There was a WWII factory hidden beneath a fake American neighborhood.

Author Bess Lovejoy
September 2, 2026

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During World War II, pilots flying over Seattle might have spotted a quiet neighborhood near the Duwamish River with tree-lined streets winding past modest houses, tidy lawns, parked cars, and backyard fences. But no one lived there. The entire community was a stage set concealing one of the most important aircraft factories in the United States.

After Japan attacked Pearl Harbor in December 1941, fears of another aerial assault spread along the West Coast. Boeing’s Plant 2 was considered a particularly valuable target. Thousands of workers there were building B-17 Flying Fortresses — which became essential to the Allied bombing campaign in Europe — as well as the first B-29 Superfortresses, designed for the long-range Pacific campaigns.

To disguise the plant, the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers covered its roof with an elaborate camouflage village sometimes called “Boeing Wonderland.” The ground was fashioned from burlap, canvas, and chicken wire, while lawns and trees were made from chicken feathers and spun glass. The neighborhood even had at least two whimsically appropriate road names: Synthetic Street and Burlap Boulevard.

Hollywood art director John Stewart Detlie (known for classic 1930s musicals) helped apply movie set techniques to the project, which was finished in 1944. From high overhead, the factory appeared to blend into Seattle’s residential landscape, although the pastoral neighborhood may have looked slightly out of place amid the surrounding industrial buildings. Below the scenery, tens of thousands of men and women worked around the clock, turning out hundreds of bombers each month. During breaks, they could stroll the fake streets on the plant’s roof.

Enemy planes never reached Seattle, so the camouflage was never put to the test. It was removed after the war, but Plant 2 continued operating for decades, contributing to the development of the B-47, the B-52, and the early 737. The factory was eventually demolished beginning in 2010, and part of its former site was restored as wetland along the Duwamish River.

A Roman emperor died from eating too much cheese.

Author Michael Nordine
September 2, 2026

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There were about 87 Roman emperors, some more (in)famous than others. One whose life and death is unlikely to inspire any epic films is Antoninus Pius, whose peaceful reign ended when he died after eating too much cheese. Two days before his passing, the 74-year-old was 12 miles from Rome when he gorged himself on Alpine cheese at dinner (relatable); he vomited later that night and awoke with a fever the following morning.

The emperor’s condition rapidly deteriorated, and, sensing that the end was near, he passed his estate to his adopted son and considerably more famous successor, Meditations author Marcus Aurelius. Pius died March 7, 161 CE, just eight days before the Ides of March. He was the fourth of Rome’s “five good emperors” who presided over an 84-year period of peace and prosperity, and his last word was aequanimitas, which means “equanimity.”

The shortest war in history lasted 38 minutes.

Author Bennett Kleinman
September 3, 2026

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While many wars are waged for years, the Anglo-Zanzibar War lasted a mere 38 minutes, making it the shortest war in recorded history. The conflict occurred on August 27, 1896, between the United Kingdom and the Sultanate of Zanzibar. Tensions began in 1890, when the Heligoland-Zanzibar Treaty granted the British a sphere of influence over the East African island of Zanzibar. Three years later, Britain installed Sultan Hamad bin Thuwaini to protect British interests in the region. However, Hamad died in 1896, and was succeeded by his cousin, Khalid bin Barghash, without British approval. Khalid became sultan on August 25, 1896, but was ordered to stand down by British diplomat Basil Cave. Rather than concede, Khalid amassed around 3,000 soldiers to defend the palace using all available artillery. Britain issued an ultimatum to Khalid, demanding that he leave the palace by 9 a.m. on August 27, and when that time passed, war broke out.

The war was over almost as soon as it began, as three British warships — the HMS Racoon, Thrush, and Sparrow — fired on the palace, destroying the majority of Khalid’s artillery within two minutes. Still, the bombardment continued for 38 minutes before stopping, during which Khalid escaped and was eventually smuggled into modern-day Tanzania. The British reclaimed the palace and installed a new sultan; in 1916, British forces captured Khalid in East Africa and he was exiled to the island of Saint Helena.

John Tyler had 15 children, the most of any U.S. president.

Author Sarah Anne Lloyd
September 3, 2026

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America’s 10th president, John Tyler, was born in 1790, and as of December 2023, still has one living grandchild. The reason that’s possible? Tyler had children at all stages of his adult life — 15 kids total, the most of any U.S. president. His first child, Mary, was born in 1815, when he was 25 years old. His youngest, Pearl, was born in 1860, when Tyler was 70, less than two years before his death.

Tyler and his first wife, Letitia Christian Tyler, had eight children together. The couple were both in their early 50s and already grandparents when Tyler took office in 1841, first as Vice President and then, after the death of President William Henry Harrison a month later, as president. Letitia wasn’t in good health, and passed away in 1842, making Tyler the first U.S. president to become a widower while in office. Two years later, Tyler married his second wife, Julia Gardiner Tyler — making him also the first U.S. president to get married while in office. Julia was just 24 years old at the time, 30 years the president’s junior. Together, they had seven more kids, for a grand total of 15. Tyler’s 13th child, Lyon, was born when his father was 63 years old, and later in life, Lyon also had a much younger second wife. Lyon had two very long-lived sons who were born in the 1920s when Lyon was in his 70s. The elder son, Lyon Jr., died in 2020. John Tyler’s last surviving grandson, Harrison Ruffin Tyler, is more than 90 years old today.

Abraham Lincoln had only about a year of formal schooling.

Author Bess Lovejoy
September 1, 2026

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Abraham Lincoln is remembered as one of the most eloquent presidents in U.S. history, but little of his command of language came from a classroom. By his own estimate, all his formal schooling added together amounted to a bit less than a year, or perhaps about 10 months. In a brief biographical sketch prepared in 1858, he summed up his schooling with two words: “Education defective.”

Lincoln grew up in rural Kentucky and Indiana, where schools opened only when a teacher happened to be available. His lessons came, as he later put it, “by littles” — brief stretches of instruction scattered across his childhood. He attended primitive log cabin schools, including so-called “blab schools,” where students learned by reciting their lessons aloud. The standards for teachers were hardly rigorous. Lincoln recalled that no qualifications were required beyond “readin’, writin’, and cipherin’” (the latter meaning mathematics).

Farmwork also took precedence over school. Lincoln helped support his family by plowing fields, splitting rails, and performing other demanding labor. His parents could not afford a private tutor or send him away to study, so he largely educated himself. Books were scarce on the frontier, but Lincoln reportedly walked miles to borrow them. Among the works he read were the Bible, Aesop’s Fables, Robinson Crusoe, Pilgrim’s Progress, and a biography of George Washington. (He borrowed the Washington biography from a neighbor; after it was accidentally damaged while in his care, he worked in the neighbor’s fields for three days to pay him back for it.)

That self-education habit continued into adulthood. Lincoln taught himself grammar, surveying, and law, borrowing legal texts and observing practicing attorneys rather than attending law school. He never went to college or any other institution of higher learning. Yet the boy whose schooling was measured in months eventually became a lawyer, a celebrated orator, and a president whose words remain among the most famous in American history.

Navy bean soup has been on the Senate menu every day since 1903.

Author Michael Nordine
August 27, 2026

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Though no one’s sure who to thank for the tradition — some say Senator Fred Dubois of Idaho, while others credit Minnesota’s Knute Nelson — one item has been on the menu on the Capitol Building’s Senate Dining Room every day since 1903: navy bean soup. Also known as Senate bean soup, the hearty stew can trace its mandate back to either Dubois, who chaired the committee that oversaw the Senate Dining Room and passed a resolution in favor of the meal, or Nelson, who simply enjoyed his soup so much that he requested it be served every day. 

The recipe, available on the U.S. Senate website, calls for 2 pounds of dried navy beans, 4 quarts of hot water, 1 ½ pounds of smoked ham hocks, a chopped onion, 2 tablespoons of butter, and salt and pepper to taste; Dubois’ version added mashed potatoes, garlic, and parsley. Navy beans are also known as Boston beans, pea beans, haricot beans, Jigna beans, earl haricot beans, and white pea beans. Their moniker is owed to the fact that the U.S. Navy has served them to its sailors since the mid-19th century, making them as American as apple pie.

In 1941, the U.S. Postal Service moved $9 billion in gold to Fort Knox.

Author Michael Nordine
August 27, 2026

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No visitors are allowed at the Fort Knox Bullion Depository, and for good reason: About half of the U.S. Treasury’s gold reserves are stored there, making it one of the most important locations in the country. Also invaluable in its own way is the United States Postal Service, which delivered much of that gold in the first place. One of the most notable shipments occurred when the U.S. entered World War II in 1941, and a portion of the $9 billion was transferred from the New York City Assay Office to Fort Knox via the Railway Mail Service.

The Postal Inspection Service supervised the shipment, which required cooperation between the Army, Treasury, local law enforcement, and the Postal Service. The Bullion Depository was built on land transferred to the Treasury by the military in Fort Knox, Kentucky, in 1936, and various precious items were stored there during the war. This included the Constitution, Declaration of Independence, Articles of Confederation, and a draft of the Gettysburg Address. The U.S. Mint Police protects the depository, which has been called the most heavily guarded place on the planet. 

Seashells used to be used as currency.

Author Sarah Anne Lloyd
August 27, 2026

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Long before the gold standard came and went, seashells were a hot commodity — so much so that they were the preferred currency in various civilizations around the world. Cowrie shells, which come from small sea snails, were particularly widespread. While there’s some disagreement among historians about when cowries evolved from valuable items to functional currency, it’s likely that it happened during the Zhou dynasty in China (around 1046 to 256 BCE). The shells declined in use in the 19th century, but were still used as money in Bengal and some parts of West Africa up until the early 20th century.

Unlike most shell money, cowrie shells were used whole and unaltered. In addition to their intrinsic value as an adornment, cowries are durable, portable, and hard to counterfeit. They were also exceedingly difficult to harvest — except in the Maldives, a remote archipelago in the Indian Ocean that, until relatively recently, was extremely difficult to visit. 

Shell money was used all over the world, although the specific type of shell varied greatly. Usually, shells would be crafted into money before going into circulation — such as wampum, which were beads made from clam and whelk shells by Indigenous peoples in the northeastern U.S. Rings made from sea snail shells called Tabu are still used in Papua New Guinea today.

Medieval people may have walked differently.

Author Michael Nordine
August 26, 2026

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Compared to the Middle Ages, daily life now is considerably easier in countless ways, one of the most important of which is on your feet: modern shoes. Footwear in medieval Europe lacked sturdy soles, and according to one theory, people walked differently as a result. 

Whereas we contemporary folk, in our infinite sophistication, land each step on our well-cushioned heels, medieval denizens may have done so on their toes. This ballerina-esque movement would have demanded more of their muscles but acted as a kind of early detection system for rocks or other obstructions. If you touched one with your toe, you’d be able to stop before putting your full weight on it and injuring yourself.

A toe-centric gait could help explain the prominence of poulaines, pointy-toed shoes that were all the rage in 15th-century Europe. Also known as Crakows because they were thought to originate in the Polish capital of Kraków, these shoes were considered deviant by the pious and even blamed for the plague. They weren’t responsible for it, of course, but to our eyes they were certainly the source of untold fashion crimes.

‘LOL’ used to be an acronym for ‘little old lady.’

Author Michael Nordine
August 27, 2026

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Long before anyone laughed out loud on the internet, “LOL” was in use by virtue of a different phrase: “little old lady.” The acronym was popularized by San Francisco Chronicle columnist Herb Caen in the 1960s. Caen used the abbreviation “LOL” in many of his works to refer to a “little old lady.” In his 1960 book Only in San Francisco, he described an outfit that included a tricorn hat topped with an “evil-looking bird of prey” as the “regalia of the authentic LOL.”

He also once used “little old lady” as an affectionate nickname for a woman who angrily called the White House and told one of Richard Nixon’s aides of her wish that the commander in chief “go COMPLETELY to hell.” After calming down, she made another call, this one to the FBI, to ask, “Is telling the president to go to hell the same thing as threatening his life?” They assured her it was not. 

In other words, not every LOL was as quiet and demure as that description makes them sound. That was certainly true of the title character in the 1964 hit song “The Little Old Lady From Pasadena,” which describes this situation: “And everybody’s sayin’ that there’s nobody meaner than / The little old lady from Pasadena / She drives real fast and she drives real hard / She’s the terror of Colorado Boulevard.” It seems this particular LOL was nothing to LOL about.