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Doctor Who: Mangling History

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Doctor Who has a long and noble history of attempting to convey history to its young viewers. It has not always been completely successful, however. Here are a few stories where they dipped into history -- but didn't get the history quite right.

The Gunfighters

On Doctor Who:
The TARDIS arrives in Tombstone, Arizona, just as the Clanton brothers arrive, looking to kill Doc Holliday for killing their brother. They promptly mistake the Doctor for him, because they don't know what he looks like. Wyatt Earp's brother Warren is killed, and Wyatt swears vengeance. This leads to a gunfight at the O.K. Corral. The Clantons, aided by Johnny Ringo, face down Wyatt Earp, Virgil Earp, and Doc Holliday; the Clantons and Ringo are shot dead, and our heroes take the opportunity to slip away in the TARDIS.

The depiction of the shoot-out in "The Gunfighters"

In History:
Of all the historical dramas in the first few seasons of Doctor Who, this is probably the least accurate. The Clantons weren't seeking to avenge a slain brother (yet), and there was no chance of them mistaking anyone for Doc Holliday, whom Ike Clanton had been busy trying to frame for some time. Warren Earp wasn't involved, and lived another 20 years. And the actual players at the gunfight were Doc Holliday and Wyatt, Morgan, and Virgil Earp facing down Frank and Tom McLaury and Billy Clanton (the latter three all died). Ike Clanton, killed in the shoot-out on Doctor Who, fled the fight in real life and continued the feud. Infamous cowboy Johnny Ringo wasn't at the gunfight.

The three dead Cowboys after the real gunfight: Tom McLaury, Frank McLaury, and Billy Clanton

As a side-note, set reports from the BBC's filming in Almeria, Spain (location of classics like The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly), reveal that there will finally be a second Western on the show, probably the third episode of Series 7.

The Masque of Mandragora

On Doctor Who:
The Fourth Doctor and Sarah Jane battle a living energy, the Mandragora Helix, in 15th-century Italy. The Helix intends to take over humanity at this delicate juncture between superstition and science, between religion and reason. There is a power struggle going on in the duchy of San Martino, and the rational, science-minded Prince Guiliano is accused of being a witch. In one scene, he explains to Sarah Jane his theory that the world is actually a sphere, as if he expects her to be shocked.

The conversation between Prince Guiliano and Sarah Jane starts at 2:50

In History:
Or would he have expected her to be shocked? Science was more advanced in the 15th century than usually given credit, even in Western Europe. Astronomy was fairly advanced, and the size and shape of the Earth had been known since antiquity; Eratosthenes even computed the correct circumference to within 2% of the actual value around 200 BC. The work of Dante Alighieri, who wrote his epic work The Divine Comedy over a century before reflecting the mainstream view of both church and secular authorities, clearly references a spherical Earth. So rather than being ahead of his times, Guiliano is behind them.


A diagram of Dante's depiction of the spherical Earth; it's a cutaway view, intended to show the structure of Hell underground

City of Death

On Doctor Who:
Visiting Paris, the Fourth Doctor and Second Romana stumble upon a complicated plot to steal the Mona Lisa -- by an alien who has six copies in his basement that have been bricked up since 1508, right after Leonardo da Vinci painted them. The alien plans on using them to bankroll a time machine that will get him back 400 million years, so he can prevent an explosion in the spacecraft that is carrying his entire species. The Doctor has to intervene, because that spacecraft's explosion is also what jump-started life on Earth.

Conclusion of the serial. As a bonus, watch for John Cleese and Eleanor Bron's uncredited cameo at 7:14; they appeared as a favor to their friend, script editor Douglas Adams

In History:
Perhaps the Doctor didn't need to worry quite so much; 400 million years ago, life on Earth was already well established. Life on Earth started about 3.5 billion years ago. That's just as well; our heroes would have found it very difficult to breathe if they had gone back to stop Scaroth just before the start of life -- it took more than a billion years just to establish an oxygen-based atmosphere. By 400 million years ago, there were already plants on land, and if our heroes had gone for a swim, they might have met one of these.

The King's Demons

On Doctor Who:
The Fifth Doctor, Degan, Nyssa, and Turlough arrive in England in 1215, where they encounter King John, busy harassing a minor lord in an attempt to extort taxes. But it can't be John; the king is in London taking the Crusader's Oath. This imposter king turns out to be a shape-shifting robot controlled by the Master, who intends to disrupt history by triggering a revolt against King John, preventing the Magna Carta from being signed.

The Doctor outlines the Master's plan

In History:
Actually, the Doctor has it pretty much backwards, and so does the Master -- it was the baron's revolt that forced King John to sign the Magna Carta. Only when it became apparent that he could not suppress the revolt with force of arms alone did King John consent to sign the decree, and he promptly renounced it once the barons left, plunging England into the First Baron's War. What's more, King John did end up dying during the war, of dysentery, an event which may actually have helped the Magna Carta; William Marshal, appointed protector of the nine-year-old King Henry III, used it as the basis of the new government in 1217. So rather than a baronial revolt preventing the Magna Carta, a baronial revolt was instrumental to its creation.


14th century copy of the Magna Carta

The Mark of the Rani

On Doctor Who:
The Sixth Doctor and Peri arrive in 1820s Killingworth, an English mining town, where previously gentle men have been turning into thugs embarking on Luddite riots. They meet the inventor George Stephenson, who is plotting a meeting of engineering geniuses, and who is working on a steam engine that he says could revolutionize transportation. The Doctor slyly tells him that his invention "will take off like a rocket," referencing an actual engine built by Stephenson in 1829.

The Doctor and Peri arrive in Killingworth

In History:
The real Stephenson probably would not have been keen to invite a group of engineering geniuses to a conference in the 1820s; in the 1810s, he'd been embroiled in a bitter intellectual property dispute because the intelligentsia didn't believe an uneducated man like him could have actually invented a safety lamp for miners. He understandably resented the attitude. And Stephenson didn't need to be told that steam power was the future; his first operational steam locomotive had already gone into service in 1814. While Stephenson indeed would go on to build the Rocket in 1829, it was important for a different reason: it won a speed race, and thereby the contract to build engines for the Liverpool and Manchester Railway, helping establish Stephenson's railway specifications as standards for the future.


The Rocket

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Food
The Gooey History of the Fluffernutter Sandwich

Open any pantry in New England and chances are you’ll find at least one jar of Marshmallow Fluff. Not just any old marshmallow crème, but Fluff; the one manufactured by Durkee-Mower of Lynn, Massachusetts since 1920, and the preferred brand of the northeast. With its familiar red lid and classic blue label, it's long been a favorite guilty pleasure and a kitchen staple beloved throughout the region.

This gooey, spreadable, marshmallow-infused confection is used in countless recipes and found in a variety of baked goods—from whoopie pies and Rice Krispies Treats to chocolate fudge and beyond. And in the beyond lies perhaps the most treasured concoction of all: the Fluffernutter sandwich—a classic New England treat made with white bread, peanut butter, and, you guessed it, Fluff. No jelly required. Or wanted.

There are several claims to the origin of the sandwich. The first begins with Revolutionary War hero Paul Revere—or, not Paul exactly, but his great-great-great-grandchildren Emma and Amory Curtis of Melrose, Massachusetts. Both siblings were highly intelligent and forward-thinkers, and Amory was even accepted into MIT. But when the family couldn’t afford to send him, he founded a Boston-based company in the 1890s that specialized in soda fountain equipment.

He sold the business in 1901 and used the proceeds to buy the entire east side of Crystal Street in Melrose. Soon after he built a house and, in his basement, he created a marshmallow spread known as Snowflake Marshmallow Crème (later called SMAC), which actually predated Fluff. By the early 1910s, the Curtis Marshmallow Factory was established and Snowflake became the first commercially successful shelf-stable marshmallow crème.

Although other companies were manufacturing similar products, it was Emma who set the Curtis brand apart from the rest. She had a knack for marketing and thought up many different ways to popularize their marshmallow crème, including the creation of one-of-a-kind recipes, like sandwiches that featured nuts and marshmallow crème. She shared her culinary gems in a weekly newspaper column and radio show. By 1915, Snowflake was selling nationwide.

During World War I, when Americans were urged to sacrifice meat one day a week, Emma published a recipe for a peanut butter and marshmallow crème sandwich. She named her creation the "Liberty Sandwich," as a person could still obtain his or her daily nutrients while simultaneously supporting the wartime cause. Some have pointed to Emma’s 1918 published recipe as the earliest known example of a Fluffernutter, but the earliest recipe mental_floss can find comes from three years prior. In 1915, the confectioners trade journal Candy and Ice Cream published a list of lunch offerings that candy shops could advertise beyond hot soup. One of them was the "Mallonut Sandwich," which involved peanut butter and "marshmallow whip or mallo topping," spread on lightly toasted whole wheat bread.

Another origin story comes from Somerville, Massachusetts, home to entrepreneur Archibald Query. Query began making his own version of marshmallow crème and selling it door-to-door in 1917. Due to sugar shortages during World War I, his business began to fail. Query quickly sold the rights to his recipe to candy makers H. Allen Durkee and Fred Mower in 1920. The cost? A modest $500 for what would go on to become the Marshmallow Fluff empire.

Although the business partners promoted the sandwich treat early in the company’s history, the delicious snack wasn’t officially called the Fluffernutter until the 1960s, when Durkee-Mower hired a PR firm to help them market the sandwich, which resulted in a particularly catchy jingle explaining the recipe.

So who owns the bragging rights? While some anonymous candy shop owner was likely the first to actually put the two together, Emma Curtis created the early precursors and brought the concept to a national audience, and Durkee-Mower added the now-ubiquitous crème and catchy name. And the Fluffernutter has never lost its popularity.

In 2006, the Massachusetts state legislature spent a full week deliberating over whether or not the Fluffernutter should be named the official state sandwich. On one side, some argued that marshmallow crème and peanut butter added to the epidemic of childhood obesity. The history-bound fanatics that stood against them contended that the Fluffernutter was a proud culinary legacy. One state representative even proclaimed, "I’m going to fight to the death for Fluff." True dedication, but the bill has been stalled for more than a decade despite several revivals and subsequent petitions from loyal fans.

But Fluff lovers needn’t despair. There’s a National Fluffernutter Day (October 8) for hardcore fans, and the town of Somerville, Massachusetts still celebrates its Fluff pride with an annual What the Fluff? festival.

"Everyone feels like Fluff is part of their childhood," said self-proclaimed Fluff expert and the festival's executive director, Mimi Graney, in an interview with Boston Magazine. "Whether born in the 1940s or '50s, or '60s, or later—everyone feels nostalgic for Fluff. I think New Englanders in general have a particular fondness for it."

Today, the Fluffernutter sandwich is as much of a part of New England cuisine as baked beans or blueberry pie. While some people live and die by the traditional combination, the sandwich now comes in all shapes and sizes, with the addition of salty and savory toppings as a favorite twist. Wheat bread is as popular as white, and many like to grill their sandwiches for a touch of bistro flair. But don't ask a New Englander to swap out their favorite brand of marshmallow crème. That’s just asking too Fluffing much.

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The Hospital in the Rock
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History
Budapest’s Former Top-Secret Hospital Inside a Cave
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The Hospital in the Rock

At the top of a hill in Budapest, overlooking the Danube River, sits Buda Castle, a gorgeous UNESCO World Heritage site visited by thousands of tourists every year. Directly underneath the castle, however, lies a less-frequented tourist attraction: a series of ancient, naturally formed caves with a colorful and sometimes disturbing history.

The entire cave system is over six miles long, and most of that has been left unchanged since it was used as cold storage (and a rumored dungeon) in the Middle Ages. Between 1939 and 2008, however, a half-mile stretch of those caves was built up and repurposed many times over. Known as Sziklakorhaz or The Hospital in the Rock, its many uses are a testament to the area’s involvement in World War II and the Cold War.

At the start of World War II, the location served as a single-room air raid center, but operating theaters, corridors, and wards were quickly added to create a much-needed hospital. By early 1944, the hospital had officially opened inside the cave, tending to wounded Hungarian and Nazi soldiers. After less than a year of operation, the facility found itself facing its largest challenge—the Siege of Budapest, which lasted seven weeks and was eventually won by Allied forces on their way to Berlin.

As one of the few area hospitals still operational, the Hospital in the Rock was well over capacity during the siege. Originally built to treat around 70 patients, close to 700 ended up crammed into the claustrophobic caves. The wounded lay three to a bed—if they were lucky enough to get a bed at all. Unsurprisingly, heat from all those bodies raised the ambient temperature to around 95°F, and smoking cigarettes was the number one way to pass the time. Add that to the putrid mix of death, decay, and infection and you’ve got an incredibly unpleasant wartime cocktail.

A recreation inside the museum. Image credit: The Hospital in the Rock 

After the siege, the Soviets took control of the caves (and Budapest itself) and gutted the hospital of most of its supplies. Between 1945 and 1948, the hospital produced a vaccination for typhus. As the icy grasp of the Cold War began to tighten, new wards were built, new equipment was installed, and the hospital was designated top-secret by the Soviets, referred to only by its official codename LOSK 0101/1.

Eleven years after facing the horrors of the Siege of Budapest, in 1956, the hospital hosted the casualties of another battle: The Hungarian Uprising. Thousands of Hungarians revolted against the Soviet policies of the Hungarian People’s Republic in a fierce, prolonged battle. Civilians and soldiers alike lay side-by-side in wards as surgeons attempted to save them. During the uprising, seven babies were also born in the hospital.

Surgeons lived on-site and rarely surfaced from the caves. The hospital’s chief surgeon at the time, Dr. András Máthé, famously had a strict "no amputation" rule, which seemed to fly in the face of conventional wisdom, but in the end reportedly saved many patients' lives. (Máthé also reportedly wore a bullet that he’d removed from a patient’s head on a chain around his neck.)

The Hospital in the Rock ceased normal operations in December 1956, after the Soviets squashed the uprising, as the Soviets had new plans for the caves. With the Cold War now in full swing, the still-secret site was converted into a bunker that could serve as a hospital in case of nuclear attack. Diesel engines and an air conditioning system were added in the early '60s, so that even during a blackout, the hospital could still function for a couple of days.

The Hospital in the Rock

The official plan for the bunker was as follows: In the event of a nuclear attack, a selection of doctors and nurses would retreat to the bunker, where they would remain for 72 hours. Afterward, they were to go out and search for survivors. Special quarantined rooms, showering facilities, and even a barbershop were on site for survivors brought back to the site. (The only haircut available to them, however, was a shaved head; radioactive material is notoriously difficult to remove from hair.)

Thankfully, none of these nuclear procedures were ever put into practice. But the hospital was never formally decommissioned, and it wasn’t relieved of its top-secret status until the mid-2000s. For a while, it was still being used as a storage facility by Hungary’s Civil Defense Force. The bunker was maintained by a nearby family, who were sworn to secrecy. In 2004, it was decided that responsibility for the site fell solely on St. John’s Hospital in Budapest, who were seen as the de facto owners in the wake of the collapse of the Soviet Union.

By 2008 the bunker was renovated, refurbished, and ready to be opened to the public. Today it operates as a museum, with exhibits detailing life in the hospital from various periods of its history, as well as the history of combat medicine as a whole. The sobering hour-long walk around the hospital concludes with a cautionary gaze into the atrocities of nuclear attacks, with the final walk to the exit featuring a gallery of art created by survivors of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings.

Another part of the caves beneath Buda Castle. Image credit:Sahil Jatana via Flickr // CC BY-NC 2.0

The caves beneath Buda Castle have certainly had a bumpy history, and walking through them now is chilling (and not just because they keep the temperature at around 60°F). A tour through the narrow, oppressive hallways is a glimpse at our narrowly avoided nuclear future—definitely a sobering way to spend an afternoon.

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