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Boston Globe
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Boston Globe
Today in History: Korean War hostilities end
In 1866, Cyrus W. Field finished laying out the first successful underwater telegraph cable between North America and Europe. Advertisement In 1909, during the first official test of the U.S. Army's first airplane, Orville Wright flew himself and a passenger, Lt. Frank Lahm, above Fort Myer, Virginia, for one hour and 12 minutes. In 1940, Billboard magazine published its first 'music popularity chart' listing best-selling retail records. In first place was 'I'll Never Smile Again' recorded by Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra, with featured vocalist Frank Sinatra. In 1953, the Korean Armistice Agreement was signed at Panmunjom, ending three years of fighting on the Korean peninsula that killed an estimated 4 million people. In 1974, the House Judiciary Committee voted 27-11 to adopt the first of three articles of impeachment against President Richard Nixon, charging he had personally engaged in a course of conduct designed to obstruct justice in the Watergate case. Advertisement In 1980, on day 267 of the Iranian hostage crisis, the deposed Shah of Iran died at a military hospital outside Cairo, Egypt, at age 60. In 1981, 6-year-old Adam Walsh was abducted from a department store in Hollywood, Fla., and was later murdered (Adam's father, John Walsh, subsequently became a victims' rights activist and, in 1988, launched and hosted the television show 'America's Most Wanted'). In 1996, terror struck the Atlanta Olympics as a pipe bomb exploded at Centennial Olympic Park, directly killing one person and injuring 111. (Anti-government extremist Eric Rudolph later pleaded guilty to the bombing, exonerating security guard Richard Jewell, who had been wrongly suspected.) In 2012, Britain opened its Olympic Games in a celebration of Old England and new, even cheekily featuring stunt doubles for Queen Elizabeth II and fictional special agent James Bond parachuting into Olympic Stadium. In 2013, security forces and armed men clashed with supporters of Egypt's ousted president, Mohammed Morsi, killing at least 72 people. In 2015, the Boy Scouts of America ended its blanket ban on gay adult leaders while allowing church-sponsored Scout units to maintain the exclusion for religious reasons. Also that year, despite being selected by the US Olympic Committee as its candidate to host the 2024 Summer Games, Boston abandons its bid because of resistance among residents. In 2018, the White House announced that North Korea had returned the remains of what were believed to be U.S. servicemen killed during the Korean War, with a U.S. military plane making a rare trip into North Korea to retrieve 55 cases of remains. Advertisement In 2020, the world's biggest COVID-19 vaccine study began with the first of 30,000 planned volunteers helping to test shots created by the National Institutes of Health and Moderna Inc. In 2021, American gymnast Simone Biles pulled out of the gymnastics team competition at the Tokyo Olympics to focus on her mental well-being, saying she realized following a shaky vault that she wasn't in the right headspace to compete.
Yahoo
21-07-2025
- Yahoo
The Golden Age of Flying Wasn't All That Golden
The Atlantic Daily, a newsletter that guides you through the biggest stories of the day, helps you discover new ideas, and recommends the best in culture. Sign up for it here. This is an edition of Time-Travel Thursdays, a journey through The Atlantic's archives to contextualize the present. Sign up here. Of YouTube's many microgenres, one of the most popular and most enduring is the airplane meltdown. There are thousands or maybe millions of these videos online: Passengers going nuts over spilled drinks or supposedly bad service; flight cancellations turning grown adults feral; tiny inconveniences disrupting the brittle peace of the temporary societies that exist in the air above us all the time. Sometimes, if you're lucky, you'll find a compilation, a clip show of modern misery. The Atlantic's early aviation writers would have a lot of questions about this. Those questions would probably start with 'What is a YouTube?,' but I suspect they'd get more philosophical pretty quickly. In the early 20th century, flying was a source of intense curiosity and great wonder; if anyone was melting down, it was probably because they were simply so dazzled by it all, or maybe very scared—not because someone used their armrest. 'For some years I have been afflicted with the belief that flight is possible to man,' Wilbur Wright wrote in a letter to a friend in 1900, eventually published in The Atlantic. Three years later, he and his brother, Orville, managed to get a biplane in the air for 12 seconds. Only 18 years after that, Kenneth Chafee McIntosh wrote that 'aviation has superposed itself upon civilization. Its future is limitless, not predictable.' Its present, however, was not fun. Early airplanes were used mostly for warcraft and mail carrying; occasionally, a passenger might come along for some reason or another, but they had to sit with the pilot in an open cockpit, exposed to whatever the weather was. Even once we figured out how to put more people inside planes, cabins weren't pressurized, so they flew low and jiggled everyone around. Until 1930, there were no flight attendants, which I suppose means there was no one to scream at. Some engines were loud enough to cause permanent hearing damage. Even so, the airplane's world-changing potential was obvious. By 1941, people were writing poetry collections about it, and The Atlantic was reviewing them. After 1945, the era of mass air travel began, aviation having been 'transformed by the war from a government-subsidized experiment into an economically sound transportation industry.' In the '50s, airplanes overtook trains, and then ships, as America's preferred means of long-distance transportation. This era is now widely considered to be commercial aviation's golden age, when the technology was established enough to be comfortable, safe, and fast, but still novel enough to feel remarkable: human ingenuity made material. In the popular imagination, at least, this was the last time flying was dignified. Stewardesses wore fabulous outfits and meals were served on real plates and nobody knew what a vape was. But that moment existed more in theory than it did in reality. In the century's middle decades, flying was significantly more expensive and more dangerous than it is today. Airports were segregated until the early 1960s. Every new advance seemed to come with a downside. As soon as planes got faster and flights got longer, passengers started reporting strange symptoms, ones they would later learn to call jet lag. As more people flew, the experience became both more banal and more crowded—just another form of mass transit. More flights and faster speeds meant mounting safety concerns (some warranted, some not). In 1978, the airline industry was deregulated, which resulted in less stability, lower quality of service, and, eventually, higher fares. By June 2001, three months before air travel was to change forever, it was already pretty bad, per the pilot and longtime Atlantic writer James Fallows. The industry was 'nearing the limits of its capacity,' he wrote, having routed more and more flights through hub airports in an effort to keep planes full and maximize profits. Delays were reaching record levels. After 9/11, security theater turned flight attendants into cops and passengers into would-be criminals. The airlines continued to cut costs, squooshing seats closer together and charging for just about everything they could: legroom, internet, checked bags, overhead space, food, even water, as Ester Bloom reported in 2015. 'To travel by air,' Lenika Cruz wrote in 2022, 'is to endure a million tiny indignities.' Flying really has gotten worse, due to greed and war and corporate decision making. But the truth is, the experience has always been somewhat unpleasant, because transporting human bodies through the air at hundreds of miles an hour is so difficult, it almost shouldn't be possible. I looked in our archives expecting to find stories about air travel's supposed midcentury glamor. I didn't find much. But I did find a piece from 2007, in which Virginia Postrel examines the collective longing for such a time, a time 'before price competition, security checks, and slobs in sweatpants ruined everything.' She quoted Aimée Bratt, who, as a flight attendant with Pan Am in the mid-'60s, 'was struck by 'how crowded it was on an airplane, no place to put anything, lines for the lavatories, no place to sit or stand … Passengers got their food trays, there was no choice of meals, drinks were served from a hand tray, six at a time, pillows and blankets were overhead, and there were no extra amenities like headsets or hot towels.'' But people didn't complain. 'Travel itself,' Postrel wrote, 'was privilege enough. Airline glamour was not about the actual experience of flying but about the idea of air travel—and the ideals and identity it represented.' Flying was budding internationalism, uncomplicated awe, wide skies, endless potential, the future made present and the impossible made real. Flying wasn't thrilling because the stewardesses dressed amazing—it was thrilling because up until very recently, the very concept of a waitress in the sky had been science fiction. Air travel has changed, but so have we. This is the noble life cycle of any technology: It is unimaginable, and then it is imaginable, and then it is just there. Fire, windmills, eyeglasses, the steam engine, pasteurization, cars, air-conditioning, microwaves, miniskirts, email, smartphones, bubble tea—every miracle eventually becomes mundane. It has to, I think: We need to make room for new miracles. We need to find new things to write poems about. When this magazine was first printed, in 1857, our species thought we were stuck on Earth. We eventually figured out how to liberate ourselves from the laws of physics and fly through the air, and then we figured out how to get live television and cold orange juice and fully reclining beds up there. And then we figured out how to make all of this dreadfully tedious. That's a remarkable human achievement, too. Article originally published at The Atlantic
Fast Company
20-06-2025
- Business
- Fast Company
What the Wright Brothers can teach science entrepreneurs about how to survive a funding pullback
What happens when venture capital and government pull back from science entrepreneurs at the same time? Many scientists think we're about to find out, and are looking at how we can preserve our country's innovative leadership. While others are pulling back, at Activate we're leaning in and asking, 'What should we teach the scientist founders we support so they can find the opportunity in this crisis?' History lesson History has a lesson for us: the U.S. saw a boom in 'deep-tech' between 1870 and 1920 even though neither venture capital nor government grants existed at that time. Moreover, much of that technology was commercialized by teams of fewer than 10 people. Consider, for example, a particularly famous startup founded by two brothers. In 1892, some of America's most famous science entrepreneurs, Orville and Wilbur Wright, capitalized on a growing craze for bicycles in the U.S. by opening a bicycle shop in Dayton, Ohio. In 1896, the U.S. Government's War Department allocated $50,000 (about $1.9M in 2025 USD) to the Smithsonian Institution, the closest thing to a national lab at that time, to develop a powered flying machine. In 1899, in response to this very public market signal and to growing competition in the bicycle industry, the Wrights began to pivot toward developing an airplane. In their historic moment, they demonstrated powered flight in November 1903 and went on to earn their first revenue (totaling about $3.8M in 2025 USD) in late 1908 and early 1909. Financing deep tech Commercializing deep tech took the same decade then that it does now. This makes sense: we can make much more complex technologies today, but the core loop of design-prototype-test-revise continues to move at the speed of human thought and observation. Without grants or venture investment, financing deep tech then was very different, but it was not impossible. The Wrights continued to own and operate their bicycle business (with substantial assistance from their sister Katherine) over their entire entrepreneurship journey, only divesting in 1908 once the airplane was sure to pay the bills. From bicycle to airplane The bicycle shop provided the funds, skills, team, and facilities needed to develop the airplane. Funds: The bicycle shop was consistently profitable, allowing the Wrights to support themselves and invest in their airplane research. Skills: The Wrights started by selling and repairing bicycles from a variety of brands, graduated to assembling bicycles from components and selling them under their own 'Van Cleve' and 'St. Clair' brands, and eventually invented components (such as improved wheel hubs) for their cycles. Team: Charlie Taylor, whose many contributions to the first airplane include designing and building its aluminum engine, began working with the Wright Cycle Co. as a contract machinist in 1898 before joining full-time in 1901. Facility: The workshop and tools in the bicycle shop doubled as the laboratory for testing and building prototypes for the first airplane. When the Wrights finally closed the bicycle shop, it was to fully convert it to a workshop for their airplane business. Today's science entrepreneurs have a lot they can learn from this model. For one, even when venture capital investment is available, opening a bicycle shop before developing an airplane is often the way to go. We're advising our Activate fellows to find products and services that customers will buy today and that build the team, skills, and assets they need to bring their transformative technologies to market. The genius of the Wright brothers wasn't just in being first in flight, but also in seeing how the airplane could grow out of their bicycle business. Three questions In my job as managing director of Activate's Boston community, I have long-term coaching relationships with 20 science entrepreneurs. Right now I'm telling them to ask themselves three questions: How do I grow the long-term value of my airplane? How do I grow the short-term value of my bicycle shop? How do I tighten the connection between the two? In an uncertain economy, supporting science entrepreneurs is more important than ever. They have the skills needed to build 'bicycle shops' that deliver unglamorous but critical products and services for the millions of deeply technical niche markets that underpin our modern world. They also have the creativity and tenacity to leverage their day-to-day work to invent entirely new industries that meet our country's most pressing needs. We need to publicly recommit to these often unsung science heroes so that we can set them—and our country—up for success.
Yahoo
18-06-2025
- Yahoo
The Real Reason Why Airplane Windows Have Holes
Known as breather or bleed holes, these tiny holes help with cabin pressurization and keep the windows and Orville Wright—the brothers credited with piloting the first successful flight in history—had to feel the wind on their faces. Their modest aircraft, a wooden biplane made of spruce and ash covered by cotton muslin, was open to the outside air. Fortunately, their history-making flight in 1903 lasted just 12 seconds and barely reached 10 feet off the ground. Today's commercial planes spend most of their time at 30,000 feet (or more) where the temperature hovers around -40 degrees Fahrenheit, and temps as low as -70 degrees aren't unheard of. For that reason, we need insulated aircraft to keep from freezing to death. While we don't get the same killer views the Wright Brothers had in their open-air design, we can book a window seat. And if you've ever sat in one and noticed that the window has a tiny hole in the bottom of it, hopefully you didn't panic. It's not a manufacturing mistake. It's an intentional feature that serves two key purposes—and it even has a special name. 'Those little holes are called breather or bleed holes,' RD Johnson, vice president of safety at Jet Linx, tells Travel + Leisure. Airplane cabin windows aren't made of glass; they're typically made of three or four layers of plexiglass (which is a bit of a misnomer since it's actually a form of plastic) or stretched acrylic. There is one bleed hole per window, and it's usually found in the center at the bottom of the window. If you've ever placed your finger over the hole, you'll notice that no air comes in or out. That's because the hole doesn't go all the way to the outside—it's just in the center pane(s) between the inner and outer panes. In addition to flying long distances, planes cover a lot of ground in terms of altitude. After climbing, most commercial planes cruise at around six to seven miles above Earth before descending. As the altitude changes, so does the pressure. According to Brent Wouters, who got a master's degree in aerospace engineering before becoming CEO of Jet Linx, 'At different altitudes, the pressure differential between the air in the gap between the pressurized cabin (interior window) and the outside changes substantially.' Wouters tells T+L that these holes are necessary because they absorb the massive pressure differences. If the windows were hole-less, they'd be at a greater risk of cracking. In the event that a cabin window cracks, the hole ensures that the inner pane breaks last. Fortunately, airplane cabin windows seldom break. Aircraft mechanics routinely inspect windows, and if they show any signs of wear or tear that could be dangerous, they swap them out. Furthermore, if a window cracks or breaks mid-flight, cabin crew are trained to assess the situation and act accordingly. In 2024, an All Nippon Airways flight traveling in Japan had to return to its departure airport when a cockpit window cracked mid-flight. Still, a spokesperson for the airline issued a statement saying, "The crack was not something that affected the flight's control or pressurization." The secondary purpose breather or bleed holes serve is to keep windows clear. 'The hole allows moisture to evaporate,' explains Wouters. 'If it were sealed, moisture from condensation would accumulate, and the window would be useless.' So you can thank those tiny holes for keeping your bird's-eye view clear and condensation-free. Read the original article on Travel & Leisure
Yahoo
13-06-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Wright Flyer III becomes Ohio's official plane
Jun. 13—In the shadow of the world's first practical airplane, Ohio Gov. Mike DeWine recently celebrated with Wright family members legislation that makes the 1905 Wright Flyer the official state airplane. Standing in Carillon Historical Park's Wright Hall, the building designed to house the flyer, DeWine reenacted the signing of the bill, with Amanda Wright Lane and Stephen Wright — great-grandniece and great grandnephew of Wilbur and Orville Wright — looking on. Also watching was Rehn Wright Banhos, Amanda Wright Lane's grandson and a Columbus-area fourth grader. The Wright Flyer III, comprised of 80% original components, is the only airplane designated a national historic landmark and "is considered an engineering landmark, as well," said Brady Kress, president and chief executive of Dayton History. Orville Wright first flew the plane in June 1905. The Wrights used the plane to learn aerial maneuvers above Greene County's Huffman Prairie that year before ultimately restoring it for display in 1950 at Carillon Park, according to the American Society of Mechanical Engineers. "The plane behind us all is considered the world's first practical airplane," Kress said. "That's what Orville Wright called it." Orville Wright wanted Wright Hall built so that the plane was held in a pit, giving onlookers a chance to see it from above. "The only way to really understand how it flies is to look down on it," Kress said. "So you have the best seats in the house." The very first Wright Flyer became part of the Smithsonian Institution's collection in 1948. It is on display today in Washington, D.C. in the National Air and Space Museum. A 1909 Wright Military flier replica can be found at the National Museum of the U.S. Air Force In his remarks, DeWine emphasized that the Wrights perfected flying in Dayton and above Huffman Prairie. "I hate it to break it to our friends in North Carolina," DeWine said to laughter. "God love them. They had great wind and they had great sand. But for the Wright Brothers, we know it worked out very very well. State Sen. Steve Huffman, R-Tipp City, described himself as an enthusiastic co-sponsor of the bill. He quipped that the next step was to get a representation of the plane on the state's great seal. "The Wright Brothers don't just belong to us," said State Sen. Terry Johnson, R-McDermott, who introduced the bill. "They belong to America."
