The so-called "Nag's Head Portrait", possibly of Theodosia Burr Alston. (Photo: Public Domain)

In 1869, a vacationing doctor named William Gaskins Pool was called to help an ill old woman named Polly Mann, who lived in a shack near Nags Head, Carolina. When he and his daughter, Anna, gingerly entered the dark, cobweb-covered home, they were drawn to a picture on the wall, Anna remembered, “of a beautiful young woman about twenty-five years of age.” After extensively questioning Polly about the painting, Dr. Pool believed his initial hunch was correct. He was staring at a portrait of the long vanished Theodosia Burr Alston, a portrait which may hold the key to her long-debated fate at sea.

Today, if people know anything about Theodosia, it is because of the lovely lullaby “Dear Theodosia,” sung by the character of Aaron Burr in the sensational musical Hamilton. But the real-life Theodosia grew from a beloved child into a highly intelligent, complex adult, whose fascinating story is largely unknown and worthy of its very own Broadway smash.

Theodosia Bartow Burr was born in Albany, New York, on June 21, 1783. Her mother, also called Theodosia, was a brilliant, cultured woman. She had scandalized New England society, when as a married mother of five, she fell in love with an equally brilliant and much younger blue-blooded lawyer and Revolutionary War—Aaron Burr. After her first husband’s death, the two were married, and little Theodosia, the couple’s only child to survive, became the center of her parents’—particularly her father’s—world.

“Your dear little Theodosia cannot hear you spoken of without an apparent melancholy,” the elder Theodosia wrote to a traveling Aaron in 1785, “insomuch that her nurse is obliged to exert her invention to divert her, and myself avoid to mention you in her presence. She was one whole day indifferent to everything but your name. Her attachment is not of a common nature.”

Aaron Burr, Theodosia's father. (Photo: Library of Congress/LC-USZ62-102555) 

Aaron reciprocated these feelings. His plans for his lovely, dark-haired “Little Miss Priss,” who was already displaying an extraordinary intellect and sharp wit, were incredibly ambitious, and for the times, highly progressive. “I hope yet by her [Theodosia] to convince the world what neither sex seems to believe,” he wrote, “that women have soul!”

In 1800, Theodosia became deeply enamored with Joseph Alston, a wealthy planter from South Carolina. “My father laughs at my impatience to hear from you,” Theodosia wrote teasingly to Joseph during a separation.

The couple were married on February 2, 1801, in Albany. Little more than a month afterwards, she and her new husband watched as her father was sworn in as Vice-President of the United States, under President Thomas Jefferson. They were further blessed nine months later when their son Aaron Burr Alston, nicknamed “Gampy” by his doting grandfather, was born.

However, the birth of her only child took a heavy toll on Theodosia. She was severely injured during the traumatic birth, and the prolapsed uterus she suffered left her in immense pain, and made intercourse impossible. Although she adored her husband and his family, she had a hard time adjusting to the isolated life of a plantation mistress at The Oaks, the family estate on the Waccamaw River in South Carolina, and was soon spending half the year in New York with her father.

Theodosia Burr Alston, pictured in 1802. (Photo: New York Public Library/Public Domain)

On July 10, 1804, Aaron sat down at his desk and wrote his Theodosia a letter of goodbye. “I am indebted to you, my dearest Theodosia, for a very great portion of the happiness which I have enjoyed in this life. You have completely satisfied all that my heart and affections had hoped for or even wished.” The next day, Aaron—still the Vice President of the United States—would kill Alexander Hamilton in a duel in Weehawken, New Jersey.

Rumors swirled as to the cause of the duel. Aaron had been incensed by a comment Hamilton had made about “still more despicable” acts.  Some thought Hamilton may have been referring to Aaron and Theodosia’s “morbid affection” for each other, which had led to whispers of incest.

Whatever the case, Aaron was soon on the run, although he was never tried for the murder. After serving out his term of Vice President, Aaron headed west to establish a new country comprised of western North American territory and Mexico. He planned to become emperor of said country, with Theodosia succeeding him as empress. He had the full support of his daughter and son-in-law, who supplied much needed funds. The Alstons even headed west to help Aaron in his quest. Theodosia wrote to her half-brother excitedly about “the new settlement which I am about to establish.”

But the Burr dynasty was not to be. The plot was found out, and Burr was taken into custody. In 1807, he was tried for treason in Richmond, the ever loyal Theodosia at his side. Amazingly, Aaron was acquitted, and with the help of Theodosia he soon smuggled himself out of the country and headed for Europe.

Her father now gone, Theodosia’s health—she was probably in the final stages of uterine cancer— deteriorated further. “The most violent affections have tormented her during the whole of the last 18 months,” she wrote in third-person to a doctor in 1808. “Hysteric fits, various colors and flashes of light before her yes, figures passing around her bed, strange noises, low spirits and worse.” She missed her father intensely. “What indeed,” she wrote him, “would I not risk once more to see him, to hang upon him, to place my child upon his knee, and again spend my days in the happy occupation of endeavoring to anticipate his wishes.”

In 1812, Theodosia’s beloved “Gampy” died of malaria in South Carolina. With the loss of her only child, Theodosia’s world grew darker. “There is no more joy for me,” she wrote. “The world is blank. I have lost my boy.”

Theodosia Burr Alston. (Photo: Public Domain)

On December 10, 1812, Joseph Alston was elected governor of South Carolina. His new position made it impossible for him to accompany Theodosia to New York, and with the War of 1812 raging in the Atlantic, he was worried about his frail wife making the treacherous trip to New York. To ensure his daughter’s safety, Aaron sent down his friend Dr. Timothy Green to secure a boat and make sure that Theodosia made it home to him.

Theodosia, along with Dr. Green, a French maid and skeleton crew, boarded a small schooner called the Patriot at the port of Georgetown on December 31. One week passed, then two, then three—with no word from the Patriot, its small crew or passengers. “In three weeks I have not yet had one line from her,” Joseph wrote Aaron. “My mind is tortured—after 30 days—my wife is either captured or lost!” By February 24th, he had given up all hope. “My boy and-my wife- gone both! This, then is the end of all the hopes we had formed,” he wrote to his father-in-law. “You may well observe that you feel severed from the human race. She was the last thing that bound us to the species.”

Within weeks of the Patriot’s disappearance, rumors about Theodosia’s fate began to spread in the North and the South. Joseph died in 1816, a shell of the man he once was. Burr lived another 23 years, long enough to witness the cottage-industry of conspiracy theories about his daughter’s disappearance come to life. He refused to believe she was still alive, stating firmly: “She is dead. She perished in the miserable little pilot boat in which she left. Were she alive, all the prisons in the world could not keep her from her father.”

Many believed the Patriot had been captured by one of the pirate ships known to troll the Outer Banks. Over the years, numerous “death-bed confessions” from various aged or imprisoned pirates were reported in papers all over the country. The first to gain traction was the case of Jean DeFarges and Robert Johnson, who were executed in 1819 for other crimes.  An 1820 article in the New York Advertiser claimed that the two had confessed to having been crew on the Patriot. They claimed to have led a mutiny, and scuttled the ship, killing all on board.

In 1833, The Mobile Commercial Register reported that another man had confessed to raiding the Patriot with other pirates, who had reluctantly forced Theodosia to walk the plank. Other stories claimed that she had become the wife of an American Indian in Texas, been taken as a pirate’s mistress to Bermuda, or that she had killed herself after resisting the advances of the pirate Octave Chauvet. Yet another fanciful story had her writing farewell letters to her father and husband, and stuffing them and her wedding ring into a champagne bottle and throwing it into the Carolina sea before being executed.

Perhaps the most oft-repeated “confession” was that of Benjamin F. Burdick, a “hard, rough old salt” of a sailor. On his death bed at a poor-house in Michigan, he is said to have confessed to a minister’s wife that he had been on the pirate ship that overtook the Patriot. According to an 1878 edition of the New York Times:

He said there was one lady on board who was beautiful appearing, intelligent and cultivated, who gave her name as Mrs. Theodosia Alston. When her turn came to walk the fatal plank she asked for a few moments time, which was gruffly granted her. She then retired to her berth and changed her apparel, appearing on deck in a few moments clad in pure white garments. And with a bible in her hand, she announced that she was ready. She appeared as calm and composed as if she were at home, and not a tremor crept over her frame, or a pallor overspread her features, as she walked toward her fate. As she was taking the fatal steps, she folded her hand over her bosom and raised her eyes to heaven. She fell and sank without a murmur or a sigh.

Then there is the curious case of “the female stranger,” who is buried in the St. Paul’s Episcopal Graveyard in Alexandria, Virginia. It is said this “veiled lady” appeared in the city in 1816, with a man claiming to be her husband. She died a short time later. Legend has it that this was Theodosia and Dr. Green, recently returned from captivity in the islands.

Perhaps the only clue we have as to what really happened to Theodosia is the Nags Head portrait, discovered by Dr. Pool in 1869. According to his daughter, Polly Mann told her and her father that her deceased husband, Joseph Tillett, was a “wrecker” who scavenged the ships that washed up on the shores of the Outer Banks. She claimed that decades before, he and his friends had come upon a scuttled, empty schooner near Kitty Hawk. In one cabin they found many fine items, including the portrait and dresses, which were now in Polly’s possession. “Also exposed to our view—a vase of wax flowers under a glass globe,” Anna remembered, “and a shell beautifully carved in the shape of a nautilus.”

A drawing of Burr Alston from 1900, based on a 1811 miniature. (Photo: Public Domain)

Polly gave the portrait to Dr. Pool in lieu of payment. He took it back home to Elizabeth City. Over the years, he and his cohorts would attempt to get authentication of the portrait from the Burr and Alston families, whose opinions as to whether the likeness was Theodosia varied greatly. “I do remember her beautiful eyes,” Joseph Alston’s youngest sister wrote, “and the eyes in the picture are really beautiful.”

Those who believe in the painting’s authenticity think it proves that Theodosia died off the coast of the North Carolina shore, one way or another. There were fierce storms on the Outer Banks January 2nd and 3rd in 1812, which caused damage to ships nearby the Patriot’s planned route. It is most likely that the small ship was simply over-powered by the storm, but who knows? Perhaps pirates, rouge wreckers, the British, or something else caused the boat’s destruction. Or perhaps Theodosia was spirited away to some exotic land, and lived a long life—though in her precarious health that seems very unlikely.

Today the legend of Theodosia lives on. The Nags Head Portrait now hangs in the Lewis Walpole Library at Yale. Her ghost is said to haunt her plantation The Oaks, the Outer Banks, Richmond Hill and Bald Head Island, where it is said her spirit is chased by three headless pirates. In the late 19th and early 20th century the mystery was spun into several novels and countless magazine articles. Many little girls were named after her—including Theodosia Burr Goodman, who would become famous as the silent screen vamp Theda Bara. Her story was a favorite of poets, including Robert Frost, whose poem Kitty Hawk includes the line:

Did I recollect how the wreckers wrecked Theodosia Burr off this very shore? T’was to punish her, but her father more.

But perhaps the impact of the mystery of Theodosia is best summed up by her friend Margaret Blennerhasset in her poem On A Friend Who Was Supposed To Have Suffered A Shipwreck:

And now I wander all alone, Nor heed the balmy breeze, but list the ring dove’s tender moan, and think upon the seas.

On a rainforested mountaintop in Malaysia, not far from Kuala Lumpur, lies the wreckage of a Royal Air Force B-24 Liberator. World War II had ended only a few days before the British aircraft disappeared, lost while dropping supplies for resistance fighters in the remote jungles of Seremban, Negeri Sembilan. It was more than a thousand miles from its base in the Cocos Islands.

Less than a week after the surrender of Japan, a crew of eight was sent on a mission to the Malay Peninsula to drop supplies, search for POW camps, and perhaps to even drop leaflets announcing the end of the War. There was no distress signal, no indication of trouble—but the plane disappeared, thought to have gone down in the ocean.

Forty six years later, a remote wreckage site was reported by local Orang Asli tribesmen. The wreck may have first been spotted in the 1950s, but those reports are sketchy and, if true, were never acted on. (At the time, fear of an ambush by Communist insurgents may have been a factor.) When the locals came to the authorities in 1991, it was thought the plane might be the missing RAF tail# KL654/R, but expeditions to examine the site didn’t begin until 2006.

In 2009, British and Malaysian volunteers excavated the area, uncovering the remains and some personal effects of the eight-man crew. In 2012 they were laid to rest at a special ceremony at the Cheras War Cemetery in Kuala Lumpur.

The wreck, while spread over a large area, is well preserved, including sections of the wings, the fuselage, the engine, and even some faint markings. Although located in thick virgin jungle, it’s a popular destination for hiking groups. There is abundant wildlife, including siamang gibbons, and—although the species has been declared extinct on the Peninsula—Sumatran rhinos have been rumored to check the site out too.

What started as a political protest against Roman paganism became the stuff of religious legend.

In January of 250, the Roman Emperor Decius issued an edict that everyone under his reign must perform a sacrifice dedicating themselves to the empire and to the Roman gods. Understandably, this caused an uproar among young Christian communities, who, though persecuted, had previously been free to worship. Refusal to submit came at the price of death. All the same, many Christians refused to deny their faiths. 

Seven young men in Ephesus refused to make the sacrifice and hid in a cave on the outskirts of the city. Tired from fleeing, they fell asleep. The Roman sentries came upon the Seven slumbering peacefully in the cave. Rather than killing them outright, they sealed them in, perhaps in a mockery of Christians' reverence for Jesus' entombment. That was the last their families and friends ever heard of them.

Sometime much later, the myth continues, the farmer who owned the land thought to open the cave, perhaps to use as an animal pen. He was shocked to find seven young men inside, still asleep. When the light hit their faces, they awoke. Feeling hungry, they pooled their money and sent one of them to the village to buy food. They warned him to watch out for Romans, but, believing they had slept for a full day, they thought the coast was clear. When the young man reached the market and tried to buy bread, vendors were dismayed to see that he carried Decian coins—which were at least 150 years old by then. The bishop was called in (in the century they slept Christianity had resurfaced full force) to interview the Seven Sleepers, and they all died peacefully just a few hours after.

The cave outside Ephesus was excavated in the 1920s, revealing a number of 5th and 6th century Christian graves. An ancient Church sits atop the cave as well. Religious pilgrims still pay visits to the holy Cave of the Seven Sleepers.

The details of the myth are hotly disputed among the various cultures that tell it. Christians believe that the Seven slept for between 128 and 200 years, but the Qur'an states that they slept for around 300 years. Even the location is unclear. Though this cave in Ephesus is the most commonly visited by religious pilgrims, caves in Jordan, China, Tunisia, and Algeria lay claim to the myth of the Seven Sleepers.

Whatever the truth of story is, its lore has seeped into common culture. For example, in Danish, Norwegian, and Swedish, a sysover ("seven-sleeper") is someone who sleeps long and hard. Seven Sleepers Day is June 27th, and is the German equivalent of American Groundhog Day.

Obama speaks with an advisor ahead of a debate in 2012. (Photo: Public domain)

As viewers nervously tuned into the first presidential debate in September, the first question might well have been about the venue itself. Why are we watching these candidates at Hofstra University? At this point, the school's most salient feature might be hosting presidential debates, having been the only venue to have hosted debates in three consecutive election years. 

But if Hofstra University seemed a bit random, the second debate's venue might have been even more esoteric: tiny Longwood University, in Virginia. 

In recent years, there have been a spate of strange academic settings. Washington University, in St. Louis, has been a popular choice, along with a series of seemingly haphazard hosts, including St. Anselm College, in Goffstown, New Hampshire; Centre College, in Danville, Kentucky; Lynn University, in Boca Raton, Florida; and Belmont University, in Nashville. 

It wasn't always this way. Probably the most famous presidential debate of all time, the 1960 clash between Richard Nixon and John F. Kennedy that might've decided the election, was held in a Washington, D.C. television studio. And almost all of the debates up until 1988 were held in a variety of convention centers, auditoriums, and theaters. 

So what changed? The short answer is money.

The Kennedy-Nixon debate, the first between major party nominees, was sponsored by television networks, and the debates in 1976, 1980, and 1984 (there were no debates in 1964, 1968, or 1972) were each sponsored by the League of Women Voters. But beginning in 1988 a new entity took over: the Commission on Presidential Debates (CPD), a nonprofit formed then by Republicans and Democrats in part to help ensure that debates would keep happening. 

But as the debates became more formalized, they also became more expensive, in part to support the CPD and its staff. Venues like theaters make money by staging a show and charging admission, but presidential debates cost $4 million or more to produce. And very few pay to get in. 

All of which makes little sense for a private venue, but a lot of sense for colleges, who both have the money to spend and aren't out to make money themselves, only garner publicity. The commission, in turn, gets a venue with a neutral sheen, in addition to one that gestures at harmless intellectual pugilism. What is college for? Mindless debate, mostly.

The CPD doesn't have any shortage of options, or colleges willing to pay up. Hofstra spent around $5 million this year to host the debate, or about the same amount they spent in 2012. Longwood University, in Farmville, Virginia, which hosted the vice presidential debate, paid $5.5 million for the privilege, a number equal to about 10 percent of the university's entire endowment. Washington University, which hosts the second presidential debate, and the University of Nevada-Las Vegas, which hosts the final debate on October 19, will pay similar numbers. 

Where does all that money go? Around $2 million for each debate goes back to the commission, in the form of a host fee, which the commission uses to fund its staff.

The rest is spent on production costs, which aren't small. This is because the CPD requires a lot for the debates, which include thousands of spectators, in addition to hundreds of journalists and political operatives, as well as countless television crews. 

Have a look at the CPD's requirements for debate hosts, which they update each election cycle: 

A debate hall of at least 17,000 square feet that is air conditioned.

A large parking area close to the debate hall for 40 television remote trucks, trailers and/or satellite trucks up to 53 feet in length.

A media filing center, located either in the same facility as the debate hall or extremely close to the debate hall that is a minimum of 20,000 square feet (may be a tent). This space must be air conditioned.

A media parking lot, located approximately one-quarter to one mile away from the media filing center, that can accommodate approximately 500 passenger vehicles.

An accreditation center of at least 3,000 square feet, located one-half to one mile away from the debate hall, with parking for 75 vehicles.

Nearby hotels that can provide 3,000 rooms for the event.

Good air and ground transportation networks.

The host's guarantee of complete city services, including public safety personnel.

Which is how you end up at Longwood and not Harvard, which doesn't need the publicity nor any potential headaches. But for Longwood—a public institution of around 5,000 students whose most famous alumni might be the former NBA player Jerome Kersey—it can be well worth it.

Taylor Reveley, Longwood's president, likened it to buying a television ad during the Super Bowl. 

"Hosting one of these crucial debates is a genuinely once-in-a-lifetime opportunity," Reveley told PBS.

Some of the people Longwood might be trying to get their name out to are the candidates themselves. On Tuesday, when Mike Pence, the Republican vice presidential nominee sought to thank the university, he didn't quite get it right. 

"Thank you," Pence said, "to Norwood University for their wonderful hospitality."

Mummification is, obviously, most closely linked with ancient Egypt, but it is a varied and culturally broad burial trend. Here are some examples of its more modern manifestations—from self-mummification, a brutal practice that only came to light in Japan in the 1960s, to more traditional embalming.

Fair warning: The images below might be disturbing to some readers. We are, after all, talking about preserving human bodies. 

Luang Pho Dang 

KO SAMUI, THAILAND

Monk Luang Pho Dang. (Photo: kai-uwe.fischer/CC BY-SA 3.0)

Feeling his death approaching, Buddhist monk Luang Pho Dang instructed his followers that should his body decay, he wished to be cremated. Otherwise, he wished to remain on display in hopes of inspiring others to follow the Buddhist way of life. Luckily for us, the latter proved to be his destiny. Like other noteworthy modern mummies, Luang Pho Dang died mid-meditation. Since that time his body has been displayed in a glass viewing platform within the Kunaram Temple. The monk remains seated in the lotus position, and his bodily tissue shows a remarkable lack of decay for the amount of time that has elapsed since his death.

The sunglasses, though, are a more recent development.

Dr. Gottfried Knoche and His Mummies  

CARACAS, VENEZUELA

Locals with a mummy created by Gottfried Knoche. (Photo: Unknown - Historic Tourism/Public Domain)

In the mid-19th century, an ingenious doctor by the name of Gottfried Knoche emigrated from Germany to Venezuela, taking with him a passion for accurately preserving the dead.

Fueled by a nearly unlimited supply of unclaimed bodies from his adopted nation's civil war, Knoche developed a unique embalming fluid that would stave off the seemingly inexorable forces of death. This "mummification serum" prevented the decomposition of flesh without necessitating the removal of the specimen's internal organs, a groundbreaking discovery for the era.

Knoche apparently had a knack for predicting death as well as staving off the effects of those already afflicted. When he felt the tingle that his own life was drawing to a close, he instructed Amelie, his ever-faithful nurse, to inject his (still living) body with his homemade embalming serum. Immediately thereafter it is said that he locked himself in his family's crypt, never to be seen again.

Whatever secret acts transpired on his family's land thereafter followed Amelie to her grave in 1926. Though scientists, morbidists, and bounty hunters alike have pillaged his homestead ever since, few vestiges of Doctor Knoche's macabre experiments have seen the light of day. A photograph is rumored to exist in which the bodies of his mummies, including a few prominent government officials and academics of the time, are scattered about his lawn, though precise evidence remains hard to come by. In fact, despite modern experts' best attempts, the best approximation to Knoche's original "mummification serum" remains an imprecise concoction based on aluminum chloride. 

Jeremy Bentham's Auto-Icon 

LONDON, ENGLAND

(Photo: Matt Brown/CC BY 2.0)

Ever the utilitarian, Jeremy Bentham had set forth a plan for every atom of his deceased body, and his faithful friends and colleagues at the University College London saw to it that his will was followed to a "T". After dying on June 6, 1832, Bentham's body was first dissected as part of a public anatomy lecture. Then, his skeleton and head were preserved in a wooden container until the time in which his bones could be reassembled, padded with hay, and "lad in one of the suits of black occasionally worn by me."

He decided that his place in all eternity should be none other than sitting upright in a chair positioned in the main lobby of his beloved University's South Cloisters. Here he sits 99.8 percent of the time. Of course, even the deceased occasionally require a promenade; at the institution's 100th and 150th anniversaries, Bentham attends the meeting of the Council College where records hilariously list him as "present but not voting."

Only one element of his plan went awry: originally Bentham had requested that his head be embalmed and his glasses embedded in his face in order that he might most resemble his living self. Unfortunately a terrible accident in the preservation of his head grossly disfigured his face. No matter! A wax replica was formed and placed atop his neck, and the rather perverse original placed between his feet. 

Elmer McCurdy: The Funhouse Mummy 

GUTHRIE, OKLAHOMA

Meet the Funhouse Mummy. (Photo: W.J. Boag/Public Domain)

As many a child will tell you, those fun houses dragged around the country by carnies are terrifying. Speak to adults of a certain age, and they’ll not only agree but also provide ammunition for exactly why this is the case. The only exhibit needed in such an argument is Elmer McCurdy, an urban legend come true.

Shot dead on the Kansas-Oklahoma border by sheriffs in a scuffle after robbing train passengers of $46 and two jugs of whiskey, McCurdy’s body was embalmed while waiting to be collected by a family member. As it turns out, McCurdy had been enough of a scumbag that no one wanted him, even in death.

At first, his body was propped-up in the corner of the coroner’s office where curious onlookers could see the mummy for themselves. Eventually a pair of enterprising carnies posed as distant McCurdy relatives and hauled him off to parts unknown... until he surfaced in a Long Beach, California fun house in 1977 where he’d been used as a prop for who knows how long. His discovery was made by an unfortunate crew member for the television series The Six Million Dollar Man who was moving the “prop” out of a shot when the mummy’s arm broke, revealing a real human bone underneath. 

Rosalia Lombardo

PALERMO, ITALY

The mummy of the child Rosalia Lombardo. (Photo: Maria lo sposo/Public Domain)

Two-year-old Rosalia Lombardo is the most tragic of the modern mummies featured here. Cut down by pneumonia at the age of two in 1920, Rosalia’s father sought a locally renowned embalmer to preserve her body for the ages. Alfredo Salafia’s special mummification serum—formalin, alcohol, glycerin, salicylic acid, and zinc salts—had remained a mystery until very recently, though its effectiveness was never in doubt.

As one of the last bodies ever admitted to the Capuchin Catacombs in Palermo, Italy, Rosalia has been on display in a glass casket for nigh-onto one hundred years at this point. Her curls, eyelashes, and unparalleled appearance have earned her the name “Sleeping Beauty.”

X-rays have shown that her internal organs remain remarkably intact, and only in the past few years has her body begun to show signs of decomposition. In response, those responsible for maintaining the Capuchin Catacombs deemed it necessary to place Rosalia’s original coffin into a hermetically sealed glass container and relocated it to a drier part of the structure.

Dashi-Dorzho Itigilov 

IVOLGINSKY DATSAN, SIBERIA

The exhumed body of Itigilov. (Photo: Unknown Author/Fair Use)

The titular head of the Buddhist faith in Russia knew his time was coming. Befitting a man of such piousness and wishing to share one last meditation with his fellow "lamas," Dashi-Dorzho Itigilov, the twelfth Pandito Khambo Lama, left this world mid-chant. His followers placed him in a wood coffin exactly as he left this world: seated in the lotus position, bedecked in his saffron robe.

This was in 1927. Shortly thereafter, Buddhism went the way of all religions in newly communist Russia and Itigilov was left in eternal peace... or so government officials were led to believe. Exhumed twice in the course of 50 years, the astonishingly pristine state of the monk was kept under the radar until societal conditions were more favorable. No less than 75 years after his death, Itigilov's body was reintroduced to the public.

Despite a complete lack of tissue paper wraps or formaldehyde, only the holy man's eyes and nose are worse for the wear, having slightly retreated into his sinuses. But looks aren't everything, right? Professor Viktor Zvyagin, an expert from the Federal Center of Forensic Medicine, took it upon himself to study samples of "The Most Precious Body" in 2004 and concluded that his tissue deterioration equaled that of someone who had died a mere 36 hours prior. Devotees interpret his incredible condition as evidence that he had attained the supreme state of emptiness espoused by Buddhism, while pilgrims seek his visage in hopes that it will heal their deepest ailments.

Corkey “Ra” Nowell's Summum 

SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH 

The Summum Pyramid. (Photo: Summum/CC BY-SA 2.5)

When it comes to religions, one of the freshest faces on the block is that of Summum, a gnostic, Christianity-based faith founded in 1975 by Corky "Ra" né Nowell. Resting somewhere between science fiction and new-age mysticism, Summum preaches the value of mummifying the dead in order that a) the soul transcends more smoothly from this life to the next, and b) is primed for cloning when science catches up with their beliefs.

At the time of his death in 2008, Nowell became the first human to undergo the nearly 1,000 hours of labor required to fully achieve modern mummy status. In preparation, Nowell had written a “spiritual will” that would be recited throughout the 77 days his body would be immersed in Summum’s special brand of mystery mummification fluid. To this day, his golden casket remains on display to visitors in Summum’s joint pyramid-winery headquarters.

Financially speaking, the church has decided that the best way to make ends meet in these tough economic times is by offering their specific brand of mummification to open-minded nonbelievers. Consequently, pet lovers (like you, dear reader!) can now have their companions prepared to meet them at the doorstep of the afterlife.

(Photo: Gage Skidmore/CC BY-SA 3.0)

Thomas Eagleton. (Photo: Public domain)

A far trickier problem, however, are the actual ballots. And it's that process, separate from the nominating process, where time is running out. In the U.S., each individual state controls the election process, from making and printing ballots, to counting votes on Election Day, to certifying election results.

Election law in the U.S. is a 50-state patchwork. From voting machines to filing deadlines, each state has different rules. And it's the printed ballots—and even early voting that has already begun—that concern party officials should Trump quit. The closer it gets to the November election, the more state ballots will have Trump's name on them, as state deadlines for certifying nominees' names have come and gone. 

It's already impossible, in fact, to keep Trump off all 50. Most state deadlines to certify names for the ballot passed in September or early October, meaning that even if Trump quits today you'll still be able to vote for him in many states.

The Electoral College provides additional sources of potential mayhem. Electors in most states are party officials, loyalists who have pledged to vote for their party's nominee should they win a majority of that state's votes. But should state party officials rebel, the national party would have little recourse to stop it. State parties could, in theory, nominate a different candidate for president, or make their electors unpledged, meaning that they are obligated to vote for no one.

George Wallace, left, attempting to block the integration of the University of Alabama in 1963. (Photo: Public domain)

This has happened only a handful of times in modern political history, most recently in 1964, when George Wallace, a Democrat from Alabama, ran against the incumbent President Lyndon B. Johnson. That year, Democratic party officials in Alabama opted to make their electors unpledged, and Johnson's name simply didn't appear on ballots across the state. Instead, voters chose between Barry Goldwater, the Republican nominee, and the unpledged electors, in effect handing the state to Goldwater, though Johnson won the election handily.  

The system is designed to handle sudden jolts, in other words, even if the jolt is often a sign of a broader dysfunction within the country or a particular campaign. The results rarely turn out well. 

When Eagleton stepped down in 1972 he was replaced by Sargent Shriver, an in-law of the Kennedys and the father of Maria Shriver. McGovern and Shriver went on to lose in November to the incumbent President Nixon and Vice President Spiro T. Agnew, in what was then the biggest landslide in modern political history. 

Update, 10/8: This story has been revised to reflect new developments. 

Don't even think about it, shark! (Photo: 4bplusme/CC0)

Shark attacks don't happen very often, but when they do, they tend to be in Australia. Over the past year, down-under swimmers and surfers have reported 16 attacks, nine of which resulted in some kind of injury (two were even fatal). 

To address this issue, lifeguards at Surf Beach in Kiama are bringing out the big guns: blimps. More specifically, one five-meter-long, shark-spotting blimp, equipped with survey cameras and hooked up to a lifeguard-monitored laptop, the Illawarra Mercury reports.

Twenty-two-year-old lifeguard Kye Adams is the man behind this blimp, as the centerpiece of what he is calling Project AIRSHIP (Aerial Inflatable Remote Shark Human Interaction Prevention). The Australian government is constantly exploring initiatives to limit unwanted shark-human contact. Adams sees the blimp as a cost-effective, minimally intrusive way to keep an eye on swimming areas—especially compared with drones, which are expensive and can't stay up very long.

@KiamaCouncil is involved in a shark spotting program using this blimp - keep an eye out for it @nswdpi#Sharkspic.twitter.com/pWVuTGGOHX

— Nick McLaren (@nickpmclaren) September 29, 2016

Adams will soon test the blimp by flying it over water seeded with shark-shaped plywood cutouts. Its first real trial will coincide with the summer school holidays, which span from late December through February. 

Good luck, floating protector, and don't get too close to the water. Those teeth are sharp.

Every day, we track down a fleeting wonder—something amazing that's only happening right now. Have a tip for us? Tell us about it! Send your temporary miracles to cara@atlasobscura.com.

Marie Laveau was a famous and powerful voodoo priestess who lived in New Orleans in the 19th century. Renowned in life and revered in death, some say she continues to work her magic from beyond the grave.

Details of Laveau's life are sketchy, and complicated by the fact that her daughter was also a famous priestess named Marie. The first Marie was born in the French Quarter of New Orleans around 1801, the illegitimate daughter of a Creole mother and a white father. In New Orleans in the 18th and 19th centuries, slaves, Creoles and free people of color practiced a brand of voodoo that incorporated African, Catholic, and Native American religious practices. Laveau, a hairdresser by trade, was the most famous and purportedly the most powerful of the city's voodoo practitioners. She sold charms and pouches of gris gris (some combination of herbs, oils, stones, bones, hair, nails, and grave dirt), told fortunes and gave advice to New Orleans residents of every social strata. Some said Laveau even had the power to save condemned prisoners from execution.

Laveau died in 1881, and is said to be buried in St. Louis Cemetery No. 1, in the tomb of her husband's family, the Glapions. Some scholars dispute this as her final resting place, but it is mentioned in her obituary, and is the most likely spot. Whether she lies inside doesn't seem to matter to the amateur occultists and French Quarter tourists who flock here in equal measure. They scribble Xs on the whitewashed mausoleum in hopes Laveau will grant their wishes. (That practice is discouraged by preservationists, who say it has no basis in voodoo tradition and damages the delicate tomb.) In 2014, a restoration of her tomb was completed that totally removed the Xs, and a large fine is in place for any visitor who attempts to write on the grave.

In general, the Saint Louis Cemetery is beautiful. It dates to 1789 and is the oldest cemetery still standing in the city. Inside are hundreds of 18th and 19th century above-ground tombs holding the city's most prominent dead, including Homer Plessy.

Known for their distinctive above-ground burials and particularly lovely monuments, New Orleans' historic cemeteries are all worth exploring, including the racetrack-shaped Metairie Cemetery and Saint Louis Cemetery No. 2.

Update: As of 2015, St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 is open only to visitors with tour guides or who have family buried in the cemetery.

The pyramid has been a symbol for burial and the afterlife for some 5,000 years—from the ancient pharaohs to Nic Cage, who commissioned his own pyramid vault just this decade. How this particular shape became linked with the realm of the dead is, however, still a matter of some mystery.

The most common theory is that the first Egyptian pyramids were designed to resemble the mound that, according to ancient religion, arose from the primordial waters with the creator god upon it, and from which the Earth was created. As a burial monument, the symbolism of new life represented the transition to the afterlife. In fact, some theories even suggest that the pyramid shape, particularly the early step pyramids, were meant as a literal stairway to the heavens, to help guide the pharaoh’s soul after it left the body on its ascent to join the gods in the sky.

Whatever the origins, the burial pyramid stuck, and not just in Egypt. As cultures became more connected and Egyptomania spread through the Middle East and beyond, the pyramid tomb spread with it. The ancient Nubian pyramids (in modern-day Sudan), were inspired by the entombed pharaohs of the Valley of the Kings, and eventually became so seeped in the culture every wealthy merchant wanted a pyramid to house their mortal remains. 

The trendy tomb spread through Europe and into Asia and the Americas, and now several thousand years later the globe is dotted with burial pyramids serving as gateways to the afterlife.

1. Nicolas Cage's Pyramid Tomb

NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA

Potential proof of Cage's immortality. (Photo: FrugglePants/CC BY-SA 4.0)

The most recent example of a pyramid tomb belongs to actor Nicolas Cage. Long known for his eccentric behavior both in front of the camera and in the real world, it seems he plans to continue this legacy into death as well, having purchased an odd pyramid mausoleum in New Orleans' beloved St. Louis Cemetery No. 1.

The unnamed, empty grave is a stark, nine-foot-tall stone pyramid emblazoned with the Latin maxim, "Omni Ab Uno," which translates to "Everything From One." Some think the pyramid is evidence of the actor's ties to the probably-fictitious secret Illuminati society. Because of antique portraits bearing an uncanny resemblance to Cage that have surfaced online, the more paranormally minded suggest that the pyramid is where Cage will regenerate his immortal self. The actor himself has chosen to remain silent about his reasoning for the flamboyant tomb.

2. Pyramid of Cestius

ROME, ITALY

Pyramid of Cestius in Rome. (Photo: Joris/CC BY-SA 3.0)

Egyptomania first gripped Rome in the wake of the conquest of Egypt in 30 BC, and soon massive original artifacts and inspired copies cropped up all over the city. But only two actual pyramids were known to have been built, and only one remains.

The Pyramid of Cestius was most likely built between 18 and 12 BC as a tomb for a wealthy Roman under the sway of all things Egyptian. Little is known about the man who may have once been buried here since the tomb was long ago ransacked and the land around it has changed dramatically over the centuries. Originally the interior of his tomb was decorated with lively frescoes, described in detail by early travelers, but now mostly gone. Between 271 and 275 the burial site was built into the fortifications of the Aurelian walls, which likely helped it survive the centuries.

3. Kinnitty Pyramid

BIRR, IRELAND

Pyramid tomb in the Kinnitty Church of Ireland graveyard. (Photo: Courtesy of Ardmore Country House)

Pyramid-shaped tombs spread as those with means to travel were inspired by the awesome sight of the Egyptian wonders. A few thousand years after the ancient Egyptian pyramids were erected, a 19th century Irish nobleman may have seen the pharaoh’s extraordinary mausoleum and thought, “I could use one of those myself.” And so Ireland's Kinnitty pyramid was built. 

The Kinnitty pyramid is a made-to-scale replica of the Great Pyramid of Giza. It is the burial tomb of six members of the Bernard family, once the wealthy landowners and owners of the nearby Kinnitty Castle. It’s thought that the master of the Castle, Lt. Col. Richard Wesley Bernard, did a tour of duty in Egypt in the early 19th century where he likely saw the architecture of the ancients. Being trained in engineering and architecture himself, it may have inspired his embarking on the construction of a 30-foot pyramid in the graveyard of Kinnitty’s village church.

4. Pyramid of Stjärneborg

ANEBY, SWEDEN

Stjärneborg pyramid in Sweden. (Photo: Atlas Obscura user Henrick)

The Swedes have a nickname for the eccentric nobleman who built himself a pyramid tomb in the middle of the south Swedish highlands: “Mannen som gjorde vad som föll honom in,” or “The man who did what he wanted.”

Georg Malte Gustav August Liewen Stierngranat was expected to stick around the manor house and take over the family farm. Instead he traveled the world, acquiring along the way the title of “engineer,” a reputation as an expert art restorer, an invitation to the White House from President Roosevelt, a wealthy wife, and a castle. Nearing the end of his life he completed one final feat: a burial pyramid modeled after those he had seen during a trip to Egypt. Malte Stierngranat carried his eccentric spirit into the afterlife. Until the very end, he remained a man who did what he wanted. 

5. West Xia Imperial Tombs

YINCHUAN, CHINA

West Xia Imperial Tombs. (Photo: ullrich.c/CC BY-SA 2.0)

Egypt's Valley of the Kings may have had the biggest influence on the ancient necropolis world, and its monumental structures are justly celebrated. But many other rulers around the world were buried in extravagant tombs and vast burial complexes. Some of these alternate pyramids come in even more original shapes, and it's high time we gave them our attention.

The West Xia Imperial Tombs in Yinchuan, China, for instance, are shaped like giant beehives and dot the valleys of the region. In the entire burial area there are nine massive mausoleums, along with 250 lesser tombs. The mausoleums hold the remains of the imperial leaders of China’s Western Xia Dynasty.

6. Chaukhandi Tombs

KARACHI, PAKISTAN

Chaukhandi Tombs. (Photo: Adnan Arain/CC BY-SA 3.0)

Equally marvelous are the Chaukhandi Tombs near Karachi, Pakistan. They are constructed out of huge sandstone slabs, which are delicately stacked into a finessed pyramid shape. The slabs were then painstakingly carved with intricate patterns, drawings, and relatable scenes. Built between the 15th and 18th centuries, the Chaukhandi Tombs now form a remarkably well-preserved necropolis.

7. Pyramid of Senusret II

AL LAHOUN, EGYPT

Pyramid of Senusret II. (Photo: Atlas Obscura user Roger Noguera i Arnau)

Egypt is well-known for its famous block pyramids, but they are not the only pyramids in the country. There are also less photogenic examples of triangular tombs that have not weathered the ages quite so well, like the Pyramid of Senusret II. Senusret II ruled Egypt at the end of the 18th century BC. When he died, he was placed in a pyramid tomb like many Egyptian rulers before and since. However Senusret II's tomb, like his father's, was a bit of a cheat architecturally.

Unlike the pyramids of Giza, which were made with limestone blocks, the tomb of Senusret II was made of mud bricks supported by a limestone base. Were the pyramid left intact, it likely would have survived somewhat better into the modern age, but unfortunately the outer casings were later scavenged by Ramses II for his own monumental purposes, leaving the mud brick exposed. Over the centuries, chunks of it fell away. But not all was lost, and miraculously the remains of the weaker brick pyramid remain to this day. 

8. The Dorn Pyramid

SAN LUIS OBISPO, CALIFORNIA

Dorn Pyramid in San Luis Obispo. (Photo: Map Data © 2015 Google)

One of the more mysterious examples of American pyramid tombs is the Dorn Pyramid in San Luis Obispo, California. In 1905 a wealthy lawyer, Fred Adolphus Dorn, lost his wife and son during childbirth and in their honor erected a mysterious pyramid tomb. The front of the tomb bears the eerie words "DISTVRB NOT THE SLEEP OF DEATH." Two stones lie in front of the door waiting to be cemented in place once all the Dorns are laid to rest inside.

9. William MacKenzie's Tomb

LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND

The pyramid where MacKenzie is interred. (Photo: NeilEvans/Public Domain)

The story of this 19th century Liverpool obelisk, often told as a sworn truth, goes that William MacKenzie was a keen gambler and left instructions that he should be entombed above ground within the pyramid, sitting upright at a card table and clutching a winning hand of cards. Some tellers go one step further, believing that MacKenzie decided against committing his body to the earth as a means of cheating Satan out of claiming his immortal soul.

In truth, several such monuments can be seen in graveyards across the British Isles, some of them even having remarkably similar tales attached. In fact, MacKenzie was buried beneath the pyramid, rather than entombed inside like the ancient Egyptians so many centuries before him.

For the Bohemian queens and princess, it was a raw deal; for the other 15,000 skeletons in this crypt, it was an upgrade to nicer digs.

The crypt under the St Peter and Paul’s church in Melník was intended to be a holy burial ground for Bohemia's royal ladies, but in the 1520s a plague epidemic swept through the area, creating a huge demand for burial ground. The corpses which had been occupying the cemeteries surrounding the church were promptly dug up, and some 15,000 corpses were cleaned and dumped into the vault.

It was basically just a pile of bones, and in the 1780s when ossuaries were declared a health risk, the vault was bricked up and forgotten about for some 230 years, until a Czech anthropologist, Jindrich Matiegka, decided to take a look for himself.

Matiegka is considered one of the fathers of Czech anthropology, and spent a considerable amount of time studying skeletons, crypts, and ossuaries throughout the then Czechoslovakia. In the 1910s, Matiegka reopened the entrance to the crypt and began assembling the bones into his very own ossuary.

Arranged with a "literate theology," Matiegka stacked the bones into orderly piles and meaningful patterns. The largest pile can be seen directly in front of the entrance and is 15 feet square and over six feet high, and is believed to contain roughly 10,000 skeletons.

Matiegka arranged the other 5,000 skeletons into a large cross of bones decorated with a palm frond, skulls into a heart shape representing love, and most notably built a tunnel of leg bones to represent Christ's resurrection. Professor, anthropologist, and religious man, Matiegka definitely had a Gothic streak. As a kind of signature Matiegka wrote the Latin inscription "Ecce mors" ("Behold death") spelled out in bones.

Today, you can still visit the ossuary, as well as the lovely church above it. It is open daily except Mondays.

Around 1848, Japan's tallest peak, Mount Fuji, was depicted in a multicolor panoramic woodblock map. Amid the intricately illustrated trails, vegetation, and turf, this print featured an unusual paper flap. When flipped over, painter Utagawa Sadahide reveals the network of lava caves hidden deep inside the core of the active 12,388-foot volcano.

For centuries, religious devotees, or ascetics, looked towards Mount Fuji as a place of worship, trekking up the mountainside to reap its spiritual powers. The mysterious lava caves (labeled 3 on the map above) were thought of as “human wombs,” and those who journeyed through the dark passageways could experience rebirth.

“Mountain ascetics in Japan, including those devoted to Mount Fuji, experience ritual death and rebirth in their rites in the mountain,” says Fumiko Miyazaki, who analyzed the unique map of Mount Fuji in the book Cartographic Japan: A History in Maps. By practicing and passing through the caves, “an ascetic imagined that he or she gives up his or her old self stained with sin to reappear as a better person in the world.”

Mount Fuji, one of the Three Holy Mountains in Japan. (Photo: skyseeker/CC BY 2.0)

There are hundreds of caves on the flanks of Mount Fuji. Many of the caves formed as the mountain continued to shift and change over years of volcanic eruptions and activity. When lava flowing down from the crater reached the forest on the lower regions of the mountain, it coated trunks of large trees which collapsed and were coated with lava. As the trees cooled, they rotted away and left behind caves. Many caves on the northern side of the mountain, including the caves close to the Yoshida entrance Sadahide drew in the map, are said to be a byproduct of a large-scale eruption in 937, explains Miyazaki. 

Devotees and pilgrims of the cult of Mount Fuji often ventured through the chain of caves either on their way to Mount Fuji or on their descent back. While many of the caves were used for spiritual practices, there was one “womb cave” that has been singled out as the mother of all caves at Fuji, writes H. Byron Earhart in the book Mount Fuji: Icon of Japan.

The cave known as Tainai, which translates to "womb," is said to be the birthplace of Sengen, the deity of Mount Fuji.  It was common for the religious followers of the Mount Fuji cult to associate terrestrial features of the mountain with parts of the human anatomy, Earhart explains.

Pilgrims collected "milk" from the stalactite "breasts." (Photo: Public Domain) 

Certain rocks were called navel cords or placentas, while bell-shaped stalactites were referred to as breasts, the water dripping down considered milk of the mountain. A person who crawled through the cave carried a white cotton cloth that was used to collect the milk dripping from the rock breasts.

Once soaked, the cloth was brought back down and used for several purposes for pregnant women and new mothers. The cloth was placed in a mother’s drinking water so the powers from the mountain could aid in delivery or help mothers or nursing women who could not produce breast milk.   

The dark cavern of Tainai had low ceilings, and the pilgrims would place straw sandals on their knees to protect them while they crawled. They lit candles to find their way through the cavern, and brought the candles home when family mothers gave birth. Shorter candles (ones that burned for longer in the cave) were thought to aid in short labor and quick delivery.

One of the caves in Mount Fuji. Pilgrims carried sacred candles to light their way through the dark spaces. (Photo: Soramimi/CC BY-SA 4.0)

Sadahide was very familiar with Mount Fuji’s terrain and lava caves. He had climbed the mountain several times, and sketched all his observations for the 19th century panoramic map. In addition to the topography of the mountain, Sadahide was interested in what was inside the mountain. He had also published a three-sheet painting titled “Fujisan tainai meguri no zu” that shows pilgrims journeying within the caves.

Practicing meditation and prayer inside caves was an integral part of Japanese mountain religion. Sadahide’s map highlights two holy men sitting in caves in the center of the woodblock. Kakugyō Tōbutsu and Jikigyō Miroku (labeled 2 on the map) are two important founding figures of the Mount Fuji cult.

Sometime around the turn of the 17th century, Kakugyō (the man on the left) founded another famous spiritual cave on the western flank of the mountain called Hito-ana, literally “man hole.” According to legend, Hito-ana was believed to be the deity's residence and an entrance to another world. Kakugyō, who has been deemed the father of the Mount Fuji cult, sought the power of the mountain and received a prophecy to go to the cave. He became known as the man in the cave, residing and practicing in the Hito-ana for seven days.

“Complete Portrayal of the True Features of Mount Fuji.” Here, a replica by the Kanagawa Prefectural Museum is folded into a cone. (Photo: Kohga Communication Products Inc., Yokohama, Japan)

The "Portrayal of Mount Fuji" can also be folded into a three-dimensional cone that better represents the mountain and its features. When laid flat, you can see Kakugyō and Jikigyō sitting in two caves. Then, when transformed into its cone shape, the two men disappear into the mountain where they belong.

“I am impressed by the device of the painter to make a three-dimensional map,” says Miyazaki. “I have never seen a three-dimensional picture of a famous mountain except for it.”

Not everyone could revel in wonders of Mount Fuji’s lava caves. Until 1868, women were banned from climbing higher than the middle zone of the mountain, ascetics worrying that they would distract men from their religious duties and other traditional taboos. Some male devotees also couldn’t climb due to physical or economic reasons.

“For such people, the picture-map could function as a medium for imagining more fully the sacred places that they could never see in reality,” Miyazaki writes in Cartographic Japan: A History in Maps.

An abandoned Communist-era circus in Moldova, the poorest country in Europe, is once again coming to life. 

The Chişinău State Circus was officially opened in 1981 and was, at the time, a top circus entertainment venue with state-of-the-art equipment and spaces for rehearsals, animals, and veterinarians. It had a capacity of 1,900 seats and the ring was over 40 feet across, making it the largest auditorium in Moldova. Circus artists would travel from near and far (Belarus, China, Finland, Germany, Russia, Ukraine etc.) to perform there, and at its peak, 57 concerts were held there in the space of a year.

The Moldovan independence and the introduction of a market economy initially led to a rapid inflation resulting in a serious economic crisis. Still, today, Moldova is the poorest country in Europe, even though the economy has recovered and is growing steadily. Under these circumstances there was no room for a circus and the venue was abandoned in 2004.

Luckily, a decade later, on the 30th of May, 2014, Circul came back to life. A long restoration process funded mainly by the Ministry of Culture had been going on for years and finally a smaller venue was opened in the building. There's now room for 300 people sitting in the round, and features shows including clowns, gymnasts, acrobats, and exotic animals in classic circus fashion.

After being forgotten for a decade the Chişinău State Circus, is once again slowly waking to life, restoring its past glory and bringing joy and entertainment to a new generation of Moldovans.

In Florida, citrus orchards and an old well have been reborn as a Spanish explorer's quixotic dream come true.

Created in 1904 by local entrepreneur "Diamond Lil" (aka Luella Day McConnell), the 15-acre Fountain of Youth Archaeological Park is purportedly located on the site where Spanish explorer Ponce de Leon first landed in 1513.

Although Ponce de Leon has long been associated with the story for the search for the mythical fountain, he actually never wrote anything about any such quest. It was only after his death that other biographers wrote that the fountain was the motivation behind his expedition in Florida.

The legend of the mysterious life-giving spring dates back to at least the time of Herodotus, placed everywhere from Ethiopia to the mythical islands of Bimini, but since Ponce de Leon's time it has firmly been associated with Florida.

The larger-than-life personality of Diamond Lil matched her colorful background. She left her life as a practicing doctor in Chicago (unusual for a woman of the era) to take part in the Klondike gold rush of the 1890s (even more unusual). She must have done something right, because she was described as arriving in St. Augustine, Florida in 1904 with "cash and a diamond in her front tooth."

She bought land and promptly opened her park and converted the on-site well into the Fountain of Youth. St. Augustine at the time was firmly gripped with a kind of Ponce de Leon mania, so her choice of themes was appropriate. In no time at all she began unearthing "artifacts" related to the Spanish explorer, including one that looked suspiciously similar to an old salt cellar.

Since her time, the park claims to have made several important archaeological discoveries, including Ponce de Leon's "recording landmark and accompanying artifacts," Native American artifacts, and evidence of an early colony on the site.

One of the many holy wells scattered across Europe, Winifred's Well (or St. Winifride's Well) has been visited by the faithful for over a thousand years after it was created by a martyr's lopped off head. 

As the story goes, Winifred, daughter of a wealthy Wales citizen and sister of fellow Saint Beuno, was being romantically pursued by a man named Caradog. Winifred was not interested in the man's advances and when she finally refused to lay with him, Caradog lopped the young woman's head off. Where her head hit the ground, a natural spring instantly sprung. Poor Winifred was thankfully resurrected thanks to the saintly prayers of her brother, but the spring remained. Pilgrims who visited the miraculous spring claimed that the waters healed any number of ailments and a proper structure was built around the site some time in the 12th century.

The legend aside, it is known that Winifred was a real personage and the current structure built over the spring that bears her name seems to have replaced an earlier structure. The current medieval chapel was built in the 16th century and has seen such famous faithful grace its arches as Kings Richard I and Henry V. With pilgrims visiting the well for its healing waters for over a thousand years that we can confirm, a tradition that has been unbroken during its existence, the well also claims to be the oldest active pilgrimage site in all of Britain.

While the aging medieval chapel still covers the bubbling well waters, the site has added a shallow wading pool in the courtyard that is filled directly from the well. Visitors can actually bath in the holy waters and towel off in the innocuous cabanas. Despite a violent origin, Winifred's Well is peaceful site that allows for relaxation that might be more healing than the magic waters. 

A demonstration of an oxygen mask fitting for a dog. (Photo: Helen H. Richardson/ The Denver Post/ Getty Images)

When the call came in about the fire on Duff Avenue, the second that day for the Ames Fire Department, in Iowa, the emergency operator checked first that no one was in the house.

"No, but our cat is," said the caller.

"Okay, we'll take care of the cat," the operator assured her.

After the firefighters arrived, two went in the building to look for the cat, Cleo. They searched the first and second floors. No cat. They consulted again with the homeowners. They went back inside. Still, no cat. Finally, the team working in the basement found her, passed out. They brought her outside, and started to revive her.

They were prepared for exactly this situation: in the engine, among the equipment, blankets, and teddy bears used to comfort kids, they had an oxygen mask designed especially for small animals.

Usually, in a fire, pets get out before humans. "The dog is going to be scratching at the door, saying—come on, let's go," says Lt. Jordan Damhof, one of the Ames firefighter who helped rescue Cleo. But when pets don't flee from burning buildings, they're likely to suffer from smoke inhalation. Often, by the time they're rescued, they're stunned or passed out, and without help, they're in danger of dying.

Previously, firefighters might have improvised by using oxygen masks designed for babies to revive pets, but over the past 10 years or so, it's become increasingly common for fire departments to equip themselves with oxygen masks designed specifically for animals.

Since 2008, for instance, the public safety company Wag'N O2 Fur Life has distributed more than 7,250 mask kits to fire departments across the country, and the donation program Project Breathe has provided some 10,000 masks to fire departments. Wag'N estimates that roughly one-quarter of fire departments in the U.S. have at least one of these pet masks. The masks were originally designed for veterinarians to use; the New Zealand manufacturer who makes a popular model first set out to make resuscitators for calves.

There are no reliable numbers about how many animals have been saved using this equipment: the systems that fire departments use to track their work don't have fields for animal saves. (It seems like there’s a code for everything except for that, says Damhof, the Ames lieutenant.) But local news outlets regularly report on pets rescued from fires and resuscitated using this equipment. Most of the pets treated are dogs and cats, but the masks have been used to help rabbits, ponies, and at least one guinea pig, too.

Human faces and animal faces are shaped very differently. "People are short-snouted. You can compare us to a pug," says Ines de Pablo, the founder of Wag'N, who has a background in emergency management. "Most dogs and cats have protruding snouts." A mask designed to cover animals' noses can deliver oxygen more efficiently and effectively.

In recent years, as the rise in pet health care spending can attest, Americans have been willing to go to greater lengths to keep their pets alive and healthy. There are pet emergency rooms that stay open around the clock, and a growing awareness of pet needs in emergency preparedness planning. After Hurricane Katrina, the federal government passed a new law that instructed the Federal Emergency Management Agency to address the needs of people with service animals and household pets.

Firefighters working in dangerous conditions still have to weigh the dangers to human lives (including their own) when they're deciding whether they can save pets. Wag'N's de Pablo emphasizes that they're not trying to put firefighters at risk: "We never ask the fire department to choose a dog over a person," she says. But firefighters do choose to save pets, and when they do, she says, the masks are a tool they can use to improve those animals' chance of surviving the ordeal.

Pet masks are becoming more common. (Photo: Surrey County Council News)

"Pets become a part of the family for a lot of people," says Damhof. Firefighters in his department make rescuing them a priority, but that decision must be balanced against other responsibilities. In less dangerous situations, they regularly help out non-human species; in Ames, for instance, the department brought over long ladders to help animal control rescue birds from a building slated to be knocked down. Damhof was once part of an operation moving a woman's pets from her house when she needed to leave an unsafe situation.

Sometimes, the firefighters get more credit for saving animals than people. "It makes people feel they’ve gone above and beyond their normal responsibility," says de Pablo. Shortly before they saved Cleo, though, the Ames fire department rescued six people from a balcony during an apartment fire. That story go no press coverage, while Cleo the cat became an instant celebrity; PETA gave the department an award recognizing their compassion.

Cleo herself, by the way, ended up just fine. The Ames police transported her to a facility at Iowa State's veterinary medical college with round-the-clock staffing, and within a day, it was clear she hadn't suffered any neurological effects. Her little cat lungs needed a bit more time to recover, but she was lucky—if the firefighters hadn't found her or been equipped with the right gear, she might never have woken up.

Old Parr Road in Banbury, Oxfordshire is sweet: picture lush gardens, low-slung rock walls, and brick homes with brightly painted front doors. It is unlikely many who live there know that the road was named for a convicted murderer named Parr (his full name since lost to history) who was hung in 1746, and then his body was closed up in a human-shaped cage, suspended from a post on the roadside, and left to rot where all could observe it.

In other words, Parr had been gibbeted.

Among the horrors our ancestors visited upon the dead, gibbeting is a highly specific one, although by no means unique in its brutality. It dates back to medieval times, when desecrating body parts was de rigueur. Someone who came to a bad end might find their head plunged on the end of a spike. After a horribly protracted execution, the body of a traitor could be divvied up and scattered across the land to decorate the walls of treasonous towns. (That rebellion doesn’t seem like such a great idea, now, right?) Gibbeting punished criminals even in death and warned the living to tow the line.

Captain William Kidd, hanging in a gibbet, early 1700s. (Photo: Public Domain)

“It’s a grotesque thing,” says Sarah Tarlow, professor of archeology at University of Leicester and head of the Harnessing the Power of the Criminal Corpse research project. “The chains, the gibbet cages, are person-shaped and they are designed to hold the body together and hold the body into the shape of a person—and there are other features of the gibbet that put it into this really creepy zone between living and dead.”

Tarlow knows her gibbets. She has studied and written about themextensively, and in 2014 she undertook a quest to visit all the remaining gibbets in England, of which there are 16, most held by small museums, and one which still holds the skull of its unlucky occupant.

“What’s interesting about gibbeting,” says Tarlow “is that it didn’t happen that frequently. But it made a big splash, a big impression when it did.”

A gibbet on display at the Leicester Guildhall Museum. (Photo: Lee Haywood/CC BY-SA 2.0)

In England, gibbeting (also known as “hanging in chains”) peaked in the 1740s, even though it was officially mandated later by the 1752 Murder Act, which required bodies of convicted murderers to be either publicly dissected or gibbeted. Between 1752 and 1832, 134 men were hung in chains. It was formally abolished in 1834.

When a gibbet was erected, it attracted big, jubilant crowds, sometimes in the tens of thousands. But, not surprisingly, actually living near a gibbet was not cause for celebration.

“It would smell bad,” Tarlow says. The stench of rotting flesh was so potent, people would shut their shut their windows against it when the wind blew from a certain direction. “You can imagine what it was like just to have a decomposing body there, especially at the beginning when there was still soft tissue.”

In addition to the odor, gibbets were engineered for maximum horror. They twisted and swayed in the wind and creaked and clanked eerily.

Also unfortunately for its neighbors, the gibbet was not a fleeting visitor. They remained in place for decades sometimes, as the corpses inside were eaten by bugs and birds and turned into skeletons. Steps were taken to prevent people from removing them; the posts were often 30 feet or higher. One was studded with 12,000 nails to keep it from being torn down. They became landscape features; gibbeted criminals lent their names to roads (like Parr) and became boundary markers.

Because gibbeting was so rare, blacksmiths had little to go on when called upon to make a gibbet.

“Every time they make one, they’re reinventing the wheel, they’re starting from scratch,” says Tarlow. 

Artist Thomas Rowlandson's Crowd by a Gibbet, c. late 18th century. (Photo: Yale Center for British Art/Public Domain)

Some were heavy, some were very loose, some were adjustable. One had a notch where a nose would go. In some cases, the gibbet held only the torso, allowing the arms and legs to dangle outside its confines. After a gibbet was removed (or fell down from wear) the gibbet and its components were sometimes turned into souvenirs, such as a post that was carved up into tobacco bowls.

Women were not gibbeted, but this wasn’t out of some kind of respect for the female corpse. On the contrary, says Tarlow, women’s bodies were a “hot property for surgeons and anatomists” and thus female criminals were offered up for dissection. 

There were always some who objected to gibbeting for its barbarity, but the courts saw it as a way to prevent crime. This, Tarlow says, did not work. In fact, there are records of crimes occurring at a gibbet, such as the time a 16-year-old girl invited a friend to a picnic at the site of a gibbet and fed her a poisoned cake because the companion had been offered a job she coveted.

By 1832, gibbeting had fallen out of fashion, which only added to the public interest when two men were ordered to be gibbeted in August for unrelated crimes. Both gibbets were removed not long after being erected; the first by friends and the second by officials when chaotic crowds overwhelmed the scene, completely blocking the roads. This was the final nail in the gibbet post and two years later the practice was officially banned. Only the names of places like Old Parr Lane remain.

At the end of gravel paths in the middle of Les Lilas, a black and scarlet entrance opens up to a door leading into a creepy garden mimicking a cemetery. Plastic bats and genuine human remains attached to trees linger like a dark omen for visitors. Be warned: You have just entered in the Museum of Vampires.

This unique museum's story started many years ago. Jacques Sirgent, an eccentric but highly knowledgeable scholar and specialist of the macabre, opened “The Museum of Vampires and Legendary Creatures” as a visual manifestation of his dedicated research on vampirism, esoterism and occidental folkore.

A lifetime of collecting, translating rare texts, and gathering syncretic information on demonology and the dogmas that generated them made Sirgent a fascinating storyteller who will patiently extrapolate for his visitors the tales of the mysterious relics that his curiosity cabinet contains.

Comfortably seated on a crimson velvet couch, you’ll be thrilled and amazed by the cryptic history of Paris and the cemeteries where vampiric rituals were once practiced, medieval christian hierarchy and its crusade against sin and “cannibal sorcery” or the everlasting superstitions of the Undead.

The museum is also a pure delicacy for the eyes, replete with a vampire killing kit, Hammer Film collectibles, Dracula toys and antique books that might turn into dust if you touch them. The merry clutter of art, literature and popular myths remind you while Carmilla, Vlad Tepes, and the many others were once catalysts of archaic fears, are still transgressive figures today.

Philadelphia’s Washington Square Park, a block south of the more famous Independence Hall and Liberty Bell, is mostly thought of as the home of the Tomb of the Unknown Revolutionary War Soldier. Few visitors realize that only a few yards away is the replanted clone of a Moon Tree.  

In 1971 Astronaut Stuart Roosa was on the Apollo 14 Moon mission, but before being an astronaut he had served as a firefighter for the Forest Service. The Forest Service asked him to help in a little experiment — to bring tree seeds into space to see if they would germinate once back on Earth. Roosa was happy to oblige, and brought hundreds of tree seeds, comprised of five varieties, on a ride to the Moon.

While in orbit, the capsule containing the seeds ruptured, but remarkably the seeds still popped when back in Forest Service hands. The seedlings were spread around the world, just in time to commemorate the 1976 Bicentennial. They were called “Moon Trees,” and were sent off to everywhere from the White House to Texas, from Brazil to the Emperor of Japan.

It’s here in Washington Square Park that NASA and the US Forest Service planted the first of the Bicentennial Moon Trees. The little sycamore struggled to hold on, but didn’t make it for very long. In 2011 it was dead, but soon replaced with another seedling — this time a clone from clippings of the original Moon Tree. (The Forest Service, on hand for the replanting ceremony, reported plans to recycle the old sycamore into signs and plaques that will remain in Washington Square Park.)

Space botany aside, the park itself has a long history, beginning in the early 18^th century when it was everything from a cattle market and grazing site, to the city’s Potter’s Field (burial for paupers and the unknown), and cemetery for the city’s African American population. Also buried here are victims of the Yellow Fever epidemic of the late 18^th century.

Now, right in the old soil where so many known and unknown had been buried 200 years before, is the first of many space-faring saplings starting their earthly journey. The Forest Service doesn’t have a complete list of Moon Trees, but they are trying to track them all down — at least the ones that have survived. You can find out more about them here, here and here. But that’s just a start; there are potentially hundreds of Moon Trees out there in this world.

In 2005, while uncovering mass plague graves on the Venetian island of Lazzaretto Nuovo, workers made a strange discovery: The skull of a woman, with a brick jammed into her mouth.

The hundreds of skeletons unearthed were to be expected, but this skull was something different—this was the prescribed method of killing a vampire.

The black death first arrived in Europe in 1348, and Venice was quick to respond to the threat. Communicable diseases hit the Maritime empire of Venice particularly hard. As a precaution, two separate quarantine stations were established to keep the diseased and the potentially diseased away from the living trapped in close quarters in the center of the city. The Lazzaretto Vecchio (Old Quarantine) was established first in 1423 as a plague hospital and quarantine. Lazzaretto Nuovo (New Quarantine) was built later, in 1468, as a kind of way station for incoming ships and cargo, where crews and goods were sequestered and searched for signs of sickness.

When particularly devastating outbreaks of the plague hit in 1576 and again in 1630, thousands were removed to outer islands like the two Lazzarettos, and most never left. Mass graves have been discovered on both islands.

Analysis on the skull discovered with a brick wedged in the mouth revealed that it once belonged to a woman between 61 and 71 years old. Although her exact story is likely never to be known, it is thought that she must have been believed to be a “Shroud Eater,” a type of vampire associated particularly with Germany and related territories.

The Shroud Eater is a different sort of vampire, not found biting the necks of voluptuous victims, but instead found still in their grave. Believed to be a sort of undead corpse, they were known for making hideous chewing sounds and were thought to cause death and destruction from a distance. There are several theories about how this particular myth came to be, but it seems to be particularly prevalent in times of plague or disease, when one death eventually leads to many more, often of friends and family members.

A Manuscript called “De Masticatione Mortuorum," Latin for “The Chewing Dead,” offered helpful tips for those facing the walking (or chewing) dead, and prescribed practical treatments such as the afore mentioned brick-in-mouth.

The island itself was converted into defensive fortifications under Napoleonic rule, then abandoned in the 1970s. Recent local efforts have resulted in restoration projects and the reopening of the island to the public.

Today the Tezon Grande building holds a collection of maritime artifacts, and the powder magazines are home to small museums and archives dedicated to the island’s unusual history.

Elsewhere in the lagoon forgotten islands off the tourist trail hold memories of the plagues of Venice and the remains of abandoned insane asylums. The remains of the Insane Asylum on San Servolo Island are preserved as a museum dedicated to the history of Venice's plague islands and asylums, and Poveglia Island lays abandoned and off limits, still keeping its secrets.