THE SCANTILY CLAD SOX

For three games during the regular season of 1976, the Chicago White Sox wore shorts as part of their uniforms, notwithstanding predictions that it would discourage sliding into base.  The shorts were the inspiration of owner Bill Veeck (pictured below), who had earlier achieved infamy with other extreme examples of baseball showmanship (which will probably be described in future Factoids).

Some of the news photographers objected to the new garb on the basis that it was hard to distinguish in black-and-white pictures the skin of the African-American players from the dark-colored shorts; however, the primary reason that Veeck terminated the program after three games was the fact that he did not achieve as much notoriety as he anticipated. 

Veeck determined the success of the White Sox and Sox publicity gimmicks scientifically by measuring each day the number of lines devoted by the Chicago Tribune to the Sox as compared to the Cubs.  When the shorts stories became too short, Veeck figured that he had gotten all of the news coverage he would get from the novelty uniform and killed it.

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THE BEAR TO BITE ARMS

Did you ever just have one of those days? If so, then C. Dale Peterson can empathize with you.

Peterson was a hunting guide in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. One day, he happened upon a grizzly bear who had just been irritated by backpackers. The bear expressed his frustration by trying to kill Peterson. Peterson had no weapon. He realized that simply exchanging blows with the grizzly might result in an undesirable resolution of the conflict, especially since his right arm and hand were already wedged inside the bear's mouth. Thinking quickly, Peterson bit down on the bear's jugular vein hard enough to impede the flow of blood to the bruin's brain. The bear passed out, and Peterson beat the bear to death with a stick--making Peterson the second known human to kill a grizzly unarmed (or at least with only one functional arm). And no, I do not know who was the first.

You will find this story repeated all over the internet, usually along with commentary suggesting that it would be a bad idea to pick a fight with Peterson. Often included is a photo of a plaque describing the encounter which is affixed next to Peterson's mounted assailant. Generally, the location of the display is described as being in a Jackson Hole tavern--perhaps the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar.

Although it is lamentable that the bear had to die, Peterson's story is an inspiring tale of cool-headed thinking under adverse circumstances and the advantages of not panicking simply because you are in a tough situation. It might even be more inspiring if it actually could be shown to be true. None of the numerous accounts on the web contain any facts (such as dates) or links to news accounts or other reports of the incident other than the information on the plaque itself (well, one site does include a biography of Peterson, but I am not convinced of its reliability, including but not limited to the claims that he was a sexual partner of Marilyn Monroe and killed three grizzlies a day at age 96--however, it does display a copy of the photo of the previously-mentioned plaque). While there probably is a bar in Wyoming with the original plaque depicted in the photo and a stuffed grizzly bear, one has to consider the possibility that the bar owner is engaging in hyperbole and that an asinine ursine actually never did take on a guide named C. Dale Peterson.

Sometimes truth is simply overrated--I was really hoping to read about a real C. Dale Peterson.

INFANT SARTORIAL CHROMATIC TRUISMS

Many years in the past, male babies were not assigned the color blue and female babies the color pink. Their parents were instead more concerned about other issues such as starvation, cholera, war, and roving packs of wolves. However, early in the 20th century, department stores and other purveyors of baby clothes were promulgating the notion that male babies should wear pink (a diluted form of red, which is of course associated with manly activities involving blood such as hunting animals and armed conflict) and that girls should wear blue. However, the tide gradually turned, and in 1927, Time magazine published a chart showing which major clothing vendors favored which color for each sex. It was not until about 1940 that the current pink-for-girls and blue-for-boys policy emerged as the clear winner.

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THE VADER IMPECUNIOUSNESS

James Earl Jones, who provided the unforgettable voice of Darth Vader in the original Star Wars movie, did not become a gazillionaire from residuals like the other cast members.  He elected instead to do the part for a single lump sum payment of $7,000--he needed the money right away, as he was broke.  Most Hollywood insiders suspect that Jones was able to negotiate substantially better terms for speaking for Vader in the sequels.

Jones, like many folks in the late 1970s and early 1980s, had a CB radio in his car.  He used "Darth Vader" as his handle until he discovered that he was really freaking out other motorists when they heard him on the air.

If you are wondering why David Prowse, the actor who wore the Darth Vader costume, did not also do the speaking parts, simply click here.

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THE DISARTICULATION OF WISCONSIN

Drdpw THROUGH WIKIMEDIA COMMONS 

The "Toledo War" was fought over a wedge of land ranging from five to eight miles wide on the border between Ohio and Michigan. Due to ambiguous and conflicting land descriptions, the governments of both Ohio and Michigan claimed ownership of the ground (pictured above), which included the City of Toledo. When the Territory of Michigan first applied for statehood in 1833, the State of Ohio was determined to hold the Michigan statehood hostage until Ohio got its way, and Ohio succeeded in delaying the resolution by Congress of the issue of the admission of the Wolverine State.

Tensions increased when governments from both Michigan and Ohio occupied the contested land, established separate local officials, and arrested citizens from the opposing entity who happened to be in the area. The dispute finally erupted into the exchange of gunfire in 1835. Fortunately, the only casualty during the conflict was a Michigan sheriff who suffered a non-fatal stabbing wound inflicted in a tavern by a drunkard from Ohio.

Finally, in 1837, Michigan gave up, accepted the Ohio version of the boundary line, and was admitted into the Union. As a consolation prize, Congress carved out a huge chunk of land comprising most of the Upper Peninsula out of the Territory of Wisconsin and gave it to Michigan. Michigan officials initially thought they had been royally shafted by the deal, but their rancor eventually dissipated upon the discovery of huge reserves of copper, iron, and timber in the UP.

As you will recall, Illinois, when it was admitted to the Union in 1818, stole a 41 mile-wide strip, including what is now Chicago, from the southern border of Wisconsin.

The bottom line is that the Cheeseheads really got screwed in the process in the making of their state.

THE JOY OF GUNCOTTON

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Nitrocellulose essentially consists of cotton exposed to nitric acid and sulfuric acid. It was discovered in 1846 by Christian Friedrich Schönbein when he used a cotton apron to wipe up an acid spill. His curiosity became piqued when the apron spontaneously disappeared in a ball of flame after drying out. Fortunately, he no one was wearing it at the time. Unfortunately, it was his wife's apron.

Nitrocellulose, a high explosive, is also called "guncotton," as it has been a significant ingredient of many formulas for smokeless gunpowders and other stuff which goes boom since the 19th century. It is fairly inert when wet but extremely unstable and unsafe when dry. 

It is still used in the manufacture of guitar picks and  paint for guitars. Until the EPA stepped in, it was also a component of lacquer paints used on automobiles.

X-rays, movie films, and photo negatives were for several decades made from plasticized nitrocellulose (also called "nitrate" film). As anyone who watched the 2009 movie Inglourious Basterds or the Simpsons parody thereof knows, nitrate film is extremely inflammable and will continue burning intensely even under water. After several hospital and movie theater disasters, safer alternatives were introduced for X-rays in the 1930s and for movie, negative, and slide film in the late 1940s. If you look at a photo negative from about 1950 or later, it will probably have "SAFETY FILM' printed on it, which denotes that it is not nitrate film and is thus unlikely to burn down your house. The government now has extreme safety protocols, including asbestos projection booths and special film projectors containing holes in which to insert fire extinguisher spray, imposed on anybody who will actually be showing movies on nitrate stock.  If you would like to see film archivist Geoffrey Rayle perform a nitrate burn, please click here.

Even if it does not catch fire, nitrate film will decompose unless stored under very controlled conditions. Many early movies are no longer available as a result.

Photo courtesy of  Library of Congress

For a while, nitrocellulose was used in the manufacture of artificial ivory for billiard balls. However, this practice died out after players made complaints about being distracted by their balls exploding during the course of a game.

THE FRIGID ZONES

There are two states in the U.S.A. which have never recorded outside temperatures in excess of 100 degrees F. 

One of them, not surprisingly, is Alaska.

The other, the state which is closest to the equator, is Hawai'i. The surrounding Pacific Ocean and the winds blowing over the islands serve as a buffer against extremes in temperature.

However, please note that we are discussing temperatures "in excess" of 100 degrees. The highest temperature recorded in Hawai'i was exactly 100 degrees, set on the Big Island on April 27, 1931.

Likewise, Alaska did hit the triple digits, but barely. Its highest recorded temperature was also 100 degrees, set in Fort Yukon on June 27, 1915.

 

THE INEFFECTIVE SCAREWASP?

One popular urban legend is that hanging a small brown paper bag will drive away wasps. The theory is that wasps are highly territorial and view the bag as an established competing wasp nest whose area they dare not enter.

One problem with this theory is that there are over 30,000 known species of wasps, all presumably with varying concepts of territory and nests. It may be unreasonable, for example, to figure that a yellow jacket, who lives underground, would be horrified by the fact that there appeared to be a brown nest from a totally different species hanging off of the eaves of a nearby house.

Nonetheless, because of a plethora of paper wasps each summer in our neighborhood, I decided to try an experiment to see how bags worked against this ubiquitous insect with the very unpleasant rating of 3.0 on the Schmidt Sting Pain Index. Less than a week after putting up the sack, I noted a paper wasp diligently building its nest approximately two inches from the bag.

Does this conclusively establish that there is nothing to the theory? Not necessarily. As we noted, there are a lot of species of wasps. Maybe the bag would have repelled, for example, bald-faced hornets instead. Maybe the bag was the wrong size or shape. All I can say for sure is that if you are allergic to wasps, you should not throw away your epinephrine pen just because you put paper sacks around the outside of your house.