12.16.11 Free Knowledge

This is the last quick Sliver you’ll receive. You don’t need them anymore.

And your kids don’t need to study their math tables. And all the homework you did in high school was a waste of time. And you shouldn’t spend all that tuition money on college. There’s no need for college.

It’s all available online for free, thanks to Salman Khan. About six years ago, he started using YouTube to help his cousin with her math homework. Any time she had trouble with a concept, he’d film a short video explanation and post it online. He soon had a pretty good inventory of tutorials. And soon after that, folks who googled up “quotient rule” or “Tau vs. Pi” were finding his videos. He started getting hundreds of hits, then thousands, then millions. This drew the attention of Bill Gates and other donors. With their financial support, Khan organized all his videos and launched KhanAcademy.org, an online portal to everything you always wanted to know about anything, in video.

You can learn how to find the first derivative of a function, in 8 minutes. Find out what happened in American history from Jamestown to the Civil War, in 18 minutes. Even learn how to raise a $10MM IPO, in just 15 minutes.

The idea is catching on. Two Stanford professors recently posted their entire courses online, citing Khan as their inspiration. MIT, Harvard and Yale followed suit. And now, high schools are starting to integrate the videos into their curriculum. It’s all becoming available to anyone, anywhere, for free.

We think that’s awesome, everyone should have free access to the world’s knowledge. And, in that spirit, we checked Khan’s site to see what he had to say about the really important stuff. Where is the world’s largest hokey-pokey? What is bushusuru? Who is Lakshmi Tatma? And why are there so many stinkbugs but so few acorns?

And we found absolutely…nothing. No videos about the statistical probabilities of the 13th day of the month occurring on a Friday. No insights about soccer-player-voodoo-dolls in Mexico City. And absolutely nothing about PMS Red #137.

Oh well. We’re sure Khan will be getting to these critical topics very soon. But until then, we’ll keep filling up your inbox.

12.9.11 Christmas Countdown

Out of the darkness came a pretty bright idea.

Hamburg is one tough town. Since it was established by Charlemagne in 808 as the northern outpost of the Holy Roman Empire, Hamburg has endured one brutal setback after another. It was destroyed by Vikings in 845 and again by Polish invaders in 1030. In 1350, more than half the population was killed by the Black Plague. But the city’s excellent position on the Elbe River near the North Sea allowed it grow to become a major seaport. By the 1800’s, Hamburg had become the third largest port in Europe. That is, until a large part of it was destroyed in a massive fire.

Into this rough-and-tumble city came a man of compassion. Johann Hinrich Wichern had studied theology in Berlin and, upon graduation, he dedicated his life to helping the new class of urban poor created by the Industrial Revolution. He travelled through Germany establishing hospitals, schools and rescue stations, before arriving in Hamburg. Appalled at the city’s conditions, he established the Rauhes Haus, a industrial institution for neglected boys, in 1833. About 100 students were housed here and given vocational training to help them make their way in the world.

With so many young folks gathered in one place, each December Wichern would be constantly pestered by the same question: “How many days until Christmas?” Wichern quickly realized he needed a visual aid. He was inspired by the medieval German tradition of placing an evergreen wreath on a wall to signify the persistence of life and the turning of the seasons. He took a large cart wheel, covered it with evergreens and laid it flat in the school’s common room. On each weekday, he would light a small red candle and place it on the circle. On Sundays, he would use a larger white candle. In this way, for 24 days in December, he would work his way around the wreath, while his students visually anticipated the coming of Christmas.

The idea caught fire, and soon “advent wreaths” were blazing in churches each year throughout northern Germany. Folks starting embellishing the daily proceedings by adding treats and miniature figures to the wreath. By the 1900’s, the idea was being mass-produced in miniature; the first known printed “advent calendar” was made in Hamburg in 1902. When millions of German Lutherans emigrated to America in the 1930’s, they brought the advent custom with them.

So now you know who to thank for getting your kids amped up all month. And for reminding you how many shopping days you have left. (16.)

12.2.11 The Source of the Spice

‘Tis the holiday season. Time for a real spicy tale.

One day long ago on an island off the coast of India, someone noticed that when they cut down a certain type of tree, it refused to die. It grew little shoots right out of the stump and kept right on growing. Folks also soon realized that, before these little shoots became too mature, they could cut one off of the stump, peel off its hard outer bark, soften the inner bark in seawater, pound it thin, and let it dry. Abracadabra! It curled up into a long, flaky stick which smelled great and tasted even better.

They called it “kurundu”; they sold it to their neighbors in India, where it was called “karuvapatta”; they in turn traded it to the Persians, who called it “dar-chin”; from there, Arab boats carried it up the Red Sea to Egypt, where it was known by its Greek name, “kinnamomom.” To the Romans, it was “cinnamon.”

In the ancient world, it was rare and highly prized. The Greeks brought offerings of cinnamon to the Temple of Apollo. It is referenced often in the Old Testament as a kingly gift. The Roman emperor Nero burned a year’s supply of cinnamon on his wife’s funeral pyre.

By the Middle Ages, it was a common spice in Europe, and demand kept growing. In the 1500’s, the Portuguese, looking for a trade route to the East, sailed around Africa. When they arrived on the island of Ceylon, they found the locals cutting little sprouts off of tree stumps and making cinnamon. Eureka! They had found cinnamon’s source, and they soon monopolized it. The Dutch supplanted the Portuguese in 1638, and controlled the cinnamon trade for 150 years.

In 1796, the British got into the cinnamon business. They established cinnamon estates in India, China and Indonesia. Unfortunately, the cinnamon tree is not native to these areas, so the British settled for its more hardy cousin, the cassia, which has tougher bark and produces a harsher, less pleasant spice. But it was a pretty good facsimile, and it soon became the global standard.

That’s why today, when you buy cinnamon in your grocery story, you’re not actually buying cinnamon, you’re buying cassia. It’s less tasty than “true cinnamon.” Cassia lacks many of cinnamon’s anti-oxidant and anti-viral properties. Even worse, cassia has recently been shown to cause liver damage when consumed in high quantities.

So now you’re thinking your holiday eggnog deserves a dash of real cinnamon. True enough, but how to get it, short of travelling all the way to Ceylon? Well, you’re in luck, because the spice trade has gone digital. Shazam! You can order real cinnamon online.

Cheers!

11.18.11 Talkin’ Turkey

Let us now praise our national bird.

You’re probably thinking it’s the Bald Eagle. He’s been on our stuff forever. In 1782, Congress approved a design for a Great Seal which featured an Eagle, holding in his right talons an olive branch representing peace, and in his left talons 13 arrows representing war. That symbolism has been constantly updated and integrated into many of the nation’s symbols, including the Presidential Seal, and onto much of our currency. (Over the years, the Eagle’s face has variously been turned to the left, or to the right, which has spawned an urban legend that the Great Seal is constantly updated in response to whether the nation is at war or at peace. Not true.) So, yeah, the Bald Eagle is officially our bird.

But if you go back to the original version of the Great Seal, you’ll find the Eagle wasn’t rendered very well. He looks a little dopey. He’s a bit of a, um, Turkey. Which caused at least one Founding Father to question whether we’d chosen the right bird. Ben Franklin, writing a letter to his daughter, said, “For my own part I wish the Bald Eagle had not been chosen the Representative of our Country. He is a Bird of bad moral Character. He does not get his Living honestly. You may have seen him perched on some dead Tree near the River, where, too lazy to fish for himself, he watches the Labour of the Fishing Hawk; and when that diligent Bird has at length taken a Fish, and is bearing it to his Nest for the Support of his Mate and young Ones, the Bald Eagle pursues him and takes it from him…For the Truth the Turkey is in Comparison a much more respectable Bird, and withal a true original Native of America…He is besides, though a little vain & silly, a Bird of Courage, and would not hesitate to attack a Grenadier of the British Guards who should presume to invade his Farm Yard with a red Coat on.”

But – too late Ben – the decision had already been made, and the Turkey had lost out. However, Turkeys have proven resilient, and more beloved than Eagles in at least one respect: they sure are tasty. In the 1960’s, while Bald Eagles were being wiped out by DDT, Turkeys became ubiquitous.  We eat over 45MM of them every year. So in that respect you could say the Turkey IS our national bird, at least during the holidays.

All of which got us wondering. What if their roles had been reversed? How impressive would a Turkey have looked on the front of the President’s podium? And, conversely, could we have ever developed a hankering for Eagle? Which reminded us of the classic case of a man defending himself against a charge of killing an endangered Bald Eagle.

Man: “I got lost in the woods. I hadn’t had anything to eat for two weeks. I was so hungry. Next thing I see is a Bald Eagle swooping down at the lake for some fish. I knew that if I followed the Eagle I could maybe steal the fish. Unfortunately, in the process of taking the fish I killed the Eagle. I figured that since I killed the Eagle I might as well eat it since it would be more disgraceful to let it rot on the ground.” Judge: “Due to the extreme circumstance you were under and because you didn`t intend to kill the Eagle, the court will dismiss the charges. But if you don’t mind the court asking, what does a Bald Eagle taste like?” Man: “Well your honor, it is hard to explain. The best I can describe it is maybe a combination between a California Condor and a Spotted Owl.”

The holidays are here.  Enjoy your bird.

11.11.11 Armistice Memorial

Here’s how things happen, and how they don’t.

On November 11, 1918, “the war to end all wars” ended.  Armistice occurred on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month.

In 1926, Congress passed a resolution declaring November 11 to be a day of observation, and directed that on that day the U.S. flag should be flown at every federal building.

In 1931, a small memorial was dedicated on the National Mall in Washington honoring the 499 Washingtonians who gave their lives in World War 1.

In 1938, an act of Congress was passed making November 11 a federal holiday, to honor the veterans of World War 1, and to be known as “Armistice Day.”

In 1954, Armistice Day was expanded to honor veterans of all of the nation’s wars, and to be known as “Veterans Day.”

In 2008, Frank Woodruff Buckles, the last surviving veteran of the World War 1, visited the National Mall at the age of 107. He noted the extreme disrepair of the DC memorial, and issued a call that it should be repaired and rededicated as a national memorial honoring ALL U.S. veterans of the Great War.

In March 2011, Frank Buckles died, while refurbishments of the DC World War 1 memorial were underway. He was buried with full honors at Arlington; his family was visited there by President Obama and Vice President Biden.

Yesterday, the memorial was rededicated at 10AM. However, due to the objection of several groups in the District of Columbia, including the National Capital Memorial Committee, the memorial remains dedicated to DC veterans only.

As of this morning, the United States has no national memorial honoring ALL the veterans of World War 1, the third bloodiest conflict in our nation’s history.

Here’s what you can do: this morning, at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month (of the eleventh year of the new millennium), give a thought to the 116,516 Americans who gave their lives in the Great War.

After that, visit wwimemorial.org and find out how you can support Senate Bill 2097, the Frank Buckles World War I Memorial Act, and help create a national World War 1 memorial.

11.4.11 Hoosier Time

As we end Daily Savings Time, we’ve got to ask, “Hey Indiana, what time is it?”

This one takes a little explanation, so hold on.  In 1916, facing energy shortages during World War 1, Germany decided to set their clocks forward in the spring and back in the fall, to get more sunlight into the work day.  The rest of Europe soon followed suit.  The United States dawdled until 1918, when it passed the Standard Time Act, which enacted Daylight Savings Time (DST) and also cleaned up lots of jagged time zone lines.  At that time, the entire state of Indiana was placed in the Central Time Zone.  (Simple.)

Rationality lasted exactly one year.  In 1919 the U.S. repealed DST as a federal mandate but allowed any county to continue to observe it.  Some Indiana counties did so and some did not, resulting in a complete zonal mess and logistical nightmares that lasted for decades, with a short break of sanity when DST was mandated again during World War 2.  (War is always good for organization.)

In 1961, the state legislature decided to run the time zone line right down the middle of the state, but allow counties to continue to observe DST voluntarily.  But then the U.S. government passed the Uniform Time Act in 1966 which gave the Department of Transportation the authority to sort it all out.  The governor of Indiana begged for the whole state to be placed back into the Central Time Zone.  The county legislatures screamed.  Broadcast companies threatened to sue the federal government if their footprints were cut in two.(Everybody crossed their fingers.)

In 1967, in a decision worthy of Solomon, six counties in the northwest (suburbs of Chicago) and six counties in the southwest (suburbs of Evansville) were placed in the Central zone, while the rest of the 82 counties were placed in the Eastern Zone.  But, observance of DST was still voluntary, and only the easternmost counties near Louisville and Cincinnati did so, which meant that lots of central Indiana was acting like an Eastern state in the winter but like a Central state in the summer.  (Got that?)

It was a hodge-podge for forty years.  Finally in 2006, Indiana became the 48th state to enforce DST statewide, which of course caused a few counties to shift from one zone to the other.  And then, finally, everybody was happy.

(Except for Martin County, in the Central zone, whose largest employer is a military base that straddles two Eastern zone counties, which forced the whole base to be declared in the Central Zone consistent with Martin County, until everyone realized that most of the workers were commuting from the two Eastern counties which meant they lived in one zone and worked in another zone across the street, which forced all of Martin County and the base to go back to the Eastern zone…)

See you on Monday, Hoosiers.  Don’t forget to set your clocks back.

10.28.11 Masked Guys

In America, you have the right to assemble and to speak your mind.  You may not, however, disguise yourself.

When the Occupy Wall Street protesters recently took over Zuccotti Park in Manhattan, a lot of folks were nervous and suspicious. Local residents complained about the smell and the noise.  Bankers feared things might turn violent.  Mayor Bloomberg warned he would crack down on any misbehavior.  The whole thing felt like a powder keg with a short fuse, but surprisingly, things remained generally peaceful.

But then the protesters crossed the line: they started getting sardonic.  Several protesters took to wearing the sinister Guy Fawkes mask recently made famous in the film “V for Vendetta.”  (As a quick review, Guy Fawkes was a revolutionary who attempted to blow up England’s Parliament in 1605; after he was caught and hanged, he became an anti-establishment folk hero known as the “only man who ever entered Parliament with honest intentions.”)  When one of the masked men held up a sign that said, “Class Warfare Ahead,” the police waded in and hauled them all off to jail.  Were they charged with inciting a riot?  Nope, they were charged with being…masked!  The police were enforcing an arcane New York City statute of 1845 which makes it illegal to be “masked or in any manner disguised by unusual or unnatural attire or facial alteration in a public place with other persons so masked or disguised, except … when it occurs in connection with a masquerade party or like entertainment.” 

News of the arrest quickly spread, and so, naturally, Mr. Fawkes started popping up all over.  He’s been spotted in cities across the country.  He’s become the slightly funny, slightly scary face of the 99% Movement.  The NYC Police Department isn’t laughing, and has vowed to arrest any protester wearing a Guy Fawkes mask, or for that matter a bandana, a balaclava, or a burqa.

Unfortunately, they hadn’t counted on Halloween!  This week, the Occupy Wall Street leaders announced that the protesters will all march in next Monday’s NYC Halloween Parade.  They’ve launched a new website, OccupyHalloween.org, encouraging folks to join in.  They’ve also made it clear that, since a parade clearly falls in the category of “masquerade party or like entertainment,” folks can dress up any way they choose.  As a corporate zombie.  As Mr. Monopoly.  Or even as a violent, 17th century English Parliament-bombing revolutionary.   Hmm…

You want a creepy Halloween?  How about a surly mob of masked Guy Fawkses staring down an army of uniformed cops on the streets of the West Village!  (Insert spooky crazed laughter here.)

10.21.11 Message from Trafalgar

In communications, a great line can always be improved.

Take, for example, the Battle of Trafalgar, fought 206 years ago today.  Horatio Nelson had been ordered to find and destroy a combined fleet of Spanish and French ships, to prevent Napoleon from invading England.  On October 21, 1805, Nelson encountered the enemy as they sailed from the port of Cadiz in southwestern Spain into Cape Trafalgar.  He ordered his 27 massive ships into two parallel columns, and sailed them straight at the center of the enemy’s line of 33 ships.  It was an unorthodox and risky perpendicular attack plan, completely at odds with standard naval warfare.  Succeed or fail, it was going to result in massive destruction and carnage.  And everybody knew it.

So what does one say to frightened sailors at a time like this?  Nelson hastily scribbled a message, “England confides that every man will do his duty,” and handed it to his signal man, John Pasco.  But there was a problem.  England’s signaling system of the day used just 10 flags, numbered 0 through 9, and assigned a 3-flag code to any word.  In this way, signalers had a basic “signal vocabulary” of several dozen common words, which they would run up one 3-flag word at a time.  Unfortunately, the word “confide” was not in that vocabulary, which meant that Pasco would have to spell that word out letter by letter.  Pasco suggested an alternative, and Nelson, pressed for time, agreed.  Pasco then took about 4 minutes to run the message up the mizzen mast.

Just moments later, Nelson’s flagship HMS Victory slammed across the middle of the Franco-Spanish line, starting what would be the world’s greatest naval battle until the Battle of Midway.  By slicing through the enemy line perpendicularly, Nelson was able to fire point-blank into their bows and sterns, with cannonballs and grapeshot ripping through the length of their ships.  This created profound devastation and loss of life.  Both the French and Spanish flagships were utterly ruined, and half their fleet was destroyed.  In a matter of minutes, over 16,000 of Napoleon’s sailors lost their lives.

It was, perhaps, the greatest moment in English military history.  Most of Nelson’s ships survived and only 1,587 English sailors were lost.  Because of this victory, England would rule the seas for the next century.

But Nelson would never see it; he had been killed in the opening minutes by a French sniper.  His body was brought back to England and laid in state for three days.  10,000 soldiers then escorted him to St. Paul’s Cathedral, where he was laid to rest.  In later years, King George IV’s Square would be renamed Trafalgar Square, and at its center a 170-foot tall monument would be raised.

Today, if you go there, you can see the great hero standing atop Nelson’s Column, looking out at the nation he defended.  On the four sides of his column are scenes from his career.  And inscribed on the base is his defining legacy.  It’s the phrase taught to every English child.  It’s beautiful, memorable, and alliterative.  It’s the last, haunting message of British Lord Admiral Horatio Nelson (as copy-edited by Lieutenant John Pasco).

“England expects that every man will do his duty.”

10.14.11 Lion in October

Talk about rising out of the rubble!  I should know, I’ve seen it, I’ve lived it, I AM it.

I remember when this town really meant something.  Mr. Henry Ford was busy making his cars, and lots of folks were getting pretty rich.  They all needed a nice place to shop, so Mr. Hudson built that huge store down on Woodward Avenue way back in 1911.  It grew and grew until it was 2 million square feet.  Store space, restaurants, offices, the whole thing.  They had a Thanksgiving parade two years before Macy’s did. They flew the world’s largest American flag out front, that’s now in the Smithsonian.  And on all four sides, porcelain-covered copper letters flashed “HUDSONS” in red neon.  Beautiful.

But they needed even more room.  So they built a bunch of us warehouses over here on Brush Street, to hold all the goods.  We stood here for a half-century, watching a proud city thrive.  I remember Gordie Howe bringing us the Stanley Cup in 1952 (we got more of those than any other American team); the Lions winning 3 NFL Championships in the 50’s; and the Tigers winning the 1968 Series.  People around the world drove our cars, and blared Diana Ross out of the speakers.

Unfortunately, it didn’t last.  Times got hard and people started moving out.  At night the streets grew dangerous.  People started getting angry about war, and about skin color.  A scuffle broke out over on 12th Street that turned into the worst American riot in 100 years.  7000 people arrested, almost 100 killed and 2000 injured.  My buddies and I watched as 1700 of our fellow buildings were looted and 1400 were burned to the ground.  After that, things just kept getting worse, and people kept leaving.  They demolished Mr. Hudson’s beautiful store in 1998.  Most of the warehouses followed soon after, until only two of us were left.  In 2000, we heard wrecking crews coming up Brush Street to take us down…

But then something strange happened.  Mr. William Clay Ford (Henry’s great-great-grandson) saved me.  His crew opened me up, cleaned me out, and gave me new windows.  And then they did something even more amazing: they put me right into a new football stadium.  They laid a new field just north of me, and built the new place for the Lions to play.  They turned me into offices and restaurants, and on the side facing the field, they put in private rooms for wealthy folks to eat, drink, and watch the game.  Today, as you enter Ford Field, you can see me.  I’m the whole south side of the stadium, four glorious levels of club seating.  Imagine that, me – a lowly Hudson’s merchandise warehouse – hosting Detroit’s high-and-mighty every Sunday!

And, would you believe it?  Our Lions are undefeated.  I do believe I’m the luckiest warehouse in America.

10.7.11 1984

The Board of Directors thought he was nuts.

And you have to admit, the idea behind Steve Jobs’ television spot was rather, um, different.  It was a story about a soulless industrial future, an army of automatons, and a track and field athlete.  The story was created at a boutique advertising agency in Venice, California called Chiat/Day by Creative Director Lee Clow, Copywriter Steve Hayden, and Art Director Brent Thomas.  Jobs loved it, and gave them the green light to produce it.  Needing a director, they called Ridley Scott, a rising star who’d just wrapped a movie called Blade Runner.  Though he had already moved beyond TV spots and was now filming features, Scott listened to their pitch.  He liked the idea, and signed on to shoot it.  (The budget, an until-then-unheard-of $900,000, may have had something to do with it.)

The script called for a petite, attractive woman to hurl a sledgehammer.  A casting call brought in the usual assortment of pretty actresses and models, but most of them couldn’t pick up the hammer, let alone throw it.  The part went to an amateur discus thrower named Anya Major who was discovered while working out at a London health club.  The only other major role in the spot was an authoritative face on a large video screen.  This part went to David Graham, a British character actor known more for his voice (Saturday kids shows like Thunderbirds) than for his face (bit parts in geek shows like Dr. Who).  The cinematographer responsible for creating the commercial’s nightmare feel was Adrian Biddle, who may have been a better swimmer than he was a cameraman.  He’d gotten his start filming underwater scenes for Bond movies before joining Scott’s production company; he had never shot anything like this before.  The commercial was shot at Fairbanks Films in New York, and edited by Pamela Powers at RSA in London.

When the finished spot was presented to Jobs, he was so excited that he started booking time for it on the upcoming Super Bowl.  But when he showed the commercial to his board, they were flabbergasted.  There was no product in the advertisement, no tagline, only an end title that read, “On January 24th, Apple Computer will introduce Macintosh. And you’ll see why 1984 won’t be like ‘1984.’”  With the Board in an uproar, Apple founder Steve Wozniak stepped in and said he would pay for it himself if the Board refused.

The spot was run surreptitiously, at 1:00 AM on KMVT Twin Falls, Idaho, in December 1983, so it could be entered in that year’s advertising awards contests.  Its second airing was on January 22, 1984, in the third quarter of Super Bowl XVIII, when the Raiders were beating the Redskins 31-9.  And then it never aired again.

It didn’t need to, as the status quo had already been shattered.  The next day, folks weren’t talking about football, they were talking about advertising.  And many of them had already made up their mind to buy a new Macintosh.

In sixty seconds, Steve Jobs had not only revolutionized how products can be sold, he had transformed the media marketplace.

He was 29 years old.