Newspapers started reporting that the eclipse was coming months beforehand, giving advice on the best places to travel to catch the “path of totality.” Scientists prepared their experiments, people prepared their travel plans, businesses prepared for a bonanza, and everyone sought a glass they could look through without going blind. And, as the event started to unfold, all the world seemed to stop their business and watch. It was eclipse mania on June 8, 1918.
Theodore Roosevelt was the youngest man ever to assume the office of President of the United States. Eight years later the fifty year old was still a robust, energetic man. Slipping quietly into retirement was not his style.
The appeal of one strange object, which achieved dizzying popularity in my lifetime, and today lives on mostly for nostalgia, is not so difficult to explain. All you need to do is turn one on and wait.
During the civil war, the manufacture of powder and explosives was often handled by the most vulnerable, young women and children, whose labor was needed when so many men had been sent off to war. On March 13, 1863, the confederacy experienced a munitions disaster, in the confederate capitol of Richmond.