6 Children Who Famously Followed in Their Parents' Footsteps

Hulton Archive, Getty Images
Hulton Archive, Getty Images

Theodore Roosevelt often brought his eldest son, Theodore, Jr., to work with him. Likewise with Jim Henson and his son, Brian. Marie Curie? Not so much. To celebrate "Take Your Child to Work Day," we look at several famous instances of children following the path set forth by their mother or father, and who may or may not have regularly accompanied them to the office, the lab, or the battlefield.

1. VESPASIAN AND TITUS

From humble beginnings, Vespasian rose to the rank of general and eventually Emperor of Rome, a title he held from 69 CE until his death in 79 CE. He had two sons but was particularly close to his eldest, Titus, who served as prefect of the Praetorian Guard under his father. Vespasian involved his son in many of his decisions as emperor, and after he died Titus took the throne, becoming the first son to directly succeed his biological father as Emperor of Rome. Among the numerous pieces of his father’s legacy that Titus cemented was the Colosseum, which Vespasian began constructing in 70 CE and which his son finished the year after his death.

2. MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT AND MARY SHELLEY

Mary Wollstonecraft, circa 1797; Mary Shelley, circa 1830.
Mary Wollstonecraft, circa 1797; Mary Shelley, circa 1830.
Hulton Archive, Getty Images

Raised by an abusive father, Mary Wollstonecraft took refuge in her work as a writer and translator. She became a renowned feminist, and in 1792 published her most famous work, A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, which stirred up considerable controversy for its assertion that women deserved a proper education. In 1797, she gave birth to her second daughter, Mary, and died 11 days later due to complications. Although she never knew her mother, Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin—who became Mary Shelley after marrying the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley in 1816—inherited her gift for writing, and at age 20, she published Frankenstein.

3. MARIE CURIE AND IRÈNE JOLIOT-CURIE

Irène Joliot-Curie and Marie Curie, circa 1925
Irène Joliot-Curie and Marie Curie, circa 1925.
Wellcome Collection, Wikimedia Commons // CC BY 4.0

With three Nobel prizes between them, Marie Curie and her daughter Irène were pioneering scientists whose work revolutionized our understanding of radioactivity. Born in Poland, Marie Curie attended the prestigious Sorbonne in Paris and went on to, along with her husband Pierre, discover radium and polonium. The birth of Irène in 1897 didn't slow the husband-wife team down, and in time Marie and Irène would also work closely together. During World War I, mother and daughter operated mobile x-ray units that came to be known as "Petite Curies." Irène's work built upon her parents' research, and in 1935 she and her husband received the Nobel Prize in Chemistry for artificially creating a radioactive element. Both women likely died due to prolonged exposure to radiation.

4. THEODORE ROOSEVELT AND THEODORE ROOSEVELT JR.

THEODORE ROOSEVELT AND THEODORE ROOSEVELT JR.
Theodore Roosevelt: National Archive, Newsmakers. Theodore Roosevelt Jr.: Library of Congress, Wikimedia Commons // Public Domain

The 26th president and former Rough Rider instilled in his eldest son an appreciation for military history and battlefield heroism. Theodore Roosevelt Jr., or "Ted" as he was commonly known, proved his mettle as a major during World War I, where he fought in several battles and was wounded in France. After the war, he assumed a political career but reentered the military in the lead-up to World War II. Given the rank of Brigadier General, he lobbied his division commander to accompany troops during the D-Day invasion. At age 56, walking with the aid of a cane and carrying a heart condition he hadn't disclosed, Roosevelt Jr. was among the first soldiers to step foot on Utah Beach. Nearly a mile off course, he orchestrated a modified attack from the new position, calmly directing landing units as enemy fire rained down on their position. Roosevelt Jr. survived D-Day, but died of a heart attack weeks later. He was awarded the Medal of Honor posthumously, and years later, Theodore Roosevelt would also be awarded a posthumous Medal of Honor, making the Roosevelts one of only two father-son pairs of recipients.

5. ZULFIKAR AND BENAZIR BHUTTO

Pakistani President Zulfikar Alî Bhutto, whose daughter Benazir Bhutto is standing next to him, shakes hands with India's Prime Minister Indira Gandhi in June 1972.
Pakistani President Zulfikar Alî Bhutto, whose daughter Benazir Bhutto is standing next to him, shakes hands with India's Prime Minister Indira Gandhi in June 1972.
AFP, Getty Images

Zulfikar Bhutto founded the Pakistan People's Party and from 1971 to 1977 served first as the country's president and then as the prime minister. Following a military coup, he was executed in 1979 and his daughter, Benazir, who had just returned home after attending college in the west, was placed under house arrest. Benazir inherited leadership of the PPP and, after years of careful maneuvering, became Pakistan’s prime minister in 1988—the first female prime minister of a majority Muslim nation. Benazir Bhutto served just two years, followed by another stint in the '90s, all the while battling corruption charges brought by her opponents. In 2007, while attempting to mount another comeback, she was killed by a shooter/suicide bomber in Rawalpindi.

6. JIM AND BRIAN HENSON

Jim and Brian Henson
Jim Henson: John Gooch, Keystone/Getty Images. Brian Henson: Astrid Stawiarz, Getty Images.

The younger Henson began appearing on television when he was just 6 years old. That's when he appeared in the very first episode of Sesame Street, the iconic show that Jim Henson helped bring to life. At 14, Brian created puppets that his father used on The Muppet Show, and at 16 the elder Henson hired him as a puppeteer on 1981's The Great Muppet Caper. Brian's big break came in 1986 when his father named him one of the "puppeteers" (and voice) for the dwarf Hoggle in Labyrinth. After his father's tragic death in 1990, Brian Henson went on to produce and direct TV shows and films, including A Muppet Christmas Carol and Farscape, and today is chairman of The Jim Henson Company.

This story originally ran in 2017.

Hundreds of 17th-Century Case Notes of Bizarre Medical Remedies Have Been Published Online

Illustrated portrait of Simon Forman.
Illustrated portrait of Simon Forman.
Hulton Archive/Getty Images

As medical texts, the writings of Simon Forman and Richard Napier aren't very useful. The so-called "doctors," regarded as celebrities in 16th- and 17th-century England, prescribed such treatments as nursing puppies and wearing dead pigeons as shoes. But as bizarre pieces of history, the 80,000 case notes the two quacks left behind are fascinating. The BBC reports that 500 of them have now been digitized and published online.

Forman and Napier were active in the English medical scene from the 1590s to the 1630s. They treated countless patients with remedies that straddled the line between medicine and mysticism, and their body of work is considered one of the largest known historical medical collections available for study today. After transcribing the hard-to-read notes and translating them into accessible English, a team of researchers at Cambridge University has succeeded in digitizing a fraction of the records.

By visiting the project's website, you can browse Forman and Napier's "cures" for venereal disease ("a plate of lead," "Venice turpentine," and blood-letting), pox (a mixture of roses, violets, boiled crabs, and deer dung), and breastfeeding problems (using suckling puppies to get the milk flowing). Conditions that aren't covered in today's medical classes, such as witchcraft, spiritual possession, and "chastity diseases," are also addressed in the notes.

All 500 digitized case notes are now available to view for free. And in case you thought horrible medical diagnoses were left in the 17th century, here some more terrifying remedies from relatively recent history.

[h/t BBC]

When Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Tried Solving a Real Mystery

An 1892 drawing of Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson, published in The Strand Magazine
An 1892 drawing of Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson, published in The Strand Magazine
Sidney Paget, Wikimedia // Public Domain

On September 1, 1907, the New York Times wrote:

It looks as if Sir Arthur Conan Doyle will eventually come to be considered an even greater detective than he made out Sherlock Holmes to be.

Doyle had found himself embroiled in a case that captured worldwide media attention for the fact that he, and not his famous sleuth, was trying to solve it. In 1906, a man named George Edalji was freed from prison after being sentenced for the crime of animal cruelty. He stood accused of injuring horses and cattle in Great Wyrley, and also of writing letters threatening to do the same to women. Upon his release, he wrote to Doyle asking for the celebrated author’s help in proving his innocence.

Doyle, who typically turned down such requests, was grieving over his wife's death and was eager for a distraction. He suspected Edalji’s Indian heritage was partly to blame for his conviction, as the Staffordshire police were believed to be racially discriminatory and the physical evidence was flimsy. (Another horse had even been attacked while Edalji was in prison.)

Doyle’s theory of the man’s innocence was largely dependent on his eyesight. In a remarkably Holmes-esque observation during their first meeting, Doyle noted Edalji held his newspaper close to his face. Since the animal mutilations had taken place at night and the criminal would have had to navigate a series of obstacles, he figured Edalji’s vision was too poor for the accusations to make sense.

Once Doyle took up his cause, Edalji became a symbol for injustice. Letters poured in, both to Doyle and to the Daily Telegraph, who had published his argument of Edalji’s innocence. The Scottish writer J.M. Barrie (creator of Peter Pan) wrote to say, “I could not doubt that at all events Edalji had been convicted without any evidence worthy of the name.”

Not everyone was convinced. The chief constable, George Anson, did not appreciate Doyle inserting himself into what police considered a closed case. Doyle was not simply posturing as an amateur sleuth: he was a pest, bombarding Anson almost daily with letters questioning their investigation, offering alternative theories, and using his celebrity to keep the case in the newspapers. Since Edalji had already been freed, his intention was to get some kind of financial compensation for the wrongful conviction. Anson responded unkindly, dismissing Doyle’s ideas and delivering sharp retorts.

Doyle was a “contemptible brute,” Anson remarked.

But the author would not be dissuaded, even when an anonymous letter had been delivered to him that was threatening in tone and insisted Edalji was the guilty party. It led him to believe the guilty party was worried enough to try and shut Doyle’s efforts down. By this point, he had isolated his suspicions to Royden Sharp, a former sailor who was said to be aggressive and once showed off a horse lancet capable of inflicting the wounds seen in the injured animals.

Doyle’s actions, the anonymous correspondent wrote, were “to run the risk of losing kidneys and liver.”

Doyle would later learn the letter was not written by a suspect, but instead commissioned by an unlikely tormentor: Constable Anson.

The officer had become so aggrieved with Doyle that he believed forging this letter would either discourage the author or send him on a wild goose chase. In recently discovered records that went up for auction in 2015, Anson even expressed glee that he had fooled “Sherlock Holmes.”

Despite Anson’s attempts to embarrass Doyle, the author had too large a platform for the Home Office to ignore. In 1907, they pardoned Edalji of the mutilation crimes, which allowed him to return to work as a solicitor. But they refused to apologize or offer any restitution.

Doyle was frustrated by their stubborn reaction, but his efforts had one crucial impact on British law: the publicity surrounding Edalji led to the creation of an official Court of Appeals, easing the process for future defendants.

Though Doyle won over the court of public opinion, he failed to solve the case: Sharp was not seriously investigated by police. Whoever had stalked the horses, cows, and sheep during those nights in Great Wyrley has never been identified.

This story was first published in 2016 and republished in 2019.

SECTIONS

arrow
LIVE SMARTER