Halloween pranks and mischief-making have been a part of Halloween in America for at least 150 years. When the Irish and the Scottish immigrants came to North America, they brought with them their Hallow’s Eve traditions. The Celtic festival that marked the end of the harvest season was thought to bring with it both good and evil spirits.

By the late 1800s, young people in the U.S. interpreted this as a time to create mischief and pull pranks.

Pranks Pulled

Many of the ideas young people came up with were quite annoying but not necessarily dangerous. They soaped store windows or switched street signs, sometimes changing out street and store signs.

However, some years the trouble-making progressed to pranks that were costly to remedy. In the West, young people opened gates so a rancher’s livestock could wander freely. Tipping over outhouses was popular—and unpleasant. In at least one town, the young men removed an exterior staircase from the outside of a building.

In the days of wagons and buggies, young boys would sometimes disassemble the buggy and reassemble it on a rooftop somewhere. Super annoying but quite enterprising of the kids!

When there was too much drinking, fistfights occurred. In some communities, organizations like the Ku Klux Klan used Halloween as an excuse to create trouble.

Change Came to Anoka, Minnesota

Mischief-making became part of Hallow’s Eve (October 30) in the late 1800s. Then, as now, young people looked for ways to pull pranks.

The ideas young people came up with tended to be annoying not dangerous. They soaped store windows or switched street signs, or sometimes even changed out store signs.

However, some years the trouble-making progressed to pranks that were costly to remedy. In the West, young people opened gates so a rancher’s livestock could wander free. Tipping over outhouses was popular—and unpleasant, and in at least one town, the young men removed an exterior staircase from outside of a building.

When there was too much drinking, fistfights occurred. In some communities, organizations like the Ku Klux Klan used Halloween as an excuse to create trouble.

Change Came to Anoka, Minnesota

In Anoka, Minnesota—now the “Halloween Capital of the World”—their website explains why they needed an alternative for Hallow’s Eve:

As the story goes, on November 1, 1919, several prominent Anoka County citizens, including the sheriff, began their days with quite the surprise. Sometime in the night, under the cover of a waxing Halloween moon, a number of live cows had been wrangled and left to roam the streets. One was found in the jail, another in the sheriff’s office, and a bull locked inside a school classroom had spent the night munching on math books.

Positive Mischief Night Alternatives

To counter these types of pranks, schools and communities did the best they could to curb vandalism, usually by sponsoring various types of community parties or parades.

In Anoka in 1920, community leaders started holding a Halloween parade. The custom continues to this day. (Only in 1942 and 1943 did they have to cancel because of wartime activities.) After the parade, a huge bonfire is held in the town square. A scroll through their website shows that the community now holds festive events for at least six weeks around the holiday.

Elsewhere in the nation, the Boy Scouts, fire departments, and community groups organize safe events. They sponsor carnivals, spooky houses , and decorating contests to provide fun for families in ways that minimize mischief.

For more on Halloween see “Why Carved Pumpkins are a Symbol of Halloween” and “Countdown to Halloween.”

In Anoka, Minnesota—now the “Halloween Capital of the World”—their website explains why they needed an alternative for Hallow’s Eve:

As the story goes, on November 1, 1919, several prominent Anoka County citizens, including the sheriff, began their days with quite the surprise. Sometime in the night, under the cover of a waxing Halloween moon, a number of live cows had been wrangled and left to roam the streets. One was found in the jail, another in the sheriff’s office, and a bull locked inside a school classroom had spent the night munching on math books.

Positive Mischief Night Alternatives

To counter these types of pranks, schools and communities did the best they could to curb vandalism, usually by sponsoring various types of community parties or parades.

In Anoka, community leaders started holding a Halloween parade in 1920. The custom continues to this day. (Only in 1942 and 1943 did they have to cancel because of wartime activities.) After the parade, a huge bonfire is held in the town square. A scroll through their website shows that the community now holds festive events for at least six weeks around the holiday.

Elsewhere in the nation, the Boy Scouts, fire departments, and community groups organize safe events. They sponsor carnivals, spooky houses , and decorating contests to provide fun for families in ways that minimize mischief.

For more on Halloween see “Why Carved Pumpkins are a Symbol of Halloween” and “Countdown to Halloween.”

Frequently Asked Question about Mischief Night and Halloween

This post Halloween Mischief Night Preceded Trick or Treating was written by Kate Kelly and first appeared on America Comes Alive.

The New York Amsterdam News was founded in Manhattan in 1909 by James H. Anderson. From Anderson’s humble beginnings and his $10 investment, the newspaper grew to be one of the most influential Black-owned newspapers in the United States.

Anderson’s original intent was to create a weekly community paper highlighting local news, including weddings, social news and information about the neighborhood. Its location in the heart of a Black community in Manhattan soon led Anderson to cover politics as well as the burgeoning jazz scene and the Harlem Renaissance.

Major figures like W.E.B. Du Bois, Adam Clayton Powell Jr, and William Pickens were given voice in its pages. Both Malcolm X and Martin Luther King, Jr., wrote columns for the newspaper, leading to important coverage of topics like desegregation of the military and the civil rights movement. 

Today, The New York Amsterdam News remains a strong and active part of New York, both in print and online.

James Anderson, Founder

Though little has been written about James Anderson, researchers at Schomberg Public Library discovered his story, and their research is well-explained in “Legends of San Juan Hill,” published online by Lincoln Center. In digging through their archives, the librarians uncovered a notebook that belonged to Anderson. He was born in 1867 to a family named Goode in Columbia, South Carolina. His home life was miserable, and when he was 12, he escaped to a relative’s home. His uncle, James Henry Anderson, adopted him, giving the boy his full name.

During his teen years, Anderston moved to several locations, including Wilmington, North Carolina, Jacksonville, Florida, and Newport News, Virginia. At the age of 23 (1883), he was living in Brooklyn working at various jobs including as a bellhop, a baker, and a sexton. At one point, he owned a sign shop.

San Juan Hill

By the early 1900s, Anderson moved to the San Juan Hill section of New York City. (This neighborhood was in the west 60s, later bulldozed to create Lincoln Center in the 1960s.)  During Anderson’s time, it was a lively community with working class Black people—Pullman porters, maids, and working people of all types. There were a few Irish in the neighborhood, but it was primarily a Black and Caribbean community. 

Anderson was very much involved in the area. He was a member of the Masons and the Grand United Order of Odd Fellows. He was also part of the Emancipation Commission of New York. These organizations gave him strong social connections and helped him understand the community, giving him a vision for what he wanted to do with a newspaper.

Anderson believed a local paper for Black residents would provide the essential “glue” to hold the community together. Emancipation was only several decades old. Anderson knew the paper had to hold the line for civil rights, but his focus remained on the people themselves—highlighting social news, community milestones, and the joyful moments of everyday life in the neighborhood.

He also eventually focused on music and the arts. The area was famous for its vibrant street life, dance halls, and jazz/ragtime clubs. The Black-owned Marshall Hotel was several blocks south of his apartment, and it became a thriving area for artists and jazz musicians.

First Issue of Amsterdam News

Anderson’s apartment looked out over Amsterdam Avenue, the commercial spine of the upper West Side. When he created his first issue, he chose “Amsterdam” as part of the newspaper’s title, knowing that his potential advertisers were in and around that area.

All research sources that tell about the inception of the Amsterdam News report that Anderson worked on a dressmaker’s table using a lead pencil to write up six pages of local news. His financial investment was said to $10, which may have gone toward printing costs. Once he had copies of the newspaper in hand, he sent young kids out to sell it for a penny per newspaper.

During these first few months, Anderson did everything himself– reporting, editing, selling advertising, distributing and promoting it. His on-the-ground viewpoint revealed what needed to be done.

Popularizing the Newspaper

Anderson was a natural at promotion. He had innovative ideas for getting the newspaper into the hands of readers.

In that era, most newspapers were sold at newsstands, so Anderson regularly traveled the route, dropping off new issues of the newspaper at the local newsstands. The next challenge was to make the newsstand operators see the value of the newspaper so they would provide prominent placement for the Amsterdam News.

Using a reverse newsboy system, he organized the young people in the neighborhood and paid them each a nickel in advance. Their job was to visit a newsstand and purchase four papers for a penny each, while declaring, “I need to buy that outstanding newspaper, the Amsterdam News!”  

They then were to hand out the four copies to people on the street who might be likely readers. The final penny from each newsboy’s nickel was his to keep.  

Anderson also prevailed upon some of his prominent friends. He knew both bandleader James Reese Europe as well as historian and writer Arturo Schomberg, and he asked them to carry the newspaper with them so people would wonder what it was.

Public transit also figured prominently in his promotion. Anderson would board a trolley and hold the newspaper up while reading it so people could see the name. When he got off, he folded the newspaper and left it behind knowing that others would pick it up and read it.

Editorial Features

In addition to the local news, Anderson experimented with other ideas. He realized that short fiction might be a plus for readers who didn’t necessarily have time to read a long book. One of the first short stories he ran was a reprint of “The Siege of Berlin,” about the Franco-Prussian War of by French novelist Alphonse Daudet.  

He was a close friend of Reverend Richard M. Bolden, the pastor of the Mother African Methodist Episcopal Zion (AME Zion) Church (one of America’s oldest and most significant Black churches). Anderson decided that publishing a weekly sermon by Bolden was a good fit for the Amsterdam News. The pastor was delighted with the exposure, and soon he allowed the sale of the newspaper at the church on Sundays.  

This connection greatly expanded the range of the Amsterdam News. The church itself was the first AME Zion Church in the country (founded in 1796). It began in Greenwich Village and moved to the Upper West Side in 1904. As more people migrated from the South and settled in upper Manhattan, the church eventually relocated to West 136^th Street. The movement to different neighborhoods expanded the congregant base, which also widened the newspaper’s readership.  

Music All Around San Juan Hill

San Juan Hill was a working-class neighborhood, and there was a huge music scene that was a vital part of the community. Just steps from James Anderson’s apartment stood a music hall at 22 West 63rd Street. In 1921, a team of visionaries—composer Eubie Blake, lyricist Noble Sissle, and comedy writers Flournoy Miller and Aubrey Lyles—were looking for a venue to stage an all-Black musical. The hall’s proximity to Midtown made it the ideal spot to launch Shuffle Along. The production made history with its all-Black cast and creative team. It also introduced enduring standards to the Great American Songbook, including “Love Will Find a Way” and “I’m Just Wild About Harry.”

Just a few blocks south of Anderson’s apartment stood the Marshall Hotel, a Black-owned social and intellectual hub of the area. Located at 127 West 53rd Street and managed by James “Jimmie” Marshall, it functioned as a boutique hotel, restaurant, salon, and meeting house. In its dining rooms, artists experimented with syncopated rhythms and early ragtime, creating the blueprint for jazz.

It became a gathering place for Black artists, writers, and intellectuals. Luminaries like W.E.B. Du Bois, Paul Laurence Dunbar, and Aida Overton Walker mingled there but it was not exclusive–white producers like Florenz Ziegfeld Jr. stopped by.

James Reese Europe

The hotel was also a home base for band conductor James Reese Europe. In addition to his work as a bandleader, he saw the need for a booking agency to help Black musicians secure steady work and get fair wages. Europe came up with the concept of the Clef Club, and the offices were established right there at the Marshall.

While it took until World War I before jazz, ragtime, and rhythm and blues came to prominence outside the Black community, the music itself was being written right there and performed with one major newspaper to cover it: The New York Amsterdam News.

Newspaper Office Relocates

Just a year or so after establishing the newspaper, Anderson moved it out of his apartment. He saw that many Blacks from the South were moving to Harlem so he took offices at 17 West 135^th Street. In the meantime, he continued to live on West 65^th Street where he observed all that was happening in San Juan Hill.

The music and culture of the area continued to grow, but there were new issues—overcrowding and the dangers of the New York Central Railroad. The rail lines were being built along the West Side, and many trains ran at grade level making the neighborhood dangerous for delivery carts and pedestrians.

During these years, Anderson had steady help from his friend and photographer Edward A. Warren. When Anderson expressed interest in taking a partner, Warren took him up on the idea. Shortly after the two linked up, they decided they needed a different office from the one on West 135^th Street, and they moved around the corner at 2293 Seventh Avenue (now Adam Clayton Powell Blvd.)

The partners had only a few years to work together. In 1921, Warren died unexpectedly. His widow, Sadie, stepped in to protect the couple’s investment. She then married a fellow named William H. Davis. Anderson had invested time and money over the previous ten years. When Sadie and William Davis offered to buy him out, he was ready.

E.A. Warren-Davis Publishing Company

The couple published under the name E.A. Warren-Davis Publishing Company and got off to a good start. By 1930, just before the business downturn, the staff of the Amsterdam News had reason to celebrate. In a sure sign of commercial success, it became the second Black newspaper admitted to the Audit Bureau of Circulation. This added legitimacy to their circulation number and established better advertising rates.

Unfortunately, the euphoria did not last long. The Depression was bringing down businesses everywhere. The newspaper debt built up, and Warren-Davis Publishing could no longer pay their staff. By 1936, the staff was on strike, and the Davises filed for bankruptcy.

New Owners

Despite the deepening Depression, two successful Black medical professionals saw possibilities in buying the newspaper out of bankruptcy.  

Dr. C.B. (Clilan Bethany) Powell (1894-1977) attended medical school and interned at Bellevue before working for 8 years at Harlem Hospital. He was one of the first African Americans to specialize in X-rays, and he ran a successful radiology practice in Harlem for 25 years.

He and friend Dr. Philip M. H. Savory (1889-1965) believed in supporting the Black community by establishing businesses that often discriminated against African Americans. By the mid-1930s, they owned a life insurance company, four funeral homes, and a real estate company.

To them, the New York Amsterdam News offered the opportunity to serve the community but also boost their own businesses. The offer they made was $5000 for the newspaper, while also guaranteeing coverage of about three-quarters of the newspaper’s debts.

The next issue was creating a workable climate for the employees who went out on strike when the former owners could no longer pay them. Powell and Savory knew the value of a good staff, so they agreed to full unionization of all departments of the newspaper. Newspapers at that time were not fully unionized, so this was a national first.

Dr. Powell took the role of publisher and stayed in the position until 1971, expanding the operation. At the time, they did not foresee that the newspaper they acquired would soon take its rightful place on the national stage.

Newspaper Expands

C.B. Powell was well-suited to his new job. He was active in politics and knowledgeable about world affairs.  He kept the focus on local news but added staff members to cover national issues. Black families were deeply affected by redlining in neighborhoods, police brutality, and segregation in the military during World War II. Powell had the staff cover it all.

By 1940, the newspaper hit peak influence with circulation exceeding 100,000, establishing itself as a premier Black press outlet, second only to the Chicago Defender (established in 1905).

Nation of Islam in Harlem

Although early 1950s Harlem was celebrated as the cultural and political capital of Black America, systemic inequality persisted. As impatience with the slow pace of progress grew, many Black residents felt mainstream groups like the NAACP and Urban League were letting them down. This disillusionment created fertile ground for the Nation of Islam, a religious movement that was gaining steam in Harlem, under a young leader who called himself Malcolm X. Powell had his eye on him. 

Born in Omaha, Nebraska, in 1925, Malcolm Little experienced a tragic childhood marred by racist violence, and family loss that was followed by foster care. By his late teens, Malcolm lived in Boston and Harlem, and earned his living by stealing and street hustling. When he was picked up by the police in 1946, he received a ten-year prison sentence.

During incarceration, he was influenced by some of the other prisoners and thought a lot about what his siblings told him about the teachings of Elijah Muhammad who started the Nation of Islam. During this time, he became a follower and adopted the surname “X.”

When he was paroled in 1952, he devoted himself to spreading believe in the Nation of Islam. He established temples in Detroit, Boston, and Philadelphia. In 1954, leader Elijah Muhammad sent him to Harlem to lead Temple No. 7.

Malcolm X was perfect for it. As a young man who had matured under adverse circumstances, he understood the street-level discontent of the African Americans in the area, and he could speak convincingly to their concerns. Within a few years, he built a powerful local base centered on self-defense, economic independence, and Black nationalism. 

Throughout this time, C.B. Powell listened and watched looking for the best way to cover the ongoing stories. Then an unfortunate one presented itself. The Johnson Hinton affair brought it all to a head.

Johnson Hinton Crisis

On April 14, 1957, at the corner of 125th Street and Seventh Avenue, New York Police Department officers brutally beat a Black man named Reese Poe. Watching the assault unfold, Johnson Hinton, a local working-class resident, stepped forward to confront them: “You’re not in Alabama—this is New York!”

Caught off guard, the police turned on Hinton with fury. They grabbed him, pounding him with their nightsticks and fracturing his skull. The police then hauled him off to the 28^th Precinct for booking, never offering him medical assistance.  

Malcolm X heard what happened to one of his congregants and called up the “Fruit of Islam,” a paramilitary group he had formed. He and the group marched to the precinct.  Soon a crowd of more than 2000 residents surrounded the police station.

Accompanied by Amsterdam News editor James Hicks, Malcolm X entered the precinct and refused to leave until officials agreed to send Hinton to the hospital for emergency treatment. Seeing the disciplined crowd outside, the police must have calculated what the gathering could do if angered, so they relented and called an ambulance.

At Harlem Hospital, doctors discovered bleeding in Hinton’s brain. He never fully recovered. Hinton later sued New York City for police brutality and was awarded $70,000. At the time, this was the largest police misconduct settlement in the city’s history.

Throughout this incident, Dr. C.B. Powell gave the story the coverage it deserved. Later he offered Malcolm X a regular weekly column, “God’s Angry Men,” which ran for almost a year.

More Civil Rights Coverage

As the civil rights movement gained national prominence in the early 1960s, the newspaper expanded to feature new voices. Following dispatches from the South, Powell grew increasingly alarmed. The summer of 1961 brought escalating turmoil: Freedom Riders were savagely beaten and jailed for challenging segregated bus transit, while a fierce desegregation battle was brewing in Albany, Georgia.

Determined to give these struggles visibility, Powell reached out directly to Southern activists so he could bring their first-hand accounts to Northern readers. This brought him to Martin Luther King, Jr.

Starting in 1962, Dr. Powell provided a steady platform for Martin Luther King Jr. to write a biweekly column for the paper, His “People in Action.” King’s articles alternated with NAACP Executive Director Roy Wilkins.  King used the column to give Northern readers direct accounts of the Southern struggle, writing about his strategy of nonviolence, critiquing federal policy, and spotlighting unsung grassroots activists across the South. Powell knew that King’s first-person commentary was important to have in his paper.   

Powell also offered financial support for King’s work. King’s gratitude was expressed in a letter after the Birmingham campaign: “With your help, we can continue work in Birmingham and consolidate the gains we have won through an extensive voter registration campaign. …We are now getting more than 200 people per day to go to the Court House to seek to become registered voters. Your financial support will also enable us to begin paying the debts we incurred there—extensive bond money, legal fees, the cost of housing, and supporting our field secretaries who organized the community and conducted nonviolent direct-action workshops.”

Powell Era Comes to a Close

On May 1, 1971, Dr. C. B. Powell announced his retirement and the sale of the newspaper. (His long-time partner Philip Savory passed away in 1965, so he was sole owner.) He had steered the publication for 36 years, from the era leading up to World War II through the challenges of the 1960s. It was time to let someone else step in.

Powell was pleased to be selling the newspaper to a newly formed syndicate of African American leaders who shared some of the values Powell and Savory had. The syndicate included former Manhattan Borough President Percy Sutton, civil rights attorney Clarence B. Jones, politician H. Carl McCall, and Wilbert A. Tatum, a business executive who eventually took the helm of the newspaper.

Tatum Era

By 1982, AmNews Corporation chairman Wilbert A. Tatum (1933–2009) had taken over as editor-in-chief. Because his day-to-day commitment far eclipsed that of his co-investors, he moved to buy out their shares, securing sole ownership by 1996.

Tatum’s plan for the newspaper involved a return to a focus on New York City.  He sent reporters out to cover politics, housing equity, police brutality and municipal reform.

View of the City

Tatum had worked in city government under John Lindsay and Abe Beam, and he had no tolerance for Mayors Ed Koch or Rudy Giuliani.  

He particularly disliked Ed Koch and used the power of his newspaper to express his disdain. When Koch’s third term of office began, Tatum began a weekly column, “Why Koch Should Resign.” It ran on the front page of the newspaper from February 1986 until September 1989, and accused Koch of being ineffective, corrupt, and failing to address the concerns of minority residents.

The city was roiling with racial turmoil, and more municipal corruption was being uncovered, making the possibility of a fourth term a stretch for Koch. Manhattan Borough President David Dinkins knew the city well and was soft-spoken. The voters were ready for a change. Dinkins beat Koch 51-42 for the primaries and then went on to beat Rudy Giuliani.

With the resounding news of Koch’s defeat, Tatum put aside his pen. He wrote: “On September 12 at 11:50 p.m., Edward I. Koch conceded defeat in the primary. December 31 will be his last day of work. End of series.” 

Balanced Coverage

Another accomplishment of the Tatum years was the newspaper’s push for more balanced coverage. Tatum recognized that the mainstream press often failed to report fairly on minority communities—a failure starkly illustrated by the major media’s incendiary coverage of the Central Park Five case in 1989. After a young white woman was beaten and raped while jogging in Central Park, five Black and Latino teenagers were accused of the attack.

Within hours of the April 19 attack, police began detaining and questioning teenagers in connection with several assaults in the park.Over the next two days, detectives subjected five of the teenagers to lengthy and aggressive interrogations. Soon, they were charged with rape, assault, attempted murder, and other offenses.

Less than two weeks later (May 1, 1989), businessman Donald Trump paid $85,000 for ads in four city newspapers urging “Bring Back the Death Penalty…” The open letter argued that New York City had become overrun by “roving bands of wild criminals.” While the ad did not explicitly name the five teenagers, it urged the justice system to punish violent crime severely. Other newspapers picked up on this, and the public seemed in firm agreement that the teens were guilty. 

Under Tatum, the Amsterdam News took a very different stance. While mainstream tabloids labeled the teenagers “savages” and “wilding beasts,” the Amsterdam News refused to use sensationalized slurs.

Tatum repeatedly cautioned readers through his editorials that the young men were being subjected to a modern-day “legal lynching” to satisfy a public demand for vengeance.

Wrongfully Convicted

In 1990, two trials were held, and the teenagers were all found guilty and sentenced to prison. In 2002, it was revealed that they were all wrongfully convicted. A serial rapist confessed to the incident, and in 2002, DNA evidence proved he acted alone.

Now known as the “Exonerated Five,” the men won settlements from the city. One of them– Yusef Salaam–was elected to the New York City Council in 2023, representing District 9 in Harlem.

Wilbert Tatum Steps Down

A year after fully buying out the other investors (1997), Wilbert Tatum stepped down from his editorial position. His daughter, Elinor Ruth Tatum, stepped in as publisher and editor-in-chief.

She has successfully maintained the good reputation of the newspaper and brought it into the digital age. Today the newspaper publishes the print issue weekly and the digital is updated regularly. There are also weekly newsletters that are sent out to readers.

 In a 2023 interview with The Forward, publisher and editor-in-chief Elinor Tatum reflected on her identity:  “I am Black. I am female. I am Jewish. And I am proud of every one of those things…. that is who I am.” She has maintained her identity while still focusing on the needs of the newspaper.  Tatum also holds positions on several community boards affecting New York City as well as Harlem, and the strength of the paper continues.

____________________________

Former Headquarters of the New York Amsterdam News Landmarked

The former headquarters located at 2293 Seventh Avenue (now called Adam Clayton Powell Jr. Boulevard) was designated a National Historic Landmark in 1976.  

The newspaper took space in the four-story Greek Revival brownstone between West 134^th and 135^th Streets in 1916 when James Anderson was still at the helm. It remained in this location until 1938.  During this time, the publication grew significantly, expanding from local news into one of the nation’s most widely read and influential Black-owned publications. Over time, it actively shaped the national discussions on anti-lynching legislation, voter registration, and Black self-reliance.

The newspaper relocated to its current building at 2340 Frederick Douglass Boulevard in 1938, but it is the historic 2293 Seventh Avenue building that carries the official National Historic Landmark designation.

This post The New York Amsterdam News was written by Kate Kelly and first appeared on America Comes Alive.

Benjamin Banneker (1731-1806), a free Black man and a contemporary of the Founding Fathers, was an interdisciplinary pioneer who taught himself about various forms of science, astronomy, and geographical surveying. His greatest contribution was his series of widely published almanacs that measured precise astronomical calculations, tides, and weather predictions. In the late 1700s, this scientific data was highly valued by farmers and sailors whose lives depended on this information.

Just as Benjamin Franklin added pithy sayings to his almanacs (Poor Richard’s Almanack), Banneker determined the message he wanted to share was about the importance of racial equality. He had enough confidence that he also spoke truth to power. In 1791, he wanted to send a copy of his first almanac to government leader Thomas Jefferson. Banneker felt the almanac would be of interest, and with his cover letter, he could address the fact that the author of the Declaration of Independence should re-think his position as a slaveholder. It was a brave move to make.

Why do we hear little or nothing about Banneker? Likely because in the 1790s it was highly inconvenient to bring awareness to a free Black man who was clearly quite intelligent. As the Founding Fathers worked on the United States Constitution, they received support from the Southerners representing the slave-holding states by offering that slaves would be valued as only 3/5 of a person. 

If Banneker and other Black men were treated as equal to whites, people might question how the country’s system was established.

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Banneker’s Early Life

Benjamin Banneker was descended from a white grandmother and an African slave. His grandmother arrived in this country from England to fulfill a term as an indentured servant. When her time of service was over, she was released and given some “starter” money. The young woman continued to save and purchased farmland outside Baltimore, and she acquired two slaves to work the land for her. She soon fell in love and married the slave known as Bannaka.  In 1731, their daughter gave birth to the man we know as Benjamin Banneker while still living on the family farm.

The extended family lived on the grandmother’s farm and successfully worked the land.  The family members were among only 200 free Blacks in the county, out of a population of 13,000 whites and 4,000 slaves.

The farm expanded and was quite successful. Biographer Charles Cerami in his book, Benjamin Banneker: Surveyor, Astronomer, Publisher, Patriot, attributes this knowledge to Benjamin’s grandfather (the former slave). He was brought to the colonies from the Republic of Mali in western Africa and was part of the Dogon tribe. These people were thought to have an advanced understanding of several aspects of farming including the importance of planting times, irrigation, and the need to rotate crops. Crop rotation was a particularly early concept for that time.

Education

Benjamin’s grandmother taught Benjamin to read and write. After that, he was almost fully self-taught. Their farm was near a Quaker community, and Quakers were more open-minded than most colonists. When Peter Heinrichs, a Quaker teacher, started a one-room school, he welcomed Banneker as one of his students.

After only a year or so, Banneker had to return to working  on the farm, but Heinrichs remained in touch. He loaned books from his library to the teenager, and the two enjoyed talking about what Benjamin was reading. With this support, Banneker was able to continue to educate himself in history, science, astronomy, and literature.

Banneker Learned to Build a Clock

Among Banneker’s early accomplishments was the construction of an intricately made wooden clock. While there were other clockmakers working in the colonies, Banneker’s clock is notable because it was hand-carved and Banneker was totally self-taught.

In 1753 when Banneker was 22, a pocket watch had been left with him for safekeeping by a friend who was going on a journey. Banneker was fascinated by the instrument and took it apart to better understand how the pocket watch worked.

He carefully sketched the components of the watch, noting how each gear had to coordinate with the interlocking one.  He then proceeded to carve a larger version of each piece out of wood. In this manner, he successfully built his own wooden clock. It reportedly kept accurate time and struck the hour for the remainder of Benjamin’s life—over 50 years.

Of course, he also reassembled the pocket watch in preparation for the owner’s return.

Ellicott Family Became Neighbors

In the early 1770s, Quaker brothers Joseph, Andrew, and John Ellicott moved from Bucks County to Maryland where they found affordable land and a strong river (the Patapsco) offering excellent water power.  The family ran flour mills in Bucks County, and the three brothers envisioned establishing a new base for their business and building a new community.

The farmland in the area was also ready for a refresh. Tobacco was a primary crop and the soil was depleted. The Ellicotts urger the local farmers to switch to wheat that they could then mill for them. Business boomed for Ellicotts as well as the farmers. The town became known as Ellicott City. 

Benjamin Banneker’s family also switched to planting wheat, and he Ellicotts were happy to become acquainted with Benjamin Banneker. As Quakers they were welcoming to people of all races, and soon Banneker began borrowing books from them. As the next generation of Ellicotts took over the business, the families continued to work together.

Major Andrew Ellicott (1754–1820) and George Ellicott (1760-1832) were part of the younger generation. George loaned Banneker a telescope, celestial globes, and mathematical texts, sparking Banneker’s work in formal astronomy.

Andrew became one of the nation’s premier geographers and surveyors. He was appointed by George Washington to lead the 1791 boundary survey for Washington, D.C. Andrew hired Banneker to help with the surveying of what was considered the Federal City.

Surveying the Federal City

By George Washington’s choice, the land for the federal city lay along the Potomac River, taking sections from Maryland and Virginia. It was not going to be an easy job as the area was swampy and overgrown. Surveyors had to hack their way through brush and ford streams to mark off the specified area of 10 square miles (16 km).  

Banneker learned the basics of surveying by reading a book “Gibson’s Treatise on Practical Surveying,” but his value to Andrew Ellicott was as a scientist who understood the movement of the heavens.  Before modern surveying tools existed, surveyors turned to astronomers for information on star movements. Based on the celestial movements, they could then calculate land distances. For the Federal City, Banneker’s main job was taking astronomical readings to establish the survey’s starting point and maintain a precision clock to sync ground coordinates with the night sky.

After spending the first several months with the team—the time when the measurements were crucial–Banneker became concerned about his farm. He was 59 and never married, so he was managing the land himself. He determined he needed to go home.

Some experts denigrate Banneker’s contribution to the surveying project. However, given his helpful scientific knowledge and the long-term friendship with the Ellicotts, there is no evidence that indicates he was anything but a full team member.

The Importance of Almanacs

When we hear about Benjamin Franklin’s Poor Richard’s Almanack, we generally think of the pithy sayings that Franklin included in his book. 

But the true value of an almanac to the people of the late 1700s and early 1800s was the calendar providing important dates and the expected weather, based on astronomical and astrological calculations. For communities near the sea, the timing of the tide levels was vital information. Sailors needed to know in preparation for trips, and expected rainfall was helpful to farmers in the area. Almanacs also provided important governmental dates—elections as well as circuit court schedules for the area.  An almanac was often the only book owned by a family.

Banneker’s Almanac

When Benjamin Banneker left the surveying job, he settled in at home and began preparing material for an almanac. The Ellicotts connected him with publishers.  

The first edition was published in 1792, and its full title was descriptive of the content: “Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, and Virginia Almanack and the Motions of the Sun and Moon,… “  The title goes on to note that it gives timing of the rising and setting of the sun, eclipses, judgment of the weather, dates of festivals and other remarkable days, days for holding the Supreme Court and circuit courts in the area in addition to “useful Tables and valuable receipts.”

Asked for Review

David Rittenhouse, a renowned mathematician, astronomer, and surveyor in Philadelphia, was sent a copy of Banneker’s almanac for an initial read.  He wrote back that the papers reflected “a very extraordinary performance considering the colour of the Author.”

Charles Cerami’s biography notes Banneker’s reply: “I am annoyed to find that the subject of my race is so much stressed. The work is either correct or it is not. In this case, I believe it to be perfect.”

Letter to Thomas Jefferson

Prior to the publication of the first edition, Banneker decided to send a pre-publication manuscript of the almanac to Thomas Jefferson.  Banneker knew that the correctness of his ephemeris (the celestial readings) would speak volumes to Thomas Jefferson, now serving as Secretary of State, who himself had a deep knowledge of the subject.

Over the course of two weeks, Banneker drafted and re-drafted his cover letter to Jefferson, thinking carefully about what he was going to say and how he would phrase it.

This was a time when Blacks were considered “lesser than.”  Many were slaves and those that were free were not permitted to be heard as witnesses in court. The audacity of a Black man, albeit a free Black man, writing to such an important man as Jefferson would have been viewed as out of place.

Banneker was well aware that Thomas Jefferson’s view of “all men are created equal” did not extend to full equality for Black people, and Banneker wanted to politely make a point about this.

His letter contained a plea for justice for African Americans, and Banneker noted the contradiction of what Jefferson wrote about equality for all was countered by the “groaning captivity and cruel oppression” Jefferson used on “so numerous a part of my [Banneker’s] brethren.” (To read the letter in full, click here.)

Jefferson’s Response

Thomas Jefferson acknowledged the receipt of the letter and the almanac. He did not respond directly to Banneker’s condemnation of him as a slave owner, but he did thank him for the almanac and noted that “no body wishes more than I do to see such proofs as you exhibit that nature has given to our black brethren, talents equal to those of the other colours of men.”

Jefferson’s letter noted that he sent the manuscript on to the Secretary of the Academy of Science in Paris to demonstrate the “ability of men of Banneker’s colour.”  There is no record of it having been received at the Academy, however, Jefferson sent a manuscript—possibly the manuscript Banneker sent him—to a noted French mathematician and abolitionist. Jefferson’s letter touted the fact that “we have now in the United States, a negro, the son of a black man born in Africa, and a black woman born in the United States…” working to survey the federal city.  Jefferson makes claim that he himself thought of hiring Banneker for the job.

But after Banneker’s death, Jefferson told another story.  In 1809, Jefferson wrote a letter indicating suspicion that Ellicott helped greatly with the ephemeris; Jefferson noted that he felt Banneker to have a “mind of very common stature.” 

Jefferson may have failed to take into account the full picture. Creating an almanac is a very tedious job involving lots of scientific study and mathematical calculation. The Ellicotts were busy with their own businesses. Many would say that the Ellicotts provided tools and advocacy while Banneker provided intellectual labor and mathematical precision.

The Success of the Almanac

With the support of the Ellicott family as well as the Society for the Promotion of the Abolition of Slavery in Maryland and Pennsylvania, the first almanac achieved commercial success.

Banneker went on to write and publish annual editions for the next six years.  The publisher’s forward noted with praise the accomplishment of one of “Afric’s sons.”

Mixed in with the scientific were philosophical comments, essays in prose and verse, farming advice, and Banneker’s continued reminder that America should be embarking on a time of racial equality.

Banneker Astronomical Predictions

Banneker’s study of the night sky led him to the concept that distant stars might represent separate solar systems.  This was at a time when there were no telescopes to confirm such a theory, and though a little-known Englishman, Thomas Wright, had written about the idea, it was not a topic that was widely discussed nor was his book well-disseminated. 

Other great thinkers like Copernicus and Galileo had never envisioned what lay beyond our solar system. Yet Benjamin Banneker envisioned it.

End of Life

By 1797, sales of his almanac were slowing, and Banneker was not in great health. (Several sources noted that he was a heavy drinker.)  The farm had become a lot for him to manage alone, so he gave much of his land to the Ellicotts in return for an annuity.

As he achieved a level of fame, some people came as tourists to visit Benjamin Banneker.  But there were others who were uncomfortable with a learned Black man.  Banneker received threats against his life.  Occasionally he would be reading in his cabin at night, and someone would come by and take shots at his cabin.

Benjamin Banneker died in 1806.

On the day of his funeral, the cabin, filled with notebooks recording thoughts of a lifetime, was torched and burned to the ground.  It is hard to think this was accidental.

With the fire, Americans lost priceless documents that would have done so much to further explain the thought process and scientific knowledge of this self-taught genius.  His wooden clock which had also continued to function flawlessly was also lost in the fire.

The information scholars rely on today to better understand Banneker’s level of knowledge is Banneker’s published almanacs, as well as a few of his notebooks which he had loaned to the Ellicotts.  These were spared from the fire.

By pulling together the numerous pieces of Benjamin Banneker’s life, it is very clear that he was an extraordinary man who deserved much more recognition than he has received.

Frequently Asked Questions about Benjamin Banneker

This post Benjamin Banneker: Astronomer, Surveyor, Scientist, Writer was written by Kate Kelly and first appeared on America Comes Alive.

Restaurateur Howard Johnson made a name for himself by building a chain of roadside restaurants and motor lodges throughout the country.  Johnson emphasized quality control and a consistently good experience for his guests.

Over many decades, he overcame competition, survived setbacks, and developed a way to weather the economic and social changes brought on by World War II.

Howard Johnson: Growing Up

Howard Deering Johnson (1896-1972) grew up in Wollaston, Massachusetts, a beach-side section of the town of Quincy. In a family with four children, Howard was the only boy. School did not hold his interest, but he was a hard worker and had a regular after-school job at the local drug store.

His father was in the cigar business. After owning a store, he became a cigar wholesaler, importing product form the West Indies. His orders had to be prepaid before the cigars were shipped, but many arrived damaged. No returns were accepted. In 1912, Howard’s father hit a particularly bad patch. Howard, who left school at age 14, was working full-time at the local drugstore but came to help. The lessons he learned then about business and about the importance of quality control stayed with him for a lifetime.

Wartime

When the United States entered World War I in 1917, Howard enlisted. He served in the American Expeditionary Force’s 26^th Infantry. The regiment experienced heavy combat, but Johnson survived. He and the others who made it through returned home in May of 1919.

Johnson returned to work for his father, this time as a salesman. In 1921, his father died unexpectedly. The family, of course, was devastated, and Howard knew the business he inherited was deeply in debt. His first plan was to keep the business going, but he saw that would leave left his mother and sisters open to legal exposure and financial ruin. Instead, he closed the business and absorbed the debt himself.

Working His Way Out of Financial Trouble

To start paying the money owed, Howard returned to work at Walker Barlow, the Wollston drugstore where he worked previously. The drugstore owner was thinking of selling the store and offered Johnson the opportunity to buy it. Working with the owner and his son, Howard and the two men crafted a business deal that let Johnson take on ownership of the drugstore without paying cash upfront.

In addition to drugstore staples such as medicines and toiletries, there was a newspaper stand and a soda fountain. The store was located near the train depot, so commuters always stopped by for a newspaper on their way into Boston, but Johnson saw that he could improve sales even more. He enlisted a group of young boys to make newspaper deliveries, thereby expanding his market.

The soda fountain also offered an interesting opportunity since Wollaston was a beach town. Though the drugstore was a few blocks from the recreation area, Johnson felt that a particularly good ice cream could draw customers away from their beach towels for a bit.

Selling Ice Cream

The origin of Howard Johnson’s first recipe is not clear, but it was likely based on a recipe of his mother’s. Johnson purchased several hand-crank ice cream makers. At first, he cranked the ice cream himself, but as sales picked up, he hired employees to increase output.

In experimenting, Johnson realized the key to a particularly delicious ice cream was a high quantity of butterfat. He purchased local milk from H.P. Hood Company, and his recipes generally began with 21-22 percent butterfat. When other ingredients were added for various flavors, the butterfat content remained high—generally 18-19 percent, far higher than the required 10 percent that the law required for anything sold as ice cream.

As he got his bearings, he sought a way to increase ice cream sales, and he rented a concession stand by the beach. These kiosks were his first foray into the food business. He added other snack offerings to the menu and expanded his ice cream flavors to 28. With that number, he felt he had settled on the right variety of flavors. (Later on, his car license plate read “HJ-28.”)

More Kiosks

By the late 1920s, Johnson expanded his concession stand locations. First he added kiosks south of Quincy. Then he moved north and had a fortuitous meeting with ice cream maker William Hallbauer.  Hallbauer owned an ice cream shop in Lynn, Massachusetts, and during summer months sold from a kiosk on nearby Nahant Beach.

Documents from the Hallbauer family reveal that Johnson hired Hallbauer to aid with business expansion, helping to open at least 20 Howard Johnson locations in Massachusetts. Hallbauer is almost certainly the ice-cream maker who helped Johnson adjust his recipe so that it could be made in large quantities.

Howard Johnson’s ice cream fame grew. It was known for its all-natural ingredients, its high percentage of butterfat, and the fact that Johnson service staff were taught to scoop generously. People got their money’s worth.

Adding Fried Clams

In Massachusetts, clams were a logical offering for beachfront stands. Howard Johnson developed a business relationship with the Soffron Brothers Clam Company, established by four brothers in Ipswich, Massachusetts, in 1932.

The primary clam used by Soffron was the soft-shell clam. Until the Depression, soft-shell clams were considered little more than fish bait, but the brothers, working with Johnson, found a way to fry them, creating a tasty snack.

In the 1950s, however, there was a clam shortage. The brothers turned to surf clams (also known as sea clams). By removing the big muscle and cutting the clam into strips, it could be tender and tasty. This new iteration was trademarked as Tendersweet, and they became an instant success. For 32 years, Soffron and Howard Johnson maintained an exclusive relationship.

By this time, the concession stands featured a somewhat expanded menu. In addition to the clams and the 28 flavors of ice cream, Johnson sold a specially-formulated way of fixing hot dogs, calling them “frankforts.”

First Full-Service Restaurant

Howard Johnson saw his first opportunity for a full-service restaurant when the bank in Quincy, Massachusetts, built a new multi-story office building in the late 1920s. Johnson knew he was unlikely to get a loan for a restaurant, but he went to the bank with a different proposal. If they accommodated him with a good price on the ground floor space, he would bring foot traffic by establishing a restaurant.

The bank building opened in early 1929, and Howard Johnson opened his first restaurant with table service.

Censored Play Saves Restaurant

The Howard Johnson story might have gone very differently if it hadn’t been for a problem with a new play by Eugene O’Neill. The play, Strange Interlude, opened in New York in 1928 to critical acclaim and was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Drama.

But the subject matter raised eyebrows. The play concerned a woman whose fiancé is killed in World War I. In grief, she plunges into a series of love affairs, one of which leads her to end a pregnancy. The Boston mayor announced that it would not be permitted to be performed in that city.

Play Moves to Quincy

With the mayor’s ban, suburban communities offered space. The producers liked the Quincy Theater best, and it was just across the street from the new Howard Johnson restaurant. A play that was expected to play to full houses offered good commercial opportunity under any circumstances, but there was another twist that favored Howard Johnson. The play ran five hours, and in New York, the precedent was established that a dinner break was built in.

When the play opened in Quincy in early 1929, Bostonians came to see it, and they flocked across the street to the new restaurant to enjoy New England favorites for a dollar per plate. Of course, they could also sample the ice cream that beach-goers raved about.

Because of this fortuitous opportunity, Howard Johnson’s restaurant was well enough established for the company to ride through the stock market crash of October 1929 and the hard times that followed.

Designer Familiar with Competitor

Howard Johnson hired industrial designer John E. Alcott (1899-1978) when he observed modifications Alcott was making on a restaurant that had formerly been a Dutchland Farms location.

Dutchland Farms started its restaurant chain in 1928, but it did not weather the Depression well. As Howard Johnson added roadside restaurants, he and John Alcott may have seen the wisdom of taking these restaurants and adapting them to become a Howard Johnson look.  Avoiding a full remodel would have been wise in the 1930s.

The design of the Dutchland Farms restaurants featured a brightly-colored roof topped by a windmill. Alcott also used the building colors for Howard Johnson that Dutchland Farms used—white with blue shutters.

In the modifications, the Howard Johnson buildings featured a cupola and eventually a weathervane instead of a windmill. This projection on the roof served the practical purpose of hiding exhaust pipes that helped with ventilation.

John Alcott also designed the “Simple Simon and the Pieman” logo, complete with salivating dog. The placemats eventually carried the caption: “Should Simple Simon seek a Pieman while going to the fair/ He’d now head for a Johnson Stand—‘Tis best’ he would declare.”

Howard Johnson Expansion

In 1935, as the economy was improving slightly, Howard Johnson wanted to expand beyond the single restaurant and dozen seaside snack kiosks, but he lacked capital. When a well-to-do high school buddy called about some property available on Cape Cod, Howard Johnson made a proposal. If buddy Reginald Heber Sprague (1897-1972) would invest in and open the restaurant, Johnson would provide the expertise.

After working out a business deal, Howard Johnson had his first franchisee. Sprague’s location was in Orleans in a perfect spot where it was visible from both Routes 6A and 28A, leading more people to leave the road to eat.

Johnson licensed the name and logo to Sprague for the restaurant, and he then crafted his plan for standardizing the menu, providing dishes, doilies, and napkins and supervising the set-up of the kitchen.  (Johnson was early in the franchise business, but he was not the first, as some claim.)

As he worked out his plan, he was a stickler for detail. Later he credited his mother, Olive Belle Johnson (1867-1939), with offering wise advice: “Her woman’s intuition and her mother’s interest in my affairs brought countless little suggestions that would probably not have occurred to a man.”

The Howard Johnson franchise was off and running, and Johnson made more business deals that year. By the end of that year (1935), Howard Johnson had 25 roadside restaurants and ice cream stands in eastern Massachusetts.

As the business grew, Johnson realized the best way to standardize the food was to centralize the cooking and deliver partly-prepared food to the restaurants with information on completing preparation, heating, and serving. He also prepared what he referred to as The Johnson Bible. It offered instructions on everything from cooking to equipment maintenance, staff uniforms and serving methods.

More Roadside Restaurants

When the state of Pennsylvania began building their Interstate Turnpike, Howard Johnson bid on and won exclusive rights to build the restaurants for the service areas. (Esso obtained the exclusive rights to sell gasoline.) Other turnpike business in both Ohio and New Jersey followed. Elsewhere, Johnson began snapping up more locations visible from highways.

Weathering World War II

Wartime always brings economic upheaval. The need for equipment and weapons meant that manufacturing soared, but it brought a fast end to leisure travel. As business eroded, Johnson closed about 90 percent of his locations.

But Howard Johnson was a survivor. He knew people had to eat and saw a growing need for commissaries. He soon had contracts with the government to supply food at military training facilities as well as to feed workers at the large industrial plants. While company profitability dropped precipitously, he managed to keep the business alive.

After the war was over, Johnson was ready to re-build. As the soldiers returned and life became more normal, Johnson returned to his belief that roadside locations were key. This time he looked to the Southeast and Midwest and established his trademark buildings in locations along the roadways. He also invested in billboard advertising. That way people knew a Howard Johnson’s was just a few miles ahead.

By 1951, sales totaled $115 million.

Big Names

Johnson’s success gave him added opportunity to capitalize on getting his name around. When wealthy socialite Dorothy May Kinnicutt Parish (known as Sister Parish) began her decorating business in the 1930s, Johnson hired her to decorate the restaurant he built in Somerville, New Jersey. She told a reporter from The New York Times, “I dressed the waitresses in aqua, did the walls in aqua, I made the placemats in aqua. I guess I must have thought it was quite chic, but I haven’t done a thing in aqua since.” (quoted in A History of Howard Johnson’s by Anthony Mitchell Sammarco).

Another opportunity presented itself with the kitchen staff. Howard Johnson was a regular at New York City’s posh Le Pavilion. In the

early ‘60s, a wage dispute upset the kitchen staff. Johnson snagged two of the up-and-coming chefs—Pierre Franey and Jacques Pepin–who were happy to have “day jobs” creating new recipes for Howard Johnson that would taste delicious even after being shipped nationwide.

Son Howard Brennan Johnson, who assumed the presidency when his father moved up to be chairman of the board in 1959, garnered good publicity through a similar maneuver. He wanted new uniforms for the waitresses. Instead of buying them from a supply house, he enlisted the House of Dior to design a new look. Publicity followed.

Motor Lodges and Reservation System

After expansion of restaurants nationwide, Johnson decided that the same standardization could be successful with overnight accommodations. He opened his first motel and restaurant combination in December of 1953 on Route 17 in Savannah, Georgia. Motor lodges began sprouting up alongside some of the restaurants.

Another innovation came in the mid-1960s. Anyone who has driven cross-country without a particular plan knows the stress of arriving in a town and then hunting for a place to stay. (Think of “Vacancy” and “No Vacancy” signs along the roads.) In 1964, Howard B. Johnson introduced a reservation system that linked all the lodges. Travelers could book as they went from lodge to lodge, or if one lodge was completely full, the reservation operator could help locate the next closest lodge where there was a room to stay.

When the company went public in 1961, there were 604 restaurants, 265 of which were operated by licensees. The company had also acquired the chain of Red Coach Grills, and there were 88 motor lodges, all of which were franchised. (Later, the Ground Round restaurants were added.)

Energy Crisis Changed Business Model

The energy crisis of the mid-1970s shifted the focus of the business. Rather than promoting the restaurants to travelers, management knew it had to focus on nearby population centers.

The 28 flavors of ice cream and piggybank-sensitive meal prices made it possible to lure families. The company also started some child-friendly promotions. One was a birthday club. Children signed up in advance and were sent birthday cards redeemable for a free meal, a cake, and in some locations, balloons and lollipops. Family members’ meals were charged at normal rates. The Springfield, New Jersey, restaurant sent out 10,000 cards one year, and they had a 50 percent return on those who came to take advantage of the birthday offer.

Children’s menus were an attractive staple of Howard Johnson’s. In addition to offering kid-friendly food at lower prices, industrial designer John Alcott’s firm created a variety of menus that kept the kids entertained. Some were maps of the United States, one was a guide to the metric system. Another menu could be converted to a mask if string was added at home.

Howard Johnson’s also held contests. If a person submitted proof via a check-off coupon that they had sampled all 28 flavors of ice cream, the next ice cream cone was free.

Business Change

While the energy crisis started the business slow-down, Howard Johnson’s was also feeling the impact of the fast-food restaurants that were proliferating in the 1970s. McDonald’s, Burger King, and Wendy’s were novel and very speedy compared to table service at Howard Johnson’s.

In 1979, Howard B. Johnson received an offer for the company from the Imperial Group Ltd. British food conglomerate, and he took it. Five years later, the British company sold Howard Johnson’s to Marriott who valued the real estate. From there, the restaurants, motor lodges, and franchises went different directions depending on their locations.

Howard Johnson’s Today

There are still a few orange-roofed locations bearing the Howard Johnson name, but most are motor lodges owned by Wyndham. The restaurants that exist no longer work from a Howard Johnson blueprint, and the ice cream has not been made in decades.

While Howard Johnson proved to be a welcoming Host of the Highway for more than forty years, the inevitable issue of changing times eventually brought an end to the unified company.

All the same, most adults today have fond memories of Howard Johnson. The restaurants were a welcome oasis to kids in the backseat suffering through a boring car ride, and they were a treat for families who enjoyed them as a local destination for a family meal. The Howard Johnson name lived up to the motto: “a landmark for hungry Americans.”

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You might also like the True Story of the Ice Cream Cone or the story of another chain of restaurants: White Castle Hamburgers.

Frequently Asked Questions about Howard Johnson’s

This post Howard Johnson: Host of the Highway was written by Kate Kelly and first appeared on America Comes Alive.

When World War II began, the United States military had no plan for using dogs for defense. This was in spite of the example set by European countries that employed trained military dogs to great effect during World War I.

The American wake-up call for better defense measures came on December 7, 1941, with the attack on Pearl Harbor. Both military leadership and an anxious public realized the country was woefully under-prepared. The nation was thrust into a grueling two-front conflict spanning the Atlantic and Pacific, and an effort to fortify the home front became paramount.

People active in the canine world had long recognized the abilities of many breeds of dogs and knew that in wartime they could be well utilized. Alene Stern Erlanger (1894-1969), a well-known poodle breeder, saw the national crisis unfolding and knew she could do something to help.

Poodle Breeder Leads Campaign

 As owner of Pillicoc Kennels in Elberon, New Jersey, Erlanger knew many in the dog world. She was friendly with the administrators of the American Kennel Club, an organization that would be very helpful in the long run, but her first mission was to galvanize the public.

The military had very few dogs at their disposal. Sled dogs were regularly used by the Army in Alaska, but other than those animals, the military had access to only about one hundred dogs.

Erlanger’s plan was an “out of the box” idea. She wanted families to donate their dogs to the war cause. The country was at risk; men (and a few women) were enlisting; it seemed only logical to Erlanger that people might be willing to give up their pets to help the nation.

One of Erlanger’s first phone calls was to Arthur Kilbon, a writer with the popular newspaper, The New York Sun. Kilbon frequently wrote about dogs. In her follow-up letter to him, Erlanger explained: “The dog must play a game in this thing. Other countries have used dogs in their Armies for years and ours has not. Just think what dogs can do guarding forts, munition plants, and other such places.”

The public response to articles by Kilbon and others was positive. As husbands, fathers, brothers, and sons went off to war, families understood the importance of what was happening. Americans were alarmed by the attack on Pearl Harbor. There was also great fear there might be other attacks on the continental United States. When Americans read about donating their pets to the war cause, many families complied.  (Also see “The Government Asked for Pets for Defense in the 1940s.”)

Forming Dogs for Defense

The next thing Erlanger needed was cooperation from the American Kennel Club, which gave both verbal and financial support to what she soon began calling Dogs for Defense.

The next person Erlanger needed was a capable and well-respected dog trainer. Henry Stoecker (1903-1998), an immigrant from Germany whose family trained dogs for military and police work, arrived in the United States looking for work. In 1936, Erlanger had hired him for her kennels. By the early 1940s, she knew him well from his work with her own dogs. She knew she had the perfect trainer.

Stoecker knew that successful training required pairing dogs with the men with whom they would work. The stronger the team, the better the result. Since Stoecker was still based at Pillicoc Kennels when the program began, military police in the New York/New Jersey area were among the first to attend classes and learn to work with the dogs.

Erlanger placed nine of her poodles in this first class of dogs to be trained. (Her champion dog, Rumpelstiltskin, did not serve as he was deemed too temperamental.

“The men were initially skeptical of the more uncommon breeds (including poodles) but they soon learned that even such ‘Park Avenue’ pets were he-men at heart,” reported The Saturday Evening Post (September 5, 1942).

Establishing the System

An intake center was established in Newton, Massachusetts, and a training center was set up in nearby Dedham. Dogs for Defense was optimistic in their promise to the government, saying they should be able to donate 25,000 dogs to the Army.  

The first dogs that were trained were placed stateside and performed sentry duty for private companies that manufactured war supplies. While sentry work doesn’t seem as valiant as a battlefield assignment, it was actually vitally important in the early days of the war. 

In addition to the attack on Pearl Harbor, two groups of German spies were captured within the United States. (One group entered the U.S. in Florida…another came into the country on Long Island.)

Companies and the citizenry were fearful of what could happen next.

Soon a Military Base

Within a few weeks of the program’s start, Erlanger was getting calls from military bases that wanted to try the dogs for sentry work. She soon determined that the dogs were well enough trained that she presented eight show dogs to Brigadier General Phillip S. Gage, who was in charge of harbor defenses of Sandy Hook, New Jersey.  The dogs on this assignment were three black poodles, two Dalmatians, an Airedale, a German shepherd and an Afghan hound.

Use of Poodles

While poodles were instrumental in getting the Dogs for Defense program launched, those running the program soon saw that despite their intelligence poodles weren’t that appropriate for use on the battlefields or overseas. 

“This breed has unusual ability to learn and retain and keen senses. A drawback is a rapidly-growing coat. The dogs never shed, and the coat requires constant cutting to prevent its becoming matted,” writes the author of The Poodle History Project.   

Program Grew

The public response to the program was impressive. About 40,000 dogs were brought in for initial screening; 18,000 of those were accepted for training, and of those, 10,368 dogs were placed into active military service. They served as sentries domestically and abroad and worked as scouts, messengers, and mine detectors overseas.

As Dogs for Defense grew, recruiting more animals, the Quartermaster Corps took on more of the training as well as the plans for deployment. This unit became known as the U.S. Army K-9 Corps.

One of the big surprises of the program was the fact that Dogs for Defense succeeded with dogs in the Pacific Theater. Initially, it was thought that the deep undergrowth in the South Pacific would make it too difficult for dogs and their handlers, but dog trainers soon found that Dobermans were perfect for that type of work, and the dogs were instrumental in saving lives.

After the War

From the beginning, the hope was that after the war, the dogs could be “demilitarized” to return to their homes. Just as soldiers struggle with the aftereffects of war, so, too, do dogs. Young Marine Corps officer and veterinarian William W. Putney implemented a “de-sensitization” program for all the military dogs returning to the United States. Dr. Putney knew that there needed to be a special program to help them become accustomed to life with families and in the public.

The retraining effort worked. Over 3,000 surviving war dogs were returned to their original civilian owners or adopted by their military handlers, with over 85% successfully reintegrating into normal family homes. (Read about Chips: First War Dog Sent Overseas, and Lucky: The Family Pet and his return to his family.) 

Erlanger’s Contributions

Throughout the war, Alene Erlanger served as a civilian consultant to the Quartermaster General, 1942-45. She laid the groundwork for the K-9 corps, wrote training manuals, and supervised dog training programs. She was awarded the “Exceptional Civilian Service Award” by the government in 1945.

In her private life, Erlanger continued to be a well-respected dog show judge, and she wrote Pet Poodle, a manual (1954). She and her husband owned Woodside Stables as well as a large aviary. She was also treasurer of the International Council on Bird Preservation and active in other conservation groups.

Dogs for Defense Continues

As for the Dogs for Defense, it was extraordinarily successful and has continued to train and send dogs to all parts of the world. The unit itself is now known as the Department of Defense Military Working Dog (MWD) Program and is an important part of the U.S. military.

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FAQs for Dogs for Defense

This post Poodles Against Hitler: Dogs for Defense for World War II was written by Kate Kelly and first appeared on America Comes Alive.

Candy corn is to Halloween what the candy cane is to Christmas. We may not dream of eating either of them, but each is the iconic candy for its holiday.

For candy corn, that’s a David-vs-Goliath accomplishment. Kit Kats, M & Ms, peanut butter cups, Hershey bars, Hershey kisses, licorice, or Snickers, all could have come out on top. Instead, the lowly, bite-size bits of orange and yellow candy have long been the October holiday winner.

Candy Corn 150 Years Old

Candy corn was first sold almost 150 years ago. While details are a bit hard to pin down, George Renninger, a young candymaker in Philadelphia, is thought to have been the first person to create this candy.

Renninger was selling candy from a cart on a street corner in Philadelphia when a fellow named Philip Wunderle stopped by to sample Renninger’s product. Wunderle owned a candy manufacturing company, and he must have liked what he tasted as he offered Renninger a job. Renninger spent the rest of his career creating new products for Wunderle.

Candy Corn and the Wunderle Company

Was candy corn the item that Wunderle sampled the day he purchased candy from Renninger on the street corner? No one knows for sure. But the Wunderle Company soon began making what we now know as candy corn.

The early versions were created in several shapes. In addition to corn kernels, Wunderle produced leaves, pea pods, little turnips, and other vegetable shapes. Some historians speculate that the candymaker was appealing to the country’s agrarian past at a time when more and more people were taking jobs in cities.

Making Candy Corn

The ingredients used in the original recipe are still the primary ingredients today: sugar, water, and corn syrup. (Over the years, fondant was added to improve texture, and marshmallow was mixed in for flavor.) The ingredients were heated in large kettles and stirred to the right consistency. The result was called “slurry.”

Using mold trays that featured inverted triangles, candy corn was poured in three stages. Making the white tip first, a worker carried a still very warm and heavy (about 45 pounds) kettle and slowly poured the white slurry into the tip of the mold. After the first layer cooled and hardened, workers poured the next layer (orange). Finally, the yellow slurry was poured into the end of each little triangular mold. When the candy fully hardened, workers popped the candy kernels out of the molds, and the candy was topped with a polishing layer.

In the days before automation, making candy corn was physically exhausting. The kettles were heavy and to pour the mixture carefully required concentration. For that reason, the candy company took candy corn out of production for about four months each year. The process began in March and went through until November, providing plenty of candy for Halloween. The candy also went well with Thanksgiving themes, so that extended the market a bit.

Candy Corn Made by New Company

Initially, the source for candy corn was Wunderle. In 1898, another company entered the market: the A & G Goelitz Confection Company.

The original Goelitz candy business began when three brothers from Germany moved to Belleville, Illinois. Once settled, they started a shop like the one they ran in Germany. The company’s specialty was making butter creams.

They moved their company to St. Louis to be in a larger population center, and they did well for a time. But in the financial crisis of 1893, they were forced to declare bankruptcy.

Candy Corn or Chicken Feed?

As the economy improved in the mid-1890s, the Goelitz sons wanted to revive the business. Americans loved sweets, and if they had a few extra pennies, they were happy to spend it on candy. In this atmosphere, Adolf and Gustav, Jr., formed A & G Confectionary Company.

This was the company that made the first Goelitz candy corn, selling it as “Chicken Feed.”

The Goelitz’s may have bought the recipe from Wunderle or crafted their own version of candy corn. No matter, Goelitz is the company that firmly established candy corn in the marketplace. It quickly became their top seller. Their efforts are the reason we know about it today.

Candy and Wartime

World War I brought change to the candy industry. The Goelitz Company split into two entities. Two of the partners moved to the West Coast to sell candy there. At that point, candy was not shipped far, so the other partners did not view this effort as competition.  The Midwest company was relocated north of Chicago for easier transport of supplies and product.

When World War I ended, candy makers encountered the Depression. As many as 878 candy makers filed for bankruptcy. Those who persevered were to encounter more challenges during World War II. Sugar was rationed, and it was hard to find employees, but people craved sweets. When candy was made, it flew out of the stores.

And candy corn kept selling.

Changes at Goelitz Prepared for Future

Hard work and a little luck are usually part of any success formula, and the Goelitz Company found they had both. As the family business turned 90, they added a new product—mini-jelly beans (1976). These jelly beans were special. Goelitz created a formula that flavored the bean inside and out. (Jelly beans of the past had flavor only in the exterior coating; the interior was just blandly sweet.)

A candy distribution driver offered another idea that was to change Goelitz history. David Klein (some sources say Kline) suggested the company introduce unusual flavors. To start, the company added root beer, cream soda, green apple, licorice, and tangerine. These mini-beans popped with flavor and became a huge success. Someone in the company recommended calling them jelly bellies, after he blues singer, Leadbelly.

Jelly Bellies and Candy Corn Still Popular

Jelly bellies were also marketed differently. Instead of selling bags of mixed flavors as had been done traditionally, consumers could purchase by color  and flavor.

By the late 1970s, the two branches of the Goelitz Company combined again. Their business truly took off when then-Governor Ronald Reagan became a fan… but that’s another story.

In the meantime, other companies have entered the candy corn market. Whether you like the candy or not, you are guaranteed that you’ll be able to find it each Halloween. Some companies are now making candy corn in colors that relate to Christmas, Easter, and the Fourth of July in order to extend the market.

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How did the custom of Trick-or-Treating begin? Here’s the answer.

Or for a story about another pleasurable treat, read about Double Bubble.

Frequently Asked Questions about Candy Corn

This post Candy Corn–Read Its Story was written by Kate Kelly and first appeared on America Comes Alive.

In 1909, long before pasteurized milk was standard in Washington, D.C., First Lady Helen “Nellie” Taft entered the White House with a personal goal.  There were few dairies near the center of D.C, and she wanted fresh, safe milk and butter for President William Howard Taft and their 11-year-old son, Charles. For this reason, she arranged for the purchase of Mooly Wooly—a prize-winning Jersey cow.

Mooly Wooly was given grazing privileges on the White House South Lawn. This intrigued passersby. Dubbed the “First Cow of the Land,” Mooly Wooly transformed 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue into a mini dairy farm and became one of the most famous presidential pets in American history.

Mooly Wooly’s new home was the White House stables, located near the State, War, and Navy Building (now the Eisenhower Executive Office Building). While the stables were always packed with horses and carriages—as was custom for every preceding administration—it had been quite some time since a presidential cow occupied a stall.

Even as William Howard Taft made history as the first president to bring automobiles to the White House, horses remained in daily use, making Mooly Wooly a unique addition to an already bustling executive barn.

Cow Spotted by Public

In June of 1909, The Buffalo Enquirer reported there was national astonishment and some ridicule when passersby began noticing the cow grazing peacefully on the White House lawn. According to the Buffalo newspaper: “Thomas Jefferson used to keep blooded cows on the White House lawn because he could not abide any milk except that which came from his own stock. Lincoln kept several cows, but until Mrs. Taft purchased a blue-ribbon Jersey, a cow had not been seen near the White House in forty-five years.”

Mooly Wooly was often photographed in front of the Executive Mansion, “calmly cropping the grass of the White House lawn.” (Hutchinson Gazette, Hutchinson, Kansas.)

And The Des Moines Register wrote: “Mr. Taft’s cow brings the White House into an intimate touch with pastoral America—the America which makes it possible to build a White House and give it a tenant who can be both a president and a man.”

Other Concerns

But the cow soon became the least of the Tafts concerns. Nellie Taft suffered a stroke in the spring of 1909, shortly after the president took office.

The doctor recommended a trip to a warm climate to recover, but she refused to leave her husband. Nellie was from a large family. Within days of her taking ill, four of her sisters arrived from Cincinnati to help with Nellie’s care and fill in as needed with First Lady responsibilities.

President Taft was as attentive as he could be given the demands of his office.

Reason to Celebrate

In just under a year from when they entered the White House, Nellie Taft was able to resume her primary responsibilities. She helped plan a celebration of their 25^th wedding anniversary, and she successfully reached her goal of being well enough to enjoy the full evening.

Cow Summered with Family

Customarily, first families packed up to spend the hot summer months away from hot and muggy Washington, D.C.  

The Tafts chose to vacation in Beverly, Massachusetts. That first summer, Mooly Wooly traveled with them to Massachusetts, along with other members of the White House.

Beverly citizens admired the fact that the Taft family maintained a tie to the rural life: “The good people of Beverly look on the Taft cow and are glad they have a president who has not forgotten in his public service the good qualities of country life.

“A man who keeps his own cow is, after all, a good deal of a democrat even if he does associate at times with bejeweled diplomats and pursy [probably meaning monied] magnates.” (Spokesman Review, Spokane, WA July 30, 1909.)

Mooly Wooly Dies

About a year and a half after Taft took office, Mooly Wooly died. It seems that the cow was permitted to graze on the White House grass at her leisure. When she was brought in at night, she was fed again.

Speculation is that she just ate too much.

Gift Cow Offered

When word got out that Mooly Wooly passed away, Wisconsin Senator Isaac Stevenson volunteered to send a prize Holstein from his farm. Arrangements were made for the four-year-old Holstein, named Pauline Wayne, to travel to Washington, D.C. by train. Her trip was delayed somewhat, but once she arrived, there were plenty of people on hand at Union Station to escort her to the White House.

But Senator Stevenson might have selected another cow if he had checked in with Pauline Wayne before choosing her.  She was pregnant at the time of her trip. Shortly after arriving at her new home, she gave birth to a calf. The staff named the newborn Big Bill in honor of the president. After a few days, he was cleaned up and sent off to a farm in Maryland to be raised by a surrogate.

Pauline, however, contentedly fulfilled her responsibilities. She continued to provide the first family with an ample supply of milk and butter on a regular basis.

Representing the President

While Pauline was well-loved for her fresh milk, cream, and butter, she also proved to be a popular emissary for the president. In 1911, President Taft was not going to be able to attend the International Dairymen’s Exposition in Milwaukee, so Pauline was sent to represent him.

You’d like to think that a trip involving a presidential cow was carefully planned. Perhaps it was and something just went wrong along the way…  Whatever, Pauline’s rail car—along with Pauline—were reported missing.

Anxiety was high for two days. The national press kept the public informed about the fact that the “President’s Cow” was nowhere to be found.

The railroad management took a close look at the route the cow should have taken. As they worked their way backward, they found the error. Pauline’s car had been switched on to a train on its way to the Chicago stockyards.

Pauline Rescued

Fortunately, Pauline was discovered before she entered the slaughterhouse.

Once saved, Pauline Wayne made the President proud. She was a very popular attraction at the Dairymen’s Exposition, and visitors could buy tiny souvenir bottles of her milk for 50 cents.

She went on to make appearances at a few other dairy and food shows. The Topeka Daily Capital (October 26, 1911) reported that she returned home with a “satchelful” of medals and blue ribbons.

Returning Home

The White House issued daily reports after Pauline’s return—she seemed unsettled by all the travel. While her milk production remained good, she was unwilling to leave her stable for a few days.

When President Taft left office, Pauline Wayne did not seem to be doing well. Taft consulted Senator Stevenson, and it was agreed that the best thing for Pauline was to return to the beautiful green state of Wisconsin. It was reported that her health improved once she was back on her farm.

When the next president, Woodrow Wilson, moved to Washington, he saw no need of a cow. However, he understood the wisdom of having sheep keep the White House lawn trimmed.

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Taft weighed a hefty 340 pounds during his time in office, and he counted on three sturdy meals per day. (There were newspaper photos of four workers sitting in the larger bathtub they installed after Taft got stuck in the old one.) To read about President’s Taft’s efforts at dieting, read “President Taft’s Weight: Keeping the Pounds Off.”

To read about other popular bovines, read about Else, the Borden Cow, and her husband whose head adorns Elmer’s glue.

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This post President Taft’s Cow was written by Kate Kelly and first appeared on America Comes Alive.

Annie Oakley (1860-1926) made her name as a sure shot in hunting. (See Annie Oakley: Sharpshooter and Remarkable Woman.) Her family was poor, and she began hunting when she was a child to help put food on the table. Later she supported the family by selling much of her bounty.  

A hunting dog like Dave would have been an asset to Annie during these years, but the family could barely feed themselves let alone feed an extra animal. During these years. Annie was her own tracker. She learned her way through the Ohio woods, moving quietly and observing the world around her so that she would see any wild game—usually quail or grouse.   

Over time, she became such a good shot that she could take out most birds with a single bullet through the head. Restaurants paid more for birds where the body was intact, so even without a hunting dog, Annie Oakley did just fine.

Life Changed

Her life changed in 1875 when she met Frank Butler. Butler was a sharpshooter who performed on his own and with various traveling shows. Customarily, he arrived in a town and offered $100 to anyone who could best his shooting record.

One of the restaurant owners to whom Annie sold game added her name to the roster of those who would match their shooting ability against Butler.  To Frank’s (and the community’s) surprise, Annie proved to be a better shot than he was… Frank was so tickled by the 15-year-old girl who could outshoot him, he used his companion, a white poodle named George, to take the $100 bill to Annie.

Annie was said to have fallen in love with the dog almost as quickly as she fell in love with Frank. 

Married Life

Barely a year after they met, Frank Butler and Annie Oakley were married. From that time on, Annie Oakley lived in a household surrounded by dogs.

Frank loved animals and was an experienced trainer. George, the poodle, was his beloved sidekick and occasionally part of the show, but Frank also bred and trained hunting dogs if he and Annie weren’t traveling the show circuit.   

Once Annie and Frank were married and financially secure, hunting became a shared hobby. They loved going out into the woods and hunting quail and grouse. The dogs Frank trained always went with them.

Meeting Dave

Frank and Annie were thinking about retirement and purchased a home along the Eastern shore of Maryland. While visiting Cambridge, Maryland, Frank was introduced to the remaining pup from a litter spawned by California Bell Boy, a champion English Setter.  He fell in love with the black-and-tan puppy with the “soulful eyes.” 

They chose to name him Dave after one of their friends who sometimes traveled the vaudeville circuit with them—Dave Montgomery, a very popular comedian.

Frank and Annie often went out hunting with the dogs Frank was training. As they traversed the marshlands and wooded areas, puppy Dave followed along and took quickly to his life as a hunting dog. 

The couple noted what a calm dog Dave was. He never flinched at gunfire when they were out hunting, so they began to consider working him in to performances. Frank had used his dog George in his own act and saw potential in training Dave for a similar role.

Moving to North Carolina

In 1917, they sold their home in Maryland and relocated to the resort town of Pinehurst, North Carolina. Frank was hired to manage the Pinehurst Gun Club and Annie gave shooting exhibitions twice a week and taught classes to women who were interested in shooting and self-defense.

They were given lodging in the Carolina Hotel. Though no other dogs were allowed in the hotel, Dave had special permission.

 At Annie’s twice-weekly performances, Frank and Annie started using Dave in the act. Dave was trained to sit on a stool with an apple balanced on his head. Annie would step several yards away and turn and fire. 

She never missed. 

On a particularly good day, Dave was able to tip his head up and catch part of the split apple in his mouth. The crowds loved it.

World War I Looms

Like other Americans, Frank and Annie were not eager for the United States to enter the war, but if the country was to do so, then they wanted to support the people going into harm’s way. 

The Butlers offered their services to raise money for the war effort. Oakley traveled for the National War Council of the Young Men’s Christian Association and the Red Cross. At stops along the way, she gave demonstrations of her shooting ability.

Dave went with them on these trips, and the dog became exceedingly popular with the troops. The press liked him, too, and took to calling him “Red Cross Dave.”

By this time, Dave was part of the shooting demonstrations, but Frank crafted a twist to the act. People were told to hide some cash in their pockets or handkerchiefs.  As the demonstration went on, Dave walked through the crowd. If Dave sniffed out the cash, the money went to the Red Cross. People loved it.

Post-War Years

In November 1922, the Butlers were on their way to Florida where they planned to spend the winter. The dogs—including Dave—were sent down by rail.  A chauffeur was hired to drive Annie, Frank, and two close friends to Leesburg, Florida, where they routinely spent their winters at the Lake View Hotel.

The car was an oversized luxury Cadillac convertible. As they sped down the Dixie highway, they were about 50 miles outside Daytona Beach when the driver lost control. The heavy car flipped over, and Annie was pinned under the automobile. Bystanders rushed forward to help free Annie from beneath the wreckage.

Bedside Vigil

Annie Oakley was rushed to a hospital in Daytona Beach. She had a fractured hip and a damaged right ankle. A surgeon stepped in right away and saved her life, but she faced a long and uncertain recovery.

After a couple of days at the hospital, Frank felt comfortable enough to leave Annie and went to check on the dogs and retrieve Dave. He knew how important Dave would be to Annie’s recovery.  Frank rented a room in Daytona Beach so he and Dave could be close to her.

Dave was a huge comfort. At first Annie was too ill to sit up, so a stool was placed by the bedside so that Dave could sit up by her. At times, she would pat his head and was generally repaid by some friendly licks.

Recovery Progresses

After a couple of months in the hospital, Annie was well enough to move to their usual rooms in the Lake View in Leesburg.  She was making good progress when tragedy struck again.

Dave, now 10 years old, had wandered out to Main Street, just outside the hotel. He was hit by a passing car that badly injured him. He died on Feb. 25, 1923.

The grieving couple felt the pain of Dave’s death as “parents would feel the loss of a child,” one newspaper noted. The Butlers wanted to lay Dave to rest in the city’s Lone Oak Cemetery, but city officials turned them down, saying only people could be buried there.

There is some debate as to where Dave’s final resting place was, but most accounts suggest it was on property owned by George and Annie Winter, friends of the Butlers. 

Today, a sculpture of Annie Oakley and her legendary dog Dave stands behind the public library in Leesburg to honor their connection to the town.

Booklet About/By Dave

To pay homage to their canine companion, Butler penned a short booklet titled “The Life of Dave as Told by Himself.”  (Booklet still available at the Garst Museum.)

“Dave was more than some humans,” Butler wrote on the back page of the booklet. Dave “awaits us both in the Happy Hunting Ground.”

This post Annie Oakley’s Dog Dave was written by Kate Kelly and first appeared on America Comes Alive.

Marcelino Serna was still a Mexican citizen when he fought for the United States in World War I. He was smart at battlefield tactics, felt loyal to his fellow soldiers, and his efforts for the U.S. saved countless American lives.

After the war he returned to live in Texas, and in 1924, he fulfilled his dream of becoming a United States citizen.

Serna Early Life

Marcelino Serna was not yet 15 years old when he left the mining camp where his family lived near Chihuahua, Mexico. He was unable to find work there, so he moved to Mendez and then Reynosa, Mexico, where he boarded a very primitive ferry service for Hidalgo, Texas. He applied for and received an “alien border crossing permit,” so his arrival was documented by the Department of Commerce (September 18, 1911).

From Hidalgo, he moved northwest to El Paso, Texas. There he got a job on the maintenance crew for the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railroad. But the railroad did not pay their maintenance people very well, so when Serna heard about better-paying jobs on sugar beet farms near Denver, Colorado, he moved north to work as part of an agricultural crew.

In 1917, the federal authorities rounded up men everywhere, looking for those who could be drafted for World War I. Serna was working with other farm laborers in Colorado when he was stopped. The authorities expected to hold the men until they could investigate their draft status. But Serna knew his status. He was a Mexican citizen who dreamed of becoming an American. He spoke up, saying he would voluntarily enlist.

Draftees Sent to Kansas for Training

Serna and the others who were recruited near Denver were sent to Camp Funston in Kansas (part of Fort Riley). They went through three weeks of training before being sent overseas as privates in Company B, 355^th Infantry, 89^th Division.

There were many other Mexican immigrants who helped fight World War I. (They were known as the Quiet Ones.) Serna was one of 67 soldiers in the unit whose primary language was Spanish. In the 1960s, he was interviewed by a reporter from The El Paso Times (June 29, 1962). Serna explained that only one of the men in the unit was bilingual: “He was pretty busy keeping us all informed of what was going on.”

Serna Offered Option

When Marcelino Serna’s paperwork caught up with him in France, an officer asked him to report in. He was told that because he wasn’t an American citizen, they would provide him with orders to return to Mexico—he didn’t have to fight. Serna turned the offer down; he bonded with the other soldiers in his unit, and he was committed to fighting for the country he dreamed of calling home.

Battles to Come

His unit traveled to the eastern border of France, and one of their first battles took place in the village of Lucey. From there, they went north to Saint-Mihiel and fought their way east to Euvezin. Next, they journeyed northwest for the fateful and extended Meuse-Argonne offensive (September 26-November 11, 1918).

Serna’s bravery and intelligence appeared early in this assignment. At Saint-Mihiel, heavy machine gun fire peppered the unit, killing twelve Americans. The commander needed to know what awaited them, and Serna volunteered to scout forward and report back.

He left the other men, running ten feet or so and going down as the German shooter tried to pinpoint him. Slowly, he again rose up, ran a bit and then took cover, making his way in this manner until he was very near the German machine gun nest. During his approach, two bullets dented his helmet but neither penetrated.

When he was close enough, Serna lobbed four grenades into the protected area from which the Germans fired. The blast killed six Germans, and Serna moved in and captured the remaining eight soldiers.

Marcelino Serna: A Hero Again

A similar maneuver occurred when they reached the Meuse-Argonne. A German sniper was calmly and systematically picking off American soldiers. Serna again volunteered to scout the area on his own. He was a crack shot with his Enfield rifle, and when he saw that the sniper was part of a big group of soldiers, he thought fast.

He realized if he could move quickly, shooting and tossing grenades from different locations, he might trick them into thinking he was one of many. The ruse worked. Serna killed 26 enemy soldiers during this battle. By this time, the Germans were convinced they were under attack by a much larger force. After several hours, they surrendered, and Serna escorted 24 German soldiers back to the Allied lines.

As he marched the captives back, he came upon Americans sent in to back him up. Several wanted to execute the prisoners right there. Serna rejected their offer and said that doing so would violate the principles of war.

Luck Gives Out

With only four days until when the Armistice was signed, the fighting was still heavy. Serna was caught in sniper fire, and both legs were badly injured.

It was too dangerous for other men to move forward to help him, so for a time, Serna lay there as if he were dead. When the situation quieted somewhat, and he had gained some strength, he used his Enfield rifle as a crutch and worked his way to safe territory. Medics arranged for him to be transported to an army hospital in France.

Honors

Though many honors were to follow, one has to believe that the most exciting one was the medal he was given directly by General John J. Pershing, the commander-in-chief of the American Expeditionary Forces in Europe. Pershing stopped in to greet the wounded and to award medals to those who were deserving. The highest American combat medal, the Distinguished Service Cross award, was pinned on Serna’s shirt by Pershing himself.

Later he was presented with two French Croix de Guerre with palms awards. The first was given to him personally by the French Marshal Ferdinand Foch, supreme commander of the Allied Forces in Europe. He also received a French Médaille Militaire and an Italian Croce al Merito di Guerra a well as a French Commemorative Medal, a French St. Mihiel Medal, and a French Verdun Medal. This made him one of the most highly decorated soldiers in Texas history.

After the War

When he recovered from his wounds and was discharged from the military (May 1919), he returned to El Paso and got a job at a local slaughter house, the Payton Packing Company. When a position opened in the quartermaster department at Fort Bliss, he took it.

In 1922, he married Simona Jiménez, and in 1924, he qualified to be a U.S. citizen. Over the years, he worked as a city truck driver, a civil service employee at Fort Bliss. His final job, the one from which he retired (1961), was as a plumber at William Beaumont Army Medical Center.

He and his wife had six children, but only two survived to adulthood.

Robber Takes Serna Medals

In the 1920s, Serna’s home was robbed, and among the items taken were all of his medals. Devastated, Serna did not know what to do.

His friend Dr. Cleofas Calleras wrote to the War Department and explained what happened.  Duplicate medals were issued. Calleras also realized that Serna never received a Purple Heart for the wounds sustained at Meuse-Argonne. Shortly after hearing from Calleras again, the War Department sent a Purple Heart as well as the American Victory medal with three campaign bars. These additional medals were presented to him at a special meeting of his V.F.W. Post—Marco Armijo No. 2753.

His Retirement

Serna helped form the local Veterans of Foreign Wars Post #2753 in El Paso, and he remained active throughout his life. If there was a Veteran’s Parade in town, Serna was very likely to be a part of it.

He also loved raising roses and spent many happy hours gardening and caring for his plants. Marcelino Serna was a devoted parishioner of Saint Ignatius Catholic Church.

When he died Feb 1992, he was buried at Fort Bliss National Cemetery with full military honors.

The Wish to Add to His Honors

In the last ten years, community members have continued to push for Serna to receive the Medal of Honor posthumously.

But in the meantime, something else meaningful happened.  Friends and relatives and Serna’s Congressman took matters into their own hands. Will Hurd, U.S. Representative for the 23^rd Congressional District of Texas in Washington, put forward a bill that renamed the Tornillo Port of Entry in honor of Marcelino Serna. (Tornillo is a part of El Paso, Texas, and is located on the Rio Grande River.)

As Hurd wrote prior to the ceremony in 2016: “The Tornillo-Marcelino Serna Port of Entry will not only honor this extraordinary man’s service to our nation, it will serve as a reminder of the countless Mexican-American immigrants that have fought valiantly to keep our nation safe. Their contributions will not be ignored or forgotten.”

A ceremony was held on September 29, 2016, in Tornillo, Texas.

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To read about another Mexican American war hero, read about Silvestre S. Herrera.

Frequently Asked Questions about Marcelino Serna

This post Marcelino Serna: Highly Honored Soldier in World War I was written by Kate Kelly and first appeared on America Comes Alive.

n 1908, women participated in a political convention for the first time. The convention itself was for the Democratic Party, and it was to be held in Denver, Colorado, in July (1908). This was also the first time that a political convention was held in the western United States, so excitement among the people in Denver was palpable. Colorado was known for its snowfall, so though the convention was in July, the Democratic Party arranged for a train to haul a carload of snow into downtown Denver so that conventioneers could play in it.

Colorado Women Had Right to Vote in 1893

Though the Nineteenth Amendment to the Constitution giving women the right to vote was not ratified until 1920, women in Colorado – along with several other states in the West – earned the right to vote before this time. Colorado gave women voting privileges in 1893; it was one of the earliest states to do so.

Convention Delegates and Their Opinions

Two women were delegates (one from Utah and one from Colorado); three were chosen as alternates. The article about them in The Rocky Mountain News (July 7, 1908) provides an eye-opening glimpse of the time.

Delegate Mrs. Mary C.C. Bradford of Denver, a former New Yorker, lived in Colorado for 13 years. She is described as being politically active, and her “illustrious ancestry” is noted: Her great-grandfather was Daniel Carroll, one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence.

The other delegate was Mrs. Henry J. Hayward of Salt Lake (we never learn her first name). She is described as being “a Mormon and a native of Utah.” Mrs. Hayward was the founder of the Woman’s Democratic Club of Salt Lake that was organized immediately after Utah was admitted to the Union (1896). She is the mother of nine and the wife of a politically active Mormon who believed in equal suffrage.

“She can help to make conditions right for her children and can guide them with more wisdom. Then, too, a child must naturally respect a mother more when that mother is allowed a voice in the government. Woman suffrage is bound to spread and it makes one feel proud to live in a state that early recognizes the justice of giving woman the ballot.”

Alternate Delegates

The descriptions of the alternate delegates were not necessarily politically correct: Mrs. Charles K. Cook of Brighton was educated in Colorado, – took a course at the Chicago Normal school, taught in Colorado and is now serving her second term as county school superintendent of Adams County. Mrs. Harriet G. Hood of Thermopolis, Wyoming, is described as age 38, but “looks younger than most women of 25, and is of medium height and build.” The final delegate, Mrs. Sara L. Ventress of Salt Lake City, was age 66, and is described as being “of portly frame, weighing 200 pounds, and of gentle demeanor.” It is noted that she runs a boarding house and is “one of three Gentiles in the Woman’s Democratic Club” in Salt Lake City. The reporter also mentions that both her husband and her daughter were very much against suffrage for women.

The Democratic Convention of 1908 went on to a successful conclusion, nominating William Jennings Bryan as their presidential candidate. Unfortunately for the Dems, the Republican candidate, William Howard Taft, was victorious in November.

For more about this convention, see Political Conventions: A Look Back and Political Coventon Security Measures.

This post First for Women: Participation in a National Political Convention was written by Kate Kelly and first appeared on America Comes Alive.