Chapter Six

The Middle Ages

By Patrick F. Cannon

We historians constantly strive to keep things simple. When the profession was struggling to come up with a handy name for the period between the Dark Ages and the Renaissance, one of our brighter luminaries (Carlyle, as I recall) said: “You know, it was a period midway between the birth of Christ and this very day, so why not call it the Middle Ages?” So there it is. What could be simpler?

Of course, like much of history, this may well have to be reevaluated in the future. Imagine the historian of the 30^th Century. He asks himself why everyone calls the Middle Ages the Middle Ages when to him the Middle Ages would have been the 15^th Century, which we now know as the Renaissance. One could of course get bogged down with such questions; so we must let the historians of the future do what we ourselves do today – change history to suit the needs of the times.

Such questions aside, when did it begin? Most competent authorities believe the Battle of Hastings was the true beginning of the Middle Ages, since it isn’t easy to think of anything important happening before 1066.

William the Conqueror, by the way, wasn’t always known as William the Conqueror. He started as simple William, Duke of Normandy. He often walked the beaches of his realm and wondered what lay beyond the horizon (actually, on a clear day he could see what lay there; it was England). As a young lad, he had heard tales of the strange goings on over the water and determined some day to extend civilization to the heathens there. When he heard they didn’t speak French, the die was cast.

Offering the usual incentives of plunder and free land, he gathered an army and set sail in 1066. After a trouble-free passage, he landed on the coast, which seemed the most sensible approach. King Harold, who had just defeated Tostig and Harold Hardrada (no relation) of Norway, soon learned of this new threat to his throne and turned to face the new invaders. The two mighty hosts met at Hastings. The Normans prevailed and Harold was killed in the battle. His son, known as Childe Harold, escaped and went into exile.

Harold was the first known victim of that well- known truism: always avoid war on two fronts. Poor Harold (as he’s come to be known) really can’t be blamed, since he simply wasn’t aware that William was on his way. When he found out, flush with his victory, he coined what has become a very popular British expression – “Bloody Frogs!”

It took William a few years to conquer the entire country. This was greatly facilitated by the construction of the Tower of London in 1067. When the Saxons rebelled in 1070, they chose as their leader Hereward the Wake, with predictable results. After their defeat, the Saxon nobles disappeared into Sherwood Forest, where they subsisted for the most part by robbing the rich and getting rich themselves. One of their numbers, Robin of Locksley, actually shared a bit of his ill-gotten gains with the poor and has been famous ever since, if more or less unique.

Relations between the Normans and Saxons improved somewhat under Richard I, who is known as the Lion Hearted. After returning from the Crusades (and a spell of captivity for ransom in Germany), Richard pardoned all the Saxons, making Robin Earl of Locksley. Other of his followers were handsomely rewarded as well. Friar Tuck became Bishop Tuck, and Little John became Big Bad John.

After the Lion Hearted died, his Brother John was crowned King and it rather went to his head. He was soon taxing all and sundry and generally making a nuisance of himself. In due course, the Barons had had enough and forced John to sign the Magna Carta (Big Letter) at Runnymede in 1215. This famous document limited the power of the King and enabled the Barons to get some of the spoils for themselves. Later Kings were quite annoyed that John had signed the letter, so his name was never used again in polite society. If his name had been Henry, then presumably there would not have been a Henry VIII, which would have changed the course of history.

A word perhaps needs to be said about chivalry. Since high born women of the time were not encouraged to have sex before marriage, their suitors were forced to worship them from afar (even if they got close, they often discovered the infamous chastity belt, or “iron maiden” as it was sometimes called). Naturally, they comported with women of the lower orders, but spent most of the rest of the time mooning after the remote maidens. Some swains composed poems and simple ditties. If they were brutish illiterates (as was often the case), they would hire a wandering poet/troubadour to do it for them.  A real highlight for them would be when their lady threw them a hanky (unused, one would hope) to tie to their lances before they lumbered into battle. This was considered a good luck token, but it appears to have worked only half the time.

Knights and nobles were always looking for opportunities to shine. Thus, when Pope Urban appealed to the Christian rulers in 1096 to free the holy places in the Holy Land (actually, Jerusalem and its environs), they jumped at the chance. Richard the Lion Hearted was foremost among them. Despite taking forever to get there, they finally rescued the holy places in 1099. Then, as now, killing your enemies in great numbers only made the holy places holier.

Alas, the Muhammadans had their own holy places in Jerusalem and seethed at their loss. They recaptured Jerusalem in 1187 under the mighty Saladin. Not to be outdone, the Christians set out on another crusade. When it didn’t work out, the children of Europe decided to take things into their own hands and 30,000 of the little tykes set out on the Children’s Crusade. It wasn’t anything like a Disney movie and the children who weren’t killed were sold into slavery.

But their noble sacrifice shamed their elders into trying again in 1228. They were successful, but were tossed out again in 1243. Had they persisted, the next crusade would have been the seventh and might well have succeeded once and for all, but they had lost count and suffered the consequences of faulty math. Not for the last time, history was the victim of politicians who couldn’t add.

Now that they had given up fighting the Muhammadans, the Europeans naturally took to fighting among themselves. While we might think that the six years of World War II was quite long enough, the English and French fought what has come to be known as the 100 Years’ War. One might quibble and point out that the wars actually lasted 107 years, but we can certainly agree that there was a certain animosity between them.

(Some might say that some of this animus persists. When the Channel Tunnel was

being built in the 1980s, an English clergyman was quoted as wondering why anyone would want to go to France at all, much less quickly.)

Alas, the rest of Europe behaved little better than the English and French. Most of Germany and Italy were carved into little Duchies and Principalities, which were endlessly squabbling among themselves. One of the consequences of so many petty states, particularly in Italy, was that the market for paintings and other decorations greatly expanded, since even the most petty prince wanted to grace his castle with pretty pictures, including one of himself. Artists who once didn’t have enough work to bother perfecting their talents all of a sudden were working overtime. One of them, Giotto, noticed one day that the people he was painting didn’t much look like the paintings themselves and was determined to do something about it.

While he was fiddling with noses and perspective, to the north a lusty young priest named Martin Luther had just about had it with the church’s main source of income – the selling of indulgences. And in the Celtic areas of France, Scotland, Wales and Ireland, the more sporting of the young men were inventing a new game to while away the cold and rainy days. In case you haven’t figured it out for yourselves, the Three Rs – Reformation, Renaissance and Rugby – were looming over the horizon.

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Copyright 2018, Patrick F. Cannon

Chapter IV

The Glory That Was Rome

By Patrick F. Cannon

Although the date is obscure, Rome was founded by two young babies named Romulus and Remus, who apparently were abandoned by their mother on the banks of the Tiber River. A wandering she-wolf heard their pitiable cries and stopped for a look-see. The little tikes were soon sucking away at her teats, which awakened her maternal instincts. They grew into big strapping fellows and protected the wolf in her old age. When she died, they buried her beneath what became one of the Seven Hills of Rome, the Canine.

The brothers eventually ventured forth and found wives, returning to found a settlement along the banks of the Tiber that eventually grew into a great city. The Romans were always grateful to them. Because Romulus was the elder, he became known as the Father of Rome; Remus became the Uncle.

Rome wasn’t built in a day, but by 509 BC the republic was established. The very next year, Lars Porsena of Clusium assaulted Rome. He might have succeeded had it not been for the brave Horatio, who held them at the only bridge spanning the Tiber in those days. Lars was so devastated by the defeat that he kept retreating until he got as far as modern day Sweden.

For the next few hundred years, the Romans set about establishing a pretty big empire. Their main enemies were the Carthaginians, whose base was in North Africa. While the Romans were busy conquering the Greeks and the countries of the Eastern Mediterranean, the Carthaginians were taking the great circle route through Spain and Southern France. In 217 BC, their great leader Hannibal crossed the Alps with his famous war elephants, striking fear into the hearts of the Romans. Because of this, the battles came to be known as the Panic Wars. Ultimately, the elephants died without seeing Rome and the tide of war swung to the Romans. The later battles were so small that they were styled the Punic Wars.

It should not be supposed that the Romans were merely good soldiers. They invented the paved road, the arch, and sanitary water and sewer systems. The first sanitary engineer was the great Commodius, who was troubled that he was drinking the same water from the Tiber that his fellow Romans were peeing in (and worse) upstream.

With better sanitation, Romans lived longer than their enemies, and despite the invention of the tenement, Rome was soon bursting at the seams. As is the case with modern Japan, it was decided that a portion of the population had to be out of the country at all times to reduce overcrowding. Their numbers were legion, which became the name of the resulting tour groups.

Regrettably, Rome’s neighbors weren’t ready for the influx of tourists and tended to resist their incursions. This led, after the Romans armed themselves, to the first tourist invasions. Eventually, they conquered most of what are now Western Europe, the Middle East and North Africa. They built roads as they went and soon all of them led to Rome. Roman law was everywhere established and it was said that a Roman citizen was safe anywhere he chose to go, except perhaps Scotland.

Alas, the glory days of the republic were not to last. When Roman generals had conquered the entire known world, they became restless and out of sorts and began squabbling among themselves. Eventually, Julius Caesar, Pompey and Crassus were the only three left and ruled jointly. While Julius was away conquering part of the unknown world (Britain), Pompey seized power for himself. Caesar soon tired of the British fog and rain (which seemed to turn the natives blue) and returned to the Gaulish Riviera, where he was astonished to find a message from the Senate telling him that he had reached the mandatory retirement age. He took this badly and decided to confront the Senate. Taking his legions with him, he began his journey, only to get another message warning that if he crossed the Rubicon River he would be found in contempt of the Senate.

Since his legions were more numerous than the Senate, he crossed the Rubicon and burned his bridges behind him. There was now no going back and Caesar swept all before him. Pompey fled to Greece, was defeated there and ended up in Egypt. Seeing which way the wind was blowing, Cleopatra had him killed. As a reward, Caesar favored her with his amorous attentions. She had trouble with the birth of his child and it had to be delivered by opening an incision in her tummy, an operation that is now called a Caesarian section.

Back in Rome, Caesar became a virtual dictator. With the republic thus threatened, Brutus and Cassius (he of the lean and hungry look) assassinated Caesar, but made the mistake of letting Marc Antony give the funeral oration. When they reviewed the script, it seemed OK, but Antony delivered it with such dripping sarcasm that the mob soon turned against the hapless assassins and they had to flee to Greece. They forgot that this hadn’t worked for Pompey. As the poet Cicero so aptly said: “those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it.”

Marc Antony was also to learn this bitter lesson. He formed a partnership with Octavian and Lepidus (known as the “beetle browed”), but made the mistake of going to Egypt and getting involved with the seductive Cleopatra. While Antony was dallying, Octavian squashed Lepidus like a bug and took ship to deal with Antony. He defeated Antony’s fleet at Actium in 31 BC. Not wishing to be dragged back to Rome in chains for the amusement of the mob, Antony committed suicide. Heartbroken, Cleopatra grabbed a handy snake and did the same.

Octavian changed his name to Augustus to suit his new stature and became the first Roman Emperor. His successors were a decidedly mixed lot. Caligula invented a new way to write Latin, but also had his horse made a Senator. As he said, “the place is full of horse’s asses anyway.”

Nero invented urban renewal, but took a shortcut and burned Rome before rebuilding it. Increasingly, assassination became to favored way to change governments. By 238 AD, it got out of hand. In that year alone, Rome was ruled by Maximus, Gordian I, Gordian II, Pupienus (a real shit), Balbinus and Gordian III, who finally cut the knot and ruled until 244 AD.

Many of the emperors had themselves named Gods, which somewhat cheapened the religion of the day. It must be said that the Romans already had more than their share of Gods. They had myth-appropriated all the Greek deities, simply changing their names, and added a few of their own. All of this created a great deal of work for sculptors and architects, but soon the highways and byways were clogged with shrines. Because they had at least to say a brief prayer at each of the shrines, the Roman Legions began taking longer and longer to reach their outposts facing the barbarians, with increasingly dire results.

Had they but known it, the answer to their prayers was close at hand. First, one of their subject peoples were the Hebrews, who long had espoused the one-God theory. The reason for this is unclear, but may have had something to do with their nomadic life. One God, after all, is pretty portable.

Since the Hebrews seemed content to keep their God to themselves, the Romans didn’t see them as much of a threat. But when the followers of a Hebrew named Jesus Christ – whom the Romans had crucified to keep peace with the Hebrew priests, who considered him a rabble rouser – began touting him as the Son of God throughout the Roman world, that was a bit much.

The Christians, as they called themselves, had a new wrinkle on the one-God idea. They still claimed there was one God, but he had three personas: God the father, God the son (the heretofore mentioned Jesus) and God the Holy Spirit. No one really knew what God the Father looked like. Jesus, on the other hand, was known to have been beardless and have long hair and blue eyes.  Oddly enough, he looked more like an Englishman than a Jew. The Holy Spirit didn’t look like anyone, because he was invisible.

Because it was less confusing than the Roman system of a God for every occasion, and you didn’t have to buy as many statues, Christianity appealed to the poorer elements in the Empire. While the Romans were inclined to be tolerant, increasing pressure from the sculptors and architect’s guilds convinced the Emperors that business was bound to suffer, so they outlawed the budding religion. It must also be said that Christianity didn’t encourage people, even Emperors, to suddenly decide they were Gods too.

History is often a matter of happy coincidences. The banning of the new religion coincided with the rise of a new entertainment industry in Rome. Chariot races had long been popular, as had battles to the death between Gladiators. As the Empire expanded, generals increasingly brought back wild animals like Lions and Tigers. Zoos were established, but weren’t too exciting, as the wild beasts slept most of the time, a problem at zoos to this day.

Many Christians were caught and simply crucified, with their bodies given to the zoos as cheap and convenient meat. The Lions and Tigers seemed to enjoy these treats and some unknown impresario put two and two together and came up with the idea of saving both the labor and materials used for crucifixions by feeding the Christians directly to the big cats in the Coliseum. The mob loved the new event and the culminating event of the season become known as the Supper Bowl.

Alas, the Emperor Constantine put the kibosh on this popular event by legalizing Christianity. He even became a Christian himself, although he prudently waited until he was dying, thus becoming the first known deathbed convert.

The majestic Coliseum sadly fell into disuse. It still stands today, but the cats that roam its ghostly precincts are more likely to be fed by the Christians than to eat them.

The Empire itself also began to decline as it increasingly depended on hired mercenaries to keep the barbarians at bay. It occurred to many of these bluff soldiers that the only way to get a raise was to take power, so they would march on Rome and kill the emperor. So much time was spent doing this that sufficient watch was not being kept on the barbarians, who were soon making inroads on the very roads the Romans had built to conquer them.

Among the many tribes marching on Rome were the Visagoths and Ostragoths. While the Romans were able to keep an eye on the Visagoths, the Ostragoths were a little sneakier. Eventually, they got together and sacked Rome in 476, thus ending the Western Empire. The Eastern Empire lasted another thousand years, mainly because it was pretty far away in Constantinople and the nearby tribes spent most of their energy fighting each other, much as they do today. When the Eastern Empire finally fell in 1456, it was the forces of Islam who did the deed. They treated the inhabitants so foully that they became known as the Turkeys. They rather liked this and have retained the name to this day.

When Rome itself fell in the fifth century, Europe entered what is now known as the Dark Ages.

(Next week, back to Arabic numerals for Chapter 5)

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Copyright 2018, Patrick F. Cannon

Chapter 3

Greece – Birthplace of Democracy and the Olive Burger

By Patrick F. Cannon

While the Sumerians, Hittites, Assyrians, Babbleonians and their ilk (including the pesky Israelites) were battling among themselves for supremacy in the Eastern Mediterranean, to their left (if they were facing north) the great Greek city-states that would ultimately conquer them were developing.

The blind poet Homer was describing their exploits as early as 800 BC, so we know the famous Trojan War must have occurred before then. You will recall the bard’s description of the famous Trojan horse, left outside the gates of Troy, presumably as a peace offering, but in actuality containing a group of bloodthirsty Greeks. When the unwary Trojans dragged the horse into the city, the Greeks leapt out and laid waste to the hapless populace. Here, of course, we have the reason for the famous saying “beware of Greeks bearing gifts.” This has caused endless trouble ever since, particularly for those marrying into Greek families.

As the city states developed, they began inter-city sporting competitions called the Olympic Games, named after Mount Olympus, which was the nearby birthplace of the Gods, whose tickets were comped. Many of the events are still contested today, including foot races, discuss throwing, wrestling, the javelin toss and the rock (now shot) put.

Perhaps the most famous event was the Marathon race, named after the 490 BC battle of the same name. As you know doubt recall, General Militiades and his Athenian Hoplites (the first to use pogo sticks to gain increased mobility) were doing battle with the Persians under Datis and Artaphernes. Things became dire, and Militiades sent his trusted messenger Khenyi Etheopalae the 26.2 miles back to town to get some help. As he handed his message to the waiting citizens, he expired. As it happened, they didn’t send help after all, but it does make a nice story anyway.

Anyway, contestants, all men, wore no clothes because they were so proud of their muscles and other attributes. This unashamed nudity eventually became the downfall of the Olympiad, not because of public prudery (which was in any case strictly a Judeo-Christian concept) but because there was no place to put a sponsor’s logo. When the Olympics were revived in the later 19^th Century, the organizers made sure that everyone was fully clothed and fully sponsored.

Athens and Sparta soon became the dominant cities. The Athenians invented democracy, philosophy, art and the corner restaurant. Sparta invented only militarism, but it was generally enough to sway the balance in their favor

It is Athens we think of when we think of Greece. Its Golden Age is typified by the great orator, Pericles, whose wisdom brought forth the first flowering of democracy. Great architecture and sculpture appeared, not to be surpassed for the next 2,000 years, when the fig leaf was once again discarded. Drama, as we know it today, was perfected. To playwrights like Aeschylus and Sophocles we owe the basic tragic plot (hero makes love to mother, loses eyesight); to Aristophanes the essentials of comedy (hero makes love to mother, who thinks it’s a hoot).

The Greeks also invented mathematics, philosophy and the oliveburger. Socrates came up with the revolutionary idea that truth actually existed, or as he put it: “I walked into a tree and broke my nose; therefore I must concede the truth of the tree.” He was so busy declaiming his ideas, he didn’t have time to write them down. This chore was handled by his graduate teaching assistant, Plato, who later came into his own as the author of The Republic and teacher of Aristotle. Aristotle was a true Renaissance man, although no one was aware of it at that time. He made advances in biology and mathematics and was the inventor of logic. (Who can forget his apt example: if A hits B and B hits A, then A better hit B again or run away.)

Aristotle in his turn was the teacher of the greatest Greek of them all, Alexander III, conqueror of the known world. To the Greeks, of course, the “known” world included only Spain on the west and Persia on the east. Alexander didn’t know about India, so he declined to conquer it. He also didn’t know about China, although the Chinese knew about themselves, but not about the Greeks. To the Chinese, the known world was China, an attitude they retain to this day.

Alexander was the son of Phillip II of Macedon, who had united all Greece under his sway. Not everyone was willing to swing to his tune, so he was assassinated in 336 BC. Alexander inherited the throne and soon had all Greece swinging and swaying in perfect harmony. But like many young Greeks, he decided to emigrate, and in 334 BC took his army along for company.

Persia was Greece’s ancient enemy and Alexander set about conquering their extensive empire. Even though the Persian forces under Darius were far more numerous, Alexander’s brilliant generalship always seemed to catch them napping, or eating lunch. The campaign took 10 years, mainly because the Greeks expected regular time outs to rape, loot and pillage. Nevertheless, they got as far as modern Kashmir before Alexander’s soldiers had had enough. They had been away from their wives and families for 10 years and were understandably concerned about their wives constancy. They had also reached the frontier of the known world and were a little edgy. Even though Alexander wept that he had no more worlds to conquer, he wasn’t silly enough to go it alone, so he turned back.

Alexander died in 323 BC. It was believed he was poisoned, but without DNA testing, we’ll never know. What we do know is that his generals were soon squabbling among themselves with predictable results. While the empire soon broke up, they did leave behind many interesting ruins, a boon to tourism to this day.

(Next week, if you can stand the wait, Chapter IV)

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Copyright 2018, Patrick F. Cannon

Chapter Two

The Dawn of Civilization and the Rise of the Ians

By Patrick F. Cannon

It’s unclear when people began to speak to one another. Perhaps the first communications consisted merely of grunts and screams. Imagine a cave dweller cooking a hare over an early fire, then chewing on the result. He grunts with pleasure. His mate hears the grunt and it sounds just slightly different than the grunt when he uses the facilities. She tries the hare herself and grunts similarly.

She has also noticed – even then, women paid more attention to subtleties – that when he stubs his toe, he gives out a shriek. When he comes upon a large and toothy cat, he also gives out a kind of shriek, but it’s louder and more prolonged. Soon, people began to understand the differing sounds of annoyance and fear. They also noticed that in the former the sound almost always comes out sounding like “ouch.” In much the same way, the grunt of satisfaction is soon regularized into “good.”

While people were soon chattering away at breakneck speed, it didn’t yet occur to them to write the new words down. Actually, the use of pictographs came before the Palmer Method. The Sumerians (the first of the Ian civilizations) often traded goods among themselves. When one group had a surplus of alfalfa sprouts but a shortage of malt beverage, they would often do a trade. We know their level of sophistication because, to prevent pilfering enroute, they would fill a jar with pebbles coinciding with the number of baskets of sprouts, and then seal it with clay cylinders. At the other end, the recipient would break the jar and count the pebbles. If the pebbles and baskets matched, all was well. If not, woe betide the shipping company. In fact, this is where summery executions began.

Eventually, a thrifty shipper noticed that you could actually make marks on the clay stopper before it dried, using dots for each basket instead of putting pebbles in a jar. This eliminated the need for pebbles and jars; thus, the first recorded instance of improving the bottom line.

Every system has its faults, of course. It wasn’t long before the shipping companies discovered that they could make their own clay disks with fewer marks and enjoy a few sprouts on the trip without being discovered. Eventually, however, the shippers began to do elaborate drawings of the goods instead of simple marks. The shipping companies countered this by hiring talented artists to duplicate even the most sophisticated symbols. Not surprisingly, they were called “counter” fitters.

An interesting footnote: J. Pierpont Morgan, the celebrated American financier, began to collect these disks when their meaning became clear. Not only did the disks look nice in glass cases, but he was in a position to appreciate their relevance to his own business practices.

The Sumerians lived in what is now the Middle East. It was either merely hot or really hot all the year. Nearby, in a mountainous region where snow was not unknown lived a tribe called the Friesians, who lived in cedar forests (now part of Lebanon). They often traded their timber with the Sumerians, usually during the colder months in the mountains. They began to equate Sumeria with warm weather and soon began to refer to the warmer months in their own country as summer.

Another early civilization of note was the Assyrian, the so-called “donkey people.” Much later, after a particularly virulent outbreak of hoof and mouth disease wiped out the donkey population, they transferred their allegiance to the hardier camel and became simply the Syrians.

The Assyrians thought big. One only has to peruse the massive statuary and tablets displayed at the British Museum to be convinced of this. Indeed, the museum would be a much smaller place without them and the famous Elgin Marbles (see discussion of cultural piracy later in the book).

In case you get lost at the museum, the Assyrians are the ones with the wide beards. It’s the Egyptians who have the narrow ones. Also, the typical Assyrian beard seems braided, much like today’s dreadlocks. It would appear that they did not perhaps have razors quite so good as the Egyptians, but a much higher order of beard dressing.

They were also prodigious warriors (“the Assyrians came down like a wolf on the fold”). It must have been a daunting experience to see them charging their enemies on their famous war donkeys. Even the women participated in these battles, although they demurely rode sidesaddle, hence the word “asside.”

Now that their hieroglyphics have been deciphered, we know that the Assyrians had all the hallmarks of a developed civilization: language, art, trade, politics, and cities, subjugation of weaker neighbors, marriage and divorce.

In this, they resembled their rivals, the Hittites, who appear to have emigrated to Anatolia from the Balkans, and who can blame them? Before they disappeared, they conquered the Babylonians and fought the Egyptians to a draw, mainly because they discovered iron, which held an edge better than sticks and, heated up, could put a snappy crease in their uniforms. Ultimately, of course, the formula for iron was discovered by their enemies, who soon were hitting back with a will. We hear nothing about them after 1200 BC; maybe they went back to the Balkans, which might explain a lot.

While peoples in other parts of the world struggled along at the same time, we know little about them because they left no written record. In great part, what they left behind were big rocks. Later to become notably articulate (after the Roman conquest), the early Britains seemed capable only of constructing massive henges, the most notable of which is near the modern village of Stone on Stoke. What these circles of shaped stone actually signified is mere conjecture. The most plausible theory holds that they are a kind of astrological timepiece. This was all well and good for those at the henge. It appears, however, that if you were in Scotland, you couldn’t get the time of day.

The Assyrians were eventually conquered by the notably talkative Babblelonians, who also gave their name to the storied city. While they gave fits to the nearby tribes (the Israelites for example), they were also really keen gardeners. The famous Hanging Gardens of Babbleon were justly famous. It was while reclining in the gardens that the Great Hammurabi (or, as known locally, “the big hammer”) drafted his famous laws, the first fully codified system of government we know of. While he made sure the codes put him in full charge, they at least permitted one to appeal for mercy before being dragged six times around the city gates.

Before leaving the Dawn of Civilization, we must pay some attention to that other great Ian people, the Egyptians. During their heyday, they were called the “Profile People,” since the court painters didn’t seem able to draw faces straight on. Like other ancient peoples, the Egyptians worshiped nature and animals, thus the term animus. Their major deity was the Sun God, Rah. When his likeness was paraded in the temples, the worshipers were often heard to chant in unison “Rah, Rah, Rah.”

They believed strongly in the afterlife, so modern Egypt is dotted with tombs of various kinds, the most famous being the pyramids. These vast edifices contained the mummified bodies of notable Pharaohs, along with their treasures and all the food and comforts they might need in the afterlife. It wasn’t long before these tombs were looted, so many of these kings now reside in museums, which at least have climate control systems and functioning cafeterias (although one can’t, in conscience, recommend the food).

It should be mentioned that many of the later Pharaohs were actually Greeks, Cleopatra being of course the best known. By the time of her reign, Egypt was in decline and would soon become part of the great Roman Empire and thus related to the next great historical period: the Classical World.

(Next week, if you can bear the wait, Chapter 3)

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Copyright 2018, Patrick F. Cannon

Chapter One

Before History Began

By Patrick F. Cannon

I have always been puzzled by the word “prehistoric”, particularly since a good many people seem to write about what presumably happened before anything actually happened. How can something be called a prehistoric animal if we know all about it?

One supposes that what is really meant by prehistoric is that no-one around then was able to write things down, leaving it to later historians and archeologists to poke around in the rubble and try to figure out what might have gone on. Proper history only began when man began to scratch something intelligible on damp clay or a block of wood.

While I can’t actually vouch for the validity of what experts have written about prehistoric times, I’ll try to summarize their better guesses.

Prehistoric man lived in caves and wore animal skins. Since most animals don’t give up their skins willingly, we also presume that these early people were hunters. They used clubs and primitive spears. The human population was rather small in those days, so we know they didn’t succeed in all the encounters with their prey; indeed, it was sometimes hard to decide who was the prey.

In their hunting excursions, they naturally attempted to kill slow and toothless animals if at all possible. If they ran into a saber-toothed tiger or a wooly mammoth, they ran like the dickens.

There is a common misconception that man and the great dinosaurs lived at the same time. They did not, regardless of what Hollywood might indicate to the contrary. Man evolved later from the apes. Pro-magnum man evolved from the great apes and anti-magnum man from the chimps. Both rose in Africa and scattered around the world. For a more detailed description of how this happened, you might consult the classic Out of Africa.

Ultimately, of course, the two strains met and began to intermix. While you might not think that humans as diverse as the French and Swedes share the same ancestors, they really are the same under the skin. So, for that matter, are Danny DeVito and Shaquille O’Neil.

Why did people live in caves? Was it because they didn’t yet know how to build houses? Actually, houses had been tried, but did not prove to be strong enough to withstand the attentions of determined wooly mammoths or breathy wolves. Where caves were available, their openings were usually too small to admit the larger animals. They were also proof against wind and weather.

This was important because the prehistoric world was a pretty chilly place. Remember, the dinosaurs died out because their reptilian systems couldn’t abide the cold. There are many theories about why the earth suddenly turned cold. One posits that a giant comet hit the earth somewhere near Miami, tossing up a giant dust cloud that obscured the sun for hundreds of years. This makes some sense, since even now it generally seems a bit cooler when the sun goes down at night.

But whether it was the comet or a gigantic volcanic eruption, as another but more dubious theory holds, we know that much of the world was as cold as Northern Minnesota for quite some time. It was also pretty dark, but fortunately man had discovered fire. Without it, cave life would have been quite unpleasant.

We often read that civilization advanced greatly when man “invented” fire. How silly! Man of course did not invent fire, but he did notice that when fires burned they made things brighter at night and took the chill out of the air. One can imagine an early Frenchman walking through a dark forest one night with a Stag over his back when a sudden thunderstorm arose. Lightning flashed! Before him, a bolt hit a tree, setting it ablaze! All at once, the dark forest wasn’t so black! What if (he thought as he was dodging the flames) I could myself create lightning and use it to set pieces of wood ablaze? Then maybe one could create a fire in one’s cave and be actually able to see one’s fellows after dark. One could even draw pictures of animals on the walls to while away the dreary evening hours.

Of course, it wasn’t that easy. Like many great advances (e.g., Newton’s apple leading to gravity), it came about by accident. In those days, spears and other weapons had stones shaped into points at the business end. We’ll never know whom, but one day a hunter was in need of a new spear and cast about for some likely stones. He picked up two, planning to whack them together to see if he could make one pointy enough to pierce a sloth. Well, they turned out to be flintstones. When he struck them together, lo and behold, a spark! Not exactly lightning, but nonetheless suggestive.

He pondered this phenomenon for a bit, and somehow connected it with the lightning/trees effect. He gathered some dry leaves and kept hitting the stones together until the leaves caught fire. Pretty soon, cavemen all over Europe were picking up flintstones and starting fires. One unintended, but fortunate, consequence of the fires was the first instance of global warming, which put an end to the Ice Age.

When all that ice melted, it created many lakes and rivers. While the frigid winters were to stay for a quite long time in Northern Europe, in more Southern climes the newly abundant water soon created verdant river valleys, whose nomadic inhabitants saw that formerly scrawny plants seemed to grow bigger and faster. Through trial and error, they noticed that some were edible. It occurred to some that eating plants made more sense, and was eminently safer, than hunting the wooly mammoth, which in any case seemed to be dying out due to the increased heat.

As it turned out, the last prehistoric man was also the first historic one. For he was the first one to notice that the little grains of some plants, if buried in the ground, would soon create new little plants. This likely happened in the area between what are now knows as the Tigres and Euphrates Rivers in modern Iraq. The rest, as they say, is History.

(Next week – Chapter 2, unless my math is faulty.)

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Copyright 2018, Patrick F. Cannon

A History of the World – Opening Notes

By Patrick F. Cannon
(In case you’re wondering – and why should you? – this is my 140^th post for www.cannonnade.com. I started it about the time I finished my fifth book on Chicago architects and architecture. Before I got the contract for the first one, I had been tinkering with a history of the world. I put it aside after I started work on the book – all done by the way with my partner, the gifted photographer Jim Caulfield – but from time to time published the odd chapter in this space. To spend more time on our sixth book (I’m a glutton for punishment), I thought I would edit the finished chapters and publish them here in the correct sequence. So, for the next couple of months, prepare to be educated.)

A Note on “Recorded” History

There is a widely held misconception that so-called Recorded History began when Thomas Alva Edison used his newly-invented gramophone to record William Jennings Bryan’s famous “Cross of Gold” speech. This is, of course, utter foolishness. After all, Edison was a Republican.

Like so many English words, “record” has many meanings. One can “record” the Concertebow Orchestra of Amsterdam playing John Williams’ theme from Star Wars and thus produce a “record.” One can also “record” ones travel expenses in a notebook for further manipulation and enrichment.

While all of the above may form part of recorded history, they are only a small part. While not presuming to be exhaustive, I would define recorded history as anything written down, drawn, painted, built, photographed, filmed, chiseled in stone or eliminated through the bowels. This last may surprise you, but only if you don’t watch the Discovery Channel. For archeologists not only dig up old pots and pans, but also examine ancient feces for evidence about what people like the Assyrians ate for lunch. It appears it was mostly goat and alfalfa.

One can also aspire to set a record. I recall with horror Will and Ariel Durant, who surely set a record with their six-million-word history, often foisted on new subscribers of the Book of the Month Club (also part of history now). It is my intention to set a different sort of record: for the shortest history of the world, but one that leaves nothing of importance out.

Another Note – What’s in a Name?

Some years ago, I was driving from Munich to Vienna. The day was fine and the road splendid. After traveling for some time, I thought I should soon see a sign heralding my imminent arrival. Nothing of the kind. Thinking perhaps that I had somehow gone astray, I pulled into a rest stop and sought information from the Information kiosk. I explained my dilemma to the attendant, who laughed heartily, as Austrians often do. When he caught his breath, he told me that Vienna was actually Wien in German (pronounced “Vine” to further confuse the unwary tourist). Why then do English speakers call it Vienna I asked? Warming to the subject, he said that the Italians called the city Vienna and that since the English seemed to prefer the Italians to the Austrians, they had taken to using the Italian word.

I was on the point of asking why the Italians thought it necessary to come up with their own name, but decided I might never actually get to Wien, so I decided to leave well enough alone. I heartily enjoyed my visit to Wien, but it has caused me problems ever since. When extolling the virtues of Wien to my friends, I am often greeted with blank stares. Wien? Never heard of it! After patiently explaining that it’s often called Vienna by English speakers, I often have the feeling that they think that perhaps I had too much wine in Wien.

What to call things is a serious problem for historians. The French call London “Londre”, the Italians “Londini.” On the other hand, the English spell Paris just like the French do, although they pronounce it with an “iss” instead of an “eee.” A Spaniard thinks he’s going to Nueva York instead of New York, but generally manages to get there anyway. One often wonders, of course, why there’s no Spanish word for “York.” Nueva Yorka has a music that Nueva York lacks.

Germany also presents problems. If you go there, you’ll discover that the locals call it Deutschland, which must mean “land of the Dutch.” I had always supposed that the Dutch lived in Holland, but perhaps I’m mistaken. It may just be that the Germans grabbed the name first, leaving the Dutch to settle for Holland, which must be a made up word. By the way, the French call Germany, Allemande, which makes no sense to anyone.

What one should name people is also a problem. Italians persist in calling Julius Caesar “Julio Cesare.” But the English seem perfectly content to leave Benito Mussolini as it is instead of changing it to “Benny Muscles.” I wondered if the Italians call Alfred the Great “Alfredo il Magnifico,” but didn’t bother to check.

To give another illustration, we call the saint who could charm the birds out of the trees, Francis. The Italians call him Santa Francesco and the Spanish San Fernando. You would think that we would call the famous valley in California the Saint Francis Valley instead of the San Fernando Valley, but we don’t.

And I’m sure many of your friends have told you that “I’m off to England for a vacation.” But aren’t they really going to the United Kingdom, or is it really Great Britain? If you’re planning a trip to Ireland, is it the Republic of Ireland, or Northern Ireland, which is part of the United Kingdom, but not Great Britain?

Since I have been unable to find any reasonable explanation for these and other paradoxes, I have decided to exercise my best judgment. In cases where I think the reader might be confused, I have tried my best to help him along.

(Next week – Chapter 1!)

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Copyright 2018, Patrick F. Cannon

Bad Luck Billy 

By Patrick F. Cannon

If your name is William Hall Bush, you should be destined for great things. After all, your great grandfather was a distinguished senator; your great uncle a president of the United States; one of your cousins also a president, and another the governor of Florida. But you were the rebellious type, called yourself Billy and became a disk jockey and eventually a celebrity journalist (with apologies to real ones).

Because he was handsome in a cutesy sort of way, Billy’s career prospered. He eventually caught on at that “Red Carpet” titan Access Hollywood in 2001, rising to co-anchor in 2004. For part of those years, Billy also had a radio gig as the Billy Bush Show. Then, in 2016, he hit the jackpot. The legendary NBC Today morning show came calling and made him the third-hour anchor (the third hour is when they give up all pretense of being a serious news show). Everything seemed rosy, but there was trouble lurking in the wings.

It seems that in September 2005, charming Billy was interviewing Donald L. Trump on NBC’s Hollywood lot regarding his coming appearance on a network soap opera. Unbeknownst to him and the glittering star of Celebrity Apprentice, the mic was, as they say, “hot” (or on, if you don’t know the jargon). In a wide ranging conversation, Trump explored his philosophy of sexual relationships. He mentioned to Bush that he had tried to seduce Bush’s Access Hollywood co-anchor, Nancy O’Dell. Amazingly, she resisted his legendary charms. Trump suggested it may have been because she was married, but I guess we’ll never know.

I won’t bore you by quoting the entire conversation. If you missed it and want to wallow, you can look up the transcript as published by the august New York Times, the paper of record for those who wish to know it all. Here is just a sample:

Trump: …and when you’re a star, they let you do it. You can do anything.

Bush: Whatever you want…

Trump: Grab them by the pussy. You can do anything…

Now, Bush was not as forthcoming as his interviewee regarding his own achievements, but it must be said that he never questioned the propriety of Trump’s boasting, and himself made some comments regarding female anatomy that some might have found vulgar. The story of the tape broke in the Washington Post on October 7, 2016. When it finally became clear to Today that Billy might have become a liability, he was fired on October 17.

In November of the next year, his fellow morning show anchors Matt Lauer and Charlie Rose also lost their jobs, not for pandering to Donald Trump, but for more direct sexual harassment. Must have something to do with the curse of threes.

Just recently, as a response to President Trump saying it wasn’t his voice on the infamous tape, Billy Bush wrote an op-ed in the Times confirming again that it was indeed the leader of the Free World spouting his accomplishments. But who are we to believe? A discredited celebrity journalist or the man who – in case you haven’t noticed – occupies the same Oval Office as Franklin Delano Roosevelt?

Anyway, it’s clear that Billy Bush’s media career is probably over. He joins a long list of people associated with Trump who have been tainted by the association. Although his stupidity isn’t a criminal offense, others – General Michael Flynn, Paul Manafort, and Michael Cohen, among others – may yet find themselves in jail.

In the meantime, Donald J. Trump is still president of these United States.

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Copyright 2018, Patrick F. Cannon

Getting Clipped

By Patrick F. Cannon

I’m afraid the corner barber shop may someday be as rare as the local blacksmith. They are being slowly replaced by places called Super Duper Cuts or Hairem Cairum, establishments that cater to clients of all ages and sexes. Often, the person who cuts the hair is youngish with purple hair. Many only charge 5 bucks or so, as opposed to the $17 plus tip that I’m currently paying. There are, of course, tonier salons that “style” ones hair for more like $50 or even $100. I can understand women putting up with this, but when did men start caring so much about their hair? Was it the same time they decided that having five o’clock shadow was de rigueur?

I may outlast this trend. My current barber is younger than me, so may still be clipping away when I no longer require a barber. His name is Frank, and I call him “Frank the Albanian” to avoid confusing him with my former barber, “Frank the Sicilian,” who recently retired.

The first barber I can recall with any clarity was Tony Bazzone (pronounced like baloney), who’s shop was a few doors from my father’s office in McKeesport, PA. Now, McKeesport was then a thriving steel and industrial city near Pittsburgh, and Tony’s customers tended to be steelworkers and the like. I was about 12 at the time, and it was the first establishment were I can recall profanity used in bulk. It was also the first place I ever saw a bikini. Tony subscribed to the Police Gazette, which was as racy as it got in 1950, at least to my innocent eyes.

He also had standards. One day when I was waiting my turn, he refused to cut a customers hair because it was filthy. “I’m not putting my hands in that shit,” he said. “Wash it before you come back.” I remember hoping my hair was clean enough to pass muster.

After my father died, we kind of fell on hard times. Often, my Uncle John would cut my brother Pete’s and my hair. Since we generally had crew cuts anyway, it hardly mattered. During my high school years, I was more or less continuously employed and began to actually care about how I looked, so it was back to Tony. Those were the days of the greasy pompadour, and perhaps are best forgotten.

I moved back to Chicago when I was 18. I lived in the Italian neighborhood around 24^th and Oakley, and for many years Mario – an Italian from Tuscany – was my barber. He also happened to be a good friend of my sister and her Italian husband, so I often saw him socially as well. When I married and moved away, I returned to Mario from Oak Park, Rogers Park and Glenview rather than risk finding a new barber. I did stray once. I decided to see if I could find a nearby barber in Oak Park. I noticed a shop near the Jewel Foods on Madison Street, and thought “why not?” The barber was another Italian, but elderly. When I noticed his hands shaking, I saw the error of my ways.

I won’t bore you with a litany of my various moves over the years, but by the time I moved back to Oak Park in 1974, Mario had retired. I was working in Chicago’s Loop at the time, so usually got my haircut near the office on company time. But because my son Patrick was now getting regular haircuts, I decided to seek a local shop and found Sicilian Frank in about 1977. He remained my barber until he retired about two years ago, or just short of 40 years.

He was a gentle soul and relatively quiet for a barber. Many years ago, he had bypass surgery, but returned after a couple of months. I almost panicked, but only had to go elsewhere once. He was proud of his two children – a boy and girl – and of their successes. The boy later graduated from Harvard Law. He never lost his heavy Italian accent, so I only understood about half of what he said. Even after my son Patrick moved away, he always asked after him. He occasionally would bring in another barber to the shop, but he was never happy with them. He had a good location on Oak Park Avenue near the El, but they kept raising the rent on him, so a few years ago he moved in with Frank the Albanian in Elmwood Park. As far as I could tell, every one of his Oak Park customers followed him. After he retired, he moved to Florida to be near his daughter.

His retirement coincided with our move to Forest Park. As it happened, there was a barber shop only one block away from our building. Why not, I thought? I went twice, but the barber was a moody sort. When you have to initiate a conversation with a barber, it’s time to move on, so I went back to Albanian Frank, who is never at a loss for words.

He escaped from Albania as a young man. It was then one of the darker Communist countries. Now that it’s free, he returns every year to visit his family. He is not tempted to move back. To him, the United States of America is the greatest country in the world. He has no illusions about our problems, but they pale in comparison to those in his native country, even though it’s now relatively free. He also owns another barber shop and, like Sicilian Frank, has raised successful children. What would our country do without immigrants like the two Franks?

The traditional barber shop is one of the few remaining men’s clubs. Most days, everyone in the shop – barber and customers alike – explore the issues of the day. Can you do that with the purple-haired missy at the Super Duper Cuts? I didn’t think so. Frankly, I wouldn’t be tempted to stray from Frank’s even if there were a return to the topless barber shops that had a brief vogue many years ago.

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Copyright 2018, Patrick F. Cannon