The Breezer - the joyride for a curious mind: A weekly newsletter from me, Steve Winduss, at the Batting the Breeze podcast. Spend a few minutes with me discovering historical snippets and fascinating facts related to the forthcoming week. Add to that updates relating to the podcast, a touch of humour and a dash of "lots more". - 22nd December 2024.

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Happy Sunday!

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I’ve always had sympathy for Christmas babies. Christmas Day must be such a compromise. How does it work?
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Do you treat half of Christmas Day as birthday and the other half as Christmas? Which comes first? Are Christmas wrapping paper and birthday wrapping paper different?
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What about if your favourite meal is bangers and mash - who’s going to serve that up on Christmas Day?
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If you split the day half and half, how much festive energy will everyone have to whoop it up for your birthday after a full turkey roast, Christmas pudding and brandy butter?

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On the other hand, I suppose you never need to go to school or work on your birthday and you are guaranteed a good turn-out.
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Let me know if you’re a Christmas baby and how you manage things; I’d love to know.
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Sir Isaac Newton, the Lincolnshire-born polymath, master of mathematics, optics, astronomy and physics, was a Christmas baby. He was born on Christmas Day in 1642 (under the Julian Calendar as it was in England at the time).
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Newton was a very private, introverted individual who had been put under the care of his grandmother since the age of three, so a Christmas Day birthday was probably the least of his concerns.
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Some people today look at Newton’s Christmas Day birth as a sign - the birth of the scientific revolution - the arrival of the scientific messiah.

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Indeed, Christmas week had proved fruitful for Sir Isaac over the years; He was proposed for election to the Royal Society on 21 December 1671 and presented his reflecting telescope to the society a few days later on the 28th.
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Up to that point, telescopes with lenses suffered from problems of chromatic aberration. Since white light consists of the colours of the rainbow and each of these colours is ‘bent’ through a lens at different angles, an image would suffer from coloured distortion around its edges.
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Newton introduced the reflecting telescope, which replaced lenses with mirrors. Light was no longer refracted through a lens to give colour distortion, hence a much clearer image could emerge.
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In addition, mirrors could be produced much larger than lenses, capturing more light which in turn meant that more distant galaxies and nebulae could be detected. To seal the deal, mirrors could be manufactured more cheaply and required less maintenance.
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Not surprisingly, Newton’s reflecting telescope revolutionised astronomy.

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Alongside Newton’s contribution to optics and astronomy, he developed calculus, that branch of mathematics you may remember trying to avoid at school. Most significantly, Newton proposed the law of universal gravitation, which still explains so much of how our world works today.
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You may remember the story about Isaac Newton drinking tea under the shade of some apple trees one afternoon. He witnessed the occasional fall of an apple and wondered why it always fell perpendicular to the ground.
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Why not sideways, or upwards? Why did it always fall towards the centre of the Earth?
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Newton concluded that the Earth attracts the apple, but that the apple attracts the Earth too. The concept of gravitation had taken root in his mind.
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Disappointingly, the part of the story where an apple actually lands on Newton’s head may be more myth than reality.
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Sir Isaac Newton died at the age of 84, one of the most influential scientists in world history, so perhaps Christmas Day births can be fruitful after all.

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Out of curiosity...​
Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau is a Christmas baby, born 25 December 1971. Trudeau’s brother, Alexandre, was also born on Christmas Day, two years later.

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Another Christmas baby was born 125 years ago this Wednesday, 25 December 1899 - the legendary Hollywood actor Humphrey Bogart.
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Bogart bemoaned receiving fewer presents than others on his birthday. Warner Brothers, the film studio responsible for Bogart’s rise to fame, tried changing his birthday to 23 January 1900, since the angelic image of a Christmas baby might restrict his persona as a tough villain. Bogart resisted.
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‘Bogey’ developed the tough-guy persona in his early films. His characters were complex, cynical, lonely and emotionally awkward. This was an image partly cultivated by Warner Brothers but partly as a result of his own personality.
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Bogart was a drinker in real life and not ashamed of it:

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On one occasion, Bogart apparently staggered home early one morning through the streets of Hollywood after a long overnight drinking session.
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He pressed his nose against the kitchen window of an unsuspecting family having breakfast.
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The woman yelled out, “Christ, it’s Humphrey Bogart”, to which her husband replied, “Well, invite him in then!”
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Some of the more flourishing versions of the story then refer to Bogart sharing breakfast with the family, recounting stories of the good and the great he had worked with, leaving the family a little shell-shocked sometime later.
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Part of Bogart’s cynicism may have been cultivated from his first three tumultuous marriages. It was only his fourth and final marriage to Lauren Bacall which provided some level of stability and genuine connection, even though Bacall was 25 years younger than him.
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Out of curiosity...​
Humphrey Bogart’s first name was taken from his mother’s maiden name - Maud Humphrey, apparently a recognised practice at the time.

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Humphrey Bogart holds a special spot in my childhood memories. During the 70s, Bogart classics were still aired on TV. As an impressionable child, I eagerly watched The Maltese Falcon (1941), The African Queen (co-starring Katharine Hepburn, 1951) and The Caine Mutiny (1954).
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Bogart’s greatest film of them all was, of course, Casablanca (1942), a film that always brings a smile to my face.
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That’s not to say there’s a lot to smile about in the plot. Set in Vichy French-controlled Morocco in 1941, Bogart plays the nightclub owner Rick Blaine, who surreptitiously helps Europeans escape from German-occupied Europe to America.
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A former love interest appears in the form of Ingrid Bergman, and the outcome evokes sentiments of Dickens’ classic novel, A Tale of Two Cities. I’ll say no more.

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For reasons of journalistic integrity, I watched the film again last night. It still exudes a timeless quality, and some of those lines are Hollywood gold:

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My favourite quote could easily go unnoticed in the early rapid-fire dialogue. One of Bogart’s less desirable patrons approaches him and says,
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Bogart delivers the most stinging rebuke,
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The reason for the smile on my face is actually more personal. My father had a strong work ethic. Everything else was 'just passing time'. As such, moments for leisure pursuits were limited.
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To catch Dad watching a film was unusual….. except, that is, for Casablanca. He must have rewatched the wartime classic umpteen times. He never spoke about the film, I never asked.
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It was a few years after Dad died that the back-story to this quiet obsession started to reveal itself.
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My father was a fair-dinkum Aussie. During World War II, he was in the Australian Army with particular responsibilities for Bailey Bridges, the temporary bridge structures that could be rapidly deployed in combat zones to span rivers, replace destroyed bridges and keep Allied forces moving swiftly to their destinations.

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Dad was stationed in the jungles of Papua New Guinea towards the end of the war, a pretty stifling and unnerving environment. At that time, Papua New Guinea was administered by Australia and provided a critical defensive line to resist Japanese intentions to isolate Australia from its Allies.
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Conditions were harsh. Malaria and dysentery ran wild, the jungle was dense, and temperatures reached 50 degrees centigrade with 80% humidity. And then, of course, there were the monsoons…..
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A recent conversation with one of my Australian cousins revealed the extra layer to the story of Casablanca.
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I learned that the Australian Army deployed mobile Cinema Units to boost morale during World War II. Cinema lorries ventured out to remote wartime locations to play classic films to the troops stationed there.
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Lightweight 16mm projectors would be erected on purpose-built lorries. Films were projected onto white sheets strung from wires or sometimes hung from branches.

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The choice of films was more limited than we might expect today. One of the big hitters was Casablanca, released 18 months earlier, which would have been shown several times throughout that period. The relief these films would have brought from the harsh realities of the moment is difficult to imagine.

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So, when I now think about Dad watching Casablanca at home, I wonder if it evoked strong memories of a period in his life with whom he had no one to share.
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As an Australian living 10,500 miles away in England, perhaps Dad felt nostalgia for the positive elements of his war experiences. Perhaps the association of the film helped him to process painful wartime memories that still lingered.
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Or perhaps Dad just liked watching Casablanca.

Dates with History

Tomorrow…
​Anthony Fokker died 85 years ago tomorrow, 23 December 1939. That’s Fokker the Dutch aviation pioneer of the early 1900s, not to be confused with Henrich Focke, of Focke-Wulf aircraft fame in World War II. Too many Fokkers….
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Anthony Fokker’s first aircraft was the Spin (or “Spider” in English) first flown in 1910. It was named the Spider for the numerous supporting wires which held it together.
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The plane was the weight of a grand piano, could travel at 60 miles per hour, and was primarily used to train early military pilots.
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Fokker promoted his Spider by flying it daringly around the tower of the Gothic church St Bavokerk in Haarlem, Netherlands. Bear in mind that the Wright Brothers had managed to achieve a brief flight distance of 120 feet only seven years earlier, so just imagine the spectacle Fokker’s flight would have created.

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​Tuesday…
The Portuguese were the first Europeans of the 15th century to go forth and colonise strategic lands across the globe, from North to South Africa, from the Americas to India and beyond.
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The Portuguese Empire would survive for over 580 years before its eventual demise in 1999, when it ceded sovereignty of its last territory, Macau, to the People’s Republic of China.
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Five hundred years ago this Tuesday, 24 December 1524, marks the death of one of Portugal’s greatest explorers, Vasco da Gama, the first European to navigate a route from Europe to India via the Cape of Good Hope on the southern tip of South Africa.

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Between 1415 and 1498, Portuguese colonisation had been restricted to North and West African coastal regions. Da Gama’s breakthrough in May 1498 meant that the Portuguese could then bypass the overland routes controlled by the Ottomans and trade Asian goods directly, particularly spices.
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This, in turn, paved the way for Portugal to become the first European global imperialist power.

By the Way

Robert MacGregor was born in the Scottish Highlands in 1671. As the son of a prominent Highland clan, Robert was trained from an early age in the skills of hunting, survival, swordsmanship and a range of other fighting techniques.
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He became proficient in trading cattle, particularly cattle raided from rival clans, a tradition of the times. By 1712, the cattle market experienced a significant downturn and MacGregor’s coffers ran dry. Unable to pay his debts, Robert was branded an outlaw.
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His life then became a series of skirmishes with the law, imprisonments and escapes. MacGregor continuously courted controversy and attracted conflict. He became known as the Scottish Robin Hood, building a reputation as a man of integrity, a protector of the poor and the scourge of the rich.
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As MacGregor’s legend grew, he became better known by the nickname he had inherited as a result of his fiery red hair and beard. The Gaelic for red, “Ruadh”, became “Roy”. Robert MacGregor was Rob Roy.

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Rob Roy’s legend inspired several novels, including Highland Rogue by Daniel Defoe in 1723, and Rob Roy by Sir Walter Scott in 1817, portraying MacGregor as a symbol of the fight against oppression of early 18th century Scotland.
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These novels and the passage of time have seen Robert MacGregor’s legacy develop from notorious outlaw to romanticised Scottish hero.
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Rob Roy MacGregor died 290 years ago this Tuesday, 24 December 1734.

Question of the Week

Which European country officially banned celebrating Christmas for 13 years in the 17th century?

And Finally...

Happy 70th birthday on Saturday to one of my all-time favourite actors, Denzel Washington, born 28 December 1954. Denzel’s film roll call is impressive, but perhaps I could pick out Man on Fire (2004), American Gangster (2007) and The Equalizer trilogy (2014-2023).

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No newsletter next week. All that remains is for me to wish everyone a happy and peaceful festive season and to spare a thought for those for whom happiness and peace remain a distant hope.
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Thank you for your support of The Breezer in its inaugural year. Thank you also for your kind feedback, please keep it coming. I look forward to catching up with you on 5 January 2025.
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Steve

HOST & CHIEF STORY HUNTER

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P:S: Incidentally, I am always keen to receive your feedback to help me continuously improve this newsletter and the podcast. Just hit reply to this email and...... let it rip! I respond to every email that I receive.

Question of the week... Answer

England banned the celebration of Christmas for 13 years between 1647 and 1660. King Charles I had been defeated by the Parliamentary Roundheads, and the puritanical view prevailed that Christmas was a pagan practice that encouraged drinking, debauchery, and behaviour inconsistent with traditional Christian values.
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The ban continued throughout the rule of Lord Protector Oliver Cromwell until the Restoration of the monarchy, and Charles II, in 1660.

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