Christmas Every Day

1928 Birth of the First Darrin

Richard “Dick” York was an Indiana lad who became a juvenile radio and film star in the 1940s. He appeared in numerous productions including Inherit the Wind, The Twilight Zone, and The Untouchables before winning television immortality as Darrin Stevens in Bewitched. For five seasons, starting in 1964, he played the hapless mortal suburban husband alongside the gorgeous Elizabeth Montgomery as his witch wife Samantha and the less than gorgeous Agnes Moorhead as his irritating mother-in-law Endora.

In 1959 while filming the western They Came to Cordura with Gary Cooper and Rita Hayworth, York had suffered a permanent and painful back injury, which he treated with ever-higher doses of prescription painkillers. York lived with the pain during the production of the first few seasons of Bewitched with the studio building him a slanted wall that he could lean against between takes but by the fourth season he could scarcely stand and had to be filmed seated or in bed. During filming in 1969 he collapsed and decided that he could no longer continue. He was replaced by Dick Sargent (always known as “the second Darrin”).

York battled pain, addiction, and emphysema, managing a brief comeback in 1983 and establishing Acting for Life, a charity for the homeless. He died in 1992.

A great day for decisive battles.

31 BC Battle of Actium

After the assassination of Julius Caesar in 44 BC, the Roman world came to be divided between the forces of Caesar’s nephew Octavian (later Augustus Caesar) and Caesar’s right-hand man, Marc Antony. Antony had taken up Caesar’s old mistress Cleopatra and become ruler of Egypt and the Middle East.  Octavian feared that Antony had ambitions to seize all of the Roman empire and confronted him in a naval battle off the coast of Greece. When the Egyptian fleet abandoned Antony, the battle was lost. Antony and Cleopatra were soon to commit suicide and leave Octavian as unchallenged emperor.

1870 Battle of Sedan

Napoleon III, the incompetent nephew of the great Napoleon Bonaparte, was foolishly goaded into a war with the German military powerhouse Prussia and was soundly beaten in the Franco-Prussian War. At the Battle of Sedan Napoleon III was captured (he is pictured above sitting with the German Chancellor Bismarck), his Second Empire government collapsed, and Prussia dictated harsh terms for peace. The French resentment over this defeat and the peace treaty helped lead to World War I.

1898 Battle of Omdurman

In the 1880s a Muslim prophet, Muhammad Ahmad, styled himself the Mahdi, a Messiah-like figure whom many Muslims believe is to rule on earth before the Final Judgement. The Mahdi drove the British and Egyptians out of the Sudan in 1885, killed General Gordon, the British governor, and set up a fundamentalist state. In 1898 an Anglo-Egyptian army, accompanied by gunboats and Canadian voyageurs, marched up the Nile to confront the Mahdi’s successor, the Khalifa, at Omdurman (near present-day Khartoum). The Mahdists greatly outnumbered the invaders but the British were much more heavily armed, equipped with machine-guns and heavy artillery. The effect of modern weaponry was devastating on the Sudanese spearman and cavalry. One observer noted: “They could never get near and they refused to hold back. … It was not a battle but an execution. … The bodies were not in heaps—bodies hardly ever are; but they spread evenly over acres and acres. Some lay very composedly with their slippers placed under their heads for a last pillow; some knelt, cut short in the middle of a last prayer. Others were torn to pieces.” Winston Churchill was present at the battle and took part in the cavalry charge depicted above. The Mahdists suffered 10,000 dead while the British lost 42 men.

1997

The death of Princess Diana

By 1997, the life of Diana, Princess of Wales and ex-wife of the heir to the British throne, was a soap-opera nightmare. Her marriage had collapsed under the weight of mutual infidelity — Charles had taken up with an old mistress Camilla Parker-Bowles, and Diana conducted a series of affairs with her bodyguard, a polo-playing soldier, a rugby player, a Canadian rock star, a Pakistani heart surgeon and, lastly, Egyptian-born playboy Emad El-Din Mohamed Abdel Mena’em “Dodi” Fayed, whose father owned Harrod’s department store and Fulham soccer team. Diana was a psychological mess, bulimic, depressive, self-harming, and manipulative, carrying an enormous grudge against her ex-husband whom she accused of plotting her death in a car crash that would be made to look accidental.

What she saw in Dodi Fayed remains a mystery, though some say his Muslim religion was a factor — supposedly it would outrage the Royal Family. Dodi was in every way a lightweight, scarcely employable and a connoisseur of American models, one of whom he had married, another of whom he had dumped for Diana, but his family fortune was clearly not a barrier to romance. In August 1997 the couple spent six days on his yacht in the Mediterranean and then flew from Corsica to Paris where they stayed at the Ritz Hotel, owned by Dodi’s father. In the early hours of August 31, while a decoy car attempted to lure away journalists, Diana and Dodi entered a Mercedes limo driven by Ritz head of security Henri Paul and accompanied by a Fayed family guard. Chased by paparazzi, the limo entered the Place de l’Alma tunnel at a high rate of speed and crashed. Paul and Dodi died immediately, Diana expired from massive internal injuries a few hours later in hospital. The only survivor, bodyguard Trevor-Rees Jones, was severely injured and spent a month in hospital recuperating. His face was reconstructed using family photographs as a guide and held together with 150 pieces of titanium.

Controversy continued to dog the dead princess. As Britain mourned in spectacular fashion, rumours spread of the limo being struck from behind by a white Fiat which then sped off, never to be seen again. Others spoke of an assassination of the lovers by British intelligence services at the behest of the Royal Family — a view that Dodi’s father clung to. The driver Henri Paul was found to have been intoxicated and no one in the car was wearing seat belts.

1657 Death of a bold pamphleteer

John Lilburne was born in 1614 to an English family of the squirearchy. In the turbulent 1630s when the rule of Charles I was growing odious to many, Lilburne adopted a number of radical stances and, at one point, had to flee to the safety of Holland. In 1637 he was whipped, pilloried, and jailed in chains for publishing a tract without the approval of the Stationer’s Company, which governed legal printing. He began to style himself “Freeborn John” and got into more trouble for opposing the Church of England.

When the Civil War broke out, Lilburne fought for the forces of Parliament and rose to the rank of lieutenant-colonel. He was captured by the king’s army after the Battle of Brentford but, when exchanged for a royalist officer, he rejoined his regiment where he was wounded and suffered the los of his property.

A man of high principle, he quarrelled with his superior officers, refused to sign the Solemn League and Covenant, and disputed with fellow radical William Prynne on the question of freedom of religion. His supporters came to be known as Levellers because of the social equality they demanded. He asserted that Englishmen had “freeborn rights” granted by God, and that the Parliamentarian rule was even more tyrannical than that of the king. Lilburne was imprisoned, this time by the Parliamentary government, but was acquitted of a charge of high treason. Finally in 1652 his disputatious wrangling resulted in a forced exile from England.

When Lilburne returned without permission from Holland he was imprisoned again, tried again, and again acquitted. Nonetheless, the Puritan government considered him such a nuisance that he was kept in jail regardless of habeas corpus. In 1656 he was allowed out on parole, having convinced the authorities that his conversion to Quakerism meant that he was no longer a menace. He died the next year and was buried in the churchyard next to Bedlam.

1859 Death of Leigh Hunt

Leigh Hunt (1784-1859) is mostly a footnote these days in the history of 19th-century English literature, but there was a time in which he was well-regarded. Historians of Christmas remember him as the author of remarks on “The Inexhaustibility of the Subject of Christmas”, others for his poem in which he boasts “Jenny kissed me”, some for his being the inspiration for the character of Harold Skimpole in Bleak House, but he is most noteworthy as being a companion of Byron and Shelley.

In 1813 Hunt was imprisoned for some harsh words about the Prince Regent (later George IV). Hunt objected to the grossly flattering image that other journalists were painting of the prince and penned a much more honest account of that bloated worthy. This is what cancel culture of the Regency period would give you two years in jail for:

What person, unacquainted with the true state of the case, would imagine, in reading these astounding eulogies, that this ‘ glory of the people’ was the subject of millions of shrugs and reproaches? —that this ‘protector of the arts’ had named a wretched foreigner his historical painter, in disparagement or in ignorance of the merits of his own countrymen? — that this ‘Mecaenas of the age’ patronised not a single deserving writer?—that this ‘breather of eloquence’ could not say a few decent extempore words, if we are to judge, at least, from what he said to his regiment on its embarkation for Portugal?—that this ‘conqueror of hearts’ was the disappointer of hopes?—that this ‘ exciter of desire’ [bravo! Messieurs of the Post!] — this ‘Adonis in loveliness’ was a corpulent man of fifty? in short, this delightful, blissful, wise, pleasurable, honourable, virtuous, true, and immortal prince, was a violator of his word, a libertine, over head and ears in disgrace, a despiser of domestic ties, the companion of gamblers and demireps, a man who has just closed half a century without one single claim on the gratitude of his country, or the respect of posterity?

2009

Jaycee Dugard is rescued

On June 10, 1991 eleven-year-old Jaycee Dugard was walking to school in South Lake Tahoe, California when she was approached by two strangers in a grey mid-size car. One knocked her down with a bolt from a taser gun and placed her in his car which then drove off. This abduction was witnessed by several other children and her stepfather who vainly tried to pursue the car on his mountain bike.

Jaycee’s kidnappers were convicted rapist Philip Garrido and his wife Nancy who took her to their property and locked her in a shed. For the next eighteen years she was repeatedly raped and abused, bearing Garrido two daughters, forbidden from receiving any medical care and threatened with death. She was forbidden to use her real name, told to treat Nancy as her mother, and to tell her children that she was their older sister. After a time she was allowed out to work in Garrido’s print shop. Neighbours tried to alert police to the strange goings-on behind the 8-foot-high fence at the Garrido household but no action was taken.

Garrido was quite insane. He was convinced that he could control sound with his mind and that he had developed a method to cure sexual urges. He visited the FBI to inform them of his discoveries and in August, 2009 went to the University of California at Berkeley trying to book a space to announce his program; he was accompanied by his two daughters. Their appearance and Garrido’s strangeness aroused the suspicions of officials there who learned that he was wanted for parole violations. The police were informed and when Garrido appeared at the parole office, this time with Jaycee and the girls, officers quizzed the young woman who insisted that her name was Alissa and that she was a battered wife from Minnesota, fleeing an abusive husband. Only after Garrido confessed to kidnapping and raping her did Jaycee, clearly a victim of Stockholm Syndrome, admit to her true identity.

Jaycee and her children were released to her mother and began trying to rebuild their lives. She wrote two books about her experience, A Stolen Life: A Memoir, and Freedom: My Book of Firsts. Phillip Garrido was sentenced to 431 years to life imprisonment; Nancy received 36 years to life imprisonment.