Christmas Every Day

1990

The debut of Dr Death

Jacob “Jack” Kevorkian (1928-2011) was a Michigan pathologist who advanced several ideas about dying and who came to public notice for illegally assisting in patient suicides.

As a pathologist Kevorkian’s work was with the dead, leading him to propose that the blood from corpses be used in military intravenous supplies, that condemned prisoners could submit to dangerous experiments in lieu of execution, and that the organs of dead prisoners be harvested for transplant. These ideas won little favour with the authorities but did get Kevorkian the beginnings of an unsavoury reputation.

In 1990, on a 58-year old woman diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease, he conducted the first of an estimated 130 procedures in which he provided the means by which those seeking death could commit suicide. These people were dispatched by either the “Thantron” (“Death Machine”) which dispensed lethal drugs or the “Mercitron” (“Mercy Machine”) which administered carbon monoxide poisoning. Since there was at the time no law against assisting suicide, Kevorkian could not be charged with any crime but he did lose his medical license. Undeterred by four trials from 1994-97, he continued his mission and was not successfully prosecuted.

However, in 1998 he publicly ended the life of an ALS sufferer in a television documentary and this time administered the killing drug himself. He dared the state to prosecute him, and Michigan obliged, charging with with second-degree murder and possession of a controlled drug. Kevorkian defended himself rather badly and was found guilty, with a sentence of 10-25 years in prison. He served 8 of those years before his release in 2007.

A highly controversial figure, Kevorkian succeeded in bringing the issue of assisted dying into greater public prominence.

1912

RMS Titanic hits an iceberg

Shortly before midnight on April 14, 1912 the White Star liner Titanic struck one of a number of icebergs in a pack south of Newfoundland and sank within hours. Over 1500 passengers and crew died, with only 710 survivors.

There have been many naval disasters that have taken more lives than the sinking of the Titanic. In 1865 the boilers of the steamboat Sultana exploded on the Mississippi River and killed over 1,800 people; the ferry Dona Paz collided with an oil tanker on its way to Manila and sank, with 4,300 people lost. 9,300 refugees and troops being evacuated on the German liner Wilhelm Gustlof were killed when the ship was torpedoed by a Soviet submarine in 1945. There have been more poignant and tragic sinkings — the loss of the “White Ship” in 1120 led to a 20-year civil war in England; thousands of prisoners of war were killed by their own countrymen in World War II when ships transporting them were sunk by aircraft or subs unable to discern the human cargo.

But no other maritime catastrophe has entered into the public imagination as the doomed RMS Titanic bound for New York from Southampton. The subject of countless books, movies and popular songs, the sinking of the ship labelled “unsinkable” is the stuff of legends. There are a number of reasons for this: the hubris of the name and its boasts; the fact that this was the maiden voyage of the largest vessel afloat; the easily-avoided nature of its collision; and the loss of prominent society members all contributed to the fascination.

1917

The Canadian Army takes Vimy Ridge

Battles very often define a nation and become part of a people’s mythology. The Scots have Bannockburn; the Serbs have Kosovo; Texans have the Alamo; Australians and New Zealanders have Gallipoli; Newfoundlanders have Beaumont-Hamel; and Canadians have Vimy.

In 1917 millions of men in the armies of the Allied and Central powers faced each other in lines of trenches that stretched from the English Channel to the Alps. The power of defences — dug-in gun emplacements, barbed-wire, machine-gun nests, rapid-firing artillery, shell-blasted no-man’s land — had created stalemate. Any attack had to be into the teeth of enemy fire and would produce massive casualties: the British lost 40,000 men in one day alone at the Battle of the Somme. The French army had already suffered over 100,000 casualties trying to take Vimy Ridge, so when the command was given to Canadian and British units to capture German positions anchoring their Hindenburg Line at Vimy, officers were determined that meticulous planning could make a difference. A number of Canadian divisions were brought together in a distinct Canadian Corps with Canadian officers such as the brilliant Arthur Currie under the overall command of Sir Julian Byng.

Consultations were held with the French about lessons learned in the bloody struggle for Verdun; aerial photography provided data for maps and three-dimensional mockups of the target area. On the assumption that junior officers would be killed during the attack, care was taken to instruct sergeants and corporals  in the objectives of their units with 40,000 trench maps distributed. For months troops familiarized themselves with their objectives and trained in the new techniques.

Rather than a massive artillery assault that would cease when troops advanced — thus leaving the Germans plenty of time to regain their trenches — the artillery would continue, but creep forward in measured steps. New fuses would enable the shells to  explode more easily and thus be more effective in cutting through the fields of barbed wire. 1,600,000 shells from hundreds of heavy guns would be available to pound the German lines and hundreds of miles of telegraph wire were laid to provide communications. Tunnels were dug to bring attackers more safely to the jumping-off point; the newly-invented tanks would roll across no-man’s land beside the infantry.

The Germans, warned by a German-Canadian deserter and signs of a buildup behind Allied lines, were well-aware that Vimy Ridge would be attacked but they were not prepared for the days of pounding artillery that destroyed their positions or for the aggressive spirit of the Canadians who attacked in leap-frogging waves. On April 12, 1917 the last of the German defenders were driven off the ridge. Casualties were very high. The Canadian Corps suffered 10,602 casualties (3,598 killed and 7,004 wounded) while German losses were in the 20,000 range.

Today the soaring Vimy memorial in France is surrounded by land still too dangerous to tread on.

1951

Truman fires MacArthur

“I fired him because he wouldn’t respect the authority of the President. I didn’t fire him because he was a dumb son of a bitch, although he was, but that’s not against the law for generals. If it was, half to three-quarters of them would be in jail.” This was the recollection of President Harry S Truman concerning the highly unpopular removal of General Douglas MacArthur from his position of the commander of the United Nations forces in the Korean War.

Douglas MacArthur was a controversial figure. He had commanded the American forces in the Philippines at the beginning of World War II but was extracted from the islands to safety in Australia just prior to their surrender. This was on orders from Washington which felt that the general was needed to lead the campaign in the Pacific rather than sit out the war in a prison camp. Though he was awarded the Medal of Honor for his escape, he was known by those he left behind to the mercies of the Japanese as “Bug-Out Doug.” At war’s end he supervised the American occupation of Japan and deserves credit for helping that country recover its economy and transition to democracy.

When North Korea invaded South Korea in 1950 it quickly overwhelmed the defenders and drove the American and allied forces deep into the south of the peninsula. Defeat looked certain until MacArthur ordered an extremely daring amphibious assault behind North Korean lines, which led to a Communist retreat. MacArthur’s forces pursued them north but as they approached the Yalu River, the Chinese army suddenly poured across the border and the U.N. Army was steadily forced south. At a meeting with Truman on Wake Island, MacArthur had not only upstaged the president but assured him that there would be no Chinese intervention.

At this time there was considerable talk about the use of nuclear weapons, and considerable unease at giving these bombs to MacArthur whose reputation for impetuous action was well-known. Moreover, MacArthur, never one to hide his light under a bushel, let it be known that he favoured an all-out war with China, something very few in Washington thought wise. Truman was in favour of relieving the general of his command but MacArthur’s enormous publicity machine and his standing in the eyes of the public made that dangerous politically. When it appeared that MacArthur was going behind Truman’s back in speaking to foreign governments and when he seemed to be trying to provoke China into a deeper conflict, Truman acted and ordered him home.

With deep regret I have concluded that General of the Army Douglas MacArthur is unable to give his wholehearted support to the policies of the United States Government and of the United Nations in matters pertaining to his official duties. In view of the specific responsibilities imposed upon me by the Constitution of the United States and the added responsibility which has been entrusted to me by the United Nations, I have decided that I must make a change of command in the Far East. I have, therefore, relieved General MacArthur of his commands and have designated Lt. Gen. Ridgway as his successor.

Full and vigorous debate on matters of national policy is a vital element in the constitutional system of our free democracy. It is fundamental, however, that military commanders must be governed by the policies and directives issued to them in the manner provided by our laws and Constitution. In time of crisis, this consideration is particularly compelling.

General MacArthur’s place in history as one of our greatest commanders is fully established. The Nation owes him a debt of gratitude for the distinguished and exceptional service which he has rendered his country in posts of great responsibility. For that reason I repeat my regret at the necessity for the action I feel compelled to take in his case.

The move backfired politically. Truman’s popularity sunk to the lowest level ever recorded by a president and MacArthur made a triumphal return.

401

Birth of Theodosius II

One of my favourite Roman emperors was Theodosius II, who had the good fortune to be ruler of the eastern half of the empire at a time when extremely bad things were happening to the west. Theodosius came to the throne at the age of seven after the death of his father, Arcadius; his older sister Pulcheria served as regent while he grew up. His father and his uncle Honorius, the western emperor, were do-nothing weaklings, but Theodosius turned out to be a very productive monarch.

The codification of Roman law that was completed by Justinian a century later was undertaken and published as the Codex Theodosianus.

Theodosius is also responsible for the invention of the university. In 425 the Imperial University of Constantinople opened with schools of medicine, philosophy and law and 31 professors offering courses taught in Latin and Greek. It was a secular institution for training the empire’s civil service and ruling class; women may have been admitted too, at least into medicine.

The most enduring of his accomplishments the construction of the massive land walls around his capital, Constantinople. Though the fortification was begun when he was a child, Theodosius repaired and added to them which is, I suppose, why they are still called the Theodosian Walls. They kept the city safe for a thousand years, repelling Goths, Huns, Avars, Saracens, Vikings, and Persians; it was only the invention of gunpowder that brought their usefulness to an end.

As a warrior Theodosius was less successful. He was unable to save Italy from the Visigoths or North Africa from the Vandals, though he did manage to keep the Persians at bay in the east.

1357

The life of a royal hostage

In 1356, in the midst of the Hundred Years’ War, King John “the Good” of France was taken prisoner by the English Black Prince after the Battle of Poitiers. The plan, as was customary at the time, was to hold him for ransom — in this case a vast sum of money and ceding large chunks of southwestern France to England. While the ranson was being negotiated and raised John was kept in comfortable style in various English castles. Here is an account of his stay at Somerton Castle in Lincolnshire which began this day in 1357:

John was attended by dozens of servants. Among these were two chaplains, a secretary, a clerk of the chapel, a physician, a maitre d’hôtel, three pages, four valets, three wardrobe men, three furriers, six grooms, two cooks, a fruiterer, a spiceman, a barber, and a washer, besides some higher officers, and a person bearing the exalted name of le roy de menestereulx,’ who appears to have been a maker of musical instruments and clocks as well as a minstrel; and last, but not least, ‘Maitre Jean le fol’ [a jester]. The Somerton Castle furniture being utterly insufficient for such a vast increase of inmates, the captive king added a number of tables, chairs, forms, and trestles, besides fittings for the stables, and stores of fire-wood and turf. He also fitted up his own chamber, that of the Prince Philip, and of M. Jean le fol, besides the chapel, with hangings, curtains, cushions, ornamented coffers, sconces, &c., the furniture of each of these filling a separate wagon when the king left Somerton.

Large consignments of good Bordeaux wines were transmitted from France to the port of Boston for the captive king’s use, as much as a hundred and forty tuns being sent at one time as a present, intended partly for his own use and partly as a means of raising money to keep up his royal state. One of the costly items in the king’s expenditure was sugar, together with spices bought in London, Lincoln, and Boston, immense quantities of which we may infer were used in the form of confectionery; for in the household books we meet constantly with such items as eggs to clarify sugar, roses to flavour it with, and cochineal to colour it. These bon-bons appear to have cost about three shillings the pound; at least such is the price of what is termed ‘sucre roset vermeil,’ and especial mention is made of a large silver gilt box made for the king as a ‘bonboniere,’ or receptacle for such sweets.

In the article of dress John was most prodigal. In less than five months he ordered eight complete suits, besides one received as a present from the Countess of Boulogne, and many separate articles. One ordered for Easter was of Brussels manufacture, a marbled violet velvet, trimmed with miniver; another for Whitsuntide, of rosy scarlet, lined with blue taffeta. The fur and trimmings of these robes formed a most costly additional item, there having been paid to William, a furrier of Lincoln, £17, 3s. 9d. for 800 miniver [squirrel] skins, and 850 ditto of ‘gris;’ also £8, 10s. to Thornsten, a furrier of London, for 600 additional miniver skins, and 300 of gris,’ all for one set of robes. Thus 2,550 skins, at a cost of £25,13s. 9d., were used in this suit, and the charge for making it up was £6, 8s. Indeed, so large were the requirements of the captive king and his household in this particular, that a regular tailoring establishment was set up in Lincoln by his order, over which one M. Tassin presided.

The pastimes he indulged in were novel-reading, music, chess, and backgammon. He paid for writing materials in Lincolnshire three shillings to three shillings and sixpence for one dozen parchments, sixpence to ninepence for a quire of paper, one shilling for an envelope with its silk binder, and fourpence for a bottle of ink. The youthful tastes of the valorous Prince Philip appear to have been of what we should consider a more debased order than his royal father’s. He had dogs, probably greyhounds, for coursing on the heath adjoining Somerton, and falcons, and game cocks, too; a charge appearing in the royal household accounts for the purchase of one of these birds, termed, in language characteristic of the period, ‘un coo a, faire jouster.’ 

One very marked trait in King John’s character was his love of almsgiving. His charitable gifts, great and small, public and private, flowed in a ceaseless stream when a captive in adversity, no less than when on the throne in prosperity. Wherever he was he made a small daily offering to the curate of the parish, besides presenting larger sums on the festivals of the church. For instance, he gave to the humble Cure of Boby (Boothby) a sum equal to twelve shillings, for masses offered by him at Christmas; eight shillings at the Epiphany; and four shillings and fourpence at Candlemas. The religious orders also received large sums at his hands; on each of the four mendicant societies of Lincoln he bestowed fifteen escuz, or ten pounds. On his way from London to Somerton, he offered at Grantham five nobles (£1, 13s. 4d.); gave five more nobles to the preaching friars of Stamford, and the same sum to the shrine of St. Albans. In fact, wherever he went, churches, convents, shrines, recluses, and the poor and unfortunate, were constant recipients of his bounty.

On the 21^st of March 1360, King John was removed from Somerton, and lodged in the Tower of London, the journey occupying seven days. Two months after (May 19), he was released on signing an agreement to pay to England 3,000,000 of gold crowns (or £1,500,000) for his ransom, of which 600,000 were to be paid within four months of his arrival in France, and 400,000 a year, till the whole was liquidated, and also that his son, the Due d’Anjou, and other noble personages of France, should be sent over as hostages for the same. The last act of this unfortunate monarch shews his deep seated love of truth and honour. On the 6^th of December 1363, the Duc d’Anjou and the other hostages broke their parole, and returned to Paris. Mortified beyond measure at this breach of trust, and turning a deaf ear to the remonstrances of his council, John felt himself bound in honour to return to the English coast, and accordingly four days afterwards he crossed the sea once more, and placed himself at the disposal of Edward. The palace of the Savoy was appointed as his residence, where he died after a short illness in the spring of 1364.

1868

The assassination of D’Arcy McGee

Assassinations are a rare thing in Canada. It’s not that we lack guns, or loons willing to use them to kill their fellow countrymen — it’s that we don’t respect politicians enough to think that it would make any difference murdering one of them. In 1868 someone made an exception for D’Arcy McGee.

McGee (1825-68) was born Ireland to a Catholic family of the lower middle class and grew up steeped in Irish nationalism. The young man dreamed of an Ireland free of British rule and when he emigrated to the United States in his late teens he found work in Boston editing a newspaper for Irish Catholics. In it he espoused republicanism, self-determination for Ireland, and the absorption of Canada (then a collection of British colonies) into the U.S.A. McGee returned to Ireland and took part in radical politics, attempting in 1848, the great Year of Revolutions, to arouse Irishmen into rebellion. He found few followers and returned to Boston.

In the 1850s McGee seems to have drifted rightward in his politics, growing disillusioned with republicanism as he saw it in the U.S., and becoming more devout in his Catholicism. In 1857 he migrated to Canada East and settled in Montreal. He took a law degree and entered political life. He opposed both the ultra-Protestantism of the Orange Lodge and the Fenian movement in North America that sought to use armed force to oppose Britain; his new loyalties lay in Canada. To that end, he worked for a union of British North America, serving as a delegate to the Quebec and Charlottetown conferences that laid the groundwork for Confederation. When Canada was formed as an independent nation in 1867 he was elected as an M.P. for a Montreal constituency.

Thousands of Irish soldiers discharged from the armies of the American Civil War were gathering on the border with Canada, and had been launching raids across the line. McGee’s opposition to Fenianism had made him dangerous enemies and, on the night of April 7, 1868 one of them shot him as he entered his boarding house. Suspicion fell on Thomas Whelan who possessed a .32 calibre pistol like that which ended McGee’s life. A jury found him guilty and he was hanged in 1869, always declaring his innocence.