His story was fake, the game was not. (Photo: Quentin X/Fair Use/Warner Brothers)

We get it: Pokémon Go is a really fun new way to experience the world, and make it seem more mysterious and magical than it really is. But did you know that in many ways, we owe the current Pokémania to a game created to promote the 2001 movie A.I. Artificial Intelligence? A game known simply as "The Beast?" 

Years before Pokémon Go got people to hit the streets and rediscover their world, The Beast took early internet culture by storm and paved the way for all of the alternate and augmented reality games we are obsessed with today.

In case you’ve forgotten, A.I. was a movie originally developed by Stanley Kubrick, but which was finally brought to the big screen under the helm of Steven Spielberg. The story follows the adventures of a little robot boy as he attempts to be turned into a person after he is abandoned by his human family. At the time, the hype surrounding the film mainly swirled around the ways in which Spielberg was translating Kubrick’s original vision. It became one of the most hotly anticipated films of the time prior to its release, and while it didn’t turn out to become the cinema classic many people had predicted, its wild, interactive marketing campaign became the first large-scale ARG, inspiring a whole genre of gaming and countless viral marketing campaigns.

The game began not with a flashy, direct announcement, but with a credit hidden in plain sight in the block of fine print on the film’s poster. There among the names of producers, actors, and editors was a credit for Jeanine Salla, Sentient Machine Therapist. There was no indication that this odd position was the beginning of a sprawling, immersive interactive murder mystery, but this was in fact the first “rabbit hole” into the A.I. Alternate Reality Game, which would come to be known as The Beast.

Apologies for the image quality. (Photo: Quentin X/Fair Use/Warner Brothers)

Any curious souls who followed up on Salla, or what a Sentient Machine Therapist was, could find their way to Salla’s website, a wholly fictional site claiming to exist in the year 2142. From there you could follow to the site for Bangalore World University, another invented institution that appears to hail from the far future, and so on and so forth. Before long, players were on the trail of a murder mystery taking place in 2142, some 50 years after the events of the not-yet released A.I.

The project was the brainchild of a group of “puppetmasters,” as they were eventually credited in the film, who directed the story and designed the puzzles. They worked for Microsoft, who had obtained the game rights to A.I., apparently before having read the script.

“I don’t know if you’ve seen A.I., but it’s not a movie that lends itself to gameplay,” says Sean Stewart, the award-winning author who wrote the game. Stewart, who came to the project after it was turned down by author Neil Stephenson, describes the film as an “emotional family drama"—not really the stuff games are made of. But while film’s story wasn’t that easily game-ified, its large sci-fi world was fertile ground for such a story, and the growing popularity of the internet seemed to the puppetmasters to be the perfect place to let their emergent narrative unfold.

“It was a very early attempt to understand how the internet WANTS to tell stories,” says Stewart. “A printing press makes a certain kind of art, a motion picture camera makes a certain kind of art. Well it turns out that the internet makes a certain kind of art too, and The Beast was that.”   

There was every chance that no one would have caught on to the subtle clue on the poster. “We’d been sitting around for anyone at all to find any of this stuff for more than two weeks,” says Stewart. But eventually nerdy film buffs caught on and began hitting the internet message boards of the day (hello Ain’t It Cool News and Yahoo!), and began working with each other to figure out what exactly was going on with this bizarre promotion.

Deeper down the rabbit hole. (Photo: Colin/CC BY-SA 4.0)

Once players found their way into the story of the game, they became embroiled in the mystery surrounding the murder of character Evan Chan. The story weaved in and out of emails, telephone numbers, and movie-related press, across four months, with new episodes of four or five puzzles each getting released once or twice a week. At one point in the development of the game, it was found to encompass 666 different assets, giving it its popular "Beast" nickname among the puppetmasters.

As players found new clues, they would have to solve new puzzles that led to more clues that drove the story along. “For instance, you might find somebody’s web page, but there would clearly be a secret page where they kept their innermost thoughts, that was password protected. And you’d have to figure out what that password might be,” says Stewart.

The 30+ puzzles were both ingenious and devilishly tough. One of them ended up forcing the players to break the World War II Enigma code, but only if they could figure out that that was the solution based on a picture of a faucet and a sound file of dripping water. “From there you had to figure out that those were the rotor and plugboard settings for an Enigma machine,” says Stewart. Players who solved the mystery revealed a note claiming responsibility for the murder of a series of sentient houses (remember, the game is set in 2142). Other puzzles included esoteric elements like semaphore and 15th-century French lute tablature.

Thousands of players began to take part in the game, following the clues and really throwing themselves into the mystery, creating a living puzzle-solving engine that was hard to beat. Stewart says that the puppetmasters had created what they thought was enough game content to last them for four months, but most of it was discovered and solved within days once the game caught on.

The beating heart of the player machine was central online community of fiercely devoted players on Yahoo!. They called themselves the Cloudmakers, after Chan’s sentient, robotic boat. Despite starting life as a licensed tie-in to a film, the game acquired a loyal player community who took play very seriously.

“It came along at just the right moment when the internet made that kind of connected community possible,” says Jay Bushman, an avid player of the game, who has since gone on to begin career in transmedia storytelling himself. But it wasn’t merely lucky timing that made The Beast such a hit, it was the quality of the game that kept people interested. “It wasn’t just that the story came at us from all directions in continually surprising ways, it was that we CARED about the characters and their fate,” says Bushman.

Both the players and the puppetmasters fell into the story with equal fervor and they both began directing the path of the story as it went along. “[The puppetmasters] worked basically a hundred hours a week for four months on this thing, which is really hard to do,” says Stewart. “But it was made possible by the fact that on the other side of the game were these people for whom this was Woodstock.”

The puppetmasters had already began to step up their game to create more challenging puzzles, but as The Beast grew, players would pick out inconsistencies in the story that the creators would then have to address, leading to the community often directing key parts of the story. Live events even began to be integrated into the narrative. Players would meet up and solve puzzles presented to them by actors working with the puppetmasters.

After months of puzzling mysteries the story of the game had sprawled from one covered-up murder to a national referendum on robot rights to decide whether they were people or property. The Beast came to an end with a vote from the players on the rights of robots. Main characters in the game, including the now-adult brother of the robot boy in the film, had fallen on either side of the debate, attempting to persuade players to join one side or the other. In the end, the player community voted for robot emancipation, but in a sign of how richly developed the game world had become, there was only about a 10 percent margin of difference, according to Stewart.

At the end of the game, Stewart and the other puppetmasters revealed themselves, thanked the community for helping make the game such a success, and showed their true faces for the first time. The Cloudmakers forum itself was shuttered, but many members of the community spun off to create their own ARGs.

It’s unclear whether or not this grand experiment had much of an impact on ticket sales for A.I., but The Beast's influence on gameplay and storytelling is still being felt. “It may not have invented any techniques, but it was the first project to take a whole bunch of disparate methods and roll them together into a single, large scale, epic story that reached a big audience,” says Bushman.

Mixing fiction and reality into an immersive experience is only becoming more and more common in gaming, storytelling, and advertising, and we owe a great deal of it to The Beast. Yes, even Pokémon Go. From Bushman, “It’s really interesting to see the current online conversations about the pros, cons, biases, dangers and joys of Pokémon Go echoing many of the same design conversations we’ve had over the years. So I’d say it’s a direct descendent.”  

Pokémon Go will lead to some less-than-cute discoveries. (Image: shah141/DeviantArt)

For the second time in a week, a Pokémon Go player has found a dead body. In the more recent incident. a player was walking around a “popular park” in Nashua, NH, 7News Boston reports, when he found a body floating in the water.

There is a jarring contrast in a story where a person ventures out to play Pokémon Go—with the carefree intention of capturing digital creatures who show no signs of pain or suffering—and instead has to confront death. But the sad fact is that people come across dead bodies every day. Each morning, as I look for unique and intriguing discoveries, I navigate past many stories of people who died in unpleasant ways and whose bodies have been discovered by accident.

This morning, for instance, there were reports of a homeless man whose body was found in a wetland in Raleigh, a newborn baby found dead in a Missouri pond, a hiker found dead in his tent beside a Colorado trail, skeletal remains uncovered on a farm in Ohio, a woman who’d been shot in Indianapolis, a body “believed to be male” found in Paducah, Kentucky, a 17-year-old who died swimming in Washington State, a professor who died after falling into a canyon, and a woman whose body was found under an overpass in Houston.

People going about their normal lives stumble across dead bodies every day: the sample above only includes the incidents that happen to make the news. If people continue playing Pokémon Go with even half the amount of current fervor, players will likely keep discovering dead bodies. There are endless wonderful discoveries to make about the world by just walking around. But there are some darker ones, as well.

Every day, we highlight one newly found object, curiosity or wonder. Discover something amazing? Tell us about it! Send your finds to sarah.laskow@atlasobscura.com. 

German broadside depicting the varied performances of the ‘Fire-King’ Paul Schwarzenberg and the contortionist C. Coppal, 1839. (All photos: Courtesy of Houghton Library, Harvard University)

 If you’re looking for materials related to performance, the Harvard Theatre Collection will have something for you. Even if what you're looking for is a photo of a man stretching his facial skin as though it were made of spandex.

Founded in 1901, and part of Harvard’s rare books and manuscripts collection in the Houghton Library, it's one of the largest performing arts collections in the world.

Fortunately, you don’t necessarily have to visit to experience this unique collection. In March of this year, curator Matthew Wittmann began posting a variety of performance-related ephemera on the Harvard Theatre Collection’s Instagram account, from the obscure to the well-known. 

Says Wittmann: “I came to Houghton Library with a background in the history of the American circus so I am partial to popular entertainment, which not coincidentally seems to produce a lot of eye-catching material. Still, we have a very broad collection so I try to show that with images of ballet dancers, set designs, photography, etc.”

 

A beautiful color lithograph of the American acrobat Richard Risley Carlisle (1814-1874) drawn by the artist Alexandre Lacauchie and printed by J. Rigo et Cie in Paris. Risley's “sons” were young performers that were incorporated into his act, most famously by rolling into balls that he would juggle with his feet. #risley #acrobat #circus #gymnastics #lacauchie #lithography #paris #harvardtheatrecollection

A photo posted by Harvard Theatre Collection (@harvardtheatre) on Mar 16, 2016 at 7:52am PDT

 Wittmann, who joined the collection earlier in 2016, found it took some time to get a handle on all there is to offer. “Probably the most fascinating discovery has been the Burns M. Kattenburg Collection, which documents the careers of hundreds of contortionists from around the world. It has a little bit of everything—letters, ephemera, photographs—and some of the subjects performed truly incredible feats so it is great just to browse through.”

A signed photo of Ben Dova in a "hair pin" pose from the  Burns M. Kattenburg Collection.

Among the other highlights in the Harvard Theatre Collection are over 400 annotated Shakespeare scripts dating back to 1756. Actors, directors and managers all made their marks, quite literally, on the yellowed pages that now reside in the archives. Then there’s the Angus McBean Archive, a vast collection of photographs of British theater stars and productions from the 1930s through to the 1960s. When Harvard acquired the collection in 1970, the 30,000 images and glass negatives were transported from the UK by ship.

While the collection is searchable online, Instagram can help in getting the material seen by a broader audience. “I think that Instagram has proved to be a great way for librarians and museums to give the public a look at their collections," says Wittmann. “Ideally, a viewer will learn something new with every post.” 

Atlas Obscura was so intrigued by the Collection that we asked Wittmann to delve into the archives; the results are this quirky and unusual collection of images. With Instagram, Wittmann ultimately wants “people to come away with is an appreciation for the breadth and depth of our collections. And of course, I hope this window into our world will lead students and researchers to visit and use the collection for their own projects and work.” 

You can follow the Harvard Theatre Collections on Instagram at @harvardtheatre.

A stunning portrait of the serpentine-hatted snake-charmer "Girleto."

Chromolithograph poster depicting the one-legged trick rider Charles G. Kilpatrick performing his signature feat, ca. 1900.

Cabinet card of Leon, an iron-jaw performer, which shows off his impressive strength.

Engraving depicting a performance by E. D. Davies, an Irish ventriloquist who used figures named Tommy and Joey, ca. 1860s.

Cabinet card of Maurice, the "Tasmanian Elastic Skin Man."

Cabinet card featuring one of the feats performed by Mazie Hanson, the “iron-chested Amazon.”

Hand-colored etching of assorted equestrian tricks performed by the Franconis, one of the great European circus families, ca. 1800.

Woodcut engraving advertising a performance at the "Monkey Theater" in Munich, 1840.

Canadian customs at Pohénégamook, which shares the border with Estcourt Station, Maine. (Photo: Kevin Williams)

Estcourt Station is a smudge of a village that straddles the Maine-Quebec border at the northernmost tip of the state. Although it’s technically in Maine, you can’t get there by way of American roads. At least not easily.

The quickest way to get to Estcourt Station from anywhere else in the U.S. is to exit Maine through the town of Fort Kent, loop through a corner of the Canadian province of New Brunswick, then drive on into Quebec, on an hour-long trek through gritty logging towns and French-speaking hamlets. You can cross back into Maine by way of the 2,970-person Quebec town of Pohénégamook.

Looming somewhere past a pizza place is the international border line, where Pohénégamook becomes Estcourt Station. But even after entering the American side through a checkpoint, it can be confusing to know which country you are actually in at any given moment. The border is a generally invisible boundary that indiscriminately hopscotches through gardens (a resident’s potato plants might be in Maine, while their radishes are in Quebec), runs through kitchens and across back porches.

The only foot bridge linking Maine and Canada where you can cross without checking in with customs (even though you are technically supposed to). (Photo: Kevin Williams)

Adding to the confusion in Estcourt Station is the fact that cottages on the U.S. side, along with the local Gulf Gas Station, all have 418 Quebec area codes and receive their electricity from Hydro-Québec. These American homes are the only ones in the country to have Canadian area codes. There aren’t many of them, either: the last U.S. census lists the total population on the Maine side as four people. According to a representative of the U.S. Postal Service, mail is delivered to three addresses there twice a week.  

When visiting Estcourt Station recently, I spied a bank of mailboxes with the familiar insignia of the U.S. Postal Service and drove toward it. But then a Canadian customs agent on foot seemed to materialize from nowhere, and approached my slow-moving car.

“Technically, you just entered the U.S. illegally,” she declared, with more of a shrug than any severity. “The border is behind the building.” To enter the U.S. in an above-board fashion, the friendly agent, Annica Lebel, advised that I check in with the U.S. customs agent about 100 yards down the road. It was difficult to believe there would be a staffed station of border agents at this nowhere post but sure enough, just down the street from the Canadian office was a gate to enter the United States.

A map showing Estcourt Station and Pohénégamook, and the US-Canada border. (Photo: © 2016 Google)

As the border angles northeastward it cuts through a couple of houses. In those homes, the border slices through living rooms and kitchens, a lasting legacy of a historical tug-of-war between the British and the United States over where the boundary should be. The Webster-Ashburton Treaty of 1842 set the current, somewhat bizarre border.

If you happen to be one of the dozen or so Canadians that live on Rue de la Frontiere, the border is both everywhere and nowhere. Although the delineation is less than clear in many areas, “Residents in the U.S. border area are responsible for knowing the location of the international boundary,” says Sean Smith, Public Affairs and Border Community Liaison Officer in the Boston field office of U.S. Customs and Border Protection.

A retired Canadian man named Raymond Trudel lives at 1165 Rue de la Frontiere, in a house that straddles both sides of the border. He’s allowed to enjoy all areas of his property, including his Canadian living room and his American backyard, but he can’t venture beyond the property line in back–if he did, he would be entering the United States illegally. He is however, allowed to wander around the U.S. in his own backyard, but nowhere else. 

The boundary runs right through this vacant house. (Photo: Kevin Williams)

“Où est la frontière?” I ask Trudel. He motioned for me to come with him. We walked along his porch and he brought me to his back deck and pointed in a sweeping motion. The Canadian-U.S. border runs right across his back deck. If he’s going to grill, his burgers would be flame-broiled in the U.S.

He then points to his garden and shed. “Dans Etas-Unis.” It’s in the United States.

Lebel notes that someone like Trudel has to pay property taxes to the United States and Canada. “It’s definitely unique and causes all sorts of interesting situations,” she says. For instance, if his shed were vandalized, Trudel would have to call the Aroostook County Sheriff’s Office some two hours away, on the Maine side. A spokesperson for the Sheriff’s Department told me that hasn’t ever happened but that, yes, they would have to respond.

This is unlikely. Even though the U.S. census claims four people live in Estcourt Station, the year-round population is actually zero, according to Lebel. “The last full-timer was a retired forest service ranger, but he was old and moved to Fort Kent last year,” she says.

This gas station about 200 feet from the border was the site of the Michel Jalbert incident. (Photo: Mrgriscom/CC BY 3.0)

Apart from people like Trudel whose properties straddle the line, but are considered residents of Canada, there are a handful of Americans who spend summers in Estcourt Station. A couple from Kentucky owns one of the units. It’s not the easiest place to relax, though: “They are expected to abide by our hours,” says Lebel. “On the weekends they need to be in their houses by 5 p.m. and can’t leave until Monday morning at 9 a.m.” Those are the hours of the border crossing.

Even the Gulf Gas Station, located about 200 feet inside the U.S., heeds these hours; it’s open daily, but only from 9 a.m. to 4:45 p.m. This particular filling station was the site of the notorious 2003 incident in which a young Canadian father crossed the border after hours in an attempt to get gas and was nabbed by the U.S. border patrol. The man, Michel Jalbert, spent 35 days in jail for entering the U.S. illegally, something that Secretary of State Colin Powell later called an “unfortunate incident.” 

Lebel said everything changed at the border after September 11, 2001. Even the customs agents don’t enjoy the cordiality that they used to. “They sort of do their thing and we do ours,” Lebel says. She patted the sidearm on her waist. “This can cause problems too.” She can’t just go over and chat with her U.S. counterpart, as she’d be entering a foreign country with a firearm.

Your laundry hangs in the U.S., while the rest of your life is in Canada. (Photo: Kevin Williams)

Despite the seemingly porous border here, the reality is that anyone wishing the U.S. harm would be making a very unwise decision if they tried to slip into the country via Estcourt Station. If they entered by vehicle they’d face hundreds of miles of unforgiving private logging roads that turn to pudding during spring and summer rains. And winter? Forget it unless you are driving a logging truck with chains and the ability to navigate 10-foot snowdrifts.

And if you tried to enter on foot through the Parc de La Frontiere, well, you’d have that same hundreds of rugged miles to contend with, except you’d be on foot.

Lebel said there are occasional rumors that this remote checkpoint will be closed, but for now, it remains open. Still, if you want to visit the most isolated border town in the contiguous 48 states, you better make sure you have a full tank of gas first. It’s a long drive.

A typically opulent 1880s soda fountain, in a drugstore in British Columbia. (Photo: Bettman/Getty Images)

On a hot day, a cold soda can feel downright luxurious. Pop the tab, tip your head back, and the sweet liquid transports you somewhere a little cooler; a little slower.

The presentation, though, leaves something to be desired. Sure, an aluminum can works fine, but think about it—wouldn't that ginger ale have tasted just a little better if it had come fizzing out of a bright copper spigot? Perhaps one connected to a six-foot-tall, marble-and-glass fountain, decorated top to bottom with taxidermied animal heads and Greek statuary?

In the golden age of soda—from the 1830s all the way through the 1920s—such dispensaries were de rigueur. Parched customers got their fixes from glitzy, monstrous machines, designed to make refreshment a truly multi-sensory experience. 

The "Mammoth Soda Fountain," at the 1876 Centennial Exposition, was about 30 feet tall. (Image: New York Public Library/Public Domain)

At first, soda machinery was a matter of necessity. 19th-century consumers were enthralled by the supposed healing properties of fizzy water, but for druggists to meet this demand, they had to find a way to put the bubbles in. A few chemists stepped forward with ideas, but the first to truly crack the case was John Matthews, a British expat who came to New York to seek his fortune in the burgeoning soda water industry. Matthews invented an easily-installable carbonation machine, which made brewing and serving fizzy drinks easy. Soon, his models could be found across the city.

Around the same time, thanks to the introduction of syrups, fruit juices, essential oils, and cream, mineral water was transforming from medicine to dessert. All of a sudden, a plain old nozzle wouldn't cut it. "More dramatic, alluring forms were needed," writes Anne Cooper Funderberg in Sundae Best: A History of Soda Fountains—"eye-catching, seductive forms that promised the customer a hedonistic treat."

"The Corinth," one of many offerings in John Matthews's 1882 soda fountain catalog. (Photo: Public Domain)

The first person to rise to this occasion was G. D. Dows, a design-minded drugstore clerk from Lowell, Massachusetts. Tired of spending his shifts laboriously shaving ice by hand, Dows cooked up a crank-based apparatus that did it for him. He added more gizmos: measuring decanters, a soda-water tube, and eight silver-plated syrup spigots, each with a tiny eagle perched atop it, wings spread wide. Then, he covered the whole thing in white marble from a nearby tombstone cutter's shop.

Soon, Dows was slinging soda fountains instead of soda: "They became so popular that he could not supply the demand for them," reported Chemist and Druggist 20 years later.

Thus begun, essentially, a soda fountain arms race. Inventors sought the perfect combo—the most efficient technology in the most ostentatious package. The "Monitor Crystal Spa," by William Gee, had a spinning carousel for syrups, and was topped by a tasteful nude statue. J.G. Low's massive three-sided fountain featured a tile mosaic depicting a kind of soda origin myth, in which dancing angels crushed fruits into a "Fountain of Thirst." One well-worn story had an old woman mistaking a soda fountain for a war monument, and the many sparkling water types it advertised—Saratoga, Deep Rock, Washington—for battles.

Another of Charles Lippincott's fountains from the 1876 Centennial Exposition—with taxidermed deer heads, a Greek statuette, and a bouquet on top—as drawn in James Dabney McCabe's Illustrated History of the Centennial Exposition. (Image: James Dabney McCabe/Public Domain)

The most prolific inventor was still Matthews, eventually known as "the Neptune of the Trade." His creations, collected in this illustrated catalog, appear almost sentient, and are futuristic and retro all at once. The "Frost King" featured gas jets ("for illumination at night"), six different kinds of marble, a "pyramid superstructure," and 60 embedded jewels.

The "El Dorado," with its marbled roof and all-seeing eye motif, looks like an Illuminati pinball machine. Still more innovations never quite caught on—dig into 19th-century patents and you find soda dollhouses, actual fountains, and iceberg-shaped nozzle covers which "produce Frost on their Surfaces."

Perhaps the height of soda opulence came with the nation's Centennial Exposition, held in Philadelphia in 1876. In a rare show of collaboration, rival fountaineers James Tufts and Charles Lippincott purchased the dispensary rights for the entire show, and collaborated on about a dozen massive fountains: the quaint Hartford, the intimidating Saxon. Outside one exhibit hall, in the hot sun, stood the largest of all—a three-story behemoth festooned with ferns, chandeliers, elaborate murals, and seventy-six syrup spigots. People loved it. "It is the largest fountain in the world," summed up one attendee, "and is by far the handsomest."

Hall's Pharmacy in Mifflinburg, PA, sporting a tulip-topped soda fountain, curlicue chairs, marble counters, and fancy mirrored walls. (Photo: Library of Congress/LC-USZ62-11379)

Businesses snapped up smaller versions of these crowd favorites, and once inside, these soda fountains didn't keep to themselves. In many cases, their new aesthetic bubbled up over the counters and spilled into the rest of the establishment. "These marble fountains changed the ambience of the entire drugstore," writes Fundenberg. "Many pharmacists updated their decor by removing traditional curiosities, like ugly snakes or [preserved] organs." It was a shiny new age of drugstore decoration: chandeliers, Tiffany lamps, mirrored walls, even musical automatons.

By the end of the 19th century, most major cities boasted hundreds of fountains, and even frontier towns had one or two. 'You can sit and while the hours away consuming inordinate quantities of iced soft drinks," wrote one Londoner on a visit to New York, "and listening to a band for a nickel in the slot machine, not infrequently a horrible but ingenious German contrivance of a fiddle played by electricity."

A more restrained model, now on display at the New Orleans Pharmacy Museum. (Photo: Ryan Lackey/CC BY 2.0)

But all fads, even the stickiest, must fade. Slowly, carbonation machinery got smaller, reducing the need for a full-on chemistry setup. "The wall temples began to disappear in favor of the modern counter, with the apparatus hidden inside of it," writes Joseph L. Morrison in a 1962 eulogy to the trade. The now-empty space was filled with mirrors, and clever stacks of glasses. Slick had replaced baroque.

It's enough to make you look forlornly at your SodaStream. But if you want to tap into the true legacy of soda, there is one place you can still go: John Matthews's grave. Not unlike his fountains, Matthews's monument, in Brooklyn's Green-Wood Cemetery, features red granite columns, sculpted animals, and carved scenes involving the great man's various inventions—as well as a statue of Matthews himself, lying prone, perhaps from a brain-freeze. 

On rainy days, the gargoyles turn into waterspouts, pouring one out for the lost age of the soda fountain.

Russia is building a hypersonic stealth bomber than can launch nuclear bombs from spacehttps://t.co/9Kyp7KtFrIpic.twitter.com/MzjpWRZmtS

— IBTimes UK (@IBTimesUK) July 14, 2016

Russian officials have told state media that they are developing a bomber that will be capable of firing nuclear missiles from outer space, according to the state-controlled Sputnik News.

Such a bomber would be illegal under international law, and it's unclear if the aircraft will ever actually materialize, but officials said this week that they were working on it, and hoped to have a test bomber operating by 2020. 

Officials also unveiled a rendering of the bomber (above), and said that it would be capable of hypersonic speeds, or speeds over five times the speed of sound. 

“The idea is that the bomber will take off from a normal home airfield to patrol Russian airspace. Upon command it will ascend into outer space, strike a target with nuclear warheads and then return to its home base,” Lt. Col. Aleksei Solodovnikov told the state-owned RIA Novosti, according to Sputnik News.

Russia claims it has already been testing engines, which will be unveiled at a military conference in September.

A functional space nuclear bomber, however, is a different matter. We will believe it when we see it.

Here we have a bear—a cub, actually, from the looks of it—that somehow found itself trapped inside of a station wagon. 

"How did he get in?" A deputy says on the video. "I don't see a broken window."

How did he get in? Nobody knows!

But bears are known to be very smart. Presumably this bear would have to count as one of the smarter ones, having somehow opened a car door and closed it behind him. 

A black bear cub in Yellowstone National Park. (Photo: RikkisRefuge Other/CC BY 2.0)

The bear got into the car Monday night outside of Denver, according to National Geographic. And the officer you see in the video—from the Jefferson County, Colorado Sheriff's Office—freed the bear Tuesday, giving the beast several hours to destroy the car's interior. 

But this bear, I think it's safe to say, earned it, while also providing everyone with a reminder that if you're in bear country, simply closing your car doors at night might not be nearly enough.

Think dogs are a man’s best friend? One tortoise begs to differ.

In this video posted by the YouTube account Strange Happenings, one 62-year-old retired funeral parlor owner goes out for a leisurely stroll around Tokyo with his shelled and somewhat slow pet.

The owner’s name is Hisao Mitani. According to the video’s description, he found the giant African tortoise, which he named Bon-Chan, at a pet store about 20 years before and fell in love with the animal. Bon-Chain was once so small that he could fit in Mitani’s hand, but now he stretches around three feet long and weighs about 70 kilograms, or 154 pounds. Baby tortoise is all grown up!

Mitani has reportedly been walking Bon-Chan around the streets several times a week for two decades. But for this 20-year-old reptile, a member of a species known to live up to 100 years, it’s just the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Every day we track down a Video Wonder: an audiovisual offering that delights, inspires, and entertains. Have you encountered a video we should feature? Email ella@atlasobscura.com.

A wild Pinser appears in Brooklyn. (Photo: Author)

It’s 2016, Pokémon are (augmentedly) real, and everyone is losing their minds. After a week of traffic accidents, cliff accidents, trespassing, and mobs descending on public spaces, it is time for cooler heads to prevail, and various governments and nonprofit organizations are stepping in to provide some level-headed guidelines for catching ‘em all.

Including, it seems, the U.S. Department of Defense.

Within the U.S. government, operations security (OPSEC) refers to the process intelligence officers and other government workers follow to protect unclassified information that could be used by adversaries to cause harm. Generally, it means being aware of what you’re posting on social media, writing in emails, or talking about in public, keeping in mind that such information could make its way into an adversary’s hands.

Since Pokémon Go uses GPS, there’s good reason for military officers and other government workers to be mindful of OPSEC considerations before playing the game. Six days ago, in fact, an anonymous member of the military posted to Reddit’s r/pokemongo forum to ask other servicemembers if the game presented an OPSEC concern.

Currently deployed in Afghanistan and wanna Catch em' All. Anyone see any concerns or problems with Opsec regarding base location ect [sic] before I download and get Poke-weird all over the base?” the conscientious soldier wrote.

Fellow Redditors replied that they thought it would be fine, since location data isn’t (currently) shared with other users. But apparently, the government has officially weighed in on the matter, according to a document posted on Twitter by Thomas Rid.

US Government operational security guidance for intelligence officers and friends playing Pokémon GO

UNCLASSIFIED pic.twitter.com/yAASF3XR46

— Thomas Rid (@RidT) July 16, 2016

According to the guidelines, which Rid claims were shared with him by a government officer, OPSEC best practices include avoiding playing the game anywhere that shouldn’t be geo-tagged, not using a personal Gmail account with the game or a username associated with your social media accounts, exercising caution when taking pictures of Pokémon with the in-game AR camera, and staying aware of your surroundings. As Rid notes, generally good advice even if you aren’t an intelligence officer.

The security-minded advice follows a wave of safety tips from police departments and organizations across the country. In the past week, the Fairfax County Police Department, Concord Police Department, Auburn Police Department (site of this week’s Pokémon Go-related car accident), San Francisco Police Department, Connecticut State Police, and the Greater New York Red Cross have all issued safety checklists for playing the game. They all provide the same common sense tips: be aware of your surroundings, don’t trespass, travel in pairs or groups, and don’t try to catch Pokémon while you’re driving a car.

The game hasn’t been around long enough to determine whether the current craze is a short-term fad or a permanent shift in our priorities as a society; either way, players will hopefully begin to take these safety guidelines to heart.

"The poster craze in candidateville," an 1896 political cartoon by C.J. Taylor. (Photo: Library of Congress / LC-DIG-ppmsca-28889)

Every four years, American backyards, TV screens and now mobile phones are filled with tiny reminders that presidential politics and great graphic design do not often meet.

Current trends favor some amount of brevity. Beginning with Barack Obama’s widely-recognized 2008 campaign logo, a polished, professionally designed, preferably initials-only emblem has seemingly become de rigeur for U.S. presidential campaigns.

Presumptive Republican nominee Donald Trump’s logo followed this pattern, although its release on Friday, unveiled in tandem with the candidate’s announcement of his running mate, Indiana Governor Mike Pence, generated more conversation. While his opponent Hillary Clinton’s logo received a decidedly mixed response when it debuted last year, the criticisms pale in comparison to the negative reaction the Trump/Pence logo has received, with many critics taking the opportunity to make innuendo-laden remarks about the intersection of Trump and Pence’s initials.

But this year’s Republican nominee is hardly the first to create promotional material laden with peculiar design choices. Since the 19th century, presidential campaigns have produced posters, buttons, banners, and slogans to promote their candidate, and while a few have become iconic symbols of their eras—think Eisenhower’s “I Like Ike” slogan—there’s been more than a few unusual choices along the way.

A Man of the People (Or Something)

Perhaps inspired by Andrew Jackson’s successful leveraging of popular appeal to win the presidency in 1828, campaign operations in the following decades often worked to portray their candidate as a hard-working “man of the people.” To modern eyes, some of the efforts come across as gimmicky at best.

First, we have Whig candidate William Henry Harrison, who in 1840 integrated his party’s commoner-centric “log cabin” imagery into what some consider the first modern political campaign.

"Harrison & Tyler" campaign emblem, 1840. (Illustration: Library of Congress / LC-DIG-ds-00706)

Basically, Harrison ran on an image of being the guy who will invite you into his log cabin for hard cider; the original “candidate you’d like to have a beer with.” The Whigs also played up Harrison’s military service_the source of the “Tippecanoe and Tyler too” slogan—and the combination of popular appeal, decorated service, and careful avoidance of controversial issues like slavery allowed Harrison to win the election.

Ohio farm boy James Garfield similarly used the “common man” image to ascend to the presidency. An 1880 Currier & Ives print depicted this quite literally, showing a muscle-bound Garfield swinging a scythe of “honesty, ability, and patriotism” to cut a path to the White House, trampling the snakes of calumny, falsehood, and fraud along the way. If nothing else, the image demonstrates that campaign materials have lacked subtlety for over a hundred years.

Farmer Garfield: Cutting a swath to the White House, 1880. (Illustration: Library of Congress / LC-USZC2-2317)

America’s manliest president, Teddy Roosevelt, lacked the humble upbringing of Garfield and Harrison, instead leaning on his military service and time in the American West to craft an image of courageous masculinity.

Roosevelt was never shy about his service with his “Rough Riders” in the Spanish-American War, and severalphotographs of Roosevelt during the war are well-known.

For President Teddy the rough rider, his policy equal rights for all, 1904. (Illustration: Library of Congress / LC-DIG-ppmsca-36697)

Which is why this poster, which might best be described as “1904’s version of terrible Photoshop editing,” feels like an attempt at promoting Roosevelt’s military image that doesn’t quite work out.

Wm. H. Taft - "good times", 1908. (Illustration: Library of Congress / LC-DIG-ppmsca-10590)

Finally, we have this 1908 poster of Roosevelt’s successor, William Howard Taft. Taft, who was born into a middle-class Ohio family and was known more for his dedication to academic pursuits and legal work than the derring-do of his predecessor, is pictured here wearing a label or price tag of some sort that reads “Good Times.” In the catalog of mythologizing candidates as a campaign strategy, this is probably one of the less successful efforts.

Well, That’s Technically a Slogan

Trump’s “Make America Great Again,” deliberately evokes Ronald Reagan’s 1980 campaign slogan “Let’s Make America Great Again.” While Reagan’s campaigns demonstrated a widely-acknowledged mastery of political messaging, many, many candidates—both successful and failed—didn’t share the Gipper campaign’s aptitude for sloganeering.

Most relevant to Friday’s logo analysis, the 1852 election saw Franklin Pierce promising America, “We Polk-ed You in ‘44. We Shall Pierce You in ‘52.” Pierce, considered a longshot for the presidency, hoped that by associating himself with James Knox Polk, another dark horse who ended up a very popular president, voters would be convinced that another vote for the underdog would lead to another prosperous four years. Surprisingly, the weirdly aggressive slogan worked.

Anecdotally, President William McKinley famously ran for re-election in 1900 on the strangely uninspiring slogan “Let Well Enough Alone,” alluding to a first term marked by economic growth, swift victory in the Spanish-American War, and the acquisitions of Puerto Rico, Guam, the Phillippines, and Hawaii. Ironically, although McKinley won the election, he was assassinated in 1901.

Teddy Roosevelt's "meh" pin. (Photo: Political Memorabilia/Public Domain) 

Even more ironically, collectors of political memorabilia have unearthed a campaign button that suggests that his vice-president and successor Teddy Roosevelt was the one who actually used the slogan (or perhaps re-used it) when he ran in 1904, having served his first term as an elevated vice-president. In that context, the slogan definitely carries a connotation of, “Well, you didn’t actually elect me, but everything is fine, so let’s just go with it, OK?”

F for Effort

Obama’s 2008 logo definitely set the standard for initial-based campaign logos, but his campaign didn’t invent the concept. Earlier in the 20th century, a few candidates attempted logos that might remind you of some you’ve seen in this election cycle—for better or for worse.

Two predecessors to Clinton. (Photo: Public Domain and Mears Online Auctions)

 For instance, Hillary Clinton’s “H” logo has a predecessor in 1968 Democratic candidate Hubert Humphrey’s “triple-H” logo—although given the tumultuous events of the 1968 Democratic nomination contest, it’s not likely to be an association Clinton’s campaign is eager to see brought up. Similarly, Clinton isn’t the first candidate to use an arrow. That honor belongs to 1972 contender for the Republican nomination, John M. Ashbrook, whose logo includes a left-pointing arrow with a superimposed “No” symbol, meant to portray Ashbrook as the only Republican not “turning leftward” politically. Unfortunately, his campaign buttons made it appear as if the “No” symbol applied to both the left turn and his name.

Another ‘72 also-ran, Democrat Vance Hartke, featured illustrations of a heart and a key on his logo, presumably to teach his supporters how to pronounce his name. At the Democratic National Convention that year, Hartke received one electoral vote.

Ill-fated. (Photo: Jeb Bush)

Finally, it’s understandable to think Trump competitor John Ellis “Jeb!” Bush was the first to include an ill-advised exclamation point in his logo, given the pummeling he took in the media for it. But Jeb! has company in 1996 Republican-nomination-seeker Lamar! Alexander. In fact, Republican senator and 1996 presidential candidate Bob Dole shared a similar affinity for punctuation. Both his 1980 and 1988 attempts to seek the Republican nomination involved a logo that read, “Bob Dole. President.”

Of course, just a day after Trump’s ill-advised logo made its debut, the campaign has quietly replaced it with a more traditional, initials-free variation. But while the gaffe may stay fresh through November, it will fade into embarrassing campaign history sooner or later.

Setting up the 2012 Republican National Convention. (Photo: Mallory Benedict/PBS NewsHour / CC BY-SA-2.0)

The Republican National Convention kicks off tomorrow, and with not a moment left to spare, convention organizers have released the official delegate seating chart for the event, designating which states’ delegates get front-row seats and who is left to languish in the far corners of the venue.

Every convention, politicos dive into the arrangements, looking for clues on the power rankings of various people and states. Like so many other aspects of the 2016 election, the RNC's seating arrangements break with political convention, seemingly catering more to the presumptive nominee’s desire to pay back primary race slights than currying favor for the general election battle ahead.

The official 2016 RNC seating chart, released yesterday. (Illustration: 2016 Republican National Convention)

As political observers have been quick to note, the arrangements appear to be chiefly determined by who won the state’s Republican primary. States won by nomination winner Donald Trump, like New York and California, received prime seating for their delegates, while states that voted for other nominees—including Texas, home state of bitter rival and convention speaker Ted Cruz—are stuck in the nosebleeds.

This might sound like overreach, but it's like the seating chart for a wedding, full of friends, enemies, and just plain unbearable people, all painstakingly arranged in order to stroke the right egos and send some pointed messages.

Trump is not just rewarding states he swept; he wants unfriendly delegates, like from Ohio, away from stage. https://t.co/vbq5Id2G1U

— Trip Gabriel (@tripgabriel) July 17, 2016

Normal nominees don't do this. They're afraid of demonstrations on the floor. https://t.co/5CeClquCbg

— Patrick Ruffini (@PatrickRuffini) July 17, 2016

RNC seating chart revealed, Texas and Ohio hardest hit. pic.twitter.com/bhkf3HpJZo via @CelesteKatzNYC

— southpaw (@nycsouthpaw) July 16, 2016

Judging by past conventions, the seating choices made for this year’s Republican convention are a decided break from norms. Take, for example, the 2008 Democratic National Convention. A New York Daily News analysis of the seating chart that year described it as “pure politics,” noting that key battleground states received prime seats, while states assumed to be a lost cause for Democrats sat in the back. The takeaway was a clear sign that “[e]very word, thought and gesture by the Dems between now and Election Day will be focused on swing states and independent voters.”

It’s worth noting, too, that this unifying approach was in spite of a fiercely fought contest for the Democratic nomination; the Democratic primaries fielded eight candidates in 2008.

The 2008 DNC chart also conveys a clear focus on the general election, which was shared by  the 2012 RNC seating chart. In a VTDigger article analyzing Vermont’s participation in the 2012 Republican convention, Vermont delegation chairman Craig Bensen explained that seating was generally determined by “how red, blue, or swing the state is for the presidential election.” That year, Vermont—generally relegated to “a corner in the dark under the stairs”—saw a slight improvement in their view, ending up to the far right of the stage with Kansas and Hawaii, perhaps as a nod to 2012 candidate Mitt Romney’s New England ties.

At the 2016 RNC, swing states like Pennsylvania, Virginia, and even convention host Ohio have been given less-than-ideal seats, even when Trump won their primaries, while solidly Democratic states New York, New Jersey, California, and Connecticut, among others—are up-front and center for speeches from Trump’s family members, Republican leadership, and soap opera star Antonio Sabato, Jr. 

 A selection of UK fanzines from the punk and immediate post-punk era. (Photo: Jake from Manchester, UK / CC BY-2.0)

Punk—the music, fashion, and cultural phenomenon that heralded a drastic shift in American and British youth culture—is middle-aged, with 2016 marking the 40th anniversary of the Ramones’ debut album, The Sex Pistols’ Anarchy in the U.K, and other movement milestones. Like many approaching middle-age, punk has found itself developing a mainstream appreciation, becoming the focus of museum exhibits, art shows, and film festivals, including the British Library’s Punk 1976-1978exhibit, highlighting punk’s genesis in London.

Other exhibits such as the Met Costume Institute’s 2013 Punk: Chaos to Couture have faced accusations of lifelessness and commercial appropriation in high-classpublications. Now, the Library’s exhibit is facing a decidedly….well, a decidedly more punk rock style of criticism, from none other than one of British punk’s legendary figures.

@laurasnapes@JonSavage1966 proof! pic.twitter.com/20HldYT4od

— Viv Albertine (@viv_albertine) July 16, 2016

While taking part in a public talk on punk late last week, punk icon Viv Albertine became incensed at the British Library exhibit’s erasure of female musicians from London’s early punk scene. So after the event ended, Albertine did what any good punk would do—she defaced the exhibit’s introductory sign.

Crossing out the names of bands The Clash, The Sex Pistols, and The Buzzcocks (all comprised entirely of men) Albertine scrawled in women-led groups The Slits, X-Ray Spex, and Siouxsie and the Banshees. To ensure her message was clear, she added, “What about the women!!” and her signature.

Albertine has a real point; as the lead guitarist of the reggae-inflected punk group The Slits, Albertine has first-hand knowledge of her and other women’s integral role in the early London punk scene. The Slits toured with The Clash on their seminal 1977 White Riot tour—a gig they nabbed in part due to Albertine’s friendship with Clash members Joe Strummer and Mick Jones. Some music writers even believe that The Clash’s 1979 hit song “Train in Vain” is a response to The Slits’ song “Typical Girls,” and inspired by Albertine’s break-up with Jones earlier that year.

Aside from the band’s connection with The Clash, Albertine was close friends with The Sex Pistols’ bassist Sid Vicious, and Pistols lead singer John Lydon became Slits leader became Ari Up’s stepfather after he married her mother, Nora Forster, during The Sex Pistols’ short-lived career. The Slits, along with X-Ray Spex and Siouxsie and the Banshees, were featured extensively in the seminal 1977 documentary The Punk Rock Movie as one of the punk bands playing The Roxy music club during the earliest days of London punk. 

And these bands didn’t make punk history just because of who they were friends with, or even just because they featured women — the Slits were among the first punk acts to incorporate the sounds and structure of reggae and dub, X-Ray Spex introduced punks to saxophones, and Siouxsie Sioux pretty much invented the goth look and sound.

Albertine chronicled her participation in the burgeoning punk movement in her 2014 autobiography Clothes, Clothes, Clothes. Music, Music, Music. Boys, Boys, Boys. In an interview with Channel 4 Newsregarding the book, Albertine describes punk’s intersection with feminism, saying, “I think we shook up the English establishment. It was a very, very patriarchal society; you never questioned the doctor, the dentist, the judge, your uncle, your father—you never questioned a male, especially as a young woman.”

Albertine goes on to describe her autobiography as a “self-help manual, in a way, for young girls.”

It’s no wonder, then, that she felt so compelled to make sure the contributions of the women she played alongside in the early days of punk do not go ignored, nor that she chose the most punk way imaginable to do so.

The British Library hasn’t indicated whether they’ll remove Albertine’s additions to the exhibit, but Faber Social, who organized last week’s talk, has made their allegiance clear, tweeting, “Viv Albertine is still more punk rock than you!”

1856 campaign poster for John C. Frémont. (Image: Public domain)

In 1856, the newly formed Republican Party nominated its first candidate for the American presidency. Hundreds of delegates had gathered in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, with the aim of sending into the election a candidate who would represent their antislavery position. The men of the Republican Party were drawn from a hodgepodge of political loyalties and backgrounds, and this is what united them: they believed slavery in the United States should be limited—even eliminated. 

There were a handful of men the delegates considered for the nomination, but one man was an early frontrunner—John C. Frémont. The "Pathfinder," as he was known, had made his name exploring the western territories, and had the greatest name-recognition of the possible candidates. He was also, originally, a Southerner, an unusual trait among early Republicans, and had been openly and vocally opposed to slavery for decades. By the time of the final vote, three of the four other candidates had dropped out, and Frémont won the nomination handily, with 520 votes to his opponent's 37.

Frémont might have been famous, but for a presidential candidate, he had one unusual stain in his history. Less than a decade earlier, he had been tried and found guilty by the U.S. Army of insubordination and mutiny.

John C. Frémont. (Image: Matthew Brady/J.C. Bottre/Public domain)

Frémont was known for his brashness. Whenever a more powerful person gave him a bit of leeway, he took the opportunity to take as much freedom for himself as possible.

He became famous through a combination of political patronage and daring. As an ambitious young topographer, held back by his birth out of wedlock, Frémont married the daughter of a powerful Washington senator. Then, under commissions acquired through his father-in-law’s influence, Frémont set out west, to map routes to the Rocky Mountains and beyond.

Out in the field, Frémont navigated lands still controlled by native peoples or by Mexico, which governed the area that’s now California, Nevada, Utah, and large parts of Arizona and New Mexico. Frémont’s journeys weren’t just about cartography, though: his father-in-law believed in the Manifest Destiny doctrine, rationalizing expansionism, and those maps he was making were meant to help American pioneers take over the West.

On his third journey, Frémont dropped his role as an explorer and became a conqueror. When he arrived in California, Frémont was working for the Corps of Topographical Engineers, which was organized by the U.S. Army but was supposed to pursue scientific aims—documenting the region in maps and statistics. On his previous journeys, Frémont had studied the hydrology of the Great Basin that stretches across Nevada.

But this third expedition, though purportedly scientific in nature as well, included a group that was much larger and carried more weapons. The Mexican-American war had not yet begun, but as the U.S. and a newly independent Texas discussed a possible union, it was possible to foresee a conflict and a chance for the U.S. to seize still more territory.

Frémont and his men did not sally into California territory as a military force. The area’s Mexican governor initially gave Frémont’s expedition permission to enter, but soon grew suspicious of their motives and forced the group to retreat to Oregon. Yet after receiving orders from D.C.—it's never been clear exactly what they said—Frémont moved back into California.

The map made from Frémont's expeditions to the Rockies, Oregon, and California. (Image: LOC 96688041/Public domain)

Back in Mexican territory, Frémont did what he could to wrest control from the authorities without declaring war. His small band of men wasn't going to take over California on their own. But he did help instigate the Bear Flag rebels—a small group of Americans living in California who revolted against Mexican authorities—to take over Sonoma and form their own government. The rebellion had started.

Not long after, the U.S. Navy arrived on the California coast. The ships had been sent to the Pacific to guard U.S. interests against the British, who, American leaders thought, had their own designs on California. When naval forces found that Frémont had already sparked an American rebellion in the area, they jumped into the battle and started conquering coastal cities. Once the Navy arrived, Frémont dropped all pretense of being a disinterested scientist. He learned that he had been given an military office—he was now a lieutenant general in the Army, and he led his small force of Americans in battles that helped take control of the coast.

The American effort to conquer California wasn't as organized as it might have been, though. Soon, besides Frémont, there were two major military leaders in California, Commodore Robert Stockton, of the Navy, and General Stephen Kearny, of the Army. Each of these men thought the conquest and governance of California was his responsibility. Neither was inclined to obey the other. Frémont was caught between them—and his efforts to turn the situation to his own advantage went badly. 

The capture of Monterey. (Image: Adolphe Jean-Baptiste Bayot/Public domain)

Once California was in American hands, the military leaders needed to set up a system to control it—they needed a governor. Commodore Stockton had a claim to the office: his forces had taken control of California before Kearny's forces had even arrived. Kearny had a claim, too: his orders from the Army were to take over California and install himself as military governor.

As the hero who had launched the whole campaign and taken control of key cities, including Los Angeles, Frémont had his own designs on the office. At one point, Stockton, Frémont and Kearny all claimed to be governor of California. But when Stockton left the area, he named Frémont military governor, perhaps just to needle Kearny.

Frémont ran with it, and when Kearny tried to order him around, he told the General that, until he was shown good reason, he would continue to follow the authority of Stockton, who had, after all, conquered California. Stockton had made Frémont governor, and so he was governor.

This conflict did not end well for Frémont. Eventually, Kearny, who was 30 years Frémont's senior, was able to maneuver around the younger man and assert his authority over the new territory. Frémont reluctantly agreed to travel back east, under Kearny’s command.

By the time he reached Missouri, Frémont had been essentially taken prisoner, and in St. Louis, the General filed formal charges against the upstart explorer. Frémont was taken to D.C. to stand trial before a military court, for mutiny, insubordination and other offenses. If he was found guilty, the usual sentence for these charges was death.

Frémont seemed not to be as troubled by his situation as he ought to be. Reunited with his wife, they even spent one night driving “in the moonlight out to the school in Georgetown and looked up at the back window where the Colonel’s first love letter had come up hidden in a basket of laundry,” his wife later wrote. He mounted a thorough defense against Kearny’s charges, arguing that he was obeying orders—just not Kearny’s orders—and that the confusion could be traced all the way back to conflicting commissions from the Navy and Army in D.C.

The military men who sat in judgement did not buy it: Frémont was found guilty on all counts. But President Polk commuted his sentence, in part because of the influence of Frémont’s father-in-law, but also out of a desire to avoid a greater scandal. Polk ordered Frémont back to his unit, but the mapmaker was no longer interested in serving in the Army. He quit and returned as a private citizen to California, where gold had been found on a property he owned.

Just a few years after being tried for mutiny, Frémont was rich, and when California became a state, he was voted in as one of its first senators. He didn’t hold the position for long—he lost it because of his anti-slavery stance. But that made him an ideal candidate for the new Republican Party, which ran him under the slogan: Free Soil, Free Men, Frémont.

Dog bones. (Photo: University of Alberta/Robert Losey)

Not far from Salkehard, Russia, archaeologist Robert Losey is digging up dog bones. As Live Science reports, Losey, an associate professor at University of Alberta, recently uncovered “the carefully buried remains of five dogs.”

The site where Losey works, the Ust-Polui archaeological site, is far north, close to the Arctic circle. The people who lived there millennia ago depended on dogs to survive. They had teams that pulled sleds and helped them hunt for reindeer. But Losey’s research has shown, the people who lived in this area likely ate dogs as well: some of the bones he’s found have cut marks on them, indicating that they were butchered.

The five newly discovered skeletons are part of a growing collection of finds at this site. At least 115 dogs were buried at this site, Losey told LiveScience. That’s an unusually high concentration of dog burials. And some of them were very carefully placed into the ground. In some cases, “the dogs were being treated just like people when they died,” Losey has said.

Every day, we highlight one newly found object, curiosity or wonder. Discover something amazing? Tell us about it! Send your finds to sarah.laskow@atlasobscura.com. 

(Photo: Courtesy of Adel Souto)

Tired of the terrestrial lifestyle? We here at Atlas Obscura have just the cure. For Underwater Week, we’ve compiled a list of upcoming water-themed events taking place around the country. From forays into the remains of shipwrecks to voyages into industrial wastelands, there’s no shortage of extraordinary aquatic adventure. They’re listed here in order of soonest to farthest into the future, so dive right in and get exploring!

1. Obscura Society SF: Sutro Baths and Shipwrecks

San Francisco, California

July 30

(Photo: Courtesy of Annetta Black)

Join the San Francisco Obscura Society for an exciting exploration into the ruins of the Sutro Baths and of three shipwrecks nearby. Traverse through tunnels, climb to a historic Sky Tram overlook, and catch one-of-a-kind glimpses of wreckage of the freighters Ohioan, Frank Buck, and Lyman Stewart in all their ravaged glory.

2. Obscura Society LA: Sunken Ship Hike

Palos Verdes Estates, California

July 31

(Photo: Courtesy of Erin Johnson)

Come explore the ruins of a 1961 shipwreck off the coast of Palos Verdes Estates in California. How exactly it ended up there on its way from Portland to Algiers is a mystery, but it left a half-mile stretch of wreckage, from the smallest bits and scraps to a large chunk of the ship that to this day hasn’t been washed away.

3. Obscura Society NY: Dead Horse Bay Excursion

Brooklyn, New York

August 6

(Photo: Courtesy of Hannah Frishberg)

Named for the bones that was up on its shores, Dead Horse Bay is a living relic of days past in which actual boiled horse bones from the carcasses of New York City’s many horses were dumped into the bay. Led by Underwater New York, this excursion through the beaches littered with bones, vintage bottles, and toys will explore the area’s rich history. 

4. Obscura Society IL: A Land-Based Exploration of the Chicago River's North Branch

Chicago, Illinois

August 6

(Photo: Courtesy of Loren Rozewski

Join us in Chicago for a walking tour of the North Branch of the Chicago River, a hidden wonder unbeknownst to many tourists and native Chicagoans. You’ll learn about how the river played a role in the history of European exploration, how it played a role in Chicago’s sewage system, and the state of the river today and the wildlife it supports.

5. Obscura Society NY: The Poison Cauldron of the Newtown Creek

Brooklyn, New York

August 21

Photo courtesy of Mitch Waxman

DUKBO, or “Down Under the Kosciuszko Bridge” in North Brooklyn, isn’t called the “Poison Cauldron” without good reason. Visit the waste transfer and petroleum districts that are found along Newtown Creek, see the site of the Greenpoint Oil Spill, and take a trip into Greenpoint’s industrial past while surrounded by current machinery and vehicles working around and at the Kosciuszko reconstruction project.

6. Obscura Society SF: Ichthyology Collections Tour

San Francisco, California

(Date TBA)

(Photo: Courtesy of California Academy of Sciences)

The process will not be this futuristic. (Photo: Idaho National Laboratory/CC BY 2.0)

Mumbai’s aggressive growth is set to erase a man-made 5th century cave to make way for the new Navi Mumbai International Airport. But as DNA India is reporting, the ancient cavern may yet live on in digital form.

The cave, located near Waghivali Pada village, was carved out of one giant piece of rock, with six pillars supporting the ceiling. The local villagers believe that the cave was once a temple to the local deity Keru Mata, and have seen it as a holy site for decades. But researchers haven't found any evidence to support this, and, according to an academic survey, the cave would have more likely been used for storage by passing merchants.

No matter the original use, the Archaeological Survey of India found no significant heritage value to it and approved its demolition. The cave will be collapsed and flattened to make way for the airport, but before that happens, a pair of anthropologists are trying to preserve it in pictures.

Using a technique called photogrammetry, the pair hope to extensively document the cave with photographs so that it could one day be recreated digitally from their source images. Hopefully, in other words, maybe someday we’ll be able to revisit the doomed cave in a holodeck of the future.

A sea creature as a cartography tool. [Photo: PJ Mode Collection at Cornell's Digital Library/CC BY-SA 3.0]

Many animals have been used in cartography to represent countries or landmarks, but one in particular has developed a stranglehold: the menacing, tentacled octopus. 

“I can’t think of a good octopus,” says PJ Mode, the collector of over 800 persuasive maps that are in the process of being digitized at Cornell University Library. “It’s a great symbol of grasping, overreach, and evil.”

PJ Mode shows additional octopus maps in his Manhattan apartment. They are a part of 500 additional persuasive maps that will be digitized by Cornell University Library. [Photo: Lauren Young]

The image of the octopus is prolific in persuasive cartography—maps that are primarily intended to influence opinion or beliefs rather than communicate objective geographic information, Mode defines. In these maps, cartographers use the octopus as a symbol of power and oppression, often showing its tentacles unfurling around the globe. “Such symbols have a high emotional impact and convey their meaning at a glance,” Judith Tyner, a geography professor at California State University, Long Beach wrote in the Journal of Geography. 

The first traceable use of octopuses in cartography was in 1877 by British map artist Fred W. Rose. He illustrated a war map that depicted Russia as an enormous, grey octopus, alluding to the country’s territorialism. Ever since, cartographers have continued to use the octopus to send messages about political agendas from expansionism to Communism.

Here are four maps from Mode’s persuasive map collection that put the octopus to use.

A Humorous Diplomatic Atlas of Europe and Asia

A satirical map of Europe and Asia in 1904. [Photo: PJ Mode Collection at Cornell's Digital Library/CC BY-SA 3.0]

Perhaps one of the most popular uses of the image of the octopus is to illustrate expansionistic Russia, writes University of Helsinki geography professor Katariina Kosonen in the journal National Identities.

Fred W. Rose’s 1877 Serio-Comic War Map of Russia as a monstrous, smoky grey octopus inspired Japanese illustrator Kisaburō Ohara to show the country’s overbearing reach during the Russo-Japanese War. In his 1904 map, created when he was a still a student at Keio University, Ohara’s pudgy octopus twists its arms around different countries represented by comic caricatures either trying to fight off Russia’s reach to no avail or observing complacently. The octopus’s eight arms extend to Finland all the way to Korea.

On the map, Ohara wrote: “For the black octopus is so avaricious, that he stretches out his eight arms in all directions, and seizes up every thing that comes within his reach.”

The map’s legend and text is in English, as Ohara intended it to be a message for the British. The document was created right after Japan successfully conducted a surprise attack against the Russian fleet anchored at Port Arthur, Manchuria—this marked a turning point in a heavy naval-powered war. Ohara’s map urged Britain, a dominant naval force, to maintain its neutrality and keep its fleet out of the conflict. He was adamant that Japan could fend for itself as the scripture in the upper-left corner says:  

“The Japanese fleet has already practically annihilated Russia's naval powers in the Orient. The Japanese army is about to win a signal victory over Russia in Corea and Manchuria. And when ... St. Petersburg? Wait & see! The ugly Black Octopus! Hurrah! Hurrah! for Japan.”

The Indies Must Be Free! Work and Fight For It!

Indie Moet Vrij! Werkt en Vecht Ervoor! [Photo: PJ Mode Collection at Cornell's Digital Library/CC BY-SA 3.0]

This 1944 propaganda poster by Patrick Cokayne Keely, a British graphic artist known for his World War II posters, features a darkened, yellow octopus crowned with the red rays of Japan’s flag. Six arms extend out and their suckers latch on to the Dutch East Indies (present-day Indonesia), signifying Japan’s control during World War II. The map was published by the Dutch government-in-exile in London to show Japan’s campaign and occupation of the Dutch East Indies in a negative light. Keely’s use of bold, contrasting colors emphasizes the message.

War is the National Industry of Prussia

La Guerre est l'Industrie Nationale de la Prusse [Photo: PJ Mode Collection at Cornell's Digital Library/CC BY-SA 3.0]

Illustrator and poster designer Maurice Neumont created this World War I satirical, political map in 1917. Serving as a French propaganda poster, this map portrays Prussia as a green octopus that curls its arms around different countries across Europe. The sea creature also wears a “pickelhaube,” the common spiked helmet worn by German soldiers during the 19th and 20th centuries.

In the right corner, three soldiers signify historical periods of Prussia’s military. The first two soldiers represent Prussia’s militia in a comical light, Neumont mocking the strength of Prussian soldiers in 1715 and 1815. The third largest soldier holds a bloodied bayonet, his uniform smeared with fingerprints made in blood. This figure “symbolizes the greatly increased, existential threat to French survival,” writes map journalist for Big Think, Frank Jacobs. “Message to the war-weary French populace: kill or be killed.”

Neumont made the map for “La Conference au Village contre la Propaganda en France” to help boost patriotism and morale in provincial France. At the bottom of the map is a quote from French General Phillipe Pétain: “Under attack, we are merely defending ourselves in the name of Liberty and to preserve our lives.”

The Red Octopus

Communism's progression shown as an octopus. [Photo: PJ Mode Collection at Cornell's Digital Library/CC BY-SA 3.0]

Here, a ferocious bright red octopus emblazoned with a white star represents the Soviet Union on the cover of a 1980 pamphlet. The map shows the spread of Communism into Turkey, Iran, Afghanistan, and Pakistan—the U.S.S.R octopus’s arms spindling down. Henry Mohr and Oliver Starr created the pamphlet to warn how quickly the Soviet Union’s control had gained momentum over the preceding two decades.  

Map Monday highlights interesting and unusual cartographic pursuits from around the world and through time. Read more Map Monday posts.

Stargazers are a family of saltwater fish that developed eyes on the tops of their heads in order to gaze at the stars—or to spy on prey swimming above, blissfully unaware of the predator camouflaged in the sand below.

The action in this video compilation starts 20 seconds in, accompanied by the upbeat songs "Yodelling Blues" and "Jumping with Dean," which really heighten the viewer experience. Aquatic ambush has never been so lively. 

Watch as the stargazer—of which there are about 50 species—shimmies down under the sand and patiently waits for its next meal. Suddenly, it lurches upward, clamps down, and promptly swallows the fish or squid whole. Woof.

Because you were undoubtedly desirous of a more complete picture of this fantastical creature, here's just one of those 50 species:

A Northern stargazer. Why the long face? (Photo: Canvasman21/CC-BY-SA-3.0)

As if their ambush tactics weren't enough, stargazers also have the power of electric shock, as well as venom. Some species even have a worm-shaped lure growing out of their mouths that they can use to attract dinner. However, stargazers also serve as a dinner delicacy themselves in some places and can found sold at certain fish markets.

Ichthyologist William Leo Smith calls the creatures the "meanest things in creation." 

Every day we track down a Video Wonder: an audiovisual offering that delights, inspires, and entertains. Have you encountered a video we should feature? Email ella@atlasobscura.com.

Here's why Wally the dead whale keeps returning to Southern California beaches https://t.co/wQ5ycoZEEopic.twitter.com/M7APKDUHCG

— LB Press-Telegram (@presstelegram) July 16, 2016

On June 30th of this year, as Fourth of July revelers began flocking to Los Angeles's Dockweiler State Beach, another guest showed up, too. It was the decomposing carcass of Wally the whale, formerly famous for blasting rainbow-tinted spray from her blowhole. At this point, onsniffers told NBC Los Angeles, "the smell was pretty awful."

No big deal. Authorities towed Wally's body back out to sea, and left her to decompose naturally. Perhaps she would take part in a whale fall, the life-renewing process through which a dead whale becomes the foundation for new, thriving communities of undersea creatures.

Or not! She was soon spotted near the beach at San Pedro. She got another tow, and fishermen later saw sharks snacking on her out near the Palos Verdes Peninsula.

A few days later, Wally returned to shore—this time to Newport Beach, where lifeguards spent an entire day yanking her back out to sea. They did the same thing the following day, after a southerly wind brought her back.

Next she hit up Dana Point, where Harbor Patrol intercepted her before she got to shore. Then on to San Clemente State Beach. Finally, on Sunday, she touched down at Grandview Beach in Encinitas. Attempts to bulldoze her back into the water failed when her weight popped two of the vehicle's tires.

Defeated, the National Marine Fisheries gave permission for the whale to be cut up and transported to a San Diego landfill, 10 News reports. Dead Whale Hot Potato is a game no one really wins.

Every day, we track down a fleeting wonder—something amazing that's only happening right now. Have a tip for us? Tell us about it! Send your temporary miracles to cara@atlasobscura.com.

The world's oldest basketball court. (Photo: Paris YMCA)

Pokémon players currently swarming the world in search of Psyducks and Pinsers can send their creatures into battle at the nearest virtual PokéGym. But the real world has some fascinating, unusual, and beautiful gyms of its own.

Like PokéGyms, these places are only visible to those who go looking. Here is where to find them. Who knows, there may even be a Charizard waiting for you when you get there.

The Highest Court of the Land

WASHINGTON, DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA

(Photo: Oliver Hong/Atlas Obscura)

The U.S. Supreme Court has always been known as the “Highest Court of the Land,” but there's one more court that sits above the Supreme Court—literally. Aptly also named “The Highest Court in the Land,” the Supreme Court's basketball court is on the fifth floor of the United States Supreme Court Building. That's considerably higher than the courtroom, which is located on the second floor.

Port Angeles Underground

PORT ANGELES, WASHINGTON

Wall painting in an area where miniature golf was played. (Photo: Chelo White/Atlas Obscura)

In the early 1900s the town of Port Angeles, Washington had a foul sewage problem, the drastic solution to which was raising the street about 10 to 14 feet so the waste could be contained underground. Today some underground portions of the pre-elevated town remain, including a boxing gym, old bowling alley and a brothel. A tour of underground Port Angeles is available, with fascinating details about this radical engineering feat.

World's Oldest Basketball Court

PARIS, FRANCE

(Photo: Paris YMCA)

Basketball was invented in 1891 in a Massachusetts YMCA, and has gone on to become a quintessential American institution. Yet today the sport's oldest court can be found in the basement of a YMCA in Paris. The first European b-ball court was modeled off the original gym in Springfield, Massachusetts. But while today the YMCA in Springfield is now part of a college campus, the Paris YMCA's court is still in use.

Tempest Freerunning Academy

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

Tempest Academy gym. (Photo: Tempest Academy)

Looking like a cross between a gymnasium, Ninja Warrior obstacle course and a level from Super Mario Brothers, this LA-based academy is one of the first places dedicated to teaching the art of freerunning and parkour—running, jumping, flipping and balancing on various objects and over obstacles while traveling from point A to point B.

Ezzard Charles' Former Boxing Gym

CINCINNATI, OHIO

Cincinnati Color Building. (Photo: Ohio Redevelopment Projects/CC BY 2.0)

Cincinnati’s Over-The-Rhine neighborhood is an architectural gem. In the 1940s and 50s one of these buildings was home to the gym of boxing great Ezzard Charles, also known as the Cincinnati Cobra.

In 1950 Charles became heavyweight champion by taking out the great Joe Louis and held the title through his next four fights. He trained regularly at a gym in a building on Vine Street that still stands today. The current occupants have paid tribute to the Cincinnati Cobra with pictures of his famous bouts and a vintage 1950s-era punching bag and gloves.