Ripley Entertainment Inc.'s Blog, page 220
February 13, 2020
The Confabulation Of “Elementary, My Dear Watson”
Featured in Ripley's Believe It or Not!
Sherlock Holmes remains the most well-known fictional detective in history. The brainchild of Scottish author Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Holmes holds the title for the most prevalent character on film. He’s appeared in 254 movies, beginning 120 years ago with the silent movie Sherlock Holmes Baffled (1900).
Despite the nagging fact that he’s a fictional character, Holmes is also an Honorary Fellow of the Royal Society of Chemistry. He gained membership in 2002, and the award was fittingly presented to one real-life Dr. John Watson outside Baker Street station where a statue of the famed detective stands.
Of course, the character is best known for his pop culture utterance, “Elementary, my dear Watson.” But did Sherlock Holmes ever really say this?
The Birth of a Literary Sensation
Doyle was inspired to create Sherlock Holmes after meeting Dr. Joseph Bell. Bell worked as a lecturer at the University of Edinburgh where Doyle attended medical school, and he had the uncanny ability to diagnose patients on sight. Thoroughly impressed by Bell’s exceptional skills of perception, Doyle reconfigured these talents into a fictional representation. In the process, he crafted the ultimate detective. Unbeknownst to him, Doyle was setting the stage for a genre that still enjoys wild popularity—think CSI, NCIS, Bones, and Monk.
The author presents his famed character to us through the lens of Dr. John Watson. It’s safe to say that Watson represents Sherlock’s polar opposite. Where Watson is meticulous, conscientious, and thoughtful, Holmes is a pendulum veering wildly between messy bouts of mania and depression, fueled by cocaine, violin playing, and an obsession with forensics.
Of course, Doyle had a penchant for writing fundamentally flawed, though brilliant, characters. Watson didn’t escape this treatment, either. In several short stories and The Adventure of the Dancing Men (1903), Doyle provides us with clues that Watson suffered from a gambling addiction. So much so that Sherlock kept Watson’s checkbook under lock and key in his office!
The cover page of the 1887 edition of Beeton’s Christmas Annual, which contains Doyle’s novel A Study in Scarlet.
Innovative Forensics and the Birth of a Genre
Readers first encountered Watson and Holmes in Doyle’s novel A Study in Scarlet, published in Beeton’s Christmas Annual in 1887. Although the public proved underwhelmed by this first installment in what would become the canon surrounding Sherlock Holmes, Doyle’s subsequent works soon won the adoration of fans. What’s more, A Study in Scarlet represents the first detective novel to incorporate the use of a magnifying glass in a forensics investigation.
What eventually won over audiences? The combination of Holmes’ superior skills of observation and his use of unconventional methods, cutting edge means of catching even the most sophisticated criminals. In some cases, the investigator relied on technology and methodology years before real-life police forces started adopting them.
Across 60 short stories and novels, Doyle incorporated everything from fingerprinting and footprint analysis, to in-depth studies of handwriting and typewritten documents. The United States Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) didn’t even get around to adding a document investigation section until 1932!
“Elementary, My Dear Watson”
All of this brings us back to the fundamental question. Did Sherlock Holmes ever utter the phrase, “Elementary, my dear Watson” in any of Doyle’s canon work? The answer’s a resounding, “No.” The closest we ever get to such an utterance is a conversation between Watson and Holmes in the short story “The Adventure of the Crooked Man” (1893):
“I see that you are professionally rather busy just now,” said he, glancing very keenly across at me. “Yes, I’ve had a busy day,” I answered. “It may seem very foolish in your eyes,” I added, “but really I don’t know how you deduced it.”
Holmes chuckled to himself.
“I have the advantage of knowing your habits, my dear Watson,” said he. “When your round is a short one you walk, and when it is a long one, you use a hansom. As I perceive that your boots, although used, are by no means dirty, I cannot doubt that you are at present busy enough to justify the hansom.”
“Excellent!” I cried.
“Elementary,” said he.
Close, but no cigar.
Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson, as depicted in a Sidney Paget drawing in The Adventure of the Empty House.
Confabulation, the Mandela Effect, and Hollywood Talkies
Sherlock Holmes is one of many celebrated figures who has had false quotations attributed to them. Another example is the iconic “Play it again, Sam” line from Casablanca (1942), which Humphrey Bogart never muttered. What’s more, the advent of social media and memes has led to so many misquoted celebrities and historical figures that it’s increasingly difficult to separate fact from fantasy.
Why do humans collectively misremember some facts and events? Psychologists refer to the phenomenon as confabulation. It involves the fabrication of false memories so vivid that individuals cannot be convinced otherwise. Confabulation, alternately known as the Mandela Effect, also refers to everyday occurrences such as inventing facts, filling in memory gaps with inaccurate ones, and embellishing the truth.
Though, when it comes to Sherlock Holmes, there’s a more straightforward answer. We can blame this confabulation on the movies. Actor Clive Brook, who played the famed detective in the Old Hollywood talkie The Return of Sherlock Holmes (1929), first pronounced the unforgettable, embellished line. For better or worse, it remains cemented in our collective memory. It’s elementary.
By Engrid Barnett, contributor for Ripleys.com
February 12, 2020
Inside A Canopic Jar From Ancient Egypt
Featured in Ripley's Believe It or Not!
When a person died in Ancient Egypt, if they were a member of the upper classes, he or she would likely be mummified. While most people are familiar with the act of wrapping the body of the deceased in bandages and interring them in a sarcophagus, the mummification process had a lot more steps. One of these steps included removing the viscera—various organs—from the body.
CC Wellcome Library
The first step to this grisly process would be to remove the brain. A hole was cut near the nose or ear, and a hook was used to clean out the skull. According to the Greek scholar Herodotus, embalmers would actually attempt to “liquify” the brain for easy removal by inserting a plant stalk and twirling it around until the brain was broken down and wrapped around the stalk-like spaghetti, before being easily drained out of the body.
While the brain was practically pulverized, other organs were removed with more care. A slit was made in the abdomen to remove the stomach, intestines, liver, and lungs. These organs were seen as necessary in the afterlife, so embalmers would carefully preserve them along with the corpse. To dry the corpse, it was often packed in natron—a type of soda ash. The organs, however, could either be dried out in the open or placed straight into canopic jars.
Canopic jars held the organs deemed important in the afterlife. The jars each held a single organ and were watched over by a protective deity. These deities were the four sons of Horus—the falcon-headed god of the sky. Hapi, a baboon-headed god, protected the lungs. Imsety, a human-headed god, protected the liver. Qebehsenuef, a falcon-headed god, protected the intestines. And Duamutef, a jackal-headed god, protected the stomach.
While the organs were most practically removed from the body to remove moisture and promote the drying process, the heart was left inside, as Egyptians believed it was the seat of the human soul and would be measured by Anubis—the god of the dead—when they reached the underworld.
The jars containing the four organs were often carved from limestone or made from pottery. Traditionally, these vessels were large and simple, but by the end of the Ptolemaic period in Egypt, embalming techniques had advanced far enough to leave the organs inside the body, and non-functional jars were simply buried as part of the ceremony.
Growing Together: The Love Trees Of St. Augustine
Featured in Ripley's Believe It or Not!
It’s the age-old tale of “opposites attract.” When different species of animals become best friends, like a dachshund and lion, their friendship goes viral. But, aside from these unlikely furry pals, is it possible for plants to get wrapped up in each other?
Believe It or Not!, trees of entirely different species literally get wrapped up together, growing intertwined with, or even through, another tree. In St. Augustine, Florida, love isn’t just in the air; it’s in the trees, too!
Endless Love
Nicknamed the “love trees,” these botanical soulmates have grown from a pretty natural foundation.
Valerie Trouet, an Associate Professor of Dendrochronology at the University of Arizona, says that the most common union is between an oak and a palm tree. The seeds of palms “fall in between the crevices of these horizontal branches of oak trees and start growing.” Talk about an organic relationship!
This palm and oak tree bond has been watered by the humid climate in Florida. Trouet explains that in Florida’s moist climate, some palms can soak up enough moisture within the bark of another tree to grow from it; no soil required!
The differing root systems of these trees aids in the process. Palms have very shallow roots, so they “take water from close to the surface, whereas oak trees are the other way around. They have deep roots that stabilize that hefty trunk,” Trouet says, “so they access different areas of the soil that allows them to grow in the exact same spot.”
St. Augustine boasts a number of love trees, though they do grow in other parts of Florida. Just like great loves, “Not all love trees originate the same way,” Trouet says.
Legendary Lip Lock
With their inseparable branches, these trees have sprouted some local lore.
Agustina’s Love Tree Café and Boutique in St. Augustine, owned by Margaret and Frankie Espinal, is home to the Historic District’s most famous love tree. “The legend of the love tree is that two lovers each planted their own tree,” says Margaret, “one was a palm and one was an oak. Eventually, the two trees fused together. You will see the palm tree growing directly through the oak tree.”
People from all over the world come to share their love under the foliage. “They say that if you have a kiss under the tree, you will have everlasting love,” Margaret says.
“We’ve only been open two weeks here and I have probably seen 30 proposals.”
No matter how a love tree pair grows, there’s no doubt that they are a symbol for romance. You never know how it’s going to blossom, and you may not want to untangle yourself when it does.
By Liz Langley, contributor for Ripleys.com
CARTOON 02-12-2020February 11, 2020
High Diving Horses Of The Atlantic City Boardwalk
Featured in Ripley's Believe It or Not!
You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink. However, for over a century, a series of equestrian entrepreneurs from the wild world of cowboys proved that they could, in fact, lead horses to ventures a bit more extreme. These carnies led horses to dive into water from platforms exceeding heights of sixty feet, all while swimsuit-clad women clung to their backs—the most famous of whom was blind.
Foaling Around in the Wild West
The basis for this bizarre feat was simple enough. Enormous crowds gathered outdoors to see a horse hoof its way up a ramp before scooting down a sloped balcony to perilously plunge headfirst into the water below, followed by a safe swim to shore with rider in tow.
The diving horse stunt was created by William “Doc” Carver, a dentist-turned-frontiersman. Carver encouraged the spread of sensationalized tales concerning his adventures on the American frontier, exploiting his rough-and-tough image to put on touring Wild West vaudeville shows worldwide. These dramatic exhibitions featured daring athletic feats of horseback riding, sharpshooting, and theatrical recreations of battles, “cops and robbers” style—basically, the 19th-century version of professional wrestling. Talk about horseplay!
In 1881, inspiration struck Carver, quite literally. While touring in Nebraska, he experienced a bridge collapse that sent him, and his horse, careening into Platte River. Ever the showman, in later years, he embellished the tale to include that he was being pursued by bandits. Nevertheless, the seed was planted and The Great Carver Show was born.
Debuting in the summer of 1894 in Kansas City, Missouri, the act took the United States by storm, drawing huge crowds nationwide, eventually spreading to Canada. Later, at the risk of being labeled a one-trick-pony, Carver cut all other elements from the show, saving the spotlight for the soaring steeds. He never performed, instead preferring to care for the horses at the stables—one unplanned high dive on a horse proved to be more than enough for him, understandably.
With the act continuing as a true box office hit, he continued horsing around on the road for the rest of his career, looking after his horses as the next generation of horse riders jockeyed for position. After Carver passed away in 1927, his son, Al Carver, was saddled with the responsibility of taking over two touring troupes. Eventually, these two became one and the act settled in for five decades of performances at the Steel Pier in Atlantic City, New Jersey.
William “Doc” Carver, later in life.
Endless Summer at the Steel Pier
First built in 1898, the Steel Pier remains a seasonal amusement park, host to a variety of games and rides. Its residing dock projects a half-mile from the beach out into the Atlantic Ocean, sitting amid the ambient noises of clanking ride machinery, screams from thrill-seekers, squawking and swooping seagulls, and the churning ocean.
The High Diving Horses were introduced to the Steel Pier toward the end of Prohibition—before Atlantic City was synonymous with rides, games, and gambling. During this time, the boardwalk was predicated upon outdoor events, indoor cinema, and theatrical attractions. The Steel Pier was a hotspot for big-time acts, jazzy dance halls, and vaudevillian variety performances.
After a change in ownership during the Second World War, the boardwalk changed the nature of their offerings quite a bit. Now, aside from the ubiquitous Ferris wheel and merry-go-round, a carnival atmosphere filled the air—clowns, acrobats, and trapeze artists, tightrope walkers and motorcycle-riding daredevils, stilt-walkers and unicyclists, flagpole sitters and the incomprehensible human cannonball—a man shot headfirst out of a giant cannon; it was a regular three-ring circus! And with this change came the perfect opportunity for Carver’s team of diving horses.
Water Circus performances in the open-air portion of the pier promised the “thrill of a lifetime.” With a capacity of over forty thousand, leagues of day-trippers milled around eating saltwater taffy and acting as true cheerleaders for the synchronized human high divers. But, despite their marvelous feats, they always played second-string to the main event—Doc Carver’s horses were too hot to trot.
Animal attractions were collectively one of the biggest ticket-selling items the Steel Pier had to offer. Boxing bouts with Kangaroos. Cats playing poker. A chicken playing the piano. But, none of these acts could surpass the magnificent equestrian high-dives of Sonora Webster Carver.
Atlantic City’s Mane Event
Sonora, wife of Al Carver, brimmed with chutzpah and joined the horse riding squad as a teenager in 1923. Touring with the horses across the country before they found a home at the Steel Pier, Sonora’s job was to wait at the ledge of the wooden diving ramp and mount the horse as it galloped past her. Before long, she was promoted to lead diver, partaking in two-to-six jumps each day.
Tragedy struck when one of Sonora’s daily nosedives became a living nightmare. In 1931, while soaring through the air with her prized stallion, Red Lips, the duo somehow became off-kilter. While the act typically allowed for the horse to hit the water first and safely break the water tension, this time Sonora hit face-first with her eyes wide open. Still, only in her mid-twenties, Sonora was permanently blinded by the impact.
But even so, no one could convince Sonora to get off her high horse. Despite all adversity presented in the wake of her newfound blindness, Sonora persevered and continued diving. She retired when the show was put on hold at the start of World War II in 1942. For her, stopping due to blindness was never an option. She felt her vocation was far too fun to give up—it was not a matter of courage, but of love.
Sonora went on to write a memoir, A Girl and Five Brave Horses, which was adapted for the silver screen in Disney’s 1991 film Wild Hearts Can’t Be Broken. Sonora lived to the age of 99, remaining for her whole life just miles away from where she found fame at the Steel Pier.
The End of an Era
All things must come to an end and, for the golden era of Atlantic City and the Steel Pier, that came to pass in the late-seventies.
Amidst an economic downturn and increasing crime rates, the seaside community lost its appeal as a family destination. The grand opening of Atlantic City’s first legal casino in 1978 coincided with the closing of the dilapidated Steel Pier.
In its final years, the High Diving Horses were shadowed amid allegations of animal abuse by the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. Rumors persisted that the horses were spurred into vaulting via trapdoors, electric cattle prods, and pinpricks, but these claims have remained unsubstantiated and rejected by all involved in the performances. Despite a plethora of rider-related injuries, including the blinding of Sonora, numerous broken bones, and even the fatality of eighteen-year-old diver Oscar Smith in front of a live Texas audience in 1907, allegedly no horse injuries ever occurred.
The original bones of the Steel Pier burned down in 1982 and the rebuild was reopened in the nineties with a focus on thrill rides and carnival games. Attempts of the diving horse act’s return to Atlantic City were made in 1993 and 2012 but were met with less than unbridled enthusiasm. Today, just blocks away from the Ripley’s Believe It or Not! Odditorium on the world-famous Atlantic City Boardwalk, the Steel Pier remains a seasonal amusement park, host to a variety of games and rides alongside the smell of fried food and fresh saltwater.
Regardless of which side you fall on the debate, there is no denying that its rise and fall is nothing short of iconic. The Steel Pier was a central pillar in the golden age of “America’s Favorite Playground,” as Atlantic City was known at the time, and was encapsulated by Doc Carver and his wonderful flying horses—and that is straight from the horse’s mouth.
By Kris Levin, contributor for Ripleys.com
Kris Levin is a traveling storyteller, professional wrestling referee, and everybody’s favorite nephew. He can be seen internationally on IMPACT Wrestling as their most junior official, #KidRef, and on social media at @RefKrisLevin .
Bat Bombs Were In Competition With The Atom Bomb
Featured in Ripley's Believe It or Not!
Bat Bombs
After hearing about the devastating attack on Pearl Harbor in December of 1941, Pennsylvania dentist and inventor Lytle S. Adams hatched a scheme to use bat bombs to attack Japanese cities.
The plan was relatively straightforward, strap small incendiary bombs with timers to bats, and release them above Japanese cities. The bats would roost inside buildings and homes, allowing the small bombs to do maximum damage.
Adams happened to know Eleanor Roosevelt, and so his crackpot scheme was not immediately dismissed by military personnel. The President’s advisors actually took up the plan with enthusiasm, and wrote to generals reassuringly, “This man is not a nut!”
By 1943, the U.S. Army was conducting serious tests. Thousands of bats were captured with nets, and were placed in ice cube trays and cooled so that they would be in hibernation mode when shipped overseas. As the military did more research, they were beginning to like the plan.
They found that bats can carry almost double their own weight in flight and that their nocturnal behavior made them perfect for sneaking into rooftops and structures undetected. The inventor of napalm served a brief stint on the project and said the bat bombs yielded 30 times the destruction of conventional incendiary bombs.
They were so good at secretly penetrating buildings, that when a few escaped testing, they managed to destroy a fuel tanker, air hangar, and a general’s car. Clearly they could be destructive, but more work was needed to deploy them effectively.
The Marine Corps took over the program as high command wanted one million bats ready to launch on Japan as soon as possible. The bats were to be loaded into bomb-shaped cages filled with stacked trays, each payload holding about 1,000 bats. The cages would be dropped by B-24 Bombers from 5,000 feet, parachutes would deploy at 1,000 feet, and the bats would be let out and spread over a large area to infest buildings.
Project “X-Ray,” as it was renamed by the Marine Corps, was up against stiff competition to finish development. Scientists working on the Manhattan Project were rumored to be close to completing a new and devastating weapon. After 30 demonstrations and $2 million, X-Ray was canceled after projections didn’t anticipate they would complete manufacturing until 1945.
February 10, 2020
For These Animals, Cancer Is Contagious
Featured in Ripley's Believe It or Not!
For all its fearsome properties, at least cancer has one weakness—you can’t catch it from another person. But, unfortunately, this isn’t the case for all living organisms. Tasmanian devils can and do catch cancer from one another.
The Looney Reality
While known to many only from “Taz,” the spinning, monster-like character from Looney Tunes, Tasmanian devils are, in fact, real animals. The size of small dogs, they are black-furred marsupials and their closest relatives include kangaroos and koalas.
And while other animals, including muscles, clams, and dogs, can also transfer their cancerous cells to one another, no animal group has been as dramatically affected by contagious cancer than Tasmanian devils. This endangered species has lost 80% of its population due to “Devil Facial Tumor Disease,” or DFTD.
Keep Your Cells To Yourself
Here’s how it works: humans can’t get cancer from one another since each and every person has different DNA. If a cell from one human body tried to enter another human body, the host body would quickly reject it. But, for some reason, devils don’t have the same strong response. There is also something strange about the way these tumors work that makes them able to evade rejection.
If only Tasmanian devils would keep to themselves, the disease might not spread throughout populations so fast. Devils are known to fight each other, biting at their faces, dislodging pieces of tumors, which fall into the wounds on their own faces. There, the cancerous tumor takes residence and grows.
The situation was so dire that, at one point, scientists believed devils would be extinct by now. However, that has changed over the last several years.
While contagious cancer is still a major threat, one that could possibly wipe out the species, the infection rate appears to have leveled out. Some devils are resistant to cancer and can live longer with the tumors, and some have even healed their own tumors. Having this ability to coexist with cancer allows them to live longer, have more babies, and pass these traits on to the next generation—natural selection in action.
In January, 2019, researchers published a paper in the journal, Ecological Society of America, that showed models of a comeback for Tasmanian devils. Based on the simulations they made, 22% of possible futures include devils coexisting with the disease for 100 years or more. 57% of simulations showed the cancer fading out of existence entirely.
Here’s hoping Taz pulls through!
By Kristin Hugo, contributor for Ripleys.com
Kristin Hugo is a science journalist with writing in National Geographic, Newsweek, and PBS Newshour. She’s especially experienced in covering animals, bones, and anything weird or gross. When not writing, Kristin is spray painting and cleaning bones in her New York City yard. Find her on Twitter at @KristinHugo , Tumblr at @StrangeBiology , and Instagram at @thestrangebiology .
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