From the folks at Batting the Breeze... our weekly newsletter where curiosity knows no bounds! Spend a few minutes discovering historical snippets and fascinating facts related to the forthcoming week, with a dash of "lots more". [Note: The Breezer is published here with a 2-week delay. If you would like to receive free editions on the day they are published, simply sign up below.] Thanks, Steve
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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". - 27th October 2024.
Happy Sunday!
Happy 90th Birthday next Saturday to Ken Rosewall, the legendary Australian tennis player born on 2 November 1934. “Muscles” won eight Grand Slam singles titles in his career, ranking as the world’s No. 1 tennis player on and off over the 11 years between 1961 and 1972. One honour had eluded Rosewall during that period - a Wimbledon Men’s singles title, despite reaching the final three times. In 1974, Rosewall astonished the tennis world by reaching his fourth Wimbledon final. At 39, he had earned one more chance for glory.
Ken Rosewall, 1973: Panini, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
Jimmy Connors had other ideas. He crushed Rosewall 6-1, 6-1, 6-4. Rosewall’s last opportunity to claim the ultimate prize had slipped away.
That summer, Jimmy Connors earned $16,000 for winning the Wimbledon Men’s title. Three months later, another global sporting event netted the two contestants a staggering $5 million each. This was 300 times the amount of Connor’s payout. The Rumble in the Jungle, one of boxing’s most legendary encounters, took place 50 years ago on Wednesday, 30 October 1974. George Foreman was the reigning and undisputed heavyweight champion of the world. In the opposite corner, Muhammad Ali, who had defended his heavyweight title nine times since beating Sonny Liston in 1964. But, in 1967, he was stripped of these titles due to his conscientious objection to the Vietnam War.
Muhammad Ali, 1967: Ira Rosenberg, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
Ali was box-office gold. Apart from his boxing prowess, he was eloquent and witty. His pre-fight trash-talk was often more stand-up than knockdown. The man who could “float like a butterfly, sting like a bee” never lost an opportunity to remind the world how good he was:
It's hard to be humble when you're as great as I am.
As an impressionable ten-year-old, I watched the 1974 Foreman-Ali fight with my father. But, when I recollect Muhammad Ali today, I don’t picture a boxer. I see an icon of the world, a survivor. I see a larger-than-life character. I see the twinkle in his eye. I see a man who was daring, caring, funny and engaging. Ali was courageous, proud and loyal, everything a child expected from a hero. When Ali published his autobiography, “The Greatest: My Own Story,” a year later, I read it over and over. I wasn’t alone; many children of my generation with no interest in boxing were addicted to Muhammad Ali. The more he bragged, the more we loved him. That night in 1974, the jungle was a sports stadium in Kinshasa, Zaire (now Democratic Republic of Congo). Why Zaire? The bout was marketed as an African celebration, but the combined $10 million payday may have lubricated the venue selection process. Apart from the eye-watering purse and a catchy title, the fight was remembered for Ali’s ‘rope-a-dope’ tactics. He sat back on the ropes for extended periods of the bout, put up his guard and let Foreman try and knock seven bells out of him.
Rope-a-dope in the Rumble in the Jungle, 1974: El Gráfico, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
The elasticity of the ropes had cushioned the relentless barrage of punches unleashed on Ali. In round eight, he made his move. Ali sprang away from the ropes, stepped forward and decked Foreman. George was exhausted. The countdown beat him. Ali was now the undisputed boxing champion of the world, a title which he maintained until 1978. Foreman and Ali became close friends in later life. In 1996, the film "When We Were Kings", which chronicled the Rumble in the Jungle, won an Academy Award for Best Documentary. Ali and Foreman were invited to join the producers on stage. By now, Ali's health had deteriorated from the onset of Parkinson's disease. Foreman steadied the frail Ali as he climbed the steps. They stood side by side, basking in the warm applause. It was a poignant display of the mutual respect that prevailed. Muhammad Ali was much more than a boxer. He dedicated his later life to humanitarian work, fully exploiting his charisma and global stardom. He fought for civil rights, promoted peace through the umbrella of the United Nations and delivered speeches of extraordinary depth and profundity. At 74 years old, as he succumbed to the ravages of Parkinson’s, Ali was taken from this world through the septic shock resulting from a respiratory infection. The world mourned.
Muhammad Ali, 1975: Bernard Gotfryd, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
Service to others is the rent you pay for your room here on earth.
Henry Dunant was born in Geneva, Switzerland, in 1828. His family ethos was one of service. He grew up supporting his parents’ work with the sick and poor. He also developed initiatives of his own. He founded the Geneva Chapter of the YMCA and later joined the committee that formed the international YMCA movement. In early 1859, Dunant was seeking water rights for his Algerian milling enterprise. He had also been captivated by Florence Nightingale’s humanitarian efforts, which had gained prominence during the recent Crimean War. In the June, Dunant looked to kill two birds with one stone. He orchestrated a meeting with the French Emporer, Napoleon III, who was leading his forces against the Austrian army at that time. Dunant could discuss water rights with Napoleon and experience the reality of warfare first hand. He travelled to a small village in Italy close to Lake Garda. Arriving on the evening of the 26th, Dunant witnessed the aftermath of the Battle of Solferino that had unfolded that afternoon. He was deeply affected by what he saw; The 15-hour battle had rendered 5,000 soldiers dead. A further 25,000 wounded and suffering souls were abandoned where they fell.
The Battle of Solferino, 1859: Adolphe Yvon, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
Henry aborted his meeting with Napoleon and spent several days organising relief for the wounded and dying soldiers. Dunant's life had pivoted in a single day. He wrote a book about his experiences at Solferino and then travelled throughout Europe, promoting his ideas for coordinated humanitarian aid. By 1863, he had co-founded the International Committee of the Red Cross. The ICRC was instrumental in founding a sister organisation dedicated to caring for wounded soldiers in war zones. That organisation was the Red Cross, formed 161 years ago this Tuesday, 29 October 1863. The first Geneva Convention followed a year later. Today, the Red Cross provides front-line relief across a host of humanitarian situations worldwide. But, their seven fundamental principles still hold: Humanity; Impartiality; Neutrality; Independence; Voluntary Service; Unity; Universality.
The American Red Cross, an offshoot of the Red Cross, was founded in 1881. Taking a lead from the Salvation Army's Donut Lassies in World War I, the American Red Cross formed a similar unit during World War II. The Donut Dollies were young, female volunteers who risked their lives serving doughnuts to soldiers on the front lines. Their role extended to providing pastoral care and a home from home to distract soldiers from the realities of war. This initiative extended to the Korean War, and finally, the Vietnam War. I was lucky enough to meet my very own Donut Dolly, the delightful Penni Evans. She had joined the American Red Cross in 1969 only to find herself in the thick of the Vietnam War by March of 1970. She was 22.
Penni Evans, Vietnam, 1970
Penni shared her experiences with me; some harrowing, some uplifting, but with no hint of regret. One year in the Vietnam War had profoundly affected the rest of Penni’s life. Meeting and talking with Penni profoundly affected me, all for the better. Have a listen, and I hope the same for you.
Listen now on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Overcast, Pocket Casts, Amazon Music or just about any other podcast player of your choice. Check out the show notes for the links and transcript to learn more.
My favourite quotes from the episode…
We got on a bus, it's just like a regular bus, but it had, like, chicken wire mesh or something over the windows… and somebody asked what that was for, and they said that's to keep the grenades and such being thrown in by the VC (Viet Cong). And we're going, "Oh well, hello!”
… I was with a fellow that was in charge of the planes, the squadron. He was like a senior sergeant, and he was waiting on word for when his birds, these were the Caribou's, the C-7s, when they would come back, and two of them didn't make it. They crashed, and no survivors. I had been waiting with him for a couple of hours, and so I went into our little office… and I was kind of teary-eyed, 'cause that was my real first wake-up shock. Whoever was there looked at me and says, "We don't cry. We're here to smile. We're not here to cry". So I don't cry very easily at all now.
Penni Evans in Vietnam, 1970
Dates with History...
Wednesday
Sir Barnes Neville Wallis was an English engineer and inventor. He had designed the R100 airship in 1930, notable for its sleek design and light weight, making it suitable for long-distance flights. However, Wallis became renowned for a markedly different form of aeronautical achievement. In 1942, Barnes Wallis conceived the bouncing bomb, 4,000 kg of explosive-packed steel which could skip across a stretch of water, rather like the stone-skimming we would play as kids at the beach. In 1943, three primary dams of the Ruhr Valley were essential to maintain German armaments production during the war. The bouncing bomb's task was to breach those dams.
Testing the bouncing bomb in Kent, 1943: IWM staff photographers, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
RAF Lancaster pilots, navigators and bomb aimers worked in harmony. The mass of steel was released from the bomb bay at a pre-determined height and rotational speed. The spinning bomb would then bounce across the water, evading the torpedo nets, hit the dam wall, sink and explode at the optimum depth to cause maximum damage. Operation Chastise (a.k.a. the Dam Busters Raid), led by Wing Commander Guy Gibson, breached the Möhne and Eder dams. The Sorpe remained relatively unscathed. Armament production was only temporarily interrupted. However, the diversion of workers from other projects to repair the dams significantly throttled the German war effort. Barnes Wallis died 45 years ago on Wednesday, 30 October 1979.
Thursday…
The Windmill Theatre, London, first opened in 1931. Inspired by Parisian Belle Epoque venues such as the Moulin Rouge and Follies Bergère, the Windmill proudly remained open throughout the Blitz during World War II. “We never closed” became their motto. The venue’s Revudeville, its own branded vaudeville-styled variety show, teetered along the thin line of respectability. Some performers were presented as nude statues, ‘tableaux vivants’. By remaining motionless, the venue could circumnavigate the obscenity laws of the day. Over time, the expression “We never closed” morphed to “We never clothed”.
Windmill Theatre, Soho, 1947: Willem van de Poll, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons
The Windmill Girls were London’s answer to the Parisian Doriss Girls. They were professional dancers. No surprise, then, that they often felt compromised by the nature of their performance and, in turn, by the behaviour of some of the patrons. Doris Barry, a former Windmill Girl, once referred to…
Men with raincoats over their knees, half of them playing with themselves.
The Windmill Theatre closed its doors in its original format for the final time 60 years ago this Wednesday, 31 October 1964.
Question of the week...
What is the only major city in the world that straddles two continents?
(answer at bottom of newsletter)
And finally...
The Welsh romantic poet Dylan Thomas was born 110 years ago today, 27 October 1914. By the age of 39, he had amassed a concise collection of poetry, prose and other literary bits and pieces. This was fortunate as Thomas died from pneumonia while in New York in 1953, exacerbated by heavy drinking. His iconic legacy was perhaps bolstered by the timing and manner of his premature death, but Thomas was a cult figure even before he died. If you have heard of Dylan Thomas but think you have never read his poetry, what about this?
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Thomas wrote Do not go gentle into that good night after witnessing his father’s last breath. His clarion call was to resist death with all your might or - to put it another way - value every minute of the life you have. Anyway, I’m off to make the best of what life has to offer me this Sunday. As Dylan Thomas may have said;
Somebody's boring me. I think it's me.
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Thank you for joining me. Have a great week!
Steve
HOST & CHIEF STORY HUNTER
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.
Answer to Question of the week:The only major city in the world that straddles two continents is Istanbul, the capital of Turkey. The city is divided by the Bosphorus, with European Turkey in the North and Asian Turkey to the South. 65% of Istanbul’s population live in Europe, the remainder in Asia. The two sides were connected by the Bosphorus Bridge*, when its construction was completed 51 years ago on Wednesday, 30 October 1973.
*also known as the First Bridge and 15 July Martyrs Bridge
From the folks at Batting the Breeze... our weekly newsletter where curiosity knows no bounds! Spend a few minutes discovering historical snippets and fascinating facts related to the forthcoming week, with a dash of "lots more". [Note: The Breezer is published here with a 2-week delay. If you would like to receive free editions on the day they are published, simply sign up below.] Thanks, Steve
