Matt's Today in History

Feed URL
http://www.podshow.com/feeds/mattstodayinhistory.xml

mattstodayinhistory@gmail.com

Click Here To Join The MTIH Frappr Map

MTIH T-Shirts and Stuff

My Photo
Name: Matt Dattilo
Location: Jeffersonville, Indiana, United States

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

The Super Outbreak, April 3, 1974

Listen here

The voice you heard during tonight's intro belonged to Dick Gilbert, a Louisville, KY-based helicopter pilot for WHAS, a 50,000 watt AM station located there. To hundreds of thousands of Americans who live in the central and eastern parts of the United States, Gilbert will always be remembered as the voice of the Super Outbreak, the largest tornado cluster on record for a 24-hour period. From April 3rd to April 4th, 1974, 148 tornadoes touched down in 13 states and the Canadian province of Ontario. It remains today a formative memory for millions of people.

The meteorological event that triggered the Super Outbreak occurred on April 1st, when an unusually powerful low pressure system formed over the Great Plains. As it moved into the Mississippi and Ohio Valleys, the front brought several small tornado outbreaks with it, including three killer twisters in Alabama, Kentucky and Tennessee. Forecasters for NOAA, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, knew that April 3rd would bring with it violent storms. But no one predicted the extent of the violence to come.

By the early afternoon of the 3rd, clusters of thunderstorms had developed in central Illinois, eastern Tennessee, central Alabama and northern Georgia. The tornado outbreaks began at this time and intensified as the supercells traversed the Ohio Valley between 4:30 and 6:30PM Eastern Daylight Time. Tornadoes touched down in Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, Ohio, Kentucky, Tennessee, Alabama, Mississippi, Georgia, North Carolina, Virginia, West Virginia, New York and the province of Ontario. Combined, the damaged areas covered over 1,000 square miles. If the 148 tornadoes' paths had been combined, the total length of destruction was more than 2,600 miles.

Six of the tracked tornadoes were categorized as F5s on the Fujita scale, meaning they possessed wind speeds from 261-318 MPH, a force strong enough to strip the bark from trees and hurl automobiles over short distances. The Fujita (or F) scale had only been in use for three years in 1974, and never had so many violent tornadoes been tracked in such a short period of time. Of course, the true measurement of a storm's force is not known until a damage assessment is done, but experienced weathermen throughout the region knew that F4 and F5 tornadoes would be making an appearance. In addition to the six F5s, there were 24 F4s, one of which near Monticello, Indiana stayed on the ground for 121 miles, the longest path for this outbreak.

At one point in the afternoon, so many tornadoes were on the ground simultaneously that forecasters in Indiana placed the entire state under a tornado warning, an event that had never occurred before or since. One of the hardest hit towns was Xenia, Ohio. One half of the city was either completely destroyed or heavily damaged and left 34 killed and over 1,100 residents injured. The largest metropolitan area to receive a direct hit was Louisville, KY, which was hit by an F4 tornado early in the outbreak. The twister's path through town was 22 miles long, completely destroying over 900 homes and severely damaging thousands of others. Miraculously, Louisville only suffered two direct deaths from the storm and 207 injuries.

Dick Gilbert, the man whose voice you heard at the beginning of this episode, followed the Louisville tornado through most of its track and then flew over the area again giving damage reports and letting motorists know which streets were blocked. The station for which he worked, WHAS AM, remained one of the few avenues of communication open to citizens and emergency workers. The station employees were later commended by Kentucky Governor Wendell Ford for their professionalism. For his part, Dick Gilbert received a special commendation from then-President Richard Nixon.

All told, in the United States and Canada, 330 people were killed by the Super Outbreak and another 5,500 were injured. Property damage assessments vary, but in today's US dollars the cost would be in the billions. The storms of April, 1974 gave a generation of meteorologists volumes of data from which to learn, data that continues to be analyzed today, almost 35 years later.

Sunday, March 30, 2008

USS Missouri Decommissioned, March 31, 1992

Listen here

Today in 1992, the USS Missouri was decommissioned at Long Beach, California. Thus ended the career of the United States’ last battleship, a vessel that served the nation through three wars and helped maintain the balance of power during the last decade of the Cold War.

The USS Missouri, called “Big Mo” or “Mighty Mo” by the men who served aboard her, was the last vessel of the Iowa class to be commissioned. Designed in 1938, Missouri and her three sisters were the culmination of nearly half a century of battleship design. However, the ships came on the scene at a time when large guns and heavy armor were giving way to fast aircraft carriers. The battleships and heavy cruisers of the world’s fleets would no longer form the tip of the offensive spear at sea, but would serve as escorts and platforms from which to bombard distant shores.

The Missouri was launched on January 29th, 1944 and christened by Mary Margaret Truman, the daughter of Harry S. Truman. She was commissioned into the Navy on June 11th, 1944 and immediately set off on her shakedown cruise. She entered the Pacific Theater war zone in January, 1945 as part of Task Force 58, the first Allied force to launch carrier-based air strikes against mainland Japan since the Doolittle Raid in April, 1942. From there, the task force steamed to Iwo Jima, where the Missouri used her 16-inch main guns in support of the invasion of February 19th. March, 1945 found Missouri off the coast of Japan again as navy aircraft bombed bases near the Inland Sea. That same month, she bombarded the beaches of Okinawa in preparation for the invasion of that island.

On April 11th of that last year of the war, a low-flying kamikaze plane managed to sneak through Missouri’s defenses and hit the ship on her starboard side just below the level of the main deck. A small gasoline fire erupted, but was quickly brought under control and left only superficial damage. The Japanese pilot’s body was recovered, something that did not often happen in the case of kamikaze attacks. Missouri’s captain, William Callaghan, ordered that the young man receive a proper military funeral, a decision that was not popular with the ship’s crew. Later, Callaghan explained himself by saying that the young pilot had done his duty to the best of his ability and had done so with honor, despite the fact that he was trying to kill as many Americans as possible. It was Callaghan’s hope that if the situation were reversed, the Japanese Imperial Navy would grant an American pilot a military funeral.

USS Missouri became the 3rd Fleet flagship in May, 1945 and spent the summer hitting targets on Okinawa and the Japanese Home Islands. She was on station on August 15th when word was received that Japan had accepted the allied demand for unconditional surrender. Two weeks later, on August 29th, Missouri steamed into Tokyo Harbor to serve as the location for the signing of the official instrument of surrender. She had been chosen for the task by President Truman, who was from the state of Missouri and had a special place in his heart for the battleship. On September 2nd, 1945, representatives of all the Allied Powers arrived on board. They were from France, China, the Soviet Union, England, Australia, Canada, the Netherlands and New Zealand. The Japanese delegation arrived a few minutes before 9AM. 23 minutes later, the surrender ceremony was concluded and the most devastating war in human history was over.

The end of the war brought with it large military reductions, but the Missouri was initially spared. Although all three of her sister ships were placed in reserve status, Big Mo kept her place in the active fleet through the direct intervention of President Harry Truman. The Navy saw the ship as a symbol of times past, but events would prove the brass wrong when, in June 1950, North Korea invaded South Korea and introduced the world to the concept of limited war. The Missouri was quickly sent to the Pacific again and by September was on the firing line off the coast of North Korea. She moved from one assignment to another up and down the coast until March, 1951, when she was relieved and sent back to the east coast for overhaul. She would return to the Korean war zone one more time in the fall of 1952 and remain there until spring of the next year. She went on a midshipman training cruise during the summer of 1954, during which time she met up with her three now re-activated sisters, the only time all four sailed together. The next year, with President Truman long gone from office, Missouri was sent to the Pacific Reserve Fleet. By 1958, all the Iowa-class battleships found homes there.

With the exception of the USS New Jersey, which was re-commissioned in 1968 for a one year tour off the coast of Vietnam, the US Navy had nothing to do with her battleships for nearly 30 years. That changed in the early 1980’s when President Ronald Reagan committed the United States to a 600-ship navy. Missouri was reactivated in the summer of 1984 and her modernization began. Her nine giant 16-inch guns were kept, but much of her anti-aircraft artillery was removed because it was no longer effective. She was loaded with Harpoon anti-ship missiles, launchers for Tomahawk cruise missiles and four Phalanx Close In Weapons System guns for protection against enemy missiles and aircraft. When she was formally re-commissioned in May, 1986, the Missouri was the most heavily-armed warship to ever put to sea.

As it is today, the Persian Gulf was an area of great tension during the decade of the 80’s. After an around-the-world cruise in 1986, Missouri was sent to the Gulf to take part in Operation Earnest Will, a US-led mission escorting Kuwaiti tankers. She spent over 100 continuous days at sea, an incredible feat for such a maintenance-intensive class of ship. She was back in the US for an overhaul in 1989 and served as the setting for Cher’s music video “If I Could Turn Back Time.” Those men in the background are real sailors.

The Missouri was called into action one more time, this during the first Gulf War in 1991. On January 17th of that year, she fired the first of 28 cruise missiles at Iraqi targets. Her guns were used for the first time in combat since the Korean War against Iraqi command and control bunkers later in the month before she became part of a planned diversion campaign meant to make Iraqi military leaders believe a seaborne invasion of Kuwait was underway. Two Silkworm missiles were fired at the battleship during this time: one was intercepted by a Royal Navy destroyer and the other one veered wildly off course. With the war soon over, the Missouri headed home in March, 1991.

The collapse of the Soviet Union in the early 1990’s brought another reduction in US military strength and the Missouri found herself on the chopping block once again. This time, however, she would not sit in Puget Sound as part of a forgotten fleet reserve. Instead, she was towed to Pearl Harbor, Hawaii and in January, 1999 opened as a public museum. She continues in this role today.

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Giuseppe Zangara Executed, March 20 1933

Listen here

Today in 1933, Giuseppe Zangara was executed for first-degree murder. While all but forgotten today, Zangara’s actions very nearly changed, in a significant way, the course of western civilization.

Zangara was born in September, 1900 in Ferruzzano, a village located on the “toe” of the Italian peninsula. After serving in the First World War, he worked for several years near his ancestral home. Growing restless, he left Italy with his uncle and came to the United States in 1923, settling in Patterson, New Jersey. In September, 1929, just days after his 29th birthday, Zangara became an American citizen.

Zangara’s induction as a US citizen almost exactly coincided with the stock market collapse in October, 1929. The ensuing depression hit the nation hard, but it was especially difficult for men who, like Zangara, had no education and limited skills. While he was a bricklayer by trade, Zangara soon found that he had trouble finding any work at all. This state of affairs was made worse by gall bladder problems, which caused him severe abdominal pain. This pain would later be blamed for Zangara’s mental instability.

In his unbalanced state, Zangara began to believe that the President of the United States, Herbert Hoover, was the cause of his troubles, both physical and economic. He despised anyone who had money, telling what few friends he had that all capitalists, presidents and kings should be assassinated. In 1932, Zangara began planning to assassinate Hoover. However, the election held in November that year brought another man to the White House: Franklin Roosevelt.

By early 1933, Roosevelt’s would-be assassin was living in Miami, Florida. Much to his surprise, the President-elect (inaugurations were not held until March in those days) was due to visit the city on February 15th and give a speech at the city’s Bayfront Park. Zangara bought a used .32 caliber pistol from a local pawn shop and joined the crowd gathering near Roosevelt. He was barely five feet tall and thus had to stand on a nearby folding chair in order to see the President-elect. He fired his first shot at FDR, but missed and hit Chicago mayor Anton Cermak, who was sharing the stage with Roosevelt at the time. People near Zangara grabbed his arm to keep him from hitting anyone else, but he emptied his revolver nonetheless. In the end, Cermak and four other people lay injured in the park.

Immediately after being arrested, Zangara confessed that he had, indeed, been the shooter. He showed no remorse and claimed to have bigger plans in which, as he stated before, he would kill kings and presidents first and then move on to capitalists. His trial was swift even by the standards of the day. He pleaded guilty to four counts of attempted murder and received a sentence of 80 years. It seemed as if Zangara would spend the rest of his life behind bars.

That changed on March 6th, 1933 when Anton Cermak died of his wound. Zangara was hauled back into court on the tenth and indicted for first-degree murder. He pled guilty and was promptly sentenced to death by electrocution. Ten days later the sentence was carried out at the Florida State Penitentiary in Raiford, Florida. According to eyewitnesses, Zangara was angry that no press photographers were there to capture his last moments. His last words were an angry command: “Push the button!”

Police and federal officials who interviewed Zangara concluded that his assassination attempt against the President-elect was the work of one mentally disturbed man, not the work of a larger group. However, as with so many other tragic events in American history, conspiracy theories abound as to what really happened in Miami 75 years ago today. It didn’t take long for residents of Chicago to begin claiming that Mayor Cermak, who was considered a mortal enemy of the Chicago mob, was the real target. According to their theory, Zangara was hired as a diversion from the real shooter, a professional sent to kill Cermak while security officers looked the other way. The idea of a “patsy” would rise again almost exactly 30 years later with the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. It would seem that many Americans have trouble believing that one disturbed person can change the world in a blink of the eye.

Monday, March 17, 2008

The First Spacewalk, March 18, 1965

Listen here

Today in 1965, Soviet cosmonaut Alexey Leonov became the first human being to exit an orbiting capsule and float free in space, attached only by an umbilical cord. This opened a new era in manned space flight and made possible projects such as today’s International Space Station.

Space flight was still a bit of a crude science in 1965. Yuri Gagarin had opened the age of manned space flight just four years earlier; the biggest difference in the intervening time was the introduction of multiple-man crews by both the Soviet and American programs. For this record-breaking flight, the Soviets converted their one-man ship design, called Vostok, to carry two crew chairs and an inflatable airlock to be deployed once the capsule was in orbit. The end result was called Voskhod 2.

Performing a spacewalk during the Voskhod 2 flight was important to the Soviets for two reasons. First, it would be a propaganda coup, demonstrating that the industrial and scientific might of the communist system was far ahead of the American competition. Further, as the space program continued, it would become necessary to both repair satellites in orbit and build things there from sections launched independently. Without these abilities, space exploration would continue to be nothing more than human payloads packed into tiny capsules pushed into low Earth orbit by converted ICBMs.

Voskhod 2 took to the sky on the morning of March 18th, 1965. Ninety minutes after reaching orbit, pilot Alexey Leonov extended the Volga airlock, a comparatively delicate device covered in thick fabric so it could be retracted for launch. Flight commander Pavel Belyayev remained inside the capsule as Leonov climbed into the airlock and closed the hatch behind him. After depressurizing the Volga device, he opened the outer hatch and pushed out into space, attached to the Voskhod capsule by a 50-foot umbilical cord. He stayed outside for twenty minutes as the spacecraft traveled from over Egypt all the way to eastern Siberia.

TASS, the Soviet government’s news agency, reported that the spacewalk proceeded without any problems. As was learned later, however, this was far from the truth. Leonov’s suit ballooned up, making it impossible for him to use his chest-mounted camera. He re-entered the airlock head first, then got stuck as he tried to turn around and close the outer hatch. To free himself, he was forced to bleed air from his spacesuit until the lower pressure allowed him to move his limbs once again.

Once back inside the capsule, Belyayev fired explosive bolts which jettisoned the Volga airlock. Much later Leonov revealed that he carried a suicide pill with him on the walk. If he was injured while outside the capsule or could not get back in, Belyayev would have been forced to eject the airlock and Leonov, leaving him in orbit instead of having both men die on re-entry. Whether future cosmonauts (or American astronauts) carried such pills is a matter of conjecture.

After 25 hours in orbit, Voskhod 2 began her return to Earth; one last challenge remained before the men. As with all Russian space missions, this one was slated to land somewhere inside the Soviet Union. While this did take place, the landing site ended up being a remote area in the Ural Mountains. Instead of being picked up in short order, the two cosmonauts had to spend the night in deep snow surrounded by wolves.

Alexey Leonov served as a cosmonaut for 26 more years, retiring in 1991. He was slated to be the commander of two more eventful flights: a circumlunar Soyuz flight and the first Soviet mission to the moon. After the American success in reaching that goal first, however, both flights were cancelled. Leonov only flew in space one more time as the commander of Soyuz 19, the Soviet half of the Apollo-Soyuz Mission which took place in July, 1975.

Today, EVAs (the term used for space walks, standing for ‘extra-vehicular activities’) are an essential part of manned space flight. The International Space Station could not be expanded or maintained without them. During the early days of the Space Shuttle program, NASA developed the Manned Maneuvering Unit, a propulsion pack which allowed astronauts to do EVAs without tethers. After the 1986 Challenger accident, however, the MMU was deemed too risky for regular use and was retired. As of now, tethered spacewalks continue to be the method of choice whenever astronauts or cosmonauts need to leave the safety of their

Thursday, March 13, 2008

The Battle of Dien Bien Phu Begins, March 13, 1954

Listen here

Today in 1954, the battle of Dien Bien Phu began. It would be the last set battle of the First Indochina War, a conflagration that would set the stage for another, more costly war in the decades to come.

Vietnam had been a French colony from the middle of the 19th century. Like many colonial powers, France ignored native calls for even limited self-government. During the Second World War, Japan occupied the country. This led to the creation of the Viet Minh, a communist movement led by Ho Chi Minh whose goal was to fight both the Japanese occupation and French claims to the country. On the same day the Second World War ended, Sept. 2nd, 1945, Viet Minh forces occupied Hanoi and declared independence from France. The French soon sent troops to the country, triggering the First Indochina War in 1946.

More than seven years later, French forces were far from victory. A series of in-country commanders were unable to stop the Viet Minh, whose only limitation was their supply lines. With this in mind, the French tried a new tactic. They set up a base at Dien Bien Phu located in the northwest corner of Vietnam. The area was mountainous, so the base would have to be re-supplied from the air. Higher mountains surrounded the place, but this was believed to give the Viet Minh no significant advantage. This belief would prove to be fatal.

French intelligence as to the makeup and distribution of Viet Minh forces was sorely lacking. It was believed the communists only commanded a light force, with little artillery or other heavy weapons. In fact, the Viet Minh owned so much heavy artillery that even as the base at Dien Bien Phu was being established, they were able to outnumber the French in big guns by a ratio of four-to-one. The leader of the Viet Minh forces, General Giap, quietly surrounded the French positions, stockpiled supplies, and waited.

On March 13th, 1954, the French had almost 16,000 troops at Dien Bien Phu and the surrounding valley, including their indigenous allies; the Vietnamese numbered more than 50,000. Sporadic shelling of the base had been occurring since January and French patrols had encountered resistance in every direction. While there was no doubt there would be an attempt to take Dien Bien Phu, the defenders did not know when the attack would come. At 5PM on the 13th, with a new moon allowing for a nighttime infantry attack, the Viet Minh unleashed a massive artillery barrage. The wait was over.

The base contained several separate hills that the French had fortified. These hilltops would change hands over the next two months, causing incredible casualties on both sides. The airfield was one of the first victims of the artillery barrage, meaning that French supplies would have to be air-dropped in via parachute. This was made more difficult by the Viet Minh’s anti-aircraft units, another weapon the French had not expected to contend with. Counter-fire from inside the base was not every effective, since the communists had time before the battle to dig in and set up fake guns made of wood and painted black. The situation became so lopsided that the French artillery commander, distraught at his inability to bring counter-fire on the well-camouflaged Viet Minh batteries, went into his dugout and killed himself with a hand grenade.

Except for a two-week lull at the end of March, the fighting continued unabated into May. On the ground, the scene was reminiscent of the First World War, including trench warfare. On May 7th, General Giap ordered one final push against the remaining French positions. By the end of the day, the Viet Minh controlled all areas of the base. Roughly seventy French soldiers escaped to Laos; the rest were taken prisoner.

The defeated survivors of the battle were treated horribly. The Red Cross was able to obtain the release of 838 of the most wounded men, but the rest were held for four months. Of the 10,863 held for that period, only 3,290 were repatriated. To this day, 3,013 of the prisoners are unaccounted for. The total losses for the French were nearly 2,300 dead and 5,200 wounded. The Viet Minh suffered even more: counting the dead and wounded, their casualty count was over 23,000 men.

The loss at Dien Bien Phu essentially ended French intervention in Indochina. The 1954 Geneva Accords ended the war and France agreed to leave the nation forever. The Accords partitioned the nation into northern and southern halves with the intention of reuniting them with a national election in 1956. But it would never be. The southern government gained support from the United States against the communist north, and the north gained the support of China and the Soviet Union. By 1959, the two halves of the nation were at war with one another, a conflict that would last until April, 1975, when North Vietnamese forces captured Saigon, and reunited the country.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

The First National Fireside Chat, March 12, 1933

Listen here

Today in 1933, US President Franklin Roosevelt delivered the first of his national “fireside chats”, nighttime radio speeches in which he expounded on an issue important to the nation. These speeches defined Roosevelt and the Presidency for a generation living through one of the darkest times in American history.

Roosevelt had used fireside chats while he was governor of New York from 1929 through 1932. Sometimes, he asked the listening public to contact their state representative and ask him to support one of Roosevelt’s proposals. Since the governor was a Democrat with a Republican legislature, these direct appeals met with some criticism in the statehouse. They were, however, highly effective.

President Roosevelt had been in office for barely a week at the time of his first broadcast. The United States was hard in the grip of the Great Depression, the most devastating economic crisis the nation had ever faced. Unemployment hovered at 25%. In addition to a western drought, crop prices were down 50%. Thousands of banking institutions failed because of bad debt; many more would fail as the decade wore on. While the reason for the depression is still debated, it made little difference to the men and women who struggled to put food on the table and make the house payment or rent. Many lost faith in their nation.

Roosevelt knew this. During his first fireside chat, Roosevelt laid out his New Deal measures, programs designed to employ those who otherwise might not be able to find a job. He compared the New Deal to giving a helping hand to a neighbor and asked the citizens of the country to support the measures. They were supported in the most visible way: millions of people applied for jobs like building the Hoover Dam. He also urged his fellow citizens to trust the banking industry, a hard pill to swallow for those who had lost everything.

The Great Depression was ended by another calamity---the Second World War. Two days after Germany invaded Poland, Roosevelt was in front of the microphone, telling the American people “Let no man or woman thoughtlessly or falsely talk of America sending its armies to European fields.” He discussed in detail America’s neutrality, but never promised that it would last. In the end, it took an attack on the naval base at Pearl Harbor to bring the United States officially into the war.

Roosevelt conducted 12 fireside chats during the war. He talked of the Declaration of War against Japan, progress in the war both overseas and on the Home Front, loan drives and the conferences he attended with Allied leaders. On June 5th, 1944, the President addressed a specific event: the fall of Rome. It was the first Axis capital to be liberated by the Allies, but its significance would soon be lost thanks to the events of the following day, the landings in Normandy of hundreds of thousands of American, British, Australian, Canadian and Free Polish and French troops. Roosevelt would broadcast only one more chat, that being on June 12th, 1944. It was on the subject of the fifth War Bond Drive, and he used the D-Day landings and advances in Italy and the Soviet Union as proof that the war was being won.

By the end of 1944, President Roosevelt’s health was in steady decline. He traveled to Yalta to meet Churchill and Stalin, despite the fact that his worsening condition led him to lose the political battles fought there. He struggled through that first year of his fourth term and saw the new year of 1945, a year that would see the end of the war in both Europe and the Pacific. On April 12th of that year, while at his Warm Springs, Georgia retreat, Franklin Roosevelt died of a cerebral hemorrhage.

At that time in the United States, the President’s health and personal life were kept from the public eye. Thus, the American public was shocked by Roosevelt’s death. He had led the nation for twelve years, longer than any other President before or since. Many of the men serving on battlefields worldwide could not remember a time when FDR was not in the White House. Millions of them, and millions of people at home, had come to know him through his fireside chats. He served as a reassuring voice of leadership in a dark time, encouraging people to carry on through both a mighty depression and a devastating world war.

Friday, March 07, 2008

Special Request, March 7, 2008

Listen here