History
Bugsy Siegel built his criminal empire through bootlegging, gambling, and ruthless hits before making his mark in Las Vegas. He launched the iconic Flamingo Hotel and Casino, kicking off a notorious gambling operation in the middle of the desert. Born Benjamin Siegel on February 28, 1906, in Brooklyn, New York, he was the son of Jewish immigrants and grew up in the rough Williamsburg neighborhood, where Irish and Italian gangs thrived. As a teen, he shook down pushcart vendors on New York City’s Lower East Side. In 1918, he teamed up with fellow gangbanger Meyer Lansky to form the Bugs-Meyer Gang…a crew of tough Jewish mobsters who also ran a deadly group of contract killers known as Murder, Inc. In January 1929, Siegel married his childhood sweetheart, Esta Krakower, and they had two daughters, Millicent (who passed away in 2017) and Barbara. But Siegel’s wandering eye led to their divorce in 1946, after ccc which Esta took the girls, left Beverly Hills, and moved back to New York. 
In the 1920s, Mafia boss Charles “Lucky” Luciano and other Italian gangsters formed a national syndicate. Known as Bugsy for his fiery temper, Siegel quickly rose in the ranks of this new criminal network. In 1931, aiming to eliminate some of New York’s old guard, Siegel was one of four hitmen tasked with killing Sicilian mobster Joe “the Boss” Masseria. By 1937, he moved his bootlegging and gambling operations to California, where he opened gambling dens, ran offshore casinos, and took control of existing prostitution, drug, and bookmaking rackets. Relocating his family, Siegel lived lavishly in Beverly Hills, owning a grand estate, attending glamorous parties, and mingling with Hollywood’s elite.
In the late 1930s, Siegel started dating actress Virginia Hill, and together they made a striking pair, known as much for their fiery tempers as for their glamorous style. In 1945, they moved to Las Vegas, where Siegel chased his dream of creating a gambling haven in the Nevada desert. Backed by the Eastern crime syndicate, he oversaw the construction of the Flamingo Hotel and Casino. What began with a $1.5 million budget quickly spiraled out of control, with costs soaring past $6 million. When it was revealed that much of the overspending was due to Siegel’s theft and poor management, Lansky…by then a key figure in the syndicate—was furious at the betrayal.
On the evening of June 20, 1947, Siegel was brutally killed, when a fusillade of bullets crashed through Hill’s 
living room window in Beverly Hills where he was visiting…likely he was living with her. Simultaneously, three of Lansky’s cohorts entered the Flamingo Hotel and declared a takeover. Although Lansky denied involvement in the hit, there is little doubt that Siegel was murdered on syndicate orders. In 1947 he was gunned down at his girlfriend Virginia Hill’s home at the age of 41.
On June 30, 1956, a Lockheed L-1049A Super Constellation flying as TWA Flight 2 collided with a Douglas DC-7 Mainliner operating as United Air Lines Flight 718 over Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona. The Constellation plunged into the canyon, while the DC-7 crashed into a cliff. Tragically, all 128 people aboard both planes were killed, marking the first commercial airline disaster with over one hundred fatalities. The planes had taken off from Los Angeles International Airport just minutes apart, bound for Chicago and Kansas City. The crash happened in uncontrolled airspace, where pilots were expected to maintain separation under the “see and be seen” rule, exposing the outdated state of air traffic control and sparking major aviation reforms. Similar to the “see and avoid” rule, the “see and be seen” rule requires the pilots to somehow make their presence known. Since I have been a passenger in a small airplane, where I was required, as the only other person onboard, to help watch for traffic when coming into the airport, I can say 
that “see and be seen” is not always an easy task. Planes can blend into the terrain very easily. Even when we were told where the traffic was, it took me a minute to locate it. I’m sure the pilot, my boss at the time, Jim Stengel saw it before I did, but because it took a minute for me to see it, I can see how two planes could end up in a bad situation.
On that morning, TWA Flight 2 left Los Angeles bound for Kansas City. Just three minutes later, United Airlines Flight 718 took off for Chicago. Amazingly, their paths crossed 400 miles away over the Grand Canyon, where both pilots, flying under visual “see and avoid” rules, steered around a thundercloud…TWA’s Lockheed L-1049 Super Constellation passing to the left and United’s Douglas DC-7 to the right. The “see and avoid” rule requires the pilots to take evasive action when the other plane came into view…but was there time? Probably not.
Unfortunately, the planes didn’t see or have time to avoid the danger. At 21,000 feet, the two airliners crossed 
paths, and the United plane’s left wing clipped the TWA’s tail, tearing through the rear of its fuselage. Both planes crashed into the canyon floor, killing all 128 people aboard. This was the deadliest American aviation accident of its time, and it prompted a congressional investigation and paved the way for today’s modern air traffic control system. I always find it sad that it takes a tragic loss of life to bring about change.
The naming of hurricanes is not something new. These days, hurricanes and tropical storms get names to make communication and identification easier. Before naming was common, storms were tracked by or by the year and sequence they happened, which often caused confusion…especially when several storms were active at once. Short, unique names are simpler to remember, share, and report in advisories, news, and emergency updates, helping warnings reach people quickly and clearly.
Naming storms is a tradition that actually goes back centuries. In the West Indies, hurricanes were once named after the Catholic saint’s day on which they hit, like Hurricane San Felipe. It seemed a logical way to name them at the time, but obviously the names would need to be repeated before long. By the late 1800s, Australian meteorologist Clement Wragge started giving tropical cyclones names, using everything from Greek letters and mythological figures to the names of local politicians. The naming process had taken on a life of its own, so to speak.
In World War II, United States military meteorologists casually named Pacific storms after their wives and girlfriends to make tracking on weather maps easier. I can only imagine how that went over. Some might have felt honored, while others might have been insulted. In 1953, the US National Weather Service made this system official for Atlantic storms, starting with only female names. After a while, the women began to protest and by 1979, male names were added to alternate with female ones after those calls for gender balance.
Today, the World Meteorological Organization (WMO) keeps six rotating lists of names for Atlantic hurricanes, each with 21 names in alphabetical order, skipping Q, U, X, Y, and Z. Names come back every six years unless a storm is so destructive or costly that the name is retired out of respect, like Katrina in 2005 or Melissa in 2025. 
A storm gets its name when it hits tropical storm strength with winds of at least 39 mph and keeps it if it grows into a hurricane with winds of 74 mph or more. While this system is used in the Atlantic, other regions have their own rules. For instance, Pacific hurricanes, Indian Ocean cyclones, and Western Pacific typhoons use similar alphabetical lists or names tied to local languages and traditions.
The Pig War of 1859 was a tense yet bloodless standoff between the United States and the United Kingdom over who owned the San Juan Islands in the Pacific Northwest. Despite its dramatic name, no people were harmed. The conflict arose from the Oregon Treaty of 1846, which set the United States–British border along the 49th parallel from the Rockies to the Pacific but left vague whether Haro Strait, near Vancouver Island, or Rosario Strait, closer to the mainland, marked the “middle of the channel.” The United States stance was that the Rosario Strait meant that the islands belonged to America. This uncertainty had lingered since the 1840s, with both sides laying claim to the islands.
On June 15, 1859, exactly 13 years after the adoption of the Oregon Treaty, the ambiguity led to direct conflict. Lyman Cutlar, an American farmer from Kentucky who had moved onto San Juan Island claiming rights to live there under the Donation Land Claim Act, passed nine years earlier by the United States Congress in 1850, found a pig rooting in his garden and eating his tubers (potatoes). The trouble started when Cutler shot the pig owned by Charles Griffith, an Irish worker for the Hudson’s Bay Company stationed at the island’s depot. Cutler apologized and offered $10 as 
compensation, but the British authorities responded by threatening to arrest him and expel all Americans from the island. In response, Brigadier General William S Harney sent Company D of the 9th US Infantry, led by Captain George E Pickett (who would later become a Confederate general), to San Juan on July 27, 1859, according to the National Park Service.
Governor James Douglas of Vancouver Island protested the landing, leading to the arrival of British warships to assert control. By late 1859, both nations agreed to a joint military occupation of the islands to avoid further conflict. American and British troops coexisted in a tense but peaceful manner, even celebrating holidays together. In 1871, Kaiser Wilhelm I of Germany resolved the dispute in favor of the United States, awarding the 
San Juan Islands to them. The joint occupation ended in 1872, making the islands officially part of Washington Territory. The Pig War remains known as a bloodless territorial dispute that showed how something like unclear borders and incidents that follow even if one party tries not to make it a big deal, could spark international tensions, and how third-party arbitration can resolve such conflicts without war.
When my grandfather, George Floyd Byer, served in World War I, he began as a cook and eventually became the chief cook, essentially the man in charge. He was highly respected by all the men under his command. In fact, he and his men had such a great rapport that they even enjoyed spending their leave time together. While it was common for men on leave to socialize with other members of their unit, they rarely interacted with those above them. Nevertheless, Grandpa’s men didn’t seem to mind at all. Perhaps it was simply different back then.
Whether a person is excited about being stationed in another country or not, it is a good opportunity to see the world. Even in 
World War I, when it was not quite as easy to get to so many places, they could still see the towns around them, and like my grandfather, sometimes they get to see a castle in France. This was the case when my grandfather and some of his men went on leave. I don’t know how much of the castle they got to see, but they were able to say that they had been to one, and that is a very cool thing in the World War I days.
My grandfather, a highly respected man both in the military and out of it, is difficult for me to envision in the military. He was a gentle man, much like my father, and it’s hard to imagine my father in the military either. Neither of them seemed like someone who could possibly kill another person. I suppose that war is simply different. It’s a life-or-death situation where you have to do what you have to do to survive and protect your fellow soldiers. I can easily imagine my grandfather and my father doing that. They were both honorable men, and while killing a human being is something neither would ever do for no good reason, when it comes to protecting their family or their comrades, they did what they had to do.
Knowing how loyal my grandfather was to his men, I can completely understand why they respected him so 
much. He was kind and caring, not just to his family, but to his men as well. Men who are far away from home during a war are definitely dealing with a lot of emotions. It’s comforting to have someone in charge who can understand how you feel and provide advice when needed. That’s exactly how my grandfather was. Today is the 133rd anniversary of my Grandpa Byer’s birth. I wish he could still be with us. I miss him dearly. Happy birthday in Heaven, Grandpa. We love you.
For some reason, I always relegate D-Day to its own category, but it was actually a part of a bigger operation. Operation Overlord did not end with one battle on D-Day. It was an invasion of France in a concerted effort to take down the German stronghold that was plaguing that nation. So, six days after the D-Day landing, those five Allied landing groups, made up of some 330,000 troops, linked up in Normandy to form a single solid front across northwestern France. They would not give up, and Hitler would not be allowed to take over these nations, including France. They were like a wall, and they were determined not to lose…many lives and many nations depended on their stubborn perseverance.
Operation Overlord began on June 6, 1944, but it was only after a year of meticulous planning that was conducted in secrecy by a joint Anglo-American staff, that the largest combined sea, air, and land military operation in history began on the French coast at Normandy. The Allied invasion force included 3 million men, 13,000 aircraft, 1,200 warships, 2,700 merchant ships, and 2,500 landing craft. It began fifteen minutes after midnight on June 6th, when the first of 23,000 United States, British, and Canadian paratroopers and glider troops plunged into the darkness over Normandy. Just before dawn, Allied aircraft and ships bombed the French coast along the Baie de la Seine, and at daybreak the bombardment ended as 135,000 Allied troops stormed ashore at five landing sites. Despite the formidable German coastal defenses and significant loss of Allied lives, beachheads were achieved at all five landing locations. Within a day, the Allies secured a bridgehead, but the countryside beyond the beaches posed challenges, with its bocage (pastureland) terrain of hedgerows and narrow lanes giving the German defenders an advantage. 
German reinforcements, including elite Waffen-SS units, began arriving, but many were thrown off by Allied deception tactics, slowing their deployment. Hitler’s refusal to permit tactical retreats trapped numerous German forces, leading to heavy losses during the Allied breakout. The Allies focused on quickly building up troops and securing a unified bridgehead to block counterattacks and ensure safe arrival of reinforcements. At Omaha Beach, German resistance was fierce, and the Americans only secured the position after hours of brutal fighting. By nightfall, around 150,000 American, British, and Canadian troops were ashore, holding roughly 80 square miles. Over the following six days, Allied forces in Normandy steadily advanced on all fronts despite fierce German resistance. By June 12th, the five landing groups had linked up, and Operation Overlord, which was the code name for the Allied invasion of northwestern Europe…was unfolding exactly as planned.
The campaign soon turned into a tough, relentless battle over towns like Caen and through the bocage countryside. Allied forces had to work together, combining infantry, tanks, artillery, and air power to push past well-defended German positions. By late July, operations like ‘Cobra’ helped Allied armor punch through German lines, opening the way for a fast push into open ground. Still, the momentum couldn’t last forever, giving the Germans a chance to regroup for a while. D-Day forced Germany into a two-front war, stretching its resources between the Eastern Front and the newly opened Western Front. The successful landings lifted Allied 
morale, proved large-scale amphibious assaults could work, and reassured the Soviet Union that the second front was in action. By late August 1944, German forces were retreating from France, marking a key turning point in liberating Western Europe. After D-Day, the scale of the human and material cost became clear. The beaches were scattered with wrecked vehicles, abandoned gear, and the fallen, but a steady stream of reinforcements from England kept the Allies going. Keeping the beachhead supplied and growing was key to winning the Normandy campaign. In short, the days that followed were filled with fierce fighting, tactical moves, and huge logistical efforts that helped the Allies take Normandy, weaken the Germans, and push toward liberating Europe.
The Gaspee Affair was a key moment leading up to the American Revolution. In 1772, the HMS Gaspee, a Royal Navy revenue schooner enforcing the Navigation Acts near Newport, Rhode Island, ran aground in shallow waters while pursuing the packet boat Hannah on June 9 off Warwick. The Gaspee was pursuing the Hanna, an American smuggling ship, when it ran aground off Namquit Point in Providence’s Narragansett Bay on June 9th. That evening, John Brown, an American merchant angered by high British taxes on his goods, rowed out to the Gaspee with a number of other colonists, including Abraham Whipple, and seized control of the ship. After leading away its crew…they weren’t murderers, after all, the Americans set the Gaspee afire and burned the Gaspee down to the waterline. 
The event greatly heightened tensions between American colonists and Crown officials, especially since it came on the heels of the Boston Massacre in 1770. In Rhode Island, Crown officials sought to tighten control over legitimate trade and crack down on smuggling to boost revenue from the colony. At the same time, Rhode Islanders grew more vocal in opposing the Townshend Acts and other British policies that disrupted the colony’s traditional businesses, many of which were tied to the triangular slave trade. Along with similar incidents in Narragansett Bay, the event marked one of the first violent uprisings against Crown authority in British North America, taking place over a year before the Boston Tea Party and pushing the Thirteen Colonies closer to the war for independence. The British Customs service had a history of facing strong resistance in the Thirteen Colonies in the 18th century. Britain was at war during much of this period and was not in a strategic position to risk antagonizing its overseas colonies.
When British officials attempted to prosecute the colonists involved in the so-called “Gaspee Affair,” they found 
no Americans willing to testify against their countrymen. It’s hard to prosecute people when no one will witness against the accused. The problem the British faced was that the Americans were done being told what to do, and so they were rebelling at every turn. Of course, this renewed the tension in British American relations and inspired the Boston Patriots to found the “Committee of Correspondence,” a propaganda group that rallied Americans to their cause by publicizing all anti-British activity that occurred throughout the 13 colonies. This further rebellion was quickly setting the stage for the Revolutionary War, which the British would inevitably lose.
Jemima Warner was a camp follower with the Continental Army in the early days of the American Revolutionary War. According to the Women’s Memorial in Washington, DC, she’s considered the first American “military woman killed in action” and quite likely the first woman to die in combat during US wars. A teenage wife to Private James Warner of the Pennsylvania Rifle Battalion, she joined him on the campaign trail, determined to be by his side in case he fell ill or was injured. Little is known about Jemima’s early years, but she likely lived in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania before enlisting in the Continental Army at the age of 17.
In late 1775, after the battles of Lexington and Concord, the Continental Army laid siege to the British in Boston and seized several of their military bases. Fearing a British counterattack from Canada to reclaim the forts and push down the Hudson River to New York City, the army launched an invasion of Quebec. As they marched north, supplies ran low and smallpox spread. In Maine, a sick James Warner fell behind, and Jemima stayed with him. When he passed away, she covered his body 
with leaves, grabbed his rifle and powder, and ran 20 miles to rejoin the battalion. Many soldiers were stunned when she emerged from the wilderness days, or even weeks, later, carrying her husband’s rifle.
Once she was back with her husband’s battalion, Jemima Warner served as a cook for the troops, the company tried to approach Quebec under a white flag to negotiate with the enemy, but British cannons forced them back. During the invasion of Quebec, General Richard Montgomery switched tactics and commissioned Jemima Warner to deliver a letter containing his conditions of surrender to Governor Guy Carleton. She accepted the mission and trudged through about 800 yards of deep snow to deliver a proposal to the British, but when she arrived, she was refused admittance into the city. On her second attempt, however, she dressed in a borrowed formal gown and was allowed in. Nevertheless, Governor Carleton tore up the letter, imprisoned her. The Five 
days later, she was released and rejoined the battalion. Not long after, during the Siege of Quebec on December 11, 1775, she was killed by British gunfire. Although Jemima Warner and Susannah Grier (wife of Sergeant Joseph Grier of Captain William Hendrick’s company) are named in John Joseph Henry’s journal of the expedition through the Maine wilderness, neither is mentioned by name in soldiers’ journals from the invasion of Quebec. Accounts note four women on the American side killed during the siege: one by grapeshot in December 1775, one by burning that same month, one accidentally shot by an American soldier in April 1776, and one struck by lightning in June 1776. It’s often believed that Warner was the woman killed by grapeshot while standing with American soldiers in December 1775.
Anytime a leader of a nation is killed or dies, the fate of the nation can be at risk. Most often, the transition of power is a smooth process, but on occasion, things can go terribly wrong. In the case of Louis XVII, born Louis Charles, Duke of Normandy on March 27, 1785, who was the younger son of King Louis XVI of France and Queen Marie Antoinette the death of his parents and the succession to the throne, was anything but simple. Louis-Charles de France was born in the Palace of Versailles as the second son and third child of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. He received his name in honor of his father and his mother’s beloved sister, Maria Carolina, Queen of Naples and Sicily, affectionately called Charlotte by the family, with Charles being the male equivalent of her name. His younger sister, Sophie, arrived just over a year after him.
For Louis Charles XVII to become king was, in fact, impossible. Nevertheless, as it turns out, Louis XVII’s older brother, Louis Joseph, Dauphin of France, died in June 
1789, a little over a month before the start of the French Revolution. He assumed the title of Dauphin following the demise of his older brother, Louis Joseph, on June 4, 1789, and became the heir apparent to the throne. He remained Dauphin until 1791 when the new constitution granted the heir apparent the title of Prince Royal. That would set the stage for his eventual transition to king whenever his father died. He didn’t, however, expect that day to come so soon.
The family was captured and imprisoned. After his father’s execution on January 21, 1793, at the height of the French Revolution. Young Louis was separated from his 
mother on January 19, 1794, after securing a receipt for the safe transfer of their ward, was declared to be in good health. It seems that the committee did not attempt to find another guardian for him. A large part of the Temple records from that time onward disappeared under the Bourbon Restoration, making ascertaining of the facts impossible. Two days later, Louis-Charles is said by the Restoration historians to have been moved into a damp, dark room that was bolted and barricaded like the cage of a wild animal. He had a bed of straw, no lavatory, no way of staying clean and no ways to occupy himself. The story recounts that food was passed through the bars to the boy, who survived despite the accumulated filth of him and his surroundings. While Royalists recognized Louis XVII as King of France, France was now a republic, young Louis-Charles was imprisoned and died on June 8, 1795, at the young age of just 10 years, the last of which were spent in captivity never actually ruling. When the Bourbon monarchy was restored in 1814, his uncle took the throne as Louis XVIII.
The night before D-Day, June 6, 1944, American soldiers of the 82nd Airborne were parachuting in waves into the area west of Sainte-Mère-Église. Earlier, an aerial attack had hit the town, and a stray incendiary bomb set a house ablaze just east of the square. The church bell rang to warn of the fire, drawing many townspeople who formed a bucket brigade under the watch of the German garrison. By 1:00am, the square was brightly lit and crowded with German soldiers and villagers when, by mistake, two planeloads of paratroopers from the 1st and 2nd battalions of the 505th Parachute Infantry Regiment were dropped right over the village. The error spelled disaster and almost certain death for the paratroopers. 
The paratroopers were easy targets in any maneuver, especially in such a grave error, and Private John Marvin Steele was one of the few who survived. He took a wound to the foot from a burst of flak, but as he drifted down to almost certain death, his parachute snagged on one of the steeple pinnacles of Our Lady of the Assumption Church (Église Notre-Dame-de-l’Assomption), leaving him dangling from the side. For two hours, he hung there motionless, pretending to be dead, until the Germans captured him. Just four hours later, wound and all, Steele managed to escape and rejoin his division when US troops from the 505th’s 3rd Battalion attacked the village, capturing 30 Germans and killing 11 more. For his bravery and injuries in combat, Steele received the Bronze Star and the Purple Heart.
After healing from his wounds, Steele continued to visit the town throughout his life and was made an honorary citizen of Sainte-Mère-Église. The tavern, Auberge John 
Steele, stands adjacent to the square and maintains his legacy through photos, letters, and articles hung on its walls. Sadly, Steele died of throat cancer on May 16, 1969, in Fayetteville, North Carolina. He was buried at the Masonic Cemetery in Metropolis, Illinois. Today, a mannequin still hangs from the steeple of Our Lady of the Assumption Church to honor his incredible story. While some historians have debated the details of the story, the event remains a major, iconic piece of D-Day history and is prominently featured in the 1962 film The Longest Day. As for the citizens of Sainte-Mère-Église, they know the truth and could never be convinced otherwise. This iconic piece of history will always be a part of the town, and the church still displays the mannequin, 82 years later to assure that fact.
