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Other People Who Should Have Bewared the Ides

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Everyone knows Julius Caesar had a pretty bad March 15th. But he’s not the only one! Here are six other people (or groups of people) who would have been better off staying in bed on the Ides.

Film producer Varick Frissell


In 1931, Frissell was shooting additional footage for his groundbreaking movie The Viking, the first Canadian movie made with sound and the world’s first talkie ever shot on location. Somehow, dynamite on the ship used for blasting icebergs was somehow set off, killing some men in the explosion, others in the resulting fire, and still others when the ship sank. All in all, 27 people perished. Frissell’s body was never found.

Pancho Villa

On March 15, 1916, Major General John Pershing led 4,800 men into Mexico to capture Pancho Villa under orders from President Woodrow Wilson. Villa’s men had executed 16 Americans headed via train to an American-owned mine in Chihuahua in January; another 17 people were killed two months later when Villa’s men ventured into the border town of Columbus, New Mexico. However, the Expedition ended a year later and was considered by Pershing to be a complete and utter failure. Villa lived until 1923, when he died at the hands of assassins who had nothing to do with the Expedition.

Charles Dickinson


The dumbest thing Charles Dickinson ever did was insulting Andrew Jackson’s wife. After repeated attacks on his own character and to his wife’s honor, Jackson challenged Dickinson to a duel in 1806. Dickinson shot first, striking Jackson in the chest very close to his heart. Jackson put one hand over his chest to stop the blood, then took his aim. The gun misfired, which should have counted as his shot. However, Jackson fired again, this time killing his opponent. This all happened in May, so why were the Ides of March a bad day for Dickinson? Andrew Jackson was born on March 15, 1767.

H.P. Lovecraft

At the young age of 46, H.P. Lovecraft succumbed to cancer of the small intestine with a contributory cause of kidney disease. Though his years were few, his writing was revolutionary and prolific. Stephen King, Clive barker, Neil Gaiman, Jorge Luis Borges, John Carpenter, Joyce Carol Oates and Guillermo Del Toro all count Lovecraft as a major influence on their work. Had he lived to write another day, who knows what the creator of the Necronomicon and Cthulhu would have come up with?

Ed Sullivan


Without much ado or fanfare, The Ed Sullivan Show was canceled in 1971. It was so sudden that there was no series finale - though it’s said that Sullivan, angry and hurt at CBS, actually refused to do one. He had admitted himself that the show was waning, but was reportedly heartbroken about the cancellation because he was just two years away from seeing the show hit the 25-year mark.

Guests and staff of the Hotel New World

On March 15, 1986, a six-story building - three stories of which housed a hotel - in Singapore unexpectedly crumbled to the ground in less than a minute, according to reports. By the time all of the survivors were pulled out days later, 33 people were dead. It was later discovered that the structural engineer had made some fatal miscalculations.

Stones, Bones, and Wrecks
A Chinese Museum Is Offering Cash to Whoever Can Decipher These 3000-Year-Old Inscriptions

During the 19th century, farmers in China’s Henan Province began discovering oracle bones—engraved ox scapulae and tortoise shells used by Shang Dynasty leaders for record-keeping and divination purposes—while plowing their fields. More bones were excavated in subsequent years, and their inscriptions were revealed to be the earliest known form of systematic writing in East Asia. But over the decades, scholars still haven’t come close to cracking half of the mysterious script’s roughly 5000 characters—which is why one Chinese museum is asking member of the public for help, in exchange for a generous cash reward.

As Atlas Obscura reports, the National Museum of Chinese Writing in Anyang, Henan Province has offered to pay citizen researchers about $15,000 for each unknown character translated, and $7500 if they provide a disputed character’s definitive meaning. Submissions must be supported with evidence, and reviewed by at least two language specialists.

The museum began farming out their oracle bone translation efforts in Fall 2016. The costly ongoing project has hit a stalemate, and scholars hope that the public’s collective smarts—combined with new advances in technology, including cloud computing and big data—will yield new information and save them research money.

As of today, more than 200,000 oracle bones have been discovered—around 50,000 of which bear text—so scholars still have a lot to learn about the Shang Dynasty. Many of the ancient script's characters are difficult to verify, as they represent places and people from long ago. However, decoding even just one character could lead to a substantial breakthrough, experts say: "If we interpret a noun or a verb, it can bring many scripts on oracle bones to life, and we can understand ancient history better,” Chinese history professor Zhu Yanmin told the South China Morning Post.

[h/t Atlas Obscura]

6 Eponyms Named After the Wrong Person
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Salmonella species growing on agar.

Having something named after you is the ultimate accomplishment for any inventor, mathematician, scientist, or researcher. Unfortunately, the credit for an invention or discovery does not always go to the correct person—senior colleagues sometimes snatch the glory, fakers pull the wool over people's eyes, or the fickle general public just latches onto the wrong name.


In 1885, while investigating common livestock diseases at the Bureau of Animal Industry in Washington, D.C., pathologist Theobald Smith first isolated the salmonella bacteria in pigs suffering from hog cholera. Smith’s research finally identified the bacteria responsible for one of the most common causes of food poisoning in humans. Unfortunately, Smith’s limelight-grabbing supervisor, Daniel E. Salmon, insisted on taking sole credit for the discovery. As a result, the bacteria was named after him. Don’t feel too sorry for Theobald Smith, though: He soon emerged from Salmon’s shadow, going on to make the important discovery that ticks could be a vector in the spread of disease, among other achievements.


An etching of Amerigo Vespucci
Henry Guttmann/Getty Images

Florentine explorer Amerigo Vespucci (1451–1512) claimed to have made numerous voyages to the New World, the first in 1497, before Columbus. Textual evidence suggests Vespucci did take part in a number of expeditions across the Atlantic, but generally does not support the idea that he set eyes on the New World before Columbus. Nevertheless, Vespucci’s accounts of his voyages—which today read as far-fetched—were hugely popular and translated into many languages. As a result, when German cartographer Martin Waldseemüller was drawing his map of the Novus Mundi (or New World) in 1507 he marked it with the name "America" in Vespucci’s honor. He later regretted the choice, omitting the name from future maps, but it was too late, and the name stuck.


A black and white image of young women wearing bloomers
Hulton Archive/Getty Images

Dress reform became a big issue in mid-19th century America, when women were restricted by long, heavy skirts that dragged in the mud and made any sort of physical activity difficult. Women’s rights activist Elizabeth Smith Miller was inspired by traditional Turkish dress to begin wearing loose trousers gathered at the ankle underneath a shorter skirt. Miller’s new outfit immediately caused a splash, with some decrying it as scandalous and others inspired to adopt the garb.

Amelia Jenks Bloomer was editor of the women’s temperance journal The Lily, and she took to copying Miller’s style of dress. She was so impressed with the new freedom it gave her that she began promoting the “reform dress” in her magazine, printing patterns so others might make their own. Bloomer sported the dress when she spoke at events and soon the press began to associate the outfit with her, dubbing it “Bloomer’s costume.” The name stuck.


Execution machines had been known prior to the French Revolution, but they were refined after Paris physician and politician Dr. Joseph-Ignace Guillotin suggested they might be a more humane form of execution than the usual methods (hanging, burning alive, etc.). The first guillotine was actually designed by Dr. Antoine Louis, Secretary of the Academy of Surgery, and was known as a louisette. The quick and efficient machine was quickly adopted as the main method of execution in revolutionary France, and as the bodies piled up the public began to refer to it as la guillotine, for the man who first suggested its use. Guillotin was very distressed at the association, and when he died in 1814 his family asked the French government to change the name of the hated machine. The government refused and so the family changed their name instead to escape the dreadful association.


Alison Bechdel
Alison Bechdel
Steve Jennings/Getty Images

The Bechdel Test is a tool to highlight gender inequality in film, television, and fiction. The idea is that in order to pass the test, the movie, show, or book in question must include at least one scene in which two women have a conversation that isn’t about a man. The test was popularized by the cartoonist Alison Bechdel in 1985 in her comic strip “Dykes to Watch Out For,” and has since become known by her name. However, Bechdel asserts that the idea originated with her friend Lisa Wallace (and was also inspired by the writer Virginia Woolf), and she would prefer for it to be known as the Bechdel-Wallace test.


Influential sociologist Robert K. Merton suggested the idea of the “Matthew Effect” in a 1968 paper noting that senior colleagues who are already famous tend to get the credit for their junior colleagues’ discoveries. (Merton named his phenomenon [PDF] after the parable of talents in the Gospel of Matthew, in which wise servants invest money their master has given them.)

Merton was a well-respected academic, and when he was due to retire in 1979, a book of essays celebrating his work was proposed. One person who contributed an essay was University of Chicago professor of statistics Stephen Stigler, who had corresponded with Merton about his ideas. Stigler decided to pen an essay that celebrated and proved Merton’s theory. As a result, he took Merton’s idea and created Stigler’s Law of Eponymy, which states that “No scientific discovery is named after its original discoverer”—the joke being that Stigler himself was taking Merton’s own theory and naming it after himself. To further prove the rule, the “new” law has been adopted by the academic community, and a number of papers and articles have since been written on "Stigler’s Law."


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