12 Star-Studded Benefits Before the 12-12-12 Concert for Sandy Relief

Tonight's 12-12-12 Concert for Sandy Relief is the latest in a long tradition of performers coming together to raise spirits and money for a charitable cause. See how many of these previous fund-raising festivals you remember.

1. The Concert for Bangladesh

A nine month long war in East Pakistan ended in 1971 with the formation of the independent state of Bangladesh. Partly due to the war, relief efforts in the wake of the deadly Bhola Cyclone that claimed at least 500,000 lives in November 1970 in that area were sorely lacking. Former Beatle George Harrison stepped up to the plate and organized what is widely considered to be the first large-scale benefit concert, held in two sessions at Madison Square Garden on August 1, 1971. The Concert for Bangladesh featured such notable musicians as Ringo Starr, Eric Clapton, Leon Russell, Billy Preston and Bob Dylan playing together as a “supergroup.” Besides the actual concert ticket sales, proceeds from the live album and companion film combined to raise $12 million (in 1970s dollars) for the Bangladesh refugee relief effort.

2. One-to-One Concert

In 1972 a rookie reporter for WABC-TV named Geraldo Rivera won a Peabody Award for his exposé on the neglect and abuse of mentally retarded (as they were called at that time) residents at Staten Island’s Willowbrook State School. John Lennon saw the special and contacted Rivera with an offer to perform at a benefit concert if Geraldo would help to organize it. The end result was the One-to-One charity, which raised funds to sponsor smaller, residential group homes for the mentally disabled, and organized volunteers who would donate their time to work one-on-one with such individuals, teaching them life skills and taking them to recreational outings. Prior to the first of two concerts at Madison Square Garden in August 1972, Rivera remarked to John Lennon that he feared the tickets wouldn’t sell out; John’s response was to purchase $60,000 worth of tickets and give them away to volunteers who’d pledged to work “one-to-one” with the residents of Willowbrook, as well as waiving his performance fee. The bill also included Stevie Wonder, Roberta Flack and Sha-Na-Na.

3. Concert for Kampuchea

Over the course of four days in late December 1979, Paul McCartney presented, with the assistance of then-Secretary General of the U.N. Kurt Waldheim, a series of concerts at London’s Hammersmith-Odeon to raise funds for the citizens of the war-torn nation of Cambodia/Kampuchea. The concerts were a showcase for the Old Guard meeting the New, with such stalwarts as The Who, Queen and members of Led Zeppelin alternating stage time with Elvis Costello, the Pretenders and the Clash. The encore numbers, performed by an all-star band nicknamed “Rockestra” featured a “Who’s Who” line-up that included Robert Plant, Gary Brooker, Pete Townsend, James Honeyman-Scott, Ronnie Lane, John Paul Jones and Dave Edmunds, to name but a few.

4. No Nukes

Shortly after the accident at the Three Mile Island nuclear facility in March 1979, Bonnie Raitt, Jackson Browne, and Graham Nash formed Musicians United for Safe Energy. In September of that year, MUSE hosted five nights of concerts at Madison Square Garden to raise awareness of the possible dangers of nuclear energy. Carly Simon, James Taylor, the Doobie Brothers, Chaka Khan, Tom Petty, and Bruce Springsteen were among the performers (poor Chaka Khan thought the audience was booing her when they began chanting for “Bruuuuce!”). Between the concerts and a companion album and film, only about $1.5 million was raised, but the good news is that thus far the giant mutant sponges that Graham Nash warned us about haven’t inherited the Earth.


In the late 1970s, bassist Ronnie Lane, a founding member of the Small Faces and later the Faces, was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, a disease which his mother and brother also suffered from (despite a doctor’s previous assurances that the illness was not hereditary). The rock community rallied around their stricken brother, and Action for Research into Multiple Sclerosis was born. On September 23, 1983, a charity concert was held at London’s Royal Albert Hall with such industry giants as Jimmy Page, Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck, Bill Wyman, Joe Cocker, Charlie Watts, Ron Wood, and Steve Winwood sharing the stage for an audience that included Prince Charles and Princess Diana. The show was so well-received that a mini-U.S. tour of nine concerts was subsequently arranged. Lane died of MS-related pneumonia 21 years after his initial diagnosis.

6. Music for UNICEF

On January 1, 1979, United Nations Secretary-General Kurt Waldheim signed a proclamation declaring 1979 to be the International Year of the Child. Robert Stigwood and David Frost gathered some of the biggest names in pop music at the time (including Donna Summer, Olivia Newton-John, Earth, Wind and Fire, and Andy Gibb) to perform a benefit concert to raise money for worldwide hunger programs. Billed as “A Gift of Song,” the event was held on January 9, 1979, at the United Nations General Assembly in New York. Most of the acts waived their performance fees and also donated the royalties from one of their songs to the cause. Rod Stewart was definitely live (and on fire) as he asked the musical question “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?”

7. Live Aid

The July 13, 1985, benefit to raise funds for the famine victims in Ethiopia was the first such event to be held on a massive, global scale. Thanks to then-cutting edge satellite hook-ups, the concerts (featuring everyone from David Bowie to Elton John to Phil Collins to Run-DMC to Duran Duran) in London and Philadelphia were broadcast live to over a billion people in 150 different nations. There were technical difficulties aplenty along the way – Paul McCartney’s microphone was silent during the first few bars of “Let It Be,” several artists hit sour notes heard ‘round the world (notice how Madonna lowered many lines of “Into the Groove” an octave during that pre-AutoTune era) and The Who’s TV feed cut out with uncanny timing just as Roger Daltry sang “Why don’t y’all f-f-fade away…”. But Live Aid was still a major milestone with a roster of names never likely to be seen on the same stage at one time again, and it did raise millions of dollars for its intended cause. Of course, at the end of the day it was Queen (as confirmed by a poll of 60 fellow artists, journalists and industry execs) who stole the show. The band had done their homework and had rented a London theater a week prior to Live Aid in order to rehearse and tighten up their 20-minute “greatest hits” slot, and it paid off—watch as Freddie Mercury easily engages a crowd of 72,000 fans who’ve been sitting in the hot summer heat for six hours.

8. Farm Aid

While onstage at Live Aid in Philadelphia, Bob Dylan tossed off a remark about how nice it would be if some of the money raised that day could benefit the American farmers who were in danger of losing their land due to mortgage debt. Willie Nelson, Neil Young, and John Mellencamp were inspired by Dylan’s comment and organized a benefit concert held in September 1985 at the University of Illinois’ Urbana-Champaign campus. A variety of rock and country artists appeared in front of 80,000 fans and just over $9 million was raised for America’s family farmers. Farm Aid has evolved into an ongoing annual event and the resulting funds are used to provide food, financial, legal and medical assistance to farmers who have lost their homes and crops to natural disasters.

9. Stars 4 SARS

Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome (SARS) was first reported in a Toronto woman who’d recently returned from a trip to Hong Kong in February 2003. Within two months, almost 300 other people in the Greater Toronto Area were infected and hospitalized. The World Health Organization (WHO) issued an advisory that limited travel to Toronto, and the area’s economy—which depended heavily on tourism—took a huge hit. The Rolling Stones, who felt a certain kinship with the city (they often rehearsed there prior to touring, Keith Richards was arrested for heroin there, and Ron Wood had famously canoodled with Margaret Trudeau), organized a massive benefit concert with the aim of bringing people back to the city after the WHO ban was lifted. Almost half a million people attended what was the largest ticketed event in Canadian history in order to see AC/DC, Rush, the Guess Who, Sass Jordan and others. Sadly, Justin Timberlake was booed and pelted with debris during his set by fans who were waiting for the harder rock of the Stones and AC/DC. Mick Jagger responded by inviting Timberlake onstage to duet with him on the Stones classic “Miss You."

10. The Secret Policeman’s Other Ball

This September 9, 1981, concert held at London’s Drury Lane Theatre was the fourth in an annual series staged to raise money for Amnesty International. However, most of the previous shows had focused on comedy acts (the Monty Python crew was always one of the main attractions, for example) rather than music. The Other Ball was the first to focus primarily on rock music and was the genesis for many musicians to get involved in charity fundraising and human rights. Sting, Phil Collins, Midge Ure, Jeff Beck, and Eric Clapton all performed, as did a young Bob Geldof. Interestingly enough, when concert organizer Martin Lewis first contacted Geldof about appearing at the show, the Boomtown Rats frontman replied, “'Oh, you f***ing hippies, with your f***ing do-gooding ways ... Do you think you can save the world with a f***ing concert?” Obviously the event was eye-opening enough for Sir Bob to quickly change his tune regarding charity concerts.

11. America: A Tribute to Heroes

Actor George Clooney helped to assemble this September 21, 2001, all-star benefit that raised money for the victims (and their families) of the 9/11 attacks. Bruce Springsteen, Stevie Wonder, Celine Dion, U2, Alicia Keys, the Goo Goo Dolls, and Sheryl Crow were just a few of the performers who appeared either in the New York, Los Angeles or London studio in a the telethon-style show that was simulcast on 35 cable and network stations in the U.S. and Canada commercial-free. A variety of actors also made appeals on-camera and worked the telephone banks, and just over $200 million was raised for the United Way’s September 11 Fund.

12. 46664

On November 29, 2003, Nelson Mandela (former prisoner number 46664) hosted a charity all-star concert to raise awareness of the spread of HIV/AIDS in South Africa. Held at Cape Town’s Green Point Stadium, the show featured a variety of popular African artists as well as some more internationally famous names, like Beyoncé Knowles, Peter Gabriel, Eurhythmics, Robert Plant, and the Corrs.

For 12-12-12, we’ll be posting twenty-four '12 lists' throughout the day. Check back 12 minutes after every hour for the latest installment, or see them all here.


Chemung County Historical Society, Elmira, NY
John W. Jones: The Runaway Slave Who Buried Nearly 3000 Confederate Soldiers
Chemung County Historical Society, Elmira, NY
Chemung County Historical Society, Elmira, NY

John W. Jones was as close to a sinless man as you could find—with the exception of the time he lied to his mother.

It was a late June evening in 1844 and the 26-year-old enslaved man, who lived on a plantation near Leesburg, Virginia, told his mother that he was leaving to attend a party. His real plans were much riskier. Jones slipped outside, grabbed a pistol, and rendezvoused with four other enslaved men. With starlight as their guide, they crept through the Virginia woods. Their destination: North.

The men hiked approximately 20 miles every day, dodging slave catchers in Maryland and crossing the Mason-Dixon Line into the free state of Pennsylvania. Following a major route along the Underground Railroad, they needled through Harrisburg and Williamsport and traced a path along what is now State Route 14. When the exhausted men snuck into a barn near the New York border to sleep, Jones kept guard as the others rested: He sat down, laid a shotgun on his lap, and kept his eyes peeled.

“He was serious about getting his freedom,” says Talima Aaron, President of the John W. Jones Museum Board of Trustees. “He understood the danger, and he constantly took responsibility for others. You’ll notice that was a thread for him—responsibility for others.”

Jones never had to use the gun. When the barn’s owner, Nathaniel Smith, discovered the five men on his property, he invited them into his home. His wife Sarah served the group hot biscuits and butter and cared for them until their strength returned. It was the first time many of them had ever been inside a white person’s home. According to an 1885 profile in The Elmira Telegram, the gesture brought the men to tears.

On July 5, 1844, Jones crossed a toll bridge into Elmira, New York, with less than $2 in his pocket. Unlike most runaways bound for Canada, Jones decided to stay in Elmira. It’s here that Jones would become one of the country's most successful Underground Railroad conductors, one of the richest black men in the state of New York, and the last earthly link for nearly 3000 dead Confederate soldiers.


Living in the north did not mean Jones had it easy. He could not vote. He still shared sidewalks with former slave-owners. When he asked to receive an education at the local schools, he was denied.

But Jones had a knack for cracking ceilings. After earning the admiration of a local judge, he was allowed to study at an all-women’s seminary, exchanging janitorial work for reading and writing lessons. He joined a church with abolitionist leanings and become its sexton, maintaining its cemetery. Then he became the sexton of a second cemetery, and then a third. The community quickly grew to respect his work ethic and, eventually, Jones had earned enough money to buy a small house—a house that he transformed into a vital hub for the Underground Railroad.

At the time, the Underground Railroad—an informal network of trails, hiding places, and guides that helped slaves escape northward—was under intense scrutiny. The 1850 Fugitive Slave Act had created financial incentives to report runaways living in free states. “Slave catchers from the south could come up to a place like Elmira and claim that a person of color was a runaway slave, and they could haul them back into slavery—even if that person had been born free,” says Bruce Whitmarsh, Director of the Chemung County Historical Society. There were steep penalties for aiding a person’s escape.

Jones didn’t care. Not only did he join the Underground Railroad, he was openly vocal about it, loudly pledging his opposition to the Fugitive Slave Act in a message that was published in abolitionist newspapers across the region: “Resolved, that we, the colored citizens of Elmira, do hereby form ourselves into a society for the purpose of protecting ourselves against those persons, (slave-catchers) prowling through different parts of this and other States.” Jones committed to resisting the law, even at the risk that “everyone of us be assassinated.”

The Underground Railroad in Elmira was unique: Since the town included the only train stop between Philadelphia and Ontario, it actually involved locomotives. Jones communicated regularly with William Still, the chief "conductor" of the Underground Railroad in Philadelphia, and built a cozy network of abolitionists who worked on trains passing through town. He provided runaways with housing, food, and even part-time jobs. “Runaways usually came in groups of four, six, or 10,” Aaron says. “But he had up to 30 at once in his little house.” Jones arranged hiding space for all of the escapees on the 4 a.m. “Freedom Baggage Car” to Canada, as it was unofficially known.

Over the course of nine years, Jones aided the escape of around 800 runaway slaves. Not one was captured.

During the last years of the Civil War, the same railroad tracks that had delivered hundreds of runaways to freedom began to carry thousands of captive Confederate soldiers to Elmira’s new prisoner of war camp. Once again, Jones would be there.


Of the 620,000 Civil War deaths, approximately 10 percent occurred at prison camps. The most notorious P.O.W. camp—in Andersonville, Georgia—saw 13,000 Union troops, or approximately 29 percent of the prison population, perish. After the war, Andersonville's commander was tried for war crimes. The camp is now a National Historic Site.

Meanwhile, the prison camp in Elmira has been largely forgotten. Today, the riverside site is little more than an unremarkable patch of dandelion-speckled grass; a small, easy-to-miss monument is the only marker. It belies the fact that while Elmira's camp was noticeably smaller than Andersonville's—only one-quarter its size—it was just as deadly: If you were a prisoner at “Hellmira,” there was a one-in-four chance you would die.

Elmira Prison Camp
Chemung County Historical Society, Elmira, NY

Elmira was never supposed to have a prison camp; it was a training depot for Union soldiers. But when the Confederacy began refusing to exchange African-American soldiers—who it considered captive slaves, not prisoners of war—the Union stopped participating in prisoner exchanges. “Both sides started scrambling for places to expand, and that’s how Elmira got caught up in the web,” says Terri Olszowy, a Board Member for the Friends of the Elmira Civil War Prison Camp.

The rollout was ill-planned, Olszowy explains. When it opened in July 1864, the camp had no hospital or medical staff. The first prisoners were already in rough shape and deteriorated quickly. Latrines were placed uphill from a small body of water called Foster’s Pond, which quickly became a cesspool. A shelter shortage meant that hundreds of soldiers were still living in tents by Christmas. During spring, the Chemung River flooded the grounds. Rats crawled everywhere. When authorities released a dog to catch them, the prisoners ate the dog.

The camp grew overcrowded. Designed to hold only 5000 prisoners, it saw approximately 7000 to 10,000 men confined there at its peak. Across the street, an observation tower allowed locals the opportunity to gawk at these prisoners through a pair of binoculars. It cost 10 cents.

It must have been a depressing sight, a scene of men stricken with dysentery, scurvy, typhoid, pneumonia, and smallpox. Many prisoners attempted to escape. One group successfully dug a 66-foot tunnel with spoons and knives. One man fled by hiding in a barrel of swill. Another hid inside a coffin, leaping out as he was being hauled to Woodlawn Cemetery.

It’s said that 2973 Confederate prisoners left the Elmira prison camp in coffins for real. The job to bury them belonged to the town’s sexton: John W. Jones.


The P.O.W. cemetery in Elmira is unique. The dead at many prison camps were buried in mass graves; Chicago’s Oak Woods Cemetery, for example, contains a plot filled with the remains of prisoners detained at Camp Douglas that is believed to be largest mass grave in the western hemisphere. All 2973 of the dead at Elmira, however, received an individual, marked grave in a special section of Woodlawn cemetery. Only seven are unknown. Jones's effort to give each soldier an individual grave, as well as his meticulous record-keeping, were a big part of why the federal government designated the P.O.W. portion of Woodlawn a "National Cemetery" in 1877—a status awarded to veterans' cemeteries deemed to be of national importance, and which has only been awarded to 135 cemeteries nationwide.

Jones treated each dead soldier with superhuman levels of grace. Overseeing a crew of 12, he managed the burial of about six soldiers every day, treating each body as if that person had been a member of his own church. He kept detailed records of each soldier’s identity by creating improvised dog tags: Around each person's neck or under their arm, Jones tucked a jar containing a paper detailing their name, rank, and regiment. That same information was neatly scrawled on each coffin. When the dirt settled, Jones marked each plot with a wooden headstone.

“No one told him how to do that job, he did it in the way that he thought was right—even though the people he buried were fighting a war to keep people like him enslaved,” Aaron says. “He even knew one of the young men who had died, and he reached back to the South and told the parents so they knew where their child was buried. That speaks to his compassion.”

According to Clayton W. Holmes’s 1912 book Elmira Prison Camp, “History does not record anything to challenge the assertion that at no prison, North or South, were the dead so reverently cared for, or a more perfect record kept.” In fact, when representatives of the Daughters of the Confederacy came to Elmira at the turn of the century to consider repatriating the remains, Jones’s handiwork convinced them to touch not a blade of grass. Instead, a monument in the cemetery commemorates the “honorable way in which they were laid to rest by a caring man.”

Aaron sees a second moral in the story. “People always talk about the tension between him being an escaped slave and burying with respect and dignity these Confederate soldiers fighting to keep people like him as slaves,” she says. “But to me there’s a subtext: Here is a grown man who escaped slavery, and the first thing he wanted to do when he reached freedom was get an education. Because of that, he was able to keep these meticulous records that later led to this national designation: It became a historical moment because this man, who was denied an education, got one.”

John W. Jones
Chemung County Historical Society, Elmira, NY

It also made a mark on Jones’s bank account. Jones earned $2.50 for each soldier he buried. It wasn’t much, but by the time he had finished burying nearly 3000 Confederate dead, he had become one of the 10 richest African-Americans in the state of New York. With that money, he bought a handsome farm of at least 12 acres.

It was a bittersweet purchase. Not only is it believed that parts of his home were built from wooden scraps of the disassembled Elmira prison camp, Jones had purchased the home when New York state law stipulated that black men must own $250 worth of property in order to vote. His home—today listed on the National Register of Historic Places [PDF]—earned Jones that right to vote.

For the remainder of his life, Jones continued working as a sexton and church usher. In 1900, he died and was buried in one of the cemeteries that had become his life’s work.

Incidentally, his death also marked the end of a local mystery: For nearly two decades, fresh flowers kept appearing on the freshly manicured grave of a woman named Sarah Smith. Nobody knew why the flowers appeared there or where they originated—until the decorations stopped appearing immediately after Jones’s death. Residents later realized that the grave belonged to the same Sarah Smith who, 56 years earlier, had invited John W. Jones and his friends into her home for butter, biscuits, and a good night’s rest.

Jennifer Young, AFP/Getty Images
An Affair to Dismember: John Wayne Bobbitt's Penis at 25
Jennifer Young, AFP/Getty Images
Jennifer Young, AFP/Getty Images

In the early morning hours of June 23, 1993, Manassas, Virginia manicurist Lorena Bobbitt crept into the bedroom she shared with her husband, John Wayne Bobbitt. While John—who had been drinking heavily—slept, she proceeded to mutilate his genitals with a 12-inch kitchen knife. When a drunken John woke up, the sheets were covered in blood; Lorena ran to her car, knife and lump of flesh in tow. Not quite sure what to do next, she wound up tossing part of his shaft out the window.

The scene was so morbid and so titillating that the news media couldn’t get enough. From the time Lorena performed the amputation to her acquittal seven months later, the story of a marriage so broken it ended in genital disfigurement ran almost around the clock.

But reporters had a major hurdle to clear: The word penis had never been printed or spoken aloud with any regularity in American news coverage.

They tried euphemisms, i.e. male member, appendage. When those ran out, The New York Times finally acquiesced and began using “penis” in their coverage of the criminal trial. According to journalist Gay Talese, the sheer volume of the Bobbitt circus broke one of the last sexual taboos in mainstream culture. Soon after, the word penis began regularly appearing on late night talk shows and in print.

There was really no other choice. While the Bobbitt case raised issues over domestic violence, female empowerment, and even the threshold for celebrity, the story always boiled down to that one lurid moment. John Wayne’s reattached, mostly functional penis was—and perhaps still is—the most famous sexual organ in America.


John Wayne and Lorena first met in 1988, when the burly 21-year-old Marine walked into a club for enlisted men near Quantico in Virginia and spotted the then-19-year-old, who was born in Ecuador and raised in Venezuela. They married just months later and settled in Manassas, where Lorena worked in the beauty industry and John Wayne worked as a cab driver and bar bouncer. Friends and relatives of the couple who would later be questioned on the witness stand described a tumultuous coupling, one that saw the two separated briefly in 1991 before reconciling.

John Wayne was temperamental and physical with Lorena, a fact that her eventual prosecutors would later admit. Divorce was on the table when John Wayne came home the night of June 23, 1993 and when, Lorena alleged, he raped her. (In a separate trial, a jury found John Wayne not guilty of martial sexual abuse in the five days preceding the attack.) After falling asleep, he awoke to a mutilated penis, his wife having excised an inch or more of its lower third portion.

Police retrieved the missing flesh and handed it over to emergency doctors. Before being wheeled in for a nine-hour operation to reattach the severed portion, John Wayne said he considered suicide.

John Wayne Bobbitt testifies during a court appearance in 1994
Pool/AFP/Getty Images

The surgery was more or less successful—John Wayne later recollected calling his mother and enthusiastically telling her he had gotten his first post-operative erection—but attempts to have Lorena convicted for the attack were not. In January 1994, a jury found her not guilty by reason of temporary insanity. The defense argued that Lorena had been so traumatized by abuse that she acted irrationally but not maliciously.

The trial and its outcome seemed to provide metaphorical fuel for ever-present issues regarding gender. Although he had not technically been castrated, John Wayne was certainly emasculated, and in a rather horrific way—punishment, some believed, for his deplorable behavior. In defacing his manhood, Lorena seemed to become emblematic of what some women felt like doing to spousal abusers.

Lorena fielded book, movie, and interview offers but largely stayed out of the spotlight, reverting to her maiden name and trying to disappear. (She was also sentenced to a 45-day psychiatric evaluation to make sure she presented no danger to the public.) It was John Wayne who perpetuated his own celebrity, turning what was a gruesome assault into a story worth monetizing.

First, there was the requisite appearance on The Howard Stern Show in December 1993—one of many—in which Stern attempted to fundraise for Bobbitt’s $250,000 in medical and legal expenses.

Stern and other interviewers were preoccupied with Bobbitt’s sexual ability. As of that December, Bobbitt told Stern, he had not been able to engage in any intercourse; he claimed his penis bore little evidence of the attack aside from a “slight” scar; it hurt a little when he showered. He urinated with use of a catheter for two months following the procedure.

The radio panhandling met with some success, although as some observers noted virtually from the beginning, Bobbitt’s opportunities to cash in on his notoriety were almost inevitably in the red light district of the entertainment industry. In 1994, he signed a deal for $1 million to appear in an adult video distributed by Leisure Time Communications titled John Wayne Bobbitt: Uncut. A kind of pornographic biopic, Bobbitt played himself, reenacting the attack and then proving his restored sexual abilities by engaging in sexual acts with a succession of actresses. In what must be one of the few adult movie reviews published by Entertainment Weekly, critic Owen Gleiberman observed that Bobbitt’s reconstructed penis had “no real stitch marks” but looked as though it “may have lost an inch or two.”

Uncut was a curiosity, but Bobbitt was unable to sustain interest in two follow-up tapes: One was titled Frankenpenis and may have lived up to a viewer’s anticipation of a freakish member, due to a penis enlargement surgery John Wayne underwent following the release of the first video.


Having exhausted his potential in pornography, Bobbitt and his penis sought other venues. First, he tried his hand at stand-up comedy. When that failed to pan out, Dennis Hof, owner of the Bunny Ranch brothel, paid him $50,000 a year to be a bartender/chauffeur/handyman

, not unlike the way aging boxing legends like Joe Louis used to stand near casino doors so patrons could shake the hand of a champion.

At the Ranch, Bobbitt introduced himself to men waiting for prostitutes and sometimes indulged their request to have him drop his pants for a look. Hof didn’t keep him on for long, later calling him a “stupid, low-life creep” and “boring oaf” who couldn’t keep his hands off of Hof’s female employees.

John Wayne Bobbitt arrives for a court appearance in 1994
J. David Ake, AFP/Getty Images

Bobbitt later found a brief home in a carnival, alongside a professional insect eater and a man with a split tongue. Here, too, Bobbitt seemed to fail in realizing his potential, refusing to be a target for a knife-thrower or learn the art of hammering nails into his nose.

He also appeared to have learned little from the consequences of his boorish behavior. In 1999, he was jailed for pushing a girlfriend into a wall. In 2005, he was arrested and charged with battery in relation to an incident involving his new wife, Joanna Ferrell, the third such allegation during their now-defunct marriage. (He was later acquitted.) The accusations cost him a gig facing off against Joey Buttafuoco on Fox’s Celebrity Boxing.

Currently, Bobbitt has settled in Niagara Falls and works as a limo driver and carpenter. Lorena has founded Lorena’s Red Wagon, an organization offering assistance to women victimized by domestic violence. Lorena’s actions in 1993 were largely unmatched until 2011, when a California woman named Catherine Kieu took a knife and severed her husband’s penis following an argument.

The man would not have an opportunity for a Bobbitt-esque reattachment and subsequent victory lap. Perhaps learning from Lorena’s mistake, Kieu didn't merely toss the severed flesh away. She pulverized the penis in their garbage disposal.


More from mental floss studios