Historical Tidbits Version 1

Join in for another episode as we discuss various historical tidbits. We will discuss topics ranging from Ohio's statehood to the first unofficial woman president, including some you may have heard before and others you may not.

Listen to the podcast for various historical tidbits. Below are some of the items that we talk about during the podcast.

Arm and a Leg

In George Washington's days, there were no cameras. One's image was either sculpted or painted. Some paintings of George Washington showed him standing behind a desk with one arm behind his back, while others showed both legs and both arms. Prices charged by painters were not based on how many people were to be painted but on how many limbs were to be painted. Arms and legs are "limbs"; therefore, painting them would cost the buyer more. Hence the expression, "Okay, but it'll cost you an arm and a leg."

History of the word "Gossip"

Early politicians required feedback from the public to determine what the people considered important. Since there were no telephones, TVs, or radios, the politicians sent their assistants to local taverns, pubs, and bars. They were told to "go sip some ale" and listen to people's conversations and political concerns. Many assistants were dispatched at different times. "You go sip here" and "You go sip there." The two words "go sip" were eventually combined when referring to the local opinion, and thus we have the term "gossip."

Gangster Putt-Putt

In the 1920s the miniature golf craze hit America, and by 1930 there were some 40,000 courses, known variously as Lilliput Links, Tom Thumb Golf, Rinky-Dink Golf, Garden Golf, and Baby Golf. There was money to be made in the "sport," and by 1930 anything that smelled potentially lucrative was sure to draw the attention of the criminal underworld.

On October 1, 1930, two men from Chicago checked into a hotel in downtown Manhattan, where they were recognized by Ray Doyle, a reporter for the New York Mirror, who recognized them as two of Al Capone’s torpedoes. It seemed that Capone was branching out, and his lieutenants weren’t shy about broadcasting the fact. “Al Capone has new ideas and a new fancy. He has gone into the little golf game in a big way. For several months past, Al has been purchasing large blocks of stock in miniature golf construction companies.”

“Our observations showed a huge profit in the operation of the business,” Capone’s lieutenant continued. “It is more profitable than rum running. It also kept us away from all police and grand jury investigations, which are a nuisance to us and a waste of time to all concerned.”

It helped too that Capone enjoyed the game. According to Capone’s henchman, “Al has gone nuts about this miniature golf. When he and I were traveling between New York, Miami, and Chicago in recent months, we went in for twosomes a lot. I beat him at it. But he is fast becoming a star.”

Unfortunately, Capone was imprisoned before he could become a miniature golf impresario, and he emerged from Alcatraz nearly a decade later as a broken man.

Brass Monkey

In the heyday of sailing ships, all warships and many freighters carried iron cannons. Those cannons fired round iron cannon balls. It was necessary to keep a good supply near the cannon. However, how to prevent them from rolling about the deck? The best storage method devised was a square-based pyramid with one ball on top, resting on four resting on nine, which rested on sixteen.

Thus, a supply of 30 cannonballs could be stacked in a small area right next to the cannon. There was only one problem...how to prevent the bottom layer from sliding or rolling from under the others. The solution was a metal plate called a "Monkey" with 16 round indentations. However, if this plate were made of iron, the iron balls would quickly rust to it. The solution to the rusting problem was to make "Brass Monkeys."

Few landlubbers realize that brass contracts much more and much faster than iron when chilled. Consequently, when the temperature dropped too far, the brass indentations would shrink so much that the iron cannonballs would come right off the monkey. Thus, it was quite literally, "Cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey."

Pints and Quarts

At local taverns, pubs, and bars, people drank from pint and quart-sized containers. A barmaid's job was to keep an eye on the customers and keep the drinks coming. She had to pay close attention and remember who was drinking in "pints" and who was drinking in "quarts," hence the term "minding your "P's and Q's."

Chairman

In the late 1700s, many houses consisted of a large room with only one chair. Commonly, a long, wide board folded down from the wall, and was used for dining. The "head of the household" always sat in the chair while everyone else ate sitting on the floor.

Occasionally a guest, who was usually a man, would be invited to sit in this chair during a meal. To sit in the chair meant you were important and in charge. They called the one sitting in the chair the "chairman."

Today in business, we use the expression or title "Chairman" or "Chairman of the Board."

The First Female President of the United States

And it is not Hillary Clinton, but Edith Wilson (First Lady) in 1919.

In October that year, Woodrow Wilson suffered a titanic stroke that left him bedridden, incoherent, and in need of constant monitoring. Vice President Thomas Marshall moved to have Congress declare Wilson incapacitated, making him de facto president. Unfortunately for Marshall, Wilson had other ideas. In this instance, we don’t mean Woodrow. Edith Wilson shut her husband up in a bedroom to recover and proceeded to take over as acting president.

For the next four months, Edith oversaw meetings, saw governors, senators, congressmen, and the press, and conducted the White House’s internal affairs. While never sworn in, she did everything a president has to do, including making life-or-death decisions that affected millions worldwide. It has even been suggested that she didn’t consult her husband on many of these decisions, meaning that Edith was, for all intents and purposes, running the country.

Of course, calling Edith the “first” female president depends on how you define “president.” Edith never took an oath of office, potentially disqualifying her. (She wasn’t elected, either, but neither were guys like Gerald Ford or Andrew Johnson.) On the other hand, she did everything we expect a president to do, all while helping her husband get back to good health. It’s a remarkable story and one that deserves to be more widely known.

Deaths of Thomas Jefferson and John Adams

On July 4, 1826—exactly fifty years after the signing of the Declaration of Independence—two of its most powerful champions died within hours of each other. Thomas Jefferson passed away at his home, Monticello, in the early afternoon after a long decline in health. Suffering from chronic illness and weakened by age, Jefferson had reportedly asked whether the Fourth had arrived before slipping into unconsciousness. His death on the anniversary of American independence seemed almost poetic, cementing his legacy as the principal author of the Declaration and a defining voice of the Revolutionary era.

Just hours later, in Quincy, John Adams also lay dying. Blind and frail at ninety, Adams had once been Jefferson’s political rival but later reconciled with him in a remarkable exchange of letters that lasted fourteen years. According to tradition, Adams’ final words were, “Thomas Jefferson survives,” unaware that his old friend and former adversary had already died earlier that day. The coincidence stunned the young nation and was widely interpreted as a symbolic closing chapter of the revolutionary generation.

The dual deaths of Jefferson and Adams on the fiftieth anniversary of independence resonated deeply across the United States. Bells tolled, newspapers printed elaborate tributes, and citizens reflected on the improbable symmetry of two former presidents—once fierce opponents, later philosophical correspondents—departing on the same historic date. Their passing marked not only the end of two lives but also the fading of the founding era itself, reinforcing July 4, 1826, as one of the most poignant anniversaries in American history.

The Liberty Bell

The Liberty Bell was cast in 1752 for the Pennsylvania State House, now known as Independence Hall, in Philadelphia. Ordered from the Whitechapel Bell Foundry in London, it cracked upon its first test ring after arriving in the colonies. Local metalworkers John Pass and John Stow melted it down and recast it twice, adding more copper to strengthen the alloy. The names of Pass and Stow remain inscribed on the bell today. Cast with the biblical inscription from Leviticus 25:10—"Proclaim LIBERTY Throughout all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof—the bell was originally intended to summon lawmakers and citizens, not to serve as a revolutionary symbol.

During the years leading up to the American Revolution, the bell rang to mark public meetings and important announcements. Although popular legend claims it rang on July 4, 1776, to announce the signing of the Declaration of Independence, historians believe it more likely rang on July 8, 1776, when the Declaration was publicly read in the State House yard. When British forces approached Philadelphia in 1777 during the Revolutionary War, the bell was removed from the tower and hidden in Allentown, Pennsylvania, to prevent it from being melted down for cannon metal.

The Liberty Bell’s famous crack developed gradually. By the early 19th century, it had already shown signs of fracture. In 1846, city officials attempted to repair it so it could ring in honor of George Washington’s birthday, but the crack worsened and rendered the bell unusable. After that, it was preserved as a relic rather than a functioning instrument. Abolitionists in the 1830s had already adopted it as a powerful symbol of freedom and anti-slavery, popularizing the name “Liberty Bell,” which had not been its original title.

In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the Liberty Bell toured the United States to promote national unity, traveling by rail to expositions and patriotic events. Over time, it became one of the most recognizable symbols of American independence and civil rights. Today, it resides at the Liberty Bell Center, across from Independence Hall in Philadelphia, where millions of visitors view it each year as an enduring emblem of liberty, resilience, and the ongoing pursuit of freedom.

Ohio Becoming a State

Ohio’s path to statehood is more complicated than many people realize. The region that would become Ohio was originally part of the vast Northwest Territory, created by the Northwest Ordinance. This ordinance established a clear process for territories to become states once they reached a population of 60,000 free inhabitants. By the late 1790s, settlements in places like Marietta and Chillicothe had grown rapidly, driven by migration from the East and veterans claiming Revolutionary War land grants.

In 1802, Congress passed the Enabling Act of 1802, authorizing Ohio residents to draft a state constitution. Delegates met in Chillicothe in November 1802 and quickly produced a constitution without submitting it to voters for ratification—a common practice at the time. President Thomas Jefferson approved the process, and on February 19, 1803, Congress passed legislation accepting Ohio’s constitution and boundaries. For generations, that date was celebrated as Ohio’s official birthday.

However, there was a historical technicality. Unlike later states, Congress never passed a formal resolution explicitly declaring Ohio “admitted” to the Union in 1803. The oversight went unnoticed for more than 150 years. In 1953, during preparations for Ohio’s 150th anniversary, researchers discovered the omission. To correct the record, Congress passed a retroactive joint resolution, signed by President Dwight D. Eisenhower, officially recognizing Ohio’s statehood as beginning on March 1, 1803—the date the first General Assembly met.

So when did Ohio truly become a state? Legally and practically, Ohio functioned as a state beginning in early 1803. Its government operated independently, representatives took seats in Congress, and federal authority recognized its constitution. The 1953 act did not create statehood but clarified it. Therefore, while February 19, 1803, marks congressional approval, and March 1, 1803, marks the start of state government, Ohio’s true birth as a state belongs firmly to the early days of 1803—a rare case where history required a retroactive fix to confirm what everyone had long assumed.