How an Intelligence Officer Used Monopoly to Free POWs

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What got Christopher Clayton Hutton his job as an intelligence officer at MI9 wasn’t anything on his professional resume. His career as a journalist, his work in Hollywood publicity departments, and his stint as a pilot in the Royal Air Force during the First World War mattered little to the War Office when he applied in 1939. “My passport to the whole curious business,” he recounted 22 years later in his autobiography, Official Secret, “had been a casual reference to my thwarted efforts to get the better of Harry Houdini, the world’s greatest escapologist.”

During his interview, Hutton—or Clutty, as he was called—recounted to Major J.H. Russell how, on April 29, 1915, he had written to the legendary showman, challenging him to escape from a box built on stage, in full view of the audience, by the master carpenter of his father’s timber mill company. “You enter immediately,” Hutton wrote, “wenail down the lid, securely rope up the box, and defy you to escape without demolishing same.”

Houdini accepted, with one condition: that he be allowed to visit the timber mill and meet the carpenter. Hutton, then just 20, arranged the meeting—not realizing, until much later, that Houdini had used the time to bribe the woodworker. In exchange for a mere £3 (less than $5), the carpenter agreed to build the box in such a way that, once Houdini was inside and the box was concealed behind a curtain, it would be easy for the famous escape artist to push one end off using just his feet, then nail it back on properly while the orchestra at the performance played especially loudly.

Though he’d always been interested in show business, Hutton told Russell that the Houdini incident marked the beginning of an obsession with magic. “Magicians, illusionists, escapeologists in particular—they all fascinate me,” Hutton said.

“You may be the very man we want,” Russell replied. “We’re looking for a showman with an interest in escapology.” And just like that, Hutton was hired.

Hutton’s job, he learned that day, would be to build and conceal tools that would allow Allied prisoners of war to escape German POW camps. Over the course of World War II, 232,000 Western Allies (and 5.7 million Soviet soldiers) were imprisoned in the camps, most of which were located in Eastern Germany and Austria, making for a long and difficult route back home. The prisoners, Hutton’s superior told him, were being instructed to try to escape, with the hope that they would be able to divert German soldiers from the front. Clutty was given the rank of lieutenant and told to get to work.

It quickly became clear that Clutty had no respect for rules or boundaries. He often employed unorthodox methods, and stepped on plenty of toes, to get things done. “This officer is eccentric,” his commanding officer wrote to a provost marshal. “He cannot be expected to comply with ordinary service discipline, but he is far too valuable for his services to be lost to this department.” Hutton and his team regularly churned out impressive devices to aid POWs in their escape attempts, including flying boots with hollow heels that held knives, maps, a compass, and a file—and could also be transformed into civilian shoes; a telescope disguised as a cigarette holder; and compasses so tiny they could be hidden on the backs of buttons.

But as ingenious as Hutton’s concealments were, the Germans inevitably figured them out. All of them, that is, but one. This particular scheme that Clutty had hatched wouldn’t come to light until the documents were declassified four decades after the end of the war: With the help of a Leeds-based manufacturing company, Hutton hid escape kits for POWs in unassuming, ordinary-looking Monopoly games.

MAPS AND MONOPOLY

Monopoly first made its way to the UK in 1935, just a few months after Parker Brothers purchased it from Charles Darrow. Not long after, the company shipped the game overseas to its U.K. partners, John Waddington Limited, a printing and packaging company that was beginning to make the move into games. “The Waddingtons were so taken by Monopoly that they immediately licensed it in December 1935,” Philip Orbanes, a Monopoly historian at Parker Brothers and author of three books about the game, tells mental_floss. “They adapted it to the market by changing the street names to appropriate streets in London.” The game, released in 1936, was an immediate hit in England.

In its original role as a printing company, Waddingtons was responsible for creating the silk play bills that were presented to the Royal Family at command performances. This had required the company to perfect the process of printing on silk, which its workers had accomplished by stretching the material and adding a gummy substance called pectin to the ink to keep it from running. The innovation made the printing of highly detailed silk escape maps—which didn’t rustle like paper maps, were impervious to dirt and water, and didn’t distort—possible, and the company was already making thousands for MI9, which were sewn into airmen’s uniforms. It was a perfect solution if an airman somehow managed to evade capture. But what about the men who ended up in POW camps?


From the collection of Philip E. Orbanes. Click to enlarge.

Clutty knew that games were allowed into camps; the Germans believed they provided a diversion for POWs whose main activity was trying to figure out how they could escape. And then inspiration struck: Most of his devices could only conceal one tiny tool, but a game with a large board could hide a silk map, a small compass, a Gigli saw, and a file. Waddingtons made silk maps—and Monopoly. The game was large enough for what he wanted, and the fake money could conceal the real money that POWs on the run would need. It was perfect for Hutton’s all-in-one escape kit.

On March 26, 1941, Hutton discussed the matter with the company's chairman, Victor Watson, then followed up with a letter that same day, which read, in part:

Dear Mr. Watson,

Reference our conversation today. I am sending you, under separate cover, as many maps as I have in stock of the following:
Norway and Sweden
Germany
Italy

I shall be glad if you will make up games on the lines discussed today containing the maps as follows:

One game must contain Norway, Sweden, and Germany.
One game must contain N. France, Germany, and frontiers.
One game must contain Italy.

I am also sending you a packet of small metal instruments. I should be glad if in each game you could manage to secrete one of these.

I want as varied an assortment containing these articles as possible. You had then better send me 100/200 games on the straight.

In those that are faked, you must give me some distinguishing clue and also state what they contain.

Waddingtons put just a few workers on the project, secluding them in a small room, where they used cookie cutter-like dies to punch compartments exactly the size of the items into the Monopoly boards—which were then an eighth of an inch thick, compared to today’s twelfth of an inch—before gluing the game board decal over it. When their job was done, the board was indistinguishable from one a regular citizen might buy in a store.


Courtesy of Philip E. Orbanes. Click to enlarge.

GETTING THE GAMES INTO THE CAMPS

After designing his ingenious escape aids, Clutty’s greatest challenge was figuring out how to actually get them into the camps. He couldn’t use Red Cross packages, and monthly personal packages sent to POWs by family and friends were out, too. “I had no doubt that if the Germans discovered an illegal item in a ‘family’ parcel, they would have no compunction about withdrawing the privilege altogether,” Clutty wrote in Open Secret.

But Hutton knew that hundreds of organizations were sending care packages to POWs, and he decided to use that to his advantage. “We would hide our escape aids in parcels containing games, sports equipment, musical instruments, books, and articles of clothing,” he wrote. “We knew that these voluntary gifts, designed for the comfort and entertainment of the prisoners, were flooding the camps from hundreds of sources … There was no valid reason why we should not take cover behind this multiplicity of well-wishers.”

He and his team created a bunch of bogus organizations using the addresses of blitzed buildings. A printer made letterheads for the organizations “littered with quotations that we hoped would act both as clues and as an inspiration to the prisoners,” Clutty wrote. “One obvious quotation was from St. Matthew, Chapter 7: ‘Ask and it shall be given you; seek and ye shall find; knock and it shall be opened unto you.’” To make their packages as authentic looking as possible, the team wrapped the parcels that supposedly came from Liverpool organizations, for example, in sheets from the Liverpool Echo.

To see if their packages were getting through, Hutton and his team enclosed “a printed card of acknowledgement on which the contents were enumerated. All the prisoner had to do was to tick off each article as received and return the card,” which was slightly bigger than the one used by the Red Cross, allowing for easy sorting by the censors. After sending out the first batch—which contained no contraband—the team waited and waited to receive cards. “We grew more and more depressed,” Hutton wrote, “telling ourselves gloomily that the Jerries had confiscated the lot and we should hear no more about the matter.”

But then, three months after they’d sent their packages, a card came in—then another, and another. The packages had gotten through! It was time to send through a batch that wasn’t entirely legitimate. “These plans of mine were greeted on all sides with complete skepticism,” Hutton wrote. “Even Major Crockatt said to me as the first 13 loaded parcels were sent, ‘They will never get through in 100 years.’” But Crockatt was wrong. Everything, even the fake material, had been delivered: “We had our entree into the camps.”

SENDING A MESSAGE

Getting the games into the camps was just one part of getting the tools to the POWs. Clutty also had to make sure that the prisoners knew what they were receiving. Clever messages that hinted at what was hidden inside the packages weren't enough; Clutty decided to train at least two members of every Air Force squadron in the art of sending hidden messages concealed in ordinary looking letters addressed to Mom and Dad.

When the trained men mailed letters back to the UK, those letters were intercepted and given to intelligence officers, who steamed them open and took a look at the date. “If it was written out, M-A-Y 3rd, the letter was simply resealed, and it went to whatever relative it was addressed to,” Orbanes says. “But if the letter’s date was numerical—three slash five slash '43—that said ‘there’s a message in this letter.’” The intelligence officer would then multiply the number of letters in the first two words to determine how many words were in the message. If the first two words were “how nice,” for example, then the officer would multiply three by four to get 12 words. “Then,” Orbanes says, “there was a technique by which he could pick out the words in the letter and write out the message.”

This allowed intelligence officers and POWs to communicate back and forth. POWs reported on conditions in the camp, and what they might need to escape—and intelligence officers let them know when special packages were coming their way. “The code user in the camp would eventually get a letter back from ‘Mom or Dad’ that would contain a secret message, and it would tell them when to expect the shipment and what the parcels might look like,” Orbanes says. The contents of Clutty's escape kits could be modified based on requests from code users.


Courtesy of Philip E. Orbanes. Click to enlarge.

Because keeping the secret of how escape tools were getting into the camps was paramount, only a few men ever knew how it was happening. Each POW camp had an escape committee that would receive the items, destroy the method of delivery by burning it in the barracks stove, and hide the tools away in false walls. “Ninety-nine percent of all the POWs had no idea of how the tools were getting into the camps,” Orbanes says. “If you and your buddies had a plan for an escape, you would go to the escape committee and present your idea. And if it was approved, they would issue you the tools you needed. So the POWs got what they needed to effectuate their plan, but they never knew how the tools got into the camp.”

THE AMERICAN EFFORT

When the United States entered the war, after the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, Hutton was tasked with training his American counterpart, Captain Robley Winfrey, in the art of concealing escape tools in ordinary looking stuff. Winfrey, a civil engineering professor at Iowa State, took a leave of absence to join the Army when the U.S. entered the war; he set up a large, secret operation, Military Intelligence Services—Escape and Evasion Section (MIS-X), on the grounds of Mount Vernon in Virginia. Winfrey came up with a number of ideas to supplement Hutton’s, and it wasn’t long before MIS-X was sending out Monopoly boards loaded with escape tools, too.

But Winfrey’s operation differed from Hutton’s in one very important way: He didn’t have a factory that was making complete escape kit boards for him. Instead, he had to send MIS-X staffers in civilian clothes to stores to buy the games. “They would bring the games back to their facility and steam off the gameboard labels,” Orbanes says. “Then they would cut the compartments in, put in the particular escape tools that they wanted inside that game, and then re-apply the label—they actually had to reverse engineer the glue that Parker used.” Not even Parker Brothers knew their boards were being doctored.

GAME OVER

The Germans had discovered a number of Clutty and Winfrey’s concealments, so the duo always had to be one step ahead of the enemy. When the Germans realized that the cribbage boards prisoners were receiving actually contained radio parts, Winfrey began hiding the parts in the cores of baseballs; it took four baseballs to conceal enough parts to build one radio. Table tennis, Snakes & Ladders, chess sets, and playing cards were used to get escape tools and maps into POW camps.

When the war ended in September 1945, there was just one escape kit the Germans hadn’t discovered: Monopoly. None of the modified boards survived—the POWs had to destroy the boards that came into the camps, and MI9 and MIS-X destroyed whatever was left at the end of the war—and the role the game played wouldn’t be revealed until 1985, when British intelligence declassified documents related to Clutty’s work in MI9. MIS-X’s use of the game wasn’t revealed until 1990, when a member of that team was granted permission to tell his story.

According to Orbanes, at least 744 airmen escaped with aids created by Hutton and Winfrey. One of them was an American officer, Lieutenant David Bowling, who was a prisoner at Stalag Luft III, 100 miles southeast of Berlin. In late 1943, he responded to a commanding officer’s request for a solo escape attempt—which, if Bowling was recaptured, was punishable by death. “Leaders inside the camp had learned that the SS was attempting to wrest control of POW camps from the Luftwaffe,” Orbanes says. “With the war turning against the Germans, the SS proposed executing all POWs in order to free the security forces to bolster the front lines. This possibility had to be communicated quickly to Allied Command in England.”

Bowling spoke German well, and was issued civilian clothing, a forged ID, and a train schedule. He also traveled with German money, a silk map, a tiny compass, wire cutters, and a Gigli saw, which most likely came from a Monopoly game.

A few nights after getting the orders, Bowling waited until lights out at 10 p.m., crawled to the wire, and cut his way through, making his way to Sagan, about 10 miles away, where, the next morning, he boarded a train heading toward Switzerland, according to his map. “For days, Bowling guided his movements by his compass and map,” Orbanes says. “At times, he had to cut through fence wire to avoid walking across fields and remain hidden in woods.” Bowling eventually made it to Zurich and relayed the urgent message.

Were there more attempts like Bowling’s? Most definitely. But we’ll never know for sure just how many—most of the records, British and American, were destroyed just after the war ended. Says Orbanes, “These were better kept secrets than the Manhattan Project.”

25 Things You Might Not Know About Thomas Jefferson

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Thomas Jefferson (1743-1826), the third president of the United States, penned one of the greatest documents of the modern world in the Declaration of Independence. While that’s certainly a career highlight, it’s far from the only interesting thing about him. For more on Jefferson’s life, accomplishments, and controversies, take a look at this assembly of 25 facts.

1. He was addicted to learning.

Born April 13 (April 2 on the pre-Gregorian calendar), 1743 at his father’s Shadwell plantation in Virginia, Jefferson was one of 10 children (eight of whom survived to adulthood). While he attended the College of William and Mary (he graduated in 1762), he was said to have studied for 15 hours daily on top of violin practice. The hard work paid off: Jefferson moved into law studies before becoming a lawyer in 1767. Two years later, he became a member of Virginia’s House of Burgesses, the Virginia legislature. His autodidact ways continued throughout his life: Jefferson could speak four languages (English, Italian, French, Latin) and read two more (Greek and Spanish).

2. His greatest work was a study in contradiction.

As a member of the Second Continental Congress and the “Committee of Five” (a group consisting of John Adams, Roger Sherman, Benjamin Franklin, Robert Livingston, and Thomas Jefferson brought together for this purpose), Jefferson was tasked with writing the Declaration of Independence, an argument against the 13 colonies being held under British rule. While the Declaration insisted that all men are created equal and that their right to liberty is inherent at birth, Jefferson’s plantation origins meant that he embraced the institution of slavery. In any given year, Jefferson supervised up to 200 slaves, with roughly half under the age of 16. He perpetuated acts of cruelty, sometimes selling slaves and having them relocated away from their families as punishment. Yet in a book titled Notes on the State of Virginia (which he began writing during his stint as governor and published in 1785), Jefferson wrote that he believed the practice was unjust and “tremble[d]” at the idea of God exacting vengeance on those who perpetuated it. Though Jefferson acknowledged slavery as morally repugnant—and also criticized the slave trade in a passage that was cut from the Declaration of Independence "in complaisance to South Carolina and Georgia”—he offered no hesitation in benefiting personally from it, a hypocrisy that would haunt his legacy through the present day.

3. He didn't like being rewritten.

After drafting the Declaration, Jefferson waited as Congress poured over his document for two days. When they broke session, Jefferson was annoyed to find that they were calling for extensive changes and revisions. He disliked the fact the passage criticizing the slave trade was to be omitted, along with some of his harsh words against British rule. Benjamin Franklin soothed his irritation, and the finished Declaration was adopted July 4, 1776, spreading via horseback and ship throughout that summer.

4. He recorded everything.

After inheriting his family’s Shadwell estate, Jefferson began constructing a new brick mansion on the property he dubbed Monticello, which means “little mountain” in Italian. For operations at Monticello and the properties he would acquire later in life, Jefferson was preoccupied with recording the minutiae of his daily routine, jotting down journal entries about the weather, his expansive garden, and the behavior of animals on his property. He kept a running tally of the hogs killed in a given year, mused about crop rotations, and noted the diet of his slaves.

5. He doubled the size of the country.

Jefferson’s greatest feat as president, an office he held from 1801 to 1809, was the Louisiana Purchase, a treaty-slash-transaction with France that effectively doubled the size of the United States. The deal took careful diplomacy, as Jefferson knew that France controlling the Mississippi River would have huge ramifications on trade movements. Fortunately, Napoleon Bonaparte was in the mood to deal, hoping the sale of the 830,000 square miles would help finance his armed advances on Europe. Bonaparte wanted $22 million; he settled for $15 million. Jefferson was elated, though some critics alleged the Constitution didn’t strictly allow for a president to purchase foreign soil.

6. He fought pirates.

Another instance where Jefferson pushed the limits of his Constitutional power was his fierce response to Barbary pirates, a roving band of plunderers from North Africa who frequently targeted supply ships in the Mediterranean and held them for ransom. Under Jefferson’s orders, American warships were dispatched to confront the pirates directly rather than capitulate to their demands. The initial Navy push was successful, but the pirates were able to capture a massive American frigate—which an American raiding party subsequently set fire to so the ship couldn't be used against them. A treaty was declared in 1805, although tensions resumed in what was known as the Second Barbary War in 1815. Again, Naval ships forced Algerian ships to retreat.

7. He helped popularize ice cream in the U.S.

Jefferson spent time in France in the 1700s as a diplomat, and that’s where he was likely introduced to the dessert delicacy known as ice cream. While not the first to port over recipes to the United States, his frequent serving of it during his time as president contributed to increased awareness. Jefferson was so fond of ice cream that he had special molds and tools imported from France to help his staff prepare it; because there was no refrigeration at the time, the confections were typically kept in ice houses and brought out to the amusement of guests, who were surprised by a frozen dish during summer parties. He also left behind what may be the first ice cream recipe in America: six egg yolks, a half-pound of sugar, two bottles of cream, and one vanilla bean.

8. He bribed a reporter.

Presidential scandals and dogged newspaper reporters are not strictly a 20th or 21st century dynamic. In the 1790s, a reporter named James Callender ran articles condemning several politicians—including Alexander Hamilton and John Adams—for various indiscretions. In 1801, he turned his attention to Jefferson, whom he alleged was having an affair with one of his slaves, a woman named Sally Hemings. Callender went to Jefferson and demanded he receive $200 and a job as a postmaster in exchange for his silence. Disgusted, Jefferson gave him $50. Callender eventually broke the news that Hemings and Jefferson had been involved, a relationship that resulted in several children. Jefferson supporters ignored the story—which modern-day DNA testing later corroborated—but Callender was never in a position to gather more evidence: He drowned in the James River in 1803.

9. He had a pet mockingbird.

Even before the Revolution, Jefferson had taken a liking to mockingbirds, and he brought this affection to the White House, which they filled with melodious song. (And, presumably, bird poop.) But he was singularly affectionate toward one mockingbird he named Dick. The bird was allowed to roam Jefferson’s office or perch on the president’s shoulder. When Jefferson played his violin, Dick would accompany with vocals. Dick and his colleagues followed Jefferson back to Monticello when he was finished with his second term in 1809.

10. He invented a few things.

Not one to sit idle, Jefferson used his available free time to consider solutions to some of the problems that followed him at his Monticello farming endeavors. Anxious to till soil more efficiently, he and his son-in-law, Thomas Mann Randolph, conceived of a plow that could navigate hills. He also tinkered with a way of improving a dumbwaiter, the elevator typically used to deliver food and other goods from one floor to another.

11. His wife had a curious connection to his mistress.

Jefferson was married for just 10 years before his wife, Martha Wayles, died in 1782 at age 33 of unknown causes. Curiously, Jefferson’s involvement with his slave, Sally Hemings, was part of Martha's convoluted family tree. Martha’s father, John Wayles, had an affair with Sally’s mother, Elizabeth Hemings—meaning most historians think Sally and Martha were half-sisters.

12. He's credited with creating a catchphrase.

During his second term as president, Jefferson was said to have run into a man on horseback near his Monticello estate who proceeded to engage him in a lengthy complaint of everything wrong in Washington. Reportedly, the man had no idea he was speaking to the commander-in-chief until Jefferson introduced himself. The man, deeply embarrassed, quickly spouted “my name is Haines” and then galloped away. True or not, Jefferson is credited with originating the resulting catchphrase that was popular in the 1800s, with people saying “my name is Haines” whenever they wanted to feign embarrassment or were forced to leave abruptly.

13. He was served with a subpoena.

Long before Richard Nixon landed in hot water, Thomas Jefferson resisted attempts to compel him to testify in court. The matter unraveled in 1807, when James Wilkinson insisted he had sent Jefferson a letter informing him of Aaron Burr’s plot to invade Mexico. Government attorneys wanted Jefferson to appear with the letter, but the president—who said that the country would be left without leadership if he traveled to Richmond to answer the subpoena—refused to appear, an act of executive willpower that was never challenged in court.

14. He had a secret retreat.

Though Monticello remained Jefferson’s pride and joy, he had another residence for times when he wanted to be alone. Poplar Forest, located near Lynchburg, Virginia, was an octagonal home that he had built to exacting detail: The windows were measured so they would bring in only Jefferson’s preferred amount of sunlight. The home took years to construct and was nearly ready by the time he left office in 1809. It’s now open to the public.

15. He was a shabby dresser.

After taking office, Jefferson offended some in Washington who believed the president should be an impeccably-dressed and polished social host. While many of his stature would opt for a carriage, Jefferson rode a horse and dressed in plain and comfortable clothing. He acknowledged only two official White House celebrations annually: the 4th of July and New Year’s Day.

16. He was an early wine connoisseur.

Centuries before wine appreciation became a national pastime, Jefferson was busy accumulating an eclectic wine cellar. His love for the drink coincided with his trip to France, where he was introduced to the various tastes and textures. He kept a well-stocked collection at Monticello and also tried growing his own European grapes, but was never successful.

17. He shocked people by eating a tomato.

Jefferson’s multitudes of crops included what were, for their time, unique and sometimes puzzling additions. He grew tomatoes when their consumption in Virginia was uncommon, and, according to one account from 1900, Jefferson reportedly appalled some onlookers when he would consume one in front of witnesses.

18. He probably had a fear of public speaking.

Without today’s methods of addressing the public—radio, television, and Twitter—Jefferson was largely free to succumb to his reported phobia of speaking in public. While working as a lawyer, he found himself unable to deliver orated arguments as eloquently as he could write them. When he did speak, it was apparently with a meek disposition. One listener to his inaugural address in 1801 described Jefferson’s speech as being in “so low a tone that few heard it.”

19. He harvested opium.

At Monticello’s sprawling vegetable and plant gardens, Jefferson grew over 300 different kinds of crops, flowers, and other sprouts. Among them were Papaver somniferum, the poppy seed that can be used to create opioid drugs. Common in Jefferson’s time, the plant is now under much closer scrutiny and the estate was forced to pull up their remaining crop in 1991.

20. Abraham Lincoln was not a fan.

Though they weren’t contemporaries, Abraham Lincoln sometimes seethed with animosity toward Jefferson. William Henry Herndon, Lincoln’s onetime law partner, wrote that Lincoln “hated” Jefferson both for his moral shortcomings and his political views. But Lincoln also recognized the potency of the Declaration, citing its words as proof of equality among the population. “All honor to Jefferson,” he said, for making the document a “stumbling block” for anyone arguing in favor of tyranny. But he still never liked the guy.

21. He sold a lot of books to the Library of Congress.

Jefferson, a voracious reader, was dismayed when the War of 1812 resulted in British forces burning the Capitol in Washington and reducing its 3000-volume library of books to ashes. To repopulate the repository of knowledge, Jefferson sold Congress his entire personal library of 6707 titles for $23,950. The sale was finalized in 1815, and the books were sent via wagon from Virginia to Washington.

22. He helped found the University of Virginia.

A fierce advocate of education, Jefferson used his later years to propagate an institution of higher learning. Jefferson began planning the resources for a Virginia state university during his presidential term, writing to the Virginia House of Delegates that a college should not be solely a house but a “village.” In the proceeding years, Jefferson arranged funding, contributed design ideas, and helped shepherd the University of Virginia toward its formal opening in March 1825. Known as the “founding father” of the school, his influence has not always been welcomed. In April 2018, protesting students spray-painted the words rapist (in reference to his controversial relationship with slave Sally Hemings) and racist on a campus statue.

23. He was always in debt.

Status, salary, and opportunities should collude to make sure presidents are in solid financial shape during and after their tenure in office. Jefferson was an exception. Despite inheriting his father’s estate, he was plagued by debt for most of his life. He often spent beyond his means, expanding his property and making additions and renovations with little regard for the cost involved. His father-in-law, John Wayles, carried debt, which Jefferson became responsible for when Wayles died in 1774. Jefferson himself died owing $107,000, or roughly $2 million today.

24. His onetime nemesis dies on the same day.

Before Jefferson passed away on July 4, 1826, he had finally made amends with John Adams, the president who preceded him in office and for whom Jefferson had acted as vice-president. The two men, once on the same side, had grown to resent the other’s approach to diplomacy and politics, with Jefferson lamenting Adams’s preference for centralized and meddlesome government—though according to Jefferson, the major issue was the so-called “Midnight Judges,” appointments that Jefferson felt “were from among [his] most ardent political enemies.”

Strangely, Adams passed away the same day as Jefferson, just five hours later. The date, July 4, was also the 50th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence being adopted.

25. He wrote his own epitaph.

Jefferson wasn’t willing to leave his final resting place in the hands of others. He was exacting in how he wanted his grave marker to look and how his epitaph should read. He also directed the marker be made of inexpensive materials to dissuade vandals from bothering it. Following his death in 1826, several people chipped away at his grave in Monticello as souvenirs. Congress funded a new monument in 1882, which is still toured by visitors to the estate today. The engraving reads:

Here was buried

Thomas Jefferson

Author of the Declaration of American Independence

of the Statute of Virginia for religious freedom

& Father of the University of Virginia

This time, no one had the temerity to rewrite him.

15 Gripping Facts About Galileo

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Albert Einstein once said that the work of Galileo Galilei “marks the real beginning of physics.” And astronomy, too: Galileo was the first to aim a telescope at the night sky, and his discoveries changed our picture of the cosmos. Here are 15 things that you might not know about the father of modern science, who was born February 15, 1564.

1. There's a reason why Galileo Galilei's first name echoes his last name.

You may have noticed that Galileo Galilei’s given name is a virtual carbon-copy of his family name. In her book Galileo’s Daughter, Dava Sobel explains that in Galileo’s native Tuscany, it was customary to give the first-born son a Christian name based on the family name (in this case, Galilei). Over the years, the first name won out, and we’ve come to remember the scientist simply as “Galileo.”

2. Galileo Galilei probably never dropped anything off the leaning tower of Pisa. 

With its convenient “tilt,” the famous tower in Pisa, where Galileo spent the early part of his career, would have been the perfect place to test his theories of motion, and of falling bodies in particular. Did Galileo drop objects of different weights, to see which would strike the ground first? Unfortunately, we have only one written account of Galileo performing such an experiment, written many years later. Historians suspect that if Galileo taken part in such a grand spectacle, there would be more documentation. (However, physicist Steve Shore did perform the experiment at the tower in 2009; I videotaped it and put the results on YouTube.)

3. Galileo taught his students how to cast horoscopes.

It’s awkward to think of the father of modern science mucking about with astrology. But we should keep two things in mind: First, as historians remind us, it’s problematic to judge past events by today’s standards. We know that astrology is bunk, but in Galileo’s time, astrology was only just beginning to disentangle from astronomy. Besides, Galileo wasn’t rich: A professor who could teach astrological methods would be in greater demand than one who couldn’t.

4. Galileo didn't like being told what to do.

Maybe you already knew that, based on his eventual kerfuffle with the Roman Catholic Church. But even as a young professor at the University of Pisa, Galileo had a reputation for rocking the boat. The university’s rules demanded that he wear his formal robes at all times. He refused—he thought it was pretentious and considered the bulky gown a nuisance. So the university docked his pay.

5. Galileo Galilei didn't invent the telescope.

We’re not sure who did, although a Dutch spectacle-maker named Hans Lipperhey often gets the credit (he applied for a patent in the fall of 1608). Within a year, Galileo Galilei obtained one of these Dutch instruments and quickly improved the design. Soon, he had a telescope that could magnify 20 or even 30 times. As historian of science Owen Gingerich has put it, Galileo had managed “to turn a popular carnival toy into a scientific instrument.”

6. A king leaned on Galileo to name planets after him.

Galileo rose to fame in 1610 after discovering, among other things, that the planet Jupiter is accompanied by four little moons, never previously observed (and invisible without telescopic aid). Galileo dubbed them the “Medicean stars” after his patron, Cosimo II of the Medici family, who ruled over Tuscany. The news spread quickly; soon the king of France was asking Galileo if he might discover some more worlds and name them after him.

7. Galileo didn't have trouble with the church for the first two-thirds of his life.

In fact, the Vatican was keen on acquiring astronomical knowledge, because such data was vital for working out the dates of Easter and other holidays. In 1611, when Galileo visited Rome to show off his telescope to the Jesuit astronomers there, he was welcomed with open arms. The future Pope Urban VIII had one of Galileo’s essays read to him over dinner and even wrote a poem in praise of the scientist. It was only later, when a few disgruntled conservative professors began to speak out against Galileo, that things started to go downhill. It got even worse in 1616, when the Vatican officially denounced the heliocentric (sun-centered) system described by Copernicus, which all of Galileo’s observations seemed to support. And yet, the problem wasn’t Copernicanism. More vexing was the notion of a moving Earth, which seemed to contradict certain verses in the Bible.

8. Galileo probably could have earned a living as an artist.

We think of Galileo as a scientist, but his interests—and talents—straddled several disciplines. Galileo could draw and paint as well as many of his countrymen and was a master of perspective—a skill that no doubt helped him interpret the sights revealed by his telescope. His drawings of the Moon are particularly striking. As the art professor Samuel Edgerton has put it, Galileo’s work shows “the deft brushstrokes of a practiced watercolorist”; his images have “an attractive, soft, and luminescent quality.” Edgerton writes of Galileo’s “almost impressionistic technique” more than 250 years before Impressionism developed.

10. Galileo wrote about relativity long before Einstein.

He didn’t write about exactly the same sort of relativity that Einstein did. But Galileo understood very clearly that motion is relative—that is, that your perception of motion has to do with your own movement as well as that of the object you’re looking at. In fact, if you were locked inside a windowless cabin on a ship, you’d have no way of knowing if the ship was motionless, or moving at a steady speed. More than 250 years later, these ideas would be fodder for the mind of the young Einstein.

10. Galileo never married, but that doesn't mean he was alone.

Galileo was very close with a beautiful woman from Venice named Marina Gamba; together, they had two daughters and a son. And yet, they never married, nor even shared a home. Why not? As Dava Sobel notes, it was traditional for scholars in those days to remain single; perceived class difference may also have played a role.

11. You can listen to music composed by Galileo's dad.

Galileo’s father, Vincenzo, was a professional musician and music teacher. Several of his compositions have survived, and you can find modern recordings of them on CD (like this one). The young Galileo learned to play the lute by his father’s side; in time he became an accomplished musician in his own right. His music sense may have aided in his scientific work. With no precision clocks, Galileo was still able to time rolling and falling objects to within mere fractions of a second.

12. His discoveries may have influenced a scene in one of Shakespeare's late plays.

An amusing point of trivia is that Galileo and Shakespeare were born in the same year (1564). By the time Galileo aimed his telescope at the night sky, however, the English playwright was nearing the end of his career. But he wasn’t quite ready to put down the quill: His late play Cymbeline contains what may be an allusion to one of Galileo’s greatest discoveries—the four moons circling Jupiter. In the play’s final act, the god Jupiter descends from the heavens, and four ghosts dance around him in a circle. It could be a coincidence—or, as I suggest in my book The Science of Shakespeare, it could hint at the Bard's awareness of one of the great scientific discoveries of the time.

13. Galileo had some big-name visitors while under house arrest.

Charged with “vehement suspicion of heresy,” Galileo spent the final eight years of his life under house arrest in his villa outside of Florence. But he was able to keep writing and, apparently, to receive visitors, among them two famous Englishmen: the poet John Milton and the philosopher Thomas Hobbes.

14. Galileo's bones have not rested in peace.

When Galileo died in 1642, the Vatican refused to allow his remains to be buried alongside family members in Florence’s Santa Croce Basilica; instead, his bones were relegated to a side chapel. A century later, however, his reputation had improved, and his remains (minus a few fingers) were transferred to their present location, beneath a grand tomb in the basilica’s main chapel. Michelangelo is nearby.

15. Galileo might not have been thrilled with the Vatican's 1992 "apology."

In 1992, under Pope John Paul II, the Vatican issued an official statement admitting that it was wrong to have persecuted Galileo. But the statement seemed to place most of the blame on the clerks and theological advisers who worked on Galileo’s case—and not on Pope Urban VIII, who presided over the trial. Nor was the charge of heresy overturned.

Additional sources: The Discoveries and Opinions of Galileo; Galileo's Daughter; The Cambridge Companion to Galileo.

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