with the familiar components of 12 months at 30 days each by 2000 BCE, and contributed other forms of measurement that became widely recognized throughout the region.
Chief among these was the mina, a unit of weight with known variances between 640 grams and 978 grams. Sixty minas were the equivalent of 1 talent, while 1 mina was the same as 60 shekels. All the way at the lightest end of the scale was the grain, of which 180 equaled 1 shekel.
The smallest unit of length was the barleycorn or she, equivalent to about one-tenth of an inch. Six she made 1 shu-si (or finger), while 30 fingers equaled the standard unit of the kush, similar to the cubit. Larger sizes included the 12-cubit nindan (approximately 20 feet), the 120-cubit cord or rope (roughly 200 feet), and the 180-cord league (roughly 7 miles).
The Babylonians also possessed a system of liquid measurements featuring the qa, which held approximately 100 milliliters. Three hundred qa was equivalent to 60 gin or 1 gur, a volume of approximately 80 gallons.
Influenced by their Mediterranean predecessors, the Greeks incorporated many of the same units, if not the same exact sizes, into their collection of measurements. These included the lengths for small distances including the cubit, finger, and palm. The Greeks also created larger units that could be applied to longer distances covered by sailing, such as the stadium, equivalent to around 600 feet.
The Greek system then passed to the Romans, who put their own mark on this process of categorization with names and values that are familiar to modern eyes. The Roman foot, for example, measured about 11.65 inches, with 5,000 feet equal to 1 mile.
By this point, of course, humanity had reached a point where tens of millions of people of different nationalities and faiths could coexist under a system of numerical standards applied by a ruling entity. Although distinct regional forms of measurement endured for centuries in less populated areas and among Indigenous cultures, there was no turning back from the push for inclusive systems that helped unite large swaths of the globe.
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The Untold Stories of 5 Influential Black Inventors
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AuthorTony Dunnell
February 6, 2025
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For much of American history, Black inventors have faced significant barriers; in many cases, these innovators were unable to patent their inventions or saw their achievements credited to others. Until the abolishment of slavery in 1865, the U.S. patent system was not even available to enslaved people, as they were not considered American citizens. And even after slavery was abolished, numerous barriers remained due to racial discrimination.
Take, for instance, the case of Ellen Eglin, an African American domestic servant and resident of Washington, D.C., who invented an improved clothes wringer. In 1888, she decided to sell her invention for $18 rather than file a potentially lucrative patent for it. In an interview with the The Woman Inventor she said, “You know I am Black and if it was known that a Negro woman patented the invention, white ladies would not buy the wringer.”
Despite these obstacles, many Black inventors have made remarkable contributions to science, technology, and everyday life, shaping our modern world in profound ways. Here are five Black inventors whose stories deserve more attention.
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Garrett Morgan
Garrett Morgan helped pave the way for Black inventors, most notably with two inventions that saved countless lives. In 1911, after hearing of a factory fire that killed 146 garment workers, he set to work on a new type of safety hood for firefighters that would allow them to breathe more easily in smoke-filled environments. He patented the design in 1914, and the hood was soon bought by some 500 cities in the northern United States, as well as the U.S. Navy and U.S. Army for use in World War I.
In 1916, Morgan used the hood himself to help rescue workers in a collapsed tunnel under Lake Erie — although most of the credit was initially given to white men who entered the tunnel after Morgan. Later, the inventor witnessed a terrible collision between a horse-drawn buggy and a car at a busy Ohio intersection. The incident inspired him to create a manually operated T-shaped traffic signal with movable arms that directed traffic to stop, go, or stop in all directions — a precursor to modern traffic lights. He patented the design in 1923 and sold it to General Motors for $40,000, equivalent to more than $700,000 today.
In 1938, Frederick McKinley Jones began designing a portable air-cooling unit for trucks. His invention ultimately revolutionized the transportation industry, with mobile refrigeration allowing trucks and railroad cars to safely transport perishable goods over long distances. As well as fundamentally changing food distribution, the invention also proved vital during World War II, allowing for the transportation and preservation of blood, medicine, and food for military use.
In total, Jones earned more than 60 patents in his lifetime, and despite having minimal formal schooling, he became the first Black American to be awarded the National Medal of Technology.
Charles Richard Drew was a physician and surgeon who invented a method for the long-term storage of blood plasma in blood banks. During the early years of World War II, he organized and directed the blood-plasma programs of both the United States and Great Britain, saving thousands of lives. This led to a national blood-banking program led by Drew and the American Red Cross, and the introduction of bloodmobiles and blood drives as we know them today.
Drew also openly criticized policies that segregated the blood of African Americans from plasma-supply networks — an issue that saw him resign his position with the American Red Cross. It wasn’t until 1950 — the year of Drew’s death in a car accident — that the Red Cross stopped requiring the segregation of blood based on race. (Blood segregation remained in place in Southern states such as Arkansas and Louisiana until the late 1960s and early 1970s.)
In the 1960s, Marie Van Brittan Brown, a nurse living in Jamaica, Queens, began to feel increasingly unsafe when home alone due to skyrocketing crime rates in the area. So, with help from her husband Albert L. Brown, an electronics technician, she began inventing what became the first home security system with video surveillance.
Completed in 1966 and patented three years later, the security system consisted of four peepholes, a sliding camera, television monitors, and two-way microphones. It also incorporated a remote control that allowed for locking and unlocking the door at a safer distance, and an emergency button that would send an alarm directly to the police or security. While not manufactured on a large scale due to high production costs, the invention gained widespread recognition and formed the foundation of modern CCTV and home security systems.
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Patricia Bath
Ophthalmologist Patricia Bath revolutionized cataract surgery when she invented laserphaco, a device and technique that could perform all the necessary steps of cataract removal. Overall, the laser device allowed for less painful and more precise treatment of cataracts, and could help restore the sight of individuals who had been blind for more than 30 years. The device is now used worldwide and has improved the vision of millions of people. When laserphaco was patented in 1988, Bath became the first Black female physician to receive a medical patent in the United States.
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Why We Give Chocolates and Flowers on Valentine’s Day
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AuthorNicole Villeneuve
February 6, 2025
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Valentine’s Day is widely recognized as a celebration of love and affection, but the origins of the day are somewhat ambiguous. As the holiday evolved from a blend of Roman rituals, Christian traditions, and medieval courtly love through centuries, chocolates and flowers became nearly synonymous with February 14. But why are these two items the default symbols of romance on Valentine’s Day?
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Say It With Flowers
More flowers are given on Valentine’s Day than on any other holiday. While practical and symbolic uses of flowers trace back to ancient civilizations, and flowers have certainly long embodied love and beauty in poetry and art, the custom of gifting them for Valentine’s Day as we know it today began in the Victorian era. The practice evolved from both the historical association between flowers and romance and, most importantly, the era’s use of flowers to express feelings that might have been deemed too bold to express verbally.
In 19th-century Europe and America, courtship was dictated by strict rules of etiquette, and gifts exchanged between romantic partners were heavily restricted outside of marriage; flowers, seen as both beautiful and ephemeral, were one of the few acceptable tokens of affection. The art of floriography — using flowers to represent sentiments without words — became a popular way to convey feelings discreetly. Bouquets were thoughtfully arranged with specific flowers, each carrying a particular meaning. While violets were considered the original Valentine’s flower, symbolizing modesty and fidelity, over time, red roses — already steeped in centuries of romantic symbolism — became the most common choice. Carnations, another favorite, signified strong feelings of either love or hurt, depending on the color.
The practice of giving flowers as a romantic gesture gained traction in the early 1800s. The book Langage des fleurs (Language of Flowers) by Charlotte de Latour was first published in 1819 and was widely translated and circulated in the following decades. Later works, such as Kate Greenaway’s illustrated 1884 bookLanguage of Flowers, helped cement the art at a time when Valentine’s Day itself was flourishing as a holiday of romantic gestures. As the 20th century carried on, flowers became an even bigger business, with refrigeration and transportation accelerating commercialization and accessibility to blooms of any kind, and at any time, around the world. Today, Americans spend more than $2 billion on Valentine’s Day flowers. Roses remain the most popular, with about 250 million of them grown just for February 14.
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Heart-Shaped Box
Though it began as a feast day for a Catholic saint without any romantic association, by the mid-19th century, Valentine’s Day was firmly established as a celebration of love and romance in the U.S. and Europe. Greeting cards, often adorned with Cupid imagery and floral motifs, had transitioned from delicate handmade creations to widely available preprinted designs. At the same time, chocolate was evolving from a luxury for only the wealthy to an affordable treat for the masses.
For centuries, chocolate was revered as a very special substance. Mesoamerican cultures believed it had spiritual and aphrodisiac properties, and it later became an expensive and exclusive ingredient for European elites. Until the mid-1800s, chocolate was primarily consumed as a drink, but over time, innovations such as extracting cocoa butter from roasted cacao beans led to the creation of decadently filled, bite-sized chocolates.
In 1861, British chocolatier Richard Cadbury began producing beautifully designed packages known as Fancy Boxes for the family company’s chocolates; seven years later, in 1868, he applied the same idea to the first heart-shaped box of chocolates for Valentine’s Day. The box capitalized on not only the Victorian era’s aesthetic but also chocolate’s ancient link to physical attraction. It was a match made in marketing heaven: Advertisements suggested that a gift of chocolates was essentially the same as a declaration of love. Cadbury didn’t trademark his heart-shaped boxes, however, and by the 1930s, other companies — including America’s Russell Stover — had followed suit. Chocolate has been an indispensable part of Valentine’s Day ever since; each year, Americans buy about 36 million heart-shaped boxes of chocolates for the special day.
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The Real Names of 6 Classic Hollywood Stars
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AuthorTony Dunnell
February 5, 2025
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Film actors have adopted stage names since the earliest days of cinema, and some of the most recognizable names in entertainment history were in fact carefully considered pseudonyms.
These stage names were adopted for various reasons. In many cases, actors, often under the guidance of their agents or studio executives, chose a pseudonym simply because it was more marketable than the name they were given at birth — whether because it was more memorable, more glamorous, shorter, or simply easier to say or spell.
In other cases, actors adopted names that were considered more American-sounding than their given names. Martin Sheen, for example, was born Ramón Antonio Gerardo Estévez, but was persuaded to change his name to something considered more Hollywood-friendly — a decision he later regretted. Keanu Reeves also was told to change his name early on in his career, but he stood his ground and stuck with “Keanu.”
Here are six of the most legendary Hollywood stars who adopted stage names, including screen icons such as Judy Garland, Cary Grant, and Marilyn Monroe.
Judy Garland, born Frances Ethel Gumm, began her career when she was just a child, performing with her two older sisters in a vaudeville group called the Gumm Sisters. In 1934, when the group began attracting attention, comedian and emcee George Jessel suggested the sisters change their last name to something more glamorous and theatrical. He recommended “Garland,” possibly inspired by Carole Lombard’s character, Lily Garland, in the film Twentieth Century, or perhaps after the acclaimed drama critic Robert Garland.
A year later, Garland chose to change her first name, too, adopting “Judy” after a popular Hoagy Carmichael song of the same name. The new stage name helped launch Judy Garland’s glittering career, beginning with her starring role in the 1939 classic The Wizard of Oz.
Fred Astaire’s career on stage, film, and television spanned 76 years, and his name is now synonymous with the golden age of Hollywood. Yet he was not born Fred Astaire: His birth name was Frederick Austerlitz. Astaire and his sister Adele changed their surname early on in their vaudeville career, when they performed as a double act. It was their mother who suggested the change, as she believed that “Austerlitz” was too strongly associated with the Battle of Austerlitz — a famous 1805 battle that was one of Napoleon Bonaparte’s greatest victories. Other sources suggest that Astaire’s mother deemed it necessary to simplify and Americanize their family name to make it more elegant, easier to pronounce, and less foreign-sounding.
Marilyn Monroe was born Norma Jeane Mortenson, and later took her mother’s surname, Baker. Norma Jeane’s transformation into one of Hollywood’s most iconic figures began with her name change in 1946, after she signed to 20th Century Fox. Coming up with her new name was a team effort. Studio executive Ben Lyon suggested “Marilyn” after the Broadway musical star Marilyn Miller. Norma Jeane, who was just 20 at the time, suggested “Monroe,” which was her mother’s maiden name.
For Marilyn, there were personal reasons for changing her name. In her unfinished autobiography, My Story, she explained that she didn’t relate to her birth name as she associated it with her troubled childhood and the neglect and abandonment she suffered in her formative years.
Marion Morrison’s transformation into John Wayne was a gradual process. His friends gave him the nickname “Duke” while he was still a child. Then, while working as a prop man and occasionally playing bit roles at Fox Studios, he was given an on-screen credit as “Duke Morrison.” A year later, in 1930, director Raoul Walsh took a gamble and cast Wayne in his first starring role in The Big Trail.
Walsh and studio head Winfield Sheehan agreed that neither “Marion Morrison” nor “Duke Morrison” was suitable for the rugged-looking actor. Walsh suggested “Anthony Wayne” after the Revolutionary War General “Mad” Anthony Wayne, but Sheehan rejected it as sounding “too Italian.” Walsh then suggested “John Wayne,” which both men accepted as being a solid, masculine, and altogether American name. Marion Morrison became John Wayne without even being present at the meeting.
During her early local radio performances in the 1930s, a young Doris Kappelhoff caught the attention of band leader Barney Rapp. At the time, Rapp was looking for a female vocalist. He asked Kappelhoff to audition, having already auditioned about 200 singers. She got the job, but Rapp had one request: She had to change her name. He felt that her surname was too harsh and awkward and that it took up too much space on the marquees.
Rapp suggested the name “Day” because he had been particularly impressed by the young singer’s rendition of the song “Day After Day.” Doris Day didn’t like the name at first, feeling that it sounded too much like a burlesque performer. But the moniker certainly served her well: She went on to become one of the leading Hollywood film stars of the 1950s and 1960s.
In 1932, 27-year-old actor Archibald Leach did a screen test for Paramount Pictures. The studio’s general manager, B.P. Schulberg, saw something in Leach and offered the young Englishman a five-year contract. But there was one condition: Schulberg told Leach he had to change his name “to something that sounded more all-American, like Gary Cooper.”
Leach took the first name “Cary” from the character Cary Lockwood, whom he had played in the Broadway musical Nikki. He was then handed a list of preapproved surnames by the Paramount publicity department, from which he chose “Grant.” And so, the debonair Cary Grant was born — along with one of classic Hollywood’s definitive leading men.
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What Was the First Musical Instrument?
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AuthorTimothy Ott
February 5, 2025
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Although some radio stations boast of their repertoire of “oldies,” we know that label is a bit of a misnomer. After all, songs from the 1950s are hardly old when compared to the sheer length of time that humans have been creating music.
Given the importance of this form of expression, it’s unsurprising that ancient cultures around the world created their own distinct instruments for making music. Some of these, including a 4,000-year-old Mesopotamian lyre and a 3,000-year-old Egyptian harp, are still in existence today. Others, such as the 2,000-year-old Roman water organ, are known only through documentation.
But even these standouts from antiquity represent relatively advanced examples of musical instruments. Prehistoric humans certainly sought to soothe and entertain themselves and their companions by way of music from simpler generators. So what form did these simpler instruments take? And can we definitively identify the first one known to humanity?
If we consider voice a musical instrument, then this is undoubtedly the answer. Although it’s unknown when early humans first discovered their capacity for singing, they would have possessed the physical ability to do so as far back as 530,000 years ago.
If our definition of a musical instrument is an object that is deliberately used to create sounds, then it’s also worth noting that hominids realized they could rhythmically whack a stick against a tree or clap two rocks together at an indeterminate juncture of the distant past.
It would seem logical, then, for the earliest known instruments to be those of the percussion variety, which create sounds by the act of banging or shaking them. In fact, a remarkable “orchestra” of these instruments, consisting of mammoth bones and ivory rattles, was found at a 20,000-year-old Paleolithic settlement in modern-day Ukraine.
But neither these nor any other prehistoric percussion tool can be considered the world’s oldest musical instrument. The honor instead belongs to flutes that are at least twice as old, although the age and instrumental status of at least one of the candidates is up for debate.
In 1995, an archaeological team discovered an unusual object in the cave of Divje Babe, located around 755 feet above the Idrijca River in Western Slovenia. This object was a 4.5-inch bone that featured two perfectly preserved holes and two partial holes lined up on one side, along with what appeared to be a sharpened rim on one end.
The bone was revealed to be the femur of a juvenile cave bear. Analysis of the archaeological layer where both the bone and stone tools were found yielded an age of around 50,000 to 60,000 years old. Because Homo sapiens didn't arrive in Europe until around 40,000 years ago, these objects were attributed to the Neanderthals.
Researchers were intrigued by what they determined to be symmetrical, human-made holes on the bone. Through careful replication of the item, musicologists discovered that the pitches created by blowing into the bone and varying finger placement on the holes matched the notes of the standard diatonic scale. The result was a playable instrument that created what certainly sounds like music to modern ears.
Beyond holding a claim as the oldest known instrument, the Divje Babe flute presented a new dilemma for sociologists to consider: If Neanderthals were capable of designing instruments to express themselves through music, they were perhaps far more intelligent than initially believed.
Critics Dispute the Age and Origins of the Neanderthal Flute
Despite the flute's well-publicized place on the National Museum of Slovenia's website, some archaeologists aren’t buying its designation as a landmark discovery.
In a 2015 paper, paleoecologist Cajus G. Diedrich of the Paleo-Logic Independent Institute of Geosciences detailed his examinations of the Neanderthal flute and what he found to be a lack of any telltale signs of human-instigated puncturing. He suggested that the shape and positioning of holes were indicative of the bite marks of an Ice Age spotted hyena instead.
While one might point to the playability of the flute as proof that it was fashioned as an instrument, the paper cast doubt on the reliability of the techniques that determined its age. Even the museum describes the treasured object as "about 20,000 years older than other known flutes," providing additional fodder for critics who are skeptical of this outlier of such extraordinary age.
Musical Discoveries in Germany Are More Reliably Dated
If the Divje Babe bone is no more than a hyena chew toy, then other Paleolithic flutes present sturdier evidence of being the oldest surviving musical instruments.
During the first decade of the 2000s, a series of excavations in caves in southwestern Germany uncovered a variety of flutes made from bird bones and mammoth ivory by some of the earliest humans in the area. Although the artifacts were originally believed to be in the neighborhood of 35,000 years old, improved radiocarbon dating technology has pushed the ages of the flutes from one site to between 42,000 and 43,000 years old.
Overall, this discovery is more consistent with the long-held view that Homo sapiens were able to eclipse the Neanderthals through their capacity for innovation. Additionally, researchers cited the radiocarbon dating results as evidence that our prehistoric ancestors appeared in the Upper Danube region earlier than originally thought, before a cold climactic phase settled in the area approximately 40,000 years ago.
Perhaps this ability to make music is something to be celebrated as distinctly human. And as modern musicians keep pushing the envelope with their original compositions and means for conveying them, we may be fortunate enough to learn more about humanity’s musical origins as even older instruments are discovered.
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Why Did They Dig Trenches in World War I?
Credit: Hulton Archive/ Archive Photos via Getty Images
AuthorTony Dunnell
January 24, 2025
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The First World War transformed modern battle through the emergence of trench warfare, a defining characteristic that shaped the conflict from its start in 1914 to its end in 1918. This entrenchment was not a planned strategy, but rather a necessary adaptation to the brutal realities of modern warfare and the devastating effectiveness of modern weapons.
By the early 20th century, advances in weaponry meant that previous battlefield tactics had to be scrapped. Infantry could no longer march toward the enemy in formation, cavalry charges were impossible, making the grand maneuvers of past battles obsolete. The war soon became an effective stalemate at the front lines, most famously along the Western Front, with opposing armies digging into increasingly elaborate trench systems. Here’s a closer look at how trench warfare came to define World War I.
Artillery was the most destructive weapon on the Western Front. Modern artillery shells could devastate troops in open terrain, raining down high-explosive shells, shrapnel, and poison gas. Artillery created zones in which almost nothing could survive in the open, putting an emphasis on defense and the advantage with the defender, as attacking became too risky.
Because of the catastrophic effects of artillery, generals were forced to dig in at the start of the war. Trenches were initially seen as a temporary measure, but they soon became an absolute necessity, providing crucial protection against shell fragments and shock waves from explosions. As artillery quickly became the war’s deadliest weapon — around 60% of battlefield casualties were caused by exploding artillery shells — the depth and complexity of trench systems grew to match this horrific aerial threat.
Rifles were by far the most commonly used weapon of World War I. These were sophisticated weapons, with a firing rate much greater than that of their 19th-century predecessors. The standard British rifle, the Short Magazine Lee Enfield (SMLE) Rifle Mk III, had a maximum range of 2,493 yards (with an effective killing range of 600 yards), and a well-trained infantryman could fire 15 aimed rounds a minute. This alone made advancing across No Man's Land — the area between the two opposing front lines of trenches — incredibly perilous, and anyone sticking their head above a trench was an instant target.
Then there were machine guns, which made traditional infantry attacks a near-impossible undertaking. The modern machine gun, invented in 1884 by Hiram Maxim, was used in battle in the late 19th century, in conflicts such as the Boer War and the Spanish American War. The weapon revolutionized battlefield dynamics, as a single machine gun could fire hundreds of rounds per minute, effectively defending against hundreds of attacking troops. Trenches provided essential cover from both rifle fire and the sustained attacks of machine guns, allowing soldiers to move and fight while staying below the enemy’s line of sight.
As World War I progressed, trenches became far more than just ditches for duck-and-cover protection. They quickly formed part of a sophisticated defensive strategy (much like the layered battlements of a large medieval castle). On the Western Front, the line of trenches stretched from the North Sea all the way down to Switzerland — a distance of about 475 miles.
The classic British trench was about 6 feet deep and 3.5 feet wide, although deeper and more elaborate trenches were built. They were typically constructed in a zigzagging pattern, so that any enemies who managed to infiltrate the trench could not fire along its entire length, and blasts from exploding grenades and artillery shells couldn’t travel far along a single trench.
Behind the front line there could be three or four more lines of trenches, all connected by a system of communications trenches. If attackers captured the front line, they were then faced with additional entrenched positions that could be quickly reinforced. Support trenches housed reserves, supplies, and command posts, creating a defensive depth that meant any major enemy offensive required massive resources, and usually resulted in heavy casualties for minimal gains. These support trenches also allowed soldiers to be rotated in and out of the front line. A soldier might spend four to six days in the frontline trench before being sent to the support or reserve trenches further back for some much-needed rest and recuperation.
The trench systems of World War I represented both the pinnacle and the end of static defensive warfare. While trenches were used in later conflicts, they never again dominated warfare as they did from 1914 to 1918.
The stalemate of trench warfare came to an end with the Battle of Amiens and the beginning of what came to be known as the Hundred Days Offensive, a string of Allied offensive successes on the Western Front that led to the collapse of the German army and the end of the war. At Amiens, the Allied forces launched the largest combined arms offensive of the entire war, with thousands of heavy and super-heavy field guns, more than 600 tanks, and 2,000 aircraft. They advanced some 8 miles in three days, along a 15-mile-wide front, a massive achievement in a war characterized by minute gains. The deadlock was broken, and the German trenches were ultimately overrun. In time the trenches dug during the war were reclaimed by nature, or filled in and returned to agricultural land, though unexploded ordnance remained a problem for many years. Others were preserved or turned into monuments, such as the trenches at Vimy near the Vimy Ridge Memorial in France, and Sanctuary Wood in Ypres, Belgium.
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Which Came First: Wine or Beer?
Credit: Kirill Z/ Shutterstock
AuthorTimothy Ott
January 24, 2025
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Whether you’re enjoying a glass of cabernet with a meal or downing IPAs with friends, you’re taking part in the multifaceted, multicultural act of alcohol consumption that dates back many thousands of years.
Indeed, although the dangers of excessive drinking are well known, and even small amounts of alcohol are now believed to come with health risks, imbibing has been part of the fabric of human existence since the dawn of recorded time. Some anthropologists argue that alcohol featured prominently in social customs that facilitated the rise and progression of civilizations. Others suggest that civilization itself was formed as a result of people settling in one area to domesticate crops for the production of alcohol.
Because spirits such as whiskey or vodka involve a more complex distillation process, beer and wine (and wine’s less-prominent cousin, mead) are the earliest forms of alcohol, left over from a time before any of humanity’s famous names, wars, or inventions etched themselves into history. Which sets up the ultimate bar debate: Which of these two ancient libations is older?
Early Humans Likely Discovered Alcohol by Accident
To let some of the air out of the suspense, we’ll note that it’s difficult to pinpoint when people first began drinking wine or beer, since proto-versions of both drinks can be formed with little to no human intervention.
Ethanol, or drinking alcohol, is created through the fermentation process that takes place when sugar meets yeast. In the case of beer, that occurs when a grain such as barley is exposed to moisture and its starches are converted into sugar, priming this component for catalyzation by deliberately introduced or naturally appearing yeast. Similarly, crushed or even overripe fruits with high sugar content including grapes or figs will naturally begin to ferment, creating the basis for wine.
It’s likely that early humans (or even animals) stumbled upon the intoxicating effects of fermented grains and fruits, and maybe even figured out how to replicate the experience by leaving their collected wares out in the elements for too long. We can only speculate on the concoctions that may have been experimentally produced by pre-Neolithic people, although they were almost certainly different from the beers and wines that emerged under more controlled conditions in later epochs.
Unsurprisingly, such conditions were well established by the civilizations that introduced writing and other major advancements in math and science: the ancient Mesopotamians and Egyptians.
Along with the 5,000-year-old remnants of barley beer discovered at the Godin Tepe ruins in modern-day Iran, evidence of a Sumerian drinking culture has surfaced in the cuneiform receipts of beer sales as well as in the “Hymn to Ninkasi,” an ode to the Sumerian beer goddess, which includes a recipe for brewing. Grain-rich beer provided nutritional benefits for Bronze Age drinkers, and may have been safer to consume than the water from rivers, which could be contaminated with animal waste.
Beer also figured prominently into the lives of Egyptians around the same time; it’s believed that workers on the pyramid of Giza received more than 10 pints per day in rations, while even children consumed low-alcohol varieties.
Meanwhile, non-native wine grapes were grown in both areas, although wine was typically reserved for the palates of royalty and priests. The Egyptians were the first known culture to document their winemaking, and left behind records of the process to go with jars of their handiwork in the burial chambers of rulers and other prominent figures.
A 9,000-Year-Old Wine-Beer Hybrid Was Found in China
Of course, humans lived in settlements for thousands of years before these celebrated civilizations emerged, and alcohol played a part in many such early cultures.
Thanks to the discovery of drinking vessels in prehistoric Andean sites, archaeologists believe that the popular South American maize-based beer known as chicha may have been around since 5000 BCE. Going back even further, the detection of wine residue in jars and grape pollen in the soil around two sites near Tbilisi, Georgia, dating to around 6000 BCE showed that the residents of these former villages were among the earliest known wine producers.
To date, the earliest confirmed chemical evidence of an alcoholic concoction is neither specifically beer or wine, but something of a combination of the two: As detailed in a 2004 paper, an examination of 9,000-year-old pottery jars from the Jiahu Neolithic site in northern China revealed the residue of a fermented beverage of rice, honey, and fruit.
Meanwhile, ongoing discoveries continue to push the beginnings of boozy beverages even further and further into the past.
While it was once thought that humans domesticated grapevines no earlier than 8,000 years ago, a 2023 study of the DNA of more than 3,500 vine samples showed that wine grapes were domesticated in the Caucasus region of Western Asia and Eastern Europe as far back as 11,000 years ago. Table grapes were also domesticated in the Middle East around that same time, and it was these crops that were crossbred with wild versions to launch the wine varieties that became popular throughout the continent.
The idea of an 11,000-year-old wine is certainly impressive, but the archaeological record suggests the possibility of an even older brew: In 2018, a Stanford University research team found the 13,000-year-old remains of starch and plant particles called phytolith, which result from wheat and barley beer production, at a Natufian gravesite near modern-day Haifa, Israel. Although critics believe the evidence points to breadmaking, the Stanford team contends that both bread and a thick, grog-type beer were created at this site.
For now, we’ll give the edge in this battle of seniority bragging rights to beer. But with more discoveries sure to pop up in the coming years, it's likely this debate will be revived — and continue past many a closing hour.
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Did People in the Middle Ages Really Believe the Earth Was Flat?
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AuthorTony Dunnell
January 23, 2025
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The Middle Ages lasted for about 1,000 years, from the collapse of Roman civilization in the fifth century to the beginning of the Renaissance era. Despite it being such a long stretch of time, people of the era tend to get thrown together into one group when it comes to our common perception of them. And, in general, they tend to get a bad rap. Our medieval ancestors are often portrayed as unwashed, uneducated, and generally uncouth ruffians. These stereotypes, however, are either gross exaggerations or outright misconceptions.
One commonly held idea about the Middle Ages is that most people believed the Earth was flat, and thus you could easily fall off the edge of the world if you sailed too far. But this is yet another misconception foisted upon the people of the medieval period. As it turns out, folks in the Middle Ages were not nearly as ignorant of basic geographical and astronomical facts as we tend to believe.
Not only did most educated people in the Middle Ages know the Earth was round, but this knowledge also had been common among scholars since antiquity. The spherical nature of the Earth was well established in ancient times, particularly through Greek astronomy.
Aristotle provided convincing proof of Earth’s roundness in the fourth century BCE, including the observations that ships disappear hull-first over the horizon and that Earth casts a round shadow on the moon during lunar eclipses. Later, around 240 BCE, the ancient Greek polymath Eratosthenes even calculated Earth’s circumference with remarkable accuracy. This knowledge was preserved and transmitted through the Roman Empire and into medieval times through texts and scholarly traditions.
Of course, many people in the Middle Ages were uneducated. Public education was scarce at best, and illiteracy was widespread — literacy rates in Western European countries during the Middle Ages were generally below 20% (and were often far below that). Still, it is likely that even uneducated people knew that the Earth was round, simply because this information would have filtered through society to become common knowledge.
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Medieval Scientific Knowledge
Medieval scholars not only accepted the idea of a spherical Earth but also incorporated this knowledge into their own scientific and philosophical works. The medieval monk and scholar known as the Venerable Bede explicitly described the Earth as spherical and even explained how this affected the length of days in different regions. “The reason why the same days are of unequal length,” he wrote circa 723 CE, “is the roundness of the Earth, for not without reason is it called ‘the orb of the world’ … It is, in fact, a sphere set in the middle of the whole universe. It is not merely circular like a shield [or] spread out like a wheel, but resembles more a ball, being equally round in all directions.”
By the 13th century, the Earth’s spherical shape was regarded as established scientific fact, with influential scientists, thinkers, and clergymen such as Thomas Aquinas, Roger Bacon, Albertus Magnus, and Johannes de Sacrobosco all agreeing with this premise. So where did we get the idea that medieval scholars rejected classical knowledge and widely regarded the Earth to be flat?
The misconception gained a foothold in the 19th century, partly due to Washington Irving’s popular 1828 biography of Christopher Columbus. Today, Irving’s A History of the Life and Voyages of Christopher Columbus is regarded as historical fiction based loosely on the life of Columbus. But when it was released, it popularized the now-debunked story that Columbus’ voyage faced opposition from Catholic scholars who believed the Earth was flat. (In reality, the debate centered on the Earth’s size, not its shape.)
The myth was further entrenched in the public consciousness by inaccurate histories such as John William Draper’s History of the Conflict Between Religion and Science (1874) and Andrew Dickson White’s History of the Warfare of Science With Theology in Christendom (1896). These works incorrectly (and self-servingly) promoted the myth as part of their broader argument about an alleged historical conflict between science and religion.
These narratives, though historically inaccurate, proved compelling and highly persistent — so much so that their incorrect portrayals of medieval scientific beliefs endure to the present day. But while it’s true to say that medieval Europeans held many beliefs that modern people would consider unscientific, their understanding of the Earth’s shape was not one of them.
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