Greetings From the Frozen North

“Stars and stripes nailed to the North Pole” — so came the telegraphed revelation from explorer Robert Peary to The New York Times on September 6, 1909, trumpeting a successful effort to reach the top of the world. However, Perry’s message arrived five days after a less emphatically worded telegram from explorer Robert Cook. His message — “Reached North Pole. April 21, 1908. Discovered land far north” — announced similar news to The New York Herald. 

The dueling telegrams encapsulated the thrill of the race that gripped the public imagination at the time, and the drama that was to unfold over which explorer garnered the glory for reaching the finish line first. Although Cook’s claim was soon discredited due to a lack of proper documentation of the discovery, Peary’s “proof” was also dismissed several decades later, and to this day, it’s unclear if either man ever reached his elusive destination.

The World War I-Altering Zimmerman Telegram

In the early weeks of 1917, the United States government was still maintaining a neutral stance in the war that raged on the other side of the Atlantic. However, British code breakers in January intercepted a telegram sent from German Foreign Secretary Arthur Zimmermann to the country’s minister to Mexico, which proposed an alliance and an offer to help America’s southern neighbor “reconquer the lost territory in Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona.” 

After waiting until tensions were inflamed by Germany’s resumption of unrestricted submarine warfare, British intelligence unveiled the Zimmermann telegram to U.S. officials in late February. The revelation had the desired effect, as calls for Germany’s punishment echoed throughout the American press over the next few weeks, until the United States formally entered World War I in April.

The Cold War-Igniting “Long Telegram”

Two weeks after Soviet Premier Joseph Stalin delivered a jarring election speech about the evils of capitalism, the acting U.S. ambassador to the Soviet Union, George F. Kennan, weighed in on the matter with an unusually lengthy telegram to the U.S. Department of State on February 22, 1946. 

Often mistakenly said to total more than 8,000 words — although still a whopper at something closer to the 5,500-word mark — the so-called “Long Telegram” outlined its author’s views of USSR leadership as “impervious to logic of reason” and “highly sensitive to logic of force,” from which “no permanent peaceful coexistence” could be forged. 

Coupled with the follow-up explanations in his 1947 article “The Sources of Soviet Conduct” for Foreign Affairs magazine, Kennan’s analysis became the basis for a decisive American policy stance that ignited the Cold War and shaped geopolitics for the next half-century.

The H-Bomb Creator’s Announcement

Even while helping to build the atomic bomb as a member of the Manhattan Project, Hungary-born physicist Edward Teller was obsessed with the idea of developing an even more potent explosive. He received the go-ahead from the White House in the wake of the Kennan-inspired shift toward a strategy of combating Soviet aggression, as well as an assist from Polish American mathematician Stanisław Ulam on the problem of introducing enough heat to trigger the immense energy-producing process of nuclear fusion. 

On October 31, 1952, knowing that a secret test of the hydrogen bomb was underway some 4,700 miles across the Pacific Ocean in the Marshall Islands, Teller carefully watched a seismograph from a basement laboratory at the University of California, Berkeley. Upon seeing a telltale flicker, Teller reached out to his former colleagues at the Los Alamos facility in New Mexico with a succinct telegram announcing the arrival of the most powerful weapon yet created by human hands: “It’s a boy.”

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June 18, 1815: Napoleon Loses the Battle of Waterloo

Making a triumphant return from exile in March 1815, Napoleon Bonaparte embarked on what became his Hundred Days campaign to reestablish dominance over mainland Europe. His renewed military ambitions commenced in Belgium, where a split French army separately engaged forces under Prussian Field Marshal Gebhard von Blücher and England’s Duke of Wellington on June 16. 

Two days later, Napoleon advanced on the duke’s men stationed outside the village of Waterloo, Belgium. However, the combination of superior defensive positioning and questionable tactical decisions by the attackers enabled the opposing force to hold steady until Prussian reinforcements arrived. By nightfall, not even Napoleon’s feared French Imperial Guard could stem the losing tide. Napoleon is said to have fled from the battlefield in tears, and he soon followed with his abdication and surrender to the British, resulting in another exile — this one permanent.

June 19, 1865: Federal Troops Enforce Emancipation in Texas, Inspiring Juneteenth

Although General Robert E. Lee’s surrender on April 9, 1865, is generally considered the end of the American Civil War, many Confederate-controlled areas continued resisting the inevitable defeat and lifestyle changes as long as possible. As such, emancipation of enslaved people was not actually enforced in Texas until June 19 that year, when Major General Gordon Granger and a federal force descended on Galveston with an order declaring an end to the institution of slavery once and for all. 

Although many enslavers delayed relaying the news to their enslaved workers, or refused to comply until forced, members of Texas’ newly freed community marked the first commemoration of the date the following year. The regional celebrations gradually spread as Black people in the South established new roots throughout the country, although it was more than a century before Texas became the first of the 50 states to make Juneteenth a holiday in 1979, and it took another four decades from there for the day to become a federal holiday in 2021.

June 3, 1937: The Duke of Windsor Marries Wallis Simpson  

When King George V died in January 1936, his eldest son followed long-standing tradition in the United Kingdom by assuming the crown as Edward VIII. However, Edward was romantically involved with American socialite Wallis Simpson, who had divorced her first husband and was still married to her second, and the new king refused to end their relationship despite warnings that the Church of England and Parliament would never accept her as queen. 

Edward subsequently — to the shock of the nation — abdicated the throne on December 10, passing the kingdom to his younger brother George VI. The following day, he famously announced over the airwaves, “I have found it impossible to carry on the heavy burden of responsibility and to discharge the duties of king, as I would wish to do, without the help and support of the woman I love.” Simpson and Edward cemented their controversial union with a wedding at France’s Chateau de Cande on June 3, 1937, and they remained largely out of the limelight as George VI, followed by his daughter, Elizabeth II, carried on the royal line.

June 6, 1944: D-Day Commences on the Beaches of Normandy

Following a brief postponement due to bad weather, the Allied armies of World War II embarked on their long-planned crossing of the English Channel with the largest amphibious assault in history on June 6, 1944. The opening round of Operation Overlord, remembered simply as D-Day, brought more than 130,000 troops across 7,000 ships and landing craft to five beaches along the coastline of Normandy, France. 

Despite a deception campaign designed to point German defenses toward other landing spots, resistance proved fierce at the section dubbed Omaha Beach, where U.S. forces faced a torrent of machine-gun fire raining down from steep cliffs. But Omaha and the other four beaches — Utah, Gold, Juno, and Sword — were secure by the end of the day, providing a base for some 850,000 troops to reach Normandy by the end of June, and generating the crucial momentum needed to help bring the war to a close within a year’s time.

June 17, 1972: The Arrest of Five Burglars at DNC Headquarters Ignites the Watergate Scandal

In the early morning hours of June 17, 1972, a security guard at the Watergate complex in Washington, D.C., summoned police to apprehend five men who were poking around the Democratic National Committee headquarters. Thus commenced perhaps the most consequential political scandal in U.S. history, which culminated with the imprisonment of several White House staffers and the resignation of President Richard Nixon. 

The Nixon campaign’s links to the break-in were uncovered by Washington Post reporters Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein (with an able assist from their insider informant, “Deep Throat”), and the dominoes began to fall with the convening of a Senate committee and appointment of a special prosecutor to probe the links in the spring of 1973. Despite Nixon’s repeated denials, it was his own words that provided the “smoking gun” for investigators by way of taped conversations in the Oval Office. After the Supreme Court rejected Nixon’s attempts to withhold all the tapes, and the House Judiciary Committee passed three articles of impeachment, the embattled president acknowledged the writing on the wall and announced he was stepping down on August 8, 1974.

June 18, 1983: Sally Ride Becomes the First American Woman in Space

Shortly before earning her doctorate in physics from Stanford University in 1978, Sally Ride came across a newspaper advertisement seeking recruits for NASA’s astronaut program; she soon became one of six women and 35 overall candidates accepted from a pool of 8,000 applicants, setting her on course for a historic space flight. The big moment came on June 18, 1983, when Ride blasted off with four crew members aboard the space shuttle Challenger to become the first American woman in space. 

Following the successful six-day mission, which involved the use of the shuttle’s robot arm to deploy and retrieve a satellite, Ride returned to orbit the following October. She was even named to a crew for a third mission, before being diverted to an investigation team in the wake of the tragic Challenger explosion in January 1986. Ride went on to serve as a physics professor and director of the University of California’s Space Institute, before launching the Sally Ride Science outreach program for students. While she wasn’t the first woman to lift off from Earth — two Soviet cosmonauts, Valentina Tereshkova and Svetlana Savitskaya, preceded her — Ride’s journey nevertheless stands as a seminal moment in the American space program and an inspiration to those who dare to reach for the stars.

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Before Watches, Clock Towers Were How People Kept Time

Before we could glance at a watch or unlock a phone screen, time was a communal experience. Most people didn’t own personal timepieces until the late 19th century, so towns relied on a clock tower to keep track of the minutes and hours. Positioned in market squares, atop town halls, or on church steeples, clock towers helped everyone from farmers and merchants to schoolchildren and their teachers stay on schedule.

In towns where personal timepieces were rare or unavailable, the clock tower served as the central, public authority on time. Its bell signaled the community’s schedule, helping people coordinate their activities. Markets opened, laborers began their work, and life flowed according to the bell's toll. This communal timekeeping was a reflection of the collective daily rhythm — time was not a personal concept but something shared by everyone in the town.

In medieval Europe, monastic communities initially set the pace of the day, following canonical hours with the aid of sundials and water clocks. But as secular life and commerce expanded, towns needed a visible — and audible — way to regulate daily activities. That’s when mechanical clock towers began to appear. One early example is the Salisbury Cathedral clock in England, believed to date back to 1386. It’s one of the oldest working mechanical clocks in the world and still runs today without a face because its purpose was simply to chime the hour.

Bells Kept Towns Running on Time — and in Tune

The sound of clock tower bells became a constant in the lives of townspeople, creating a synchronized community rhythm. The bell’s toll, heard across the town, marked not only the hour but also the moments of the day. Whether it was indicating the start of work, a midday break, or the time to gather for prayer, the bell provided structure to the day. For agricultural or working-class communities, this auditory cue transformed time into a shared experience, where every day was divided by the same familiar toll, uniting people through a common schedule.

The bells weren’t interchangeable, either. Many were custom-cast, precisely tuned, and designed to carry across hills or cut through noisy streets. Their unique tones became part of a town’s identity. In Boston, the Old North Church still rings the same set of bells cast in 1744 — making them among the oldest in North America. These historic chimes continue to connect the modern city to its colonial history.

Clock Towers Were Built To Last 

Clock towers were not only timekeepers but also public monuments, engineered to impress and endure. Early towers relied on intricate mechanisms of weights, gears, and escapements and were maintained by full-time clock keepers who wound the clocks and kept the bells running on schedule. Over time, technological innovations such as pendulums and electric motors improved precision, but many towns resisted modernization in favor of preserving the timepieces’ original craftsmanship.

This commitment to preservation says as much about the cultural role of clock towers as it does about their practical one. In Auxerre, France, the Tour de l’Horloge still operates with a 15th-century mechanism — a living link to a time when keeping time was a hands-on task. In Japan, the Shinkorō Clock Tower in Izushi, originally built in 1871, blends traditional castle architecture with Western clockwork and is the oldest Japanese-style clock tower in the world. In Prague, the medieval astronomical clock on the Old Town Hall has been carefully maintained since 1410, drawing crowds daily as its animated figures still mark the hour. And at Fort Monroe in Hampton, Virginia, two clock towers that are more than a century old still operate with their original mechanical systems, maintained by volunteers who wind them weekly. Though no longer essential for timekeeping, these clock towers — and the care they require — preserve a sense of continuity, tradition, and shared memory.

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The Secret Conclave System

Nowadays, after the death or resignation of a pope, the designated cardinals — including bishops and other church officials — are summoned to the Vatican. When all confirmed electors are accounted for, the conclave commences with the sequestering of cardinals in the Sistine Chapel. All phones, televisions, and communications with the outside world are removed, with only two doctors and select members of the Vatican staff permitted to enter the secure premises.

On the first day of the conclave, the cardinals celebrate Mass in the morning before proceeding to the chapel, where they have the option of holding a single round of voting in the afternoon. For this process, the most junior elector randomly selects the names of nine colleagues: three “scrutineers” to record the votes, three “infirmarii” to collect the ballots from any sick cardinals confined to their quarters, and three “revisers” to check the work of the others.

Each of the voters receives a ballot with the printed words Eligio in Summum Pontificem ("I elect as Supreme Pontiff") and a space to enter their choice. Instructed to write in a manner that does not clearly identify the voter, and forbidden from casting a vote for themselves, the electors then fold the paper twice so the name is concealed. Any baptized Roman Catholic man can be elected pope, although it's been a cardinal every time since 1379.

Each cardinal brings his ballot to an urn at the altar, and repeats the oath in Latin, which translates to, "I call as my witness Christ the Lord, who will be my judge, that my vote is given to the one who, before God, I think should be elected."

After all the cardinals have taken their turn, the designated scrutineers count the ballots to make sure the number corresponds with the known number of electors. One of them then reads the names on each ballot out loud, and pierces each page with a needle through the word Eligio (“I elect”) to collect the ballots on a single thread.

On all but the first day, when voting begins in the afternoon, a failure to elect a pope in one round of voting is immediately followed by a second round. From that point forward, two successive rounds can be held during the morning session, with up to two more held in the afternoon.

If no winner emerges after successive rounds, the ballots are burned in a stove in the back of the chapel with a chimney that reveals the results to the outside world. Except for on the first day when there's just one round of voting, the burning happens after the conclusion of two voting rounds in the morning, and again after two rounds in the afternoon. The activation of a cartridge releases chemicals that produce black smoke, a signal that the election remains ongoing.

The Winner Adopts His New Name

On the other hand, if a candidate receives two-thirds of the vote, that outcome will be signaled with white smoke from the burning ballots. 

Once a two-thirds vote is achieved, the winner is asked whether he accepts the results, and what name he wishes to adopt as pope. He then receives the homage of his former fellow cardinals and is taken to be fitted for his papal robes in the Vatican’s Room of Tears, a small chamber next to the Sistine Chapel.

The new pontiff is then introduced to the world with an appearance on the balcony over St. Peter’s Basilica, a continuation of the chain of command that began when the building’s namesake was said to have accepted the enormous responsibility some two millennia ago.

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The Florentine Diamond

The Florentine diamond is a clear, pale-yellow diamond with nine sides and 126 facets, weighing 137.27 carats (27.454 grams). Originally from India, it later found its way to Europe. Legend has it that the magnificent jewel was owned by Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, but he lost it when he fell in battle during the Battle of Nancy in 1477. 

The jewel’s first documented owner was Ferdinando II, the Grand Duke of Tuscany and a member of the powerful Medici family, in the mid-1600s. It then found its way into the hands of the storied Habsburgs, and by 1743 had become part of the Austrian crown jewels. There it remained until the fall of the Austro-Hungarian Empire after World War I. To keep the diamond safe, Emperor Charles I smuggled the stone to Switzerland, where he was being sent into exile. 

This is where the fate of the Florentine diamond becomes unclear. Rumors abound, including one that claims a household servant or other person close to the imperial family took the stone and fled with it to South America. Another claims it was broken into smaller pieces and sold to unwitting jewelers. The hunt continues, with the diamond potentially worth around $12 million in today’s money — if it remains intact.    

The Amber Room

Before it disappeared during World War II (a fate suffered by many priceless works), the Amber Room was one of the most treasured artifacts in Russia. The room, sometimes referred to as the “Eighth Wonder of the World,” was an ornate chamber decorated with amber panels backed with gold leaf and mirrors. Originally designed in the early 18th century as a showpiece chamber for Frederick I, king of Prussia, it was then gifted to the Russian Tsar Peter the Great in 1716 and installed in Catherine Palace near St. Petersburg. 

The room was quite a sight, with its 180-square-foot floor surrounded by walls decorated with 6 tons of glowing amber. But when World War II broke out, the Nazis looted the room and transported it to Königsberg Castle in what is now Kaliningrad, Russia. In early 1944, with the Allies closing in, the room was disassembled and crated for storage in the castle basement — and then the trail went cold. 

Despite decades of investigation by both Russian and German authorities, the original Amber Room has never been recovered. Theories abound, with some believing it was destroyed during Allied bombing raids or loaded onto a ship or submarine that was then sunk. Alternatively, it might still be hidden in an abandoned German bunker or mine. With its finishing touches of gold and other semiprecious stones, historians estimate the room would be worth at least $142 million in today’s dollars, with some estimates as high as $500 million.

Honjō Masamune

The Honjō Masamune is arguably the most significant lost sword in Japanese history. Crafted by the legendary swordsmith Gorō Nyūdō Masamune in the early 14th century, it represents the pinnacle of Japanese sword-making. The katana, with Masamune’s unique wavy pattern along the hamon, or blade, was passed down from one shōgun or general to another. It was wielded by the samurai general Honjō Shigenaga, the namesake of the sword, who won it in battle in 1561 by defeating its previous owner. From there, the sword was passed along to ever-more prestigious owners, cementing its legendary status. 

Then, when Japan lost World War II and the Allies demanded the Japanese hand over all their weapons — including their swords — the Honjō Masamune was lost. Its owner at the time, Tokugawa Iemasa, turned in the sword to a police station in 1945. According to records, the sword was handed over to a Sgt. Coldy Bimore — but no such person ever seems to have existed. While it’s possible the Honjō Masamune was melted down or tossed into Tokyo Bay, there’s still a chance that one day it will be found, once again allowing Japan and the world to lay eyes on one of the finest swords ever made.

The Irish Crown Jewels

In 1783, George III, king of Great Britain and Ireland, established the Order of Saint Patrick as an equivalent order to England’s Order of the Garter and Scotland’s Order of the Thistle. Half a century later, William IV introduced a new set of regalia for the order, commonly known as the Irish crown jewels, that included a heavily jeweled badge, ceremonial collars, and an eight-pointed star. The items in the collection contained hundreds of gems and precious stones, including emeralds, rubies and, most notably, brilliant Brazilian diamonds. 

On July 6, 1907, the Ulster King of Arms, Arthur Vicars, opened the safe in Dublin Castle where the crown jewels were housed, and made a terrible discovery: The jewels had been stolen. No one had checked on the collection in weeks, making it hard to attach a culprit to the crime, and the investigating detectives were stumped — there was no sign of a forced entry, suggesting the thief had their own key. 

The king was enraged and the heist became a huge national scandal. Rumors spread and theories were put forward, with suspicion falling on everyone from Arthur Vicars himself to Francis Shackleton (the brother of Antarctic explorer Ernest Shackleton), who also possessed a key to the tower. Such was the mystery surrounding the robbery that even Arthur Conan Doyle, the creator of Sherlock Holmes, offered his assistance. 

Despite the outcry and massive public attention, the crime was never solved and the crown jewels never recovered. It’s possible that the pieces were broken down and the precious stones sold off separately, but we may never know. What we do know is that the collection was worth around £50,000 in its day, equivalent to some $5 million today.

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