Everybody Get The Hell Outta Building 30!!!

When you think of Lyndhurst, New Jersey (if you ever do) you think of good schools, quiet neighborhoods and high taxes. Two things you wouldn't think of is that Lyndhurst was once the town of Kingsland, and second,  Lyndhurst is home to a World War I era mystery. On January 11th, 1917, a fire broke out and spread through the Canadian Car and Foundry Company's factory. The housed almost 500,000 pieces of 75mm, all of which exploded and leveled the factory. Ok, I'll admit, that doesn't sound that much like a mystery. But trust me there were some unknowns about the fire than and even 'til this day.

louisweb.com

January 11th, 1917 started out like every other cold winter day in New Jersey, however, it didn't end like a typical day. Now just some quick background stuff. WWI started in March of 1916 and the U.S. tried to keep Americans out of the war for as long as they could. However, American industry was not prohibited from supplying America's European allies. That being said, the Canadian Car and Foundry Company was one of those companies looking to make a buck or two off the war. At their Lyndhurst location, the factory's main objective was to assemble munitions for the Russians and British; 75mm ammunition to be exact. The factory produced about three million shells a month, so needless to say the Germans could have painted a metaphorical big red bulls eye right on the building.

interestingamerica.com

The fire started in Building 30. The main job of those working in Building 30 was finishing of the munitions, cleaning them up before shipping them out, and being a general quality control department. It was in Building 30, amongst 48 work benches, and all the supplies to build munitions & run a war factory that a fire was somehow sparked and would ultimately lead to the factory being blown to smithereens. Surprisingly, not one person died in the explosion and that is all thanks to Tessie McNamara. As the fire spread she stayed posted at her switchboard and warned every building "Get out or Go up!" Thanks to her warning the 1,400 employees at the factory all safely left the complex. But lets get back to this explosion and who and how it started.

louisweb.com

Today, it is pretty well accepted that the Kingsland Explosion was purely an accident. The reason is because the main suspect disappeared. Here is how the Germans "supposedly" sabotaged the factory. A German operative by the name of Frederick Hinsch was the brains behind the operation. Hinsch recruited German immigrant Carl Thummel (Thorne was the Americanized last name he went by). Thorne would get a job at the factory as assistant employment manager, simply the guy who hired everyone. He would work and wait for instructions from Hinsch on who to hire so an attack on the factory could take place. Hinsch would send Austrian immigrant Theodore Wozniak to Thorne and the plan was underway. Wozniak himself was former Austrian military, and would be more sympathetic to the German cause than the American and her allies'. It is believed that the fire was started by Wozniak as there are several reports from eyewitnesses about his work station on the day and his behavior leading up to the explosion. To point the finger even more at Wozniak, during the investigation he disappeared and was never head from again.

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So what happened? Well, nothing really. The explosion was soon overshadowed by the attack on Black Tom Island and the sinking of the Lusitania. Today, Tessie McNamara is a local legend/heroine. Theodore Wozniak is a long forgotten name. The Germans would eventually pay reparations for the explosion in the 1950s to the tune of about fifty million dollars, even though they never claimed responsibility for it. And only a smokestack and a small plaque are left as reminders of what could have been the first attack on American soil by the Germans during WWI. The WWI era is an often overlooked time in American History, and because of that we miss out on great pieces of history like the Kingsland Explosion. So if you ever happen to be in Lyndhurst, NJ stop by the small park on Clay Street and visit the site memorializing the explosion and heroism of the day. Or if WWI ever comes up in conversation feel free to bring up this piece of history.

I Kid You Not, This May Be The Greatest Holiday Ever!

Now it is no secret the American Revolution is my favorite part of history. From the exploits of George Washington & the Continental Army, the work of the Founding Fathers in Philadelphia, the writings of Thomas Paine, the celebration of Evacuation Day and so on. I always thought I knew everything one could know about the Revolution, especially when it comes to the events and role of my home state, New Jersey. But a few days ago I found out a little known holiday that used to, and still kind of is, celebrated right here in New Jersey and even better, it commemorates the American victory at the Battle of Princeton. It is here I feel obligated to warn you, the name of this holiday is a bit vulgar, and it may be forgotten, but with something this eye catching, it may be just the holiday needed to draw some attention to and re-interest Americans in the American Revolution, ladies and gentlemen, mark your calendars and get ready to party for, Peeing Day.

geniuscountry.com

Ok, this picture says a lot. First, it sucks to be General Mercer (He is the guy about to get bayoneted on the left side of the painting), Second, George Washington is a bad ass for riding straight into the middle of a battle. Third, the Battle of Princeton was pretty brutal. And finally, Peeing Day totally makes sense now...ok it doesn't now but i promise it will. So lets piece together how, the Battle of Princeton, the Continental Army, some loser Redcoats and public urination all fit together to give us America's favorite forgotten holiday, Peeing Day.

archives.gov
 

The Battle of Princeton took place on January 3, 1777. It was part of Washington's "retreat to victory" campaign, or as I like to call it, "his New Jersey Redcoat stomping tour." After he retook Trenton, Washington knew he had to press on. The British had regrouped at Princeton, effectively painting a huge bulls eye on the city. Washington called together a council of war to see how possible it would be to attack Princeton. Luckily, the Continental Army had Arthur St. Clair & John Cadwalader who had already came up with a sneak attack plan to surprise the British. At dawn, the Americans attacked and of course, everything feel apart. Washington was late, the surprise attack wound up not being that much of a surprise and the British were already pushing the Americans back. However, things were about to change.

archives.gov
 

The British Lieutenant Colonel Charles Mahwood was easily handling, and out numbering, the American forces lead by Hugh Mercer, you remember that guy getting bayoneted in the first picture. Mahwood had Mercer surrounded and some reports say he shouted, "Surrender you damn rebels!" But in true American fashion, Mercer respectfully declined and continued to fight on and eventually died in the heat of battle. Then fellow American Brigadier General John Cadwalader arrives and see the chaos in the wake of Mercer's death. He then tried attacked Mahwood but the result was the same, pushed to retreat. It was then that George Washington stormed onto the scene and changed the course of the battle. The presence of Washington rallied the troops and the inspired Continental troops began to route the British. It was so bad Washington even had time to glot, shouting, "It's a fine fox chase my boys!,". which was Washington's way of thumbing his nose at the British for the fox hunt comment at the Battle of Harlem Heights. The Redcoats retreated into the town of Princeton and into Nassau Hall, the oldest building at Princeton University. Needless to say the Americans charged into the town, ransacked the British supplies and forced the surrender of the remaining British troops. It was then news came in that Lord Cornwallis was on his way and the Americans hightailed it outta there, live to fight another day tactics. 

 gwpapers.virginia.edu

So I am sure you are wondering, how does Peeing Day fit into this. Well here is how. As the British were talking their walk of shame out of Princeton, the Americans decided to give them a bit of a going away present. Now, it is not clear which regiment did this, or if this was planned or even what George Washington's reaction was, but as Mahwood and his men left Princeton, members of the Continental Army, joyful whipped out their Johnsons and began to urinate on those retreating limey Brits. Now, I know what you are thinking, and yes this is awesome. But why did we forget such an amazing piece of history? Well, I am not sure, but I have a few theories. The holiday wasn't first celebrated until 1877, the centennial of the battle. Another reason is the holiday is only celebrated in Princeton, as it stems from the Battle of Princeton. Thirdly, due to WWI & WWII, the holiday was deemed too anti-British so the holiday was scraped. And finally, how do you even start to explain this to a classroom full of students without them bursting into laughter. But fear not lovers of the Revolution, Princeton and public urination. The holiday is still celebrated in Princeton, New Jersey. Moved from its original day of January 3rd, the holiday is now celebrated on the second Saturday of March. Nassau St. is typically closed as re-enactors  partake in reenactment of the Battle of Princeton which the culminates with 1 Redcoat running from 2 American soliders to a crowd of about 50 to 200 plus people, who, you guessed it, are peeing in the street. Today, the anti-British sentiment is overlooked for the days historical significance. So if anyone is interested, the next second Saturday in March, I will be in Princeton doing my civic duty and patriotic duty,celebrating the birth of our nation...by peeing in the street. 

And If You Believe That, I Have A Bridge To Sell You

The Brooklyn Bridge can be described in many words: Iconic, Awe Inspiring, Timeless, Engineering Genius, For Sale...Wait, For Sale? Yes, the Brooklyn Bridge has been sold many times over throughout it's history. But no one sold it as often as George C. Parker, perhaps the greatest con man in New York City History. Parker was not the first person to try and sell the bridge but he went the extra mile to really sell his con. So lets examine the art of the con which Parker perfected and the landmarks he sold to the gullible.

Archives.gov

George C. Parker was no dummy and his con was not just some "fly-by-night" operation. This man had a calculated scam which could rouse almost anyone in New York City, then and perhaps even today as well. So how did he do it? He targeted the immigrants coming to New York through Ellis Island. Parker would bribe men working the boats that would ferry the newly arrived immigrants from Ellis Island to New York. On the boats they would target immigrants who seemed to be "with a crowded oakus" or in 21st century terms, carrying a lot of cash on them. The men on the boats would then befriend the new arrived immigrant and share with them the opportunity of "purchasing" the Brooklyn Bridge or Grant's Tomb or Madison Square Garden and so on. It was from that moment that they would be sent to Mr. Parker, the proud yet desperate to sell owner of any and all the major landmarks of New York City. Aside from immigrants focused mainly on tourist visiting the city, talk about a souvenir that could last a lifetime. Both groups were the easiest targets and most gullible. But just how successful was Parker?

chaz11.blogspot.com

Parker claimed to have sold the Brooklyn Bridge twice a week for several years. The price? Well sometimes $5,000 dollars, other times $75 dollars but most of the time it was whatever Parker could talk you into spending, which was pretty much every penny you had. How did he make such a sale? Well he played the role of an over stressed bridge owner who just could handle it anymore. He then went on to explain to his marks how they could make millions by setting up tolls on the bridge. It was at that point that the NYPD would step in and break the bad news that they've been had. The police would have to remove gates, tollbooths and other home made structures all implaced by the bridges new "owners." However, Parker's scam wasn't perfect. He was arrested three different times for fraud and that third and final time landed him in Sing Sing. He was sentenced to life in prison in 1928. In Sing Sing, Parker was perhaps the most popular man in the joint. Prisoners and even the guards and warden loved hearing Parker retell the stories of the times he sold New York City's most famous landmarks.

 dansorensenphotography.com

 George C. Parker would die in 1936. His legacy though is as timeless as the Brooklyn Bridge. He is one of the most successful and notorious con men in American History. Today millions of people visit and travel across the Brooklyn Bridge everyday. Many of its frequent visitors have no clue about Parker and his exploits. The same can be said for the other great landmarks that dot New York City. Parker could have been a ruthless business man, but instead found a market that was untapped. Sure, it was illegal and immoral, but still very impressive. Aside from his selling of the Brooklyn Bridge there is one other story about Parker that may be my favorite story about Parker. Once, when selling Grant's Tomb, Parker played not the role of a salesman but of President Ulysses S. Grant's own grandson. Sure enough after enough of the ol' Parker charm, he sold Grant's Tomb.

Is George C. Parker the greatest con artist in History? Perhaps, he did what Ponzi and Madoff could have only dreamt about. Sure he did not make the money those two did, but still was more successful. So next time you're in New York City and walk past the Brooklyn Bridge or Grant's Tomb or the Statue of Liberty, just take a second and think, how many times did George C. Parker sell that?

Anyone Want To Go On A Treasure Hunt?

Treasure, the word used to peak a persons interest in seconds. Today, however, when we think of treasure it is something in relation to pirates or conspiracy nuts. But what if I told you I knew where there was some treasure just waiting to be found. I'm sure your thinking, why would Mike share such valuable information with us? Well, because like I, you have almost the same chance of getting to it as I do. How come? Well because it is sitting somewhere on the bottom of the Hudson River and has been for the last 110 years. 

theguggenheimfile.com

Like all good treasure stories there is always those that bury or in this case lose the treasure. The Guggenheim family are one of the most infamously wealthy families in American History. Making more money than I could ever imagine having, the Guggenheim's made their money in several mining and smelting ventures across the globe. One such of these ventures took place in New Jersey of all place. It was in 1903 that the Guggenheims would lose, what then was mere pocket change to them, but a fortune in today's money, thus starting on of the greatest treasure stories surrounding Arthur Kill, the strait between Staten Island and New Jersey. For the last 110 years the Guggenheim Treasure has been sought after, yet never found, many have tried and all have failed, but the treasure still rests out there and I can give you some hints on where it might be.

flickr.com

The name Arthur Kill doesn't sound fancy and guess what it isn't. A stretch of water connecting the Hudson River with the Raritan Bay it is a major thruway for ships heading in and out of the Port of New York and New Jersey. Perhaps the most famous use of Arthur Kill was when Ben Franklin, John Adams & Edward Rutledge rowed across it from Perth Amboy to Staten Island to tell the British to stick their peace proposal up their bums. But that was back in 1776, lets fast forward a bit to that night in 1903 when the Guggenheim's would lose between 1,400 and 1,600 hundred solid silver bars, worth today roughly up to $26 million dollars, give or take a few bucks.

panynj.gov

The Port of New York and New Jersey at the beginning of the 20th century was perhaps the busiest port in the world. Ships where importing and exporting goods, immigrant ships were arriving from Europe, ferries darted back and forth, fishing vessels left and returned from the ocean waters of the eastern seaboard and so on. But on the night of September 26, 1903 a treasure was lost. The barge Harold was loaded with 7,700 bars of silver & lead while docked near where South Street Seaport is today.  The barge was then pushed down the Hudson and into the Arthur Kill strait. It was there while in route, to the Asarco smelters in Perth Amboy, that the barged listed and the silver bars sunk beneath the water. When the barge arrived and its cargo was, well missing, a very secretive salvage mission was planned immediately. During the salvage mission only 85 percent of the cargo was recovered, this leaving today, a small fortune just waiting to be found. The event was recorded in the New York Times which lucky for you I have attached the article from the original 1903 edition here.

wikipedia.org

Ok, so where is the treasure right? Well if I knew exactly where it was do you think I'd be sitting here telling you where it is? Or even writing about it? I sure as heck don't have a clue where it is but there is still one man who thinks he is hot on the trail of the lost Guggenheim silver. Ken Hayes is the president and founder of Aqua Survey, based in Flemington, NJ. Hayes and his company are the leading experts in under water research and recovery. He has been on the hunt for the silver for the last several years, but like all those before him, he has found nothing. But that hasn't deterred him. Ever spring he hits the water and picks up right were he left off in the fall. But like all good treasure hunting stories this one has its conspiracy factors as well. Hayes claims that there have been other treasure hunters or even government officials that shadow his searches and wait for him to make a find.

dailyfinance.com

So it's still out there. Over $20 million dollars in silver just waiting to be found. Sure it's sitting on the bottom of the Arthur Kill strait. And sure, it's been covered by 110 years of muck. And lets not forget, there is no X marking the spot either. To find it you'd have to be someone like Ken Hayes or be an expert in underwater salvage or underwater archeology. But what is important about the lost Guggenheim treasure is this, you never know where history lies. You always hear the stories about a farmer plowing a field or a homeowner putting in a new pool and them finding some ridiculous treasure or something that people have thought was lost to history. Look at the most recent find of King Richard III in England. One day I am sure someone will find the Guggenheim treasure, it is only a matter of time. Hopefully whoever finds it read this blog and I was their inspiration and they throw me a few bucks when they find it, so thank you future treasure finder. But just remember, history is everywhere and all around us. Sometimes it can be as big as the Guggenheim treasure or it can be a beer bottle found inside a wall from when a home was built in the 1930s. It is everywhere and all around us and just waiting to be found.

Amelia Earwho?

When people talk about women in aviation there is only one name that is spoken of, Amelia Earhart. Sure, she did everything "first," but does that make her the best? Most of the allure of Earhart is the mystery surrounding her fate. But there is another pilot in American History whose untimely death was surrounded by mystery as well. She is quite unknown to most, even to some aviation buffs. She was Elizabeth "Bessie" Coleman. She was the first African American female pilot and the first African American to have an international pilot license. What makes Coleman interesting is what she did with an airplane. Unlike Earhart, who flew record setting flights, Coleman was the female Evil Knievel of early 20th century flight. So, it's time that Coleman get the respect she's do and is mentioned in the same conversation as Amelia Earhart.

cutandpastaviation.blogspot.com

Bessie Colman was born January 26, 1892 in the small town of Atlanta, Texas. One of thirteen children, I guess there wasn't much for else for the Colman parents to do in Atlanta, her parenst were George and Susan. Colman spent the majority of her life in Waxahachie, TX. Coleman walked 4 miles, both ways, to her segregated schoolhouse. There she learned to read and write, she loved reading the classics and was an excellent math student. However, education was not the main focus in her life. Every year when the cotton harvest took place, she would join her family in harvesting, as it was major bump in their family income. However, at the age of 9 Coleman's life was turn upside down. Her father who was part Cherokee, became disgusted with the racial segregation that took place in Texas and left for the Indian Territory, present day Oklahoma. At 18, Bessie attended Oklahoma Colored Agricultural and Normal University but could only afford one year of schooling before returning back to Waxahachie. It would be in 1915 that she'd move to Chicago and her life would change in a direction the young girl from Texas could never imagine.

eyesonvintage.blogspot.com

While in Chicago, Bessie worked at the White Sox Barber Shop as a manicurist. There she overheard stories from returning WWI vets, and mainly from return pilots. She became captivated and fell in love with the idea of flying. However, two thing stood in her way of achieving her dream. First, she was a woman and back then women couldn't "do'' anything. Second, she was black. To add insult to injury not even African American pilots would train her. Not being one that was easily discouraged, she took the advice of the publisher of the Chicago Defender, Robert Abbott, and went to France to be trained. She arrived in Paris in November of 1920. Once in Paris, she learned to fly in a Nieuport Type 82. She became a liscened pilot in June of '21. However, the license wasn't enough. She took lessons from French Air Force aces to improve her skills. She returned to the states in 1921 and was an automatic sensation. 

archives.gov

In the cockpit, Coleman was fearless. A true showma...show-woman. She worked as a stunt flier and preformed in front of large but more importantly, paying crowds. She flew a few shows in the states, but returned to Europe in '22 to sharpen her skills and take her abilities to the next level. She trained and learned from some of the top pilots in France, the Netherlands and Germany. When she returned again to the states, this time she returned not as just the top female pilot but as one of the top pilots on the world. Better known to the public as Queen Bess, she was a part of every major flying event in the country. The media couldn't get enough of her and featured her at every chance they had. She was a fan favorite of both men and women, old and young but more importantly blacks and whites. She flew anything she could get her hands only, but she primarily flew the Curtiss JN-4 biplane, better known as the "Jenny."  Her first major American show was in September of '22, held at Curtiss Field on Long Island. The event honored the 369th Infantray Regiment, which was an all African American regiment. Coleman was the main event and dubbed "the world's greatest woman flier."

archives.gov

After the success of the show on Long Island, Coleman preformed in another major American airshow at the Checkerboard Airdome, or better known today as Chicago's Midway Airport. At the show Coleman really stepped up her game. There she cemented herself as not just the greatest female daredevil but maybe one of the greatest daredevils to ever sit in a cockpit. She preformed figure eights, loops, and near-ground dips all to the delight of the crowd on the ground. Her reputation was growing as the best female pilot to ever take to the sky. She was absolutely fearless and not afraid of attempting new and innovative tricks. In February of '23 she crashed her plane at the Los Angeles Airshow and broke her leg and three ribs. However, because of this the press turned on Coleman and called her overly flamboyant  and opportunistic... Umm did they realize she was a daredevil? Of course she is going to be overly flamboyant it comes with the job. It was at this point, after she had conquered the sky, it was time for her to share the joy of flying. Coleman wished to open her own flying school in the states and teach the next generation of adrenaline junkies, but there was a different plan for Queen Bess.

archives.gov

In April of 1926 Coleman purchased another Curtiss JN-4 and began to break it in for a show in Jacksonville. However, her family and friends did not feel comfortable with her flying it and seriously encouraged her not to fly it. It was Coleman and her mechanic William Wills in the plane that day and everything was going fine. It was after about 10 minutes into the flight that something wasn't right. The plane didn't pull out of a dive but instead begin to spin out of control. Coleman was thrown from the plane at about 2000 feet and died on impact. She was thrown because during the flight she was surveying in the land as her next big trick was to parachute from her plane. Wills also died as the plane plummeted to the ground and burst into flames. The cause of the crash, a wrench was left in the gearbox and jammed into it, ultimately causing Coleman's untimely death.

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Elizabeth Coleman is one of the most overlooked women in, not only aviation history, but American History. She did things with an airplane that men then and not even now would be willing to do. But what is more impressive than being able to master flying a plane the way she did was her drive. Coleman never stopped pushing herself and never settled for anything. She always set the bar higher for herself every time she surpassed her set goals. She never gave up her childhood dream of amounting to something. Coleman is an under credit person in American History and it is a shame. She died at 34 years of age and it is unknown what doors she would have opened for not just women, but for African Americans as well. I think it might be fair to say that when we look at the timeline of women in aviation history that Coleman really paved the way for the most famous female pilot of all time Amelia Earhart. The truth is Coleman may be the greatest female pilot of all time, setting the standards not just for herself but for everyone that sat in a cockpit during that time. She is an American hero that has been forgotten for to long.

Why Doesn't Anyone Talk About This Guy!?!

It's Black History Month and again one man is not mentioned. We always hear about Martin Luther King Jr., Harriett Tubman, George Washington Carver, Rosa Parks, Frederick Douglass and many other influence African Americans and rightfully so. But every year there is one name that is never mentioned and I have no idea why. He was at the start of the American Revolution and in fact was the first man killed in the Revolution. The name Crispus Attucks may not be familiar to most outside the city of Boston, but he is a familiar character in the story of America and should be honored during Black History Month as all the other great African Americans in our history are. 

ushistory.org

On the evening of March 5, 1770 Crispus Attucks would become cemented in History as the first man killed in the American Revolution. But before we get to that, who was Crispus Attucks? Not much is known about Crispus but what is known is pretty interesting. Born in Framingham, Massachusetts on oddly enough, March 5, 1723. His father, a slave, was Prince Yonger. His mother was Nancy Attucks, a Natick Indian and descendant of John Attuck who was hung during King Philip's War back in 1670s, but that is another story for another blog. Attucks had a desire for freedom, so at the age of 27 he ran away from his owner, William Brown in 1750. Looking to make an escape Attucks turned to the sea and worked on several different ships. Mainly working on whaling ships, Attucks spent the remainder of his life sailing from port to port and ship to ship until March of 1770, when he found himself in Boston, awaiting the next ship to leave.

archives.org 

Now we all know the story of the Boston Massacre. The British presence in the city was growing more and more unwanted. The Stamp Act and Townshend Acts were really pissing off the Bostonians and that radical group called the Sons of Liberty were stirring the pot and whipping the city into a frenzy. With  the Sons of Liberty doing their thing and the British being, well just being British it was only a matter of time before the city would see everything boil over. That boiling point came on that cold March night in 1770. The lobster backs were the main target that night, specifically members of the 29th Regiment of Foot. It all started with some innocent snowball throwing and name calling. But then there was that one guy, who is always at these kind of things and forces things to escalate, and who started throwing chunks of ice at the Redcoats. Now, the Redcoats were agitated and the growing crowd jeered and the situation continued to get worse. By this time a group of men, including Attucks, armed with clubs and other weapons made their way to the Old State House. Now this is where things get spotty. Some say Attucks himself struck a solider, while others say he was just in the crowd. It was at this point that the freedom and liberty hating British troops opened fire on the crowd and hit five Americans. The first to be hit was Crispus, shot twice in the chest and died within minutes. That night, March 5, 1770 saw the first to fall in America's fight for Independence. A no name, runaway slave, shot twice and left to die on a street in Boston, would be the first casualty of the American Revolution. But why is Crispus not celebrated today? Not just during Black History Month, but during any talk of American History.

 graymorrow.blogspot.com

When talking about African Americans in American History, especially those who lived prior to the 20th century and even those who lived in the 20th century, it is impossible not to talk about good old fashion American racism. Even in the immediate wake of the Boston Massacre, a racist attitude could be seen. When John Adams was defending the British soldiers he referred to the group, including Atttucks, as "a motley rabble of saucy boys, negros and molattoes, Irish teagues and outlandish jack tarrs," I don't know about you but personally I think John Adams is kind of a jerk, so I don't put much value into anything he says but this line shows how even then Attucks was viewed, just a nameless person only to be described as racial term. Even depictions of the event are bias towards Attucks, as some show him, while others conveniently leave him out. From 1770 until the 1850 Attucks was an urban legend of sorts. Nothing celebrating him, nothing honoring his sacrifice, he's got nada, niente, nicht, zero. That is until 1858. It was then that "Crispus Attucks Day" was established by Boston abolitionists. Throughout History, Crispus has made momentary emergences. In 1888, a monument was dedicated to the victims of the Boston Massacre, in 1964 Martin Luther King Jr. referenced him in a speech, in 1976 Stevie Wonder mentioned him in his song "Black Man," in 1998 the U.S. Treasury released the "The Black Revolutionary War Patriots Civil Dollar" which had Attucks on the reverse side, in 2002 he was added to the 100 Greatest African Americans and he has several places that bear his name today, from schools to roads & parks to associations. I think James Neyland best sums up Crispus Attucks best and the reason why we need to remember him as "the first defy, the first to die;"

He is one of the most important figures in African-American history, not for what he did for his own race but for what he did for all oppressed people everywhere. He is a reminder that the African-American heritage is not only African but American and it is a heritage that begins with the beginning of America.

-James Neyland

And the Most Awesomest Nickname Ever Goes To....

Nicknames, they have been around forever and everyone has one. For my entire life I've been referred to a Mick, my brother Sean as Lumpy and my fiancée used to called Hueso (literal Spanish translation is bone) by her parents when he was younger. The point is most nicknames will stick with a person for life, whether they like them or not. All of our American President from Washington to Obama have a nickname, as do most other famous Americans that make up our history. But one man stands alone as the holder of the greatest nickname ever. He may be unknown to most of you but the man was a true blue hero through and through. His name Eugene Bullard.

americancitizenstogether.org

Now I know what your thinking, what nickname could a guy name Eugene have? Well let me tell you,it is awesome. Born Eugene Jacques Bullard on November 9, 1895 in Columbus, Ohio, he was one of the ten children between William O. Bullard (whose nickname was Big Chief Ox) and Josephine Thomas. Growing up in Columbus was not an ideal place for a child of African and Native American mix to grow up. His father at one time was even a victim of an attempted lynching. So it didn't take him that long to decide to leave. He stowed away on a ship heading for Scotland where he sought to start a new life, free from racial segregation. Once in Scotland he made his way to Glasgow and started a career as a boxer and during that day worked as a stage hand. His life in Scotland wasn't so bad, he was working, not at risk of being lynched, getting a pay check, life was good. But for Bullard and everyone else living during the late 1910s, everything was about to change.

africanamericancollection.com

Bullard was visiting Paris when the Great War broke out. At the time I am willing to bet he was the toughest guy in all of France, so being the toughest guy in the country Bullard joined the French Foreign Legion. he was fearless in battle, almost unstoppable as he charged across No Man's Land. In 1916, at the Battle of Verdun he was wounded and instead of being like the rest of his French comrades, Bullard picked up he rifle and kept firing at the enemy. For his bravery he was awarded the Croix de Guerre. After sticking it to the Germans on the ground Bullard was transferred to the Lafayette Flying Corps this way he could reign terror down from above. In August of 1917 he was assigned to the 93rd Spad Squadron, and becomes the first African American fighter pilot ever to take to the sky. Once in the sky he was a nightmare for the Germans. Everytime they thought they had him he'd somehow escape. He seemed to hit everything that moved too. He flew 20 different combat missions and is credited with taking down 2 German planes. It was because of his bravery in on ground, his skill in the cockpit and his imposing persona that he was nicknamed the Black Swallow of Death. I know it is the most awesomest nickname ever. A guy named Eugene is the Black Swallow of Death.

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By the fall of 1917 the U.S. had entered the war. The U.S. Army Air Service was plucking the best pilots from the British & French ranks. Bullard was the best and he passed the medical exam which should have cleared him to fly and continue blasting Red Baron wanna bes out of the sky. Unfortunately, that smug known as racism that is dotted across American History reared its ugly head. Bullard was "overlooked" or in other words, not allowed because he wasn't a Caucasian. But that didn't deter Bullard, he the Black Swallow of Death, you think racism scared him? He kept fight for the French and racked up more street cred as being the toughest guy flying over the trenches. However, in January of 1918, Bullard was involved in an altercation with a French officer. Naturally, Bullard beat the croissants out of him but because of the fight he was transferred back to the infantry, never to fly again. He stayed in the war until Armistice Day and was always held in the highest of regards amongst his fellow soldiers.

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After the war the Black Swallow stayed in Paris and did what any average retired fighter pilot would do, he opened a night club. While living in Paris and rubbing elbows with the likes of Louie Armstrong, Josephine Baker, Langston Hughes and fellow pilot Charles Nungesser, Bullard found love. He married the daughter of a French Countess and they had two beautiful daughters. The club, Le Grand Duc, was one of the hottest spots in Paris. At the out break of WWII, Bullard spied on Germans who visited his club. However, once the Germans invaded France, Bullard picked up his family and made a run for Spain. But don't think he didn't stick it to the Germans one more time. He joined a group of French soldiers that were defending Orléans. Unfortunately, Bullard was hit and suffered a spinal injury. He returned home to the states in July of 1940 and recovered from his injuries in New York.

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Bullard never found the fame he had in Paris in New York. The Black Swallow of Death was unknown outside of France which is a shame, since he was a true American hero. Bullard worked odd jobs to support his family, from a perfume sales rep to an interpreter for his old friend Louie Armstrong. Once the dust settled from World War II, Bullard wanted to go back to his nightclub in Paris. The club had been leveled during the war, probably because the Germans were terrified of his return. He did receive a settlement from the French government, as because they to were afraid of him, and he used that money t buy a home in Harlem. Bullard's life from here on out was that of most African Americans, a time of uncertainty. For example, Bullard was attacked during the Peekskill Riots, a riot started ironically by the Veterans of Foreign Wars & the American Legion. The reason, Paul Robeson was performing to benefit the Civil Rights Congress, but Robeson was considered a pinko commie, so obviously the right thing for them to do was to attack innocent concert goers. By the 1950s, the Black Swallow was not even a memory, practically an unknown hero in his own country, even in his own neighborhood.

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In 1954, Bullard was invited back to France to light the Tomb of the Unknown Solider. Because of this The Black Swallow's exploits during the war were made aware to those in the states. He was paraded around France and under the Arc de Triomphe. Later in 1959, he was made a Chevalier, in the Legion d'honneur. Bullard would die of stomach cancer in October of 1961. He received a full military funeral and is buried in the French War Veterans' section of Flushing Cemetery in Queens. Bullard was one of the greatest heroes of WWI. He never shied away from a fight, never afraid during a battle or while flying through the sky. A man who was practically indestructible, bullets, grenades, bombs, nothing seemed to be able to stop him. His actions during battle were the stuff of legend. he was a successful business man. But more importantly a good husband and father. Bullard is the kind of guy we should still look up to today. The Black Swallow of Death, he once terrorized the skies, would party all night long, and love his family. The word hero is often used incorrectly when referring to some people, but when calling Eugene Bullard a hero is a understateme.