Utterly interesting

On the morning of February 1, 1979, after completing a detoxification program, Sid Vicious was released from Rikers Island. He arrived in Manhattan, and by chance, met his friend Peter Gravelle. Vicious asked Gravelle to find him some heroin. Gravelle brought $200 worth of the drug to the apartment of Michele Robison at 63 Bank Street, where he joined Vicious, Robison, and Vicious' mother, Anne Beverley, Jerry Only of the band Misfits, Eileen Polk, Jerry Nolan, Ester Herskovits, and Howie Pyro. Gravelle said that they sat around doing drugs, and he left at 3:00 a.m. Only said that he and Anne Beverley made dinner, and that he, Polk, and Pyro left early, when the drug use began. He noted that Vicious was already nodding off, but Gravelle said that Robison gave Vicious four quaaludes to help him sleep. Vicious died in the night of a drug overdose. Robison and his mother discovered his body the next morning. Anne Beverley claimed that Vicious and Spungen had made a suicide pact and that Vicious's death was not accidental. She produced a handwritten note, which she said she found in the pocket of Vicious's leather jacket, reading "We had a death pact, and I have to keep my half of the bargain. Please bury me next to my baby. Bury me in my leather jacket, jeans and motorcycle boots. Goodbye." The note found in Vicious' pocket According to Deborah Spungen, Vicious wrote a letter to her when he was last hospitalised, saying approximately the same thing. "We always knew that we would go to the same place when we died", he wrote. "We so much wanted to die together in each other's arms. I cry every time I think about that. I promised my baby that I would kill myself if anything ever happened to her, and she promised me the same. This is my final commitment to my love." Spungen was Jewish, and is buried in a Jewish cemetery in Pennsylvania. As an inter-faith burial was not permitted, Vicious's body was cremated Vicious with his mum, Anne Beverley Less than four months after the death of Spungen, Vicious stood accused of murdering her in the bathroom of their suite at the Chelsea Hotel. But four decades on, what really happened in Room 100 still remains unclear. Born John Simon Ritchie in Lewisham was only 21 when he died. Vicious had been held for assaulting Patti Smith’s brother Todd with a broken bottle while out on bail following his arrest on suspicion of murdering Spungen. She had died of a stab wound to the abdomen on 12 October 1978. Vicious’s fatal relapse at his release party meant he would never be convicted of her killing, although the certainty he was responsible has long lingered. Sid and Nancy in happier times And Vicious did initially confess to the crime, declaring “I did it … Because I’m a dirty dog”, before retracting his statement, saying he had been asleep when it happened. The quantity of barbiturates he is known to have consumed that night – 30 Tuinal tablets, a powerful sedative, would certainly support the argument he was “out cold” at the time. The morning had began as always. The residents tended to sleep late, but a few lumbered across the street for a swim at the Y or went for coffee at the corner diner. At about eleven o’clock, the clerk at the front desk received a call from outside the hotel. A man who did not identify himself told the clerk, “There’s trouble in Room 100.” Chelsea Hotel on West 23rd The clerk sent a bellman to check out the situation, but before he returned, another call came in from room 100. “Someone is sick,” a different male voice said. “Need help.” The bellman entered the room and saw, to his horror, Nancy’s blood-smeared body in only a black bra and panties lying face-up on the floor, her head under the sink and a knife wound in her lower abdomen. A trail of blood led from the bathroom to the bloodstained, empty bed. The bellman ran downstairs and told the desk clerk, and he called for an ambulance. The paramedics confirmed that Nancy was dead, and the police who accompanied them soon found a bloodstained hunting knife with the couple’s drugs and drug paraphernalia. They found Sid, too, wandering the hallways, crying and agitated, obviously high. When his next-door neighbour came out of her room to see what was going on, Sid reportedly said, “I killed her . . . I can’t live without her,” but he also seemed to mutter through his tears, “She must have fallen on the knife.” Nancy Spungen lying deceased in her bathroom in The Chelsea Hotel Once the news broke in the press, the Chelsea Hotel was besieged by reporters, its residents cornered and questioned. One obliging friend of the couple claimed that Sid was known to beat Nancy with his guitar occasionally and had once held a hunting knife to her throat. Inside the hotel, the rumour mill churned. Many have speculated the whole tragic episode was the result of a botched suicide pact, the couple romanticised as punk’s very own Romeo and Juliet. Sex Pistols manager Malcolm McLaren, admittedly never an entirely trustworthy source, remained unwavering in his defence of Vicious, criticising the police investigation into the incident and telling The Daily Beast in 2009: “She was the first and only love of his life ... I am positive about Sid’s innocence.” Sex Pistols bassist Sid Vicious being escorted out of the Chelsea Hotel by police officers. An alternative case has been made by Phil Strongman in Pretty Vacant: A History of UK Punk (2007), arguing that one Rockets Redglare – a bodyguard, drug dealer and hanger-on who died in 2001 – could be the true culprit, stabbing Spungen with a bowie knife after she confronted him about his stealing from Vicious. Redglare, Strongman says, was heard boasting openly about committing the murder to fellow revellers at CBGB’s, New York’s punk mecca . And it’s true that cash was certainly lifted from Vicious’s room that night. He was in the money: he had recently capitalised on his notoriety by releasing a cover of “My Way”, vandalising Frank Sinatra’ s signature song and bankrolling his appetite for narcotics with the proceeds. Nancy leaves the Chelsea for the last time. But at the same time, there were questions about the mysterious Michael, now checked out of the hotel, who some said was later seen with a wad of cash secured with Nancy’s purple hair tie. It was hard to settle on a theory, some darkly joked, since just about everyone would have relished killing Nancy. A few even believed she killed herself, part of a suicide pact that Sid had been too stoned to complete. The only people uninterested in pursuing these questions, it seemed, were the police, who remained convinced that Sid was their murderer even after he retracted his confession, claiming he couldn’t remember anything. Contemptuous of Nancy and satisfied with the story of a punk gone mad, they closed their eyes to the obvious holes in their case. In the meantime, Vicious, released on bail with the fifty-thousand-dollar bond provided by Richard Branson of Virgin Records, descended into a deep depression as the reality of his lover’s death sank in. Dazed and shaking, his eyes glazed over, Sid wanted only to attend Nancy’s funeral. Every day without her was agonizing, he wrote to her mother, and each day was worse than the one before. When Barry Miles spotted him upstairs at Max’s Kansas City in late October, it was obvious that Sid was back on smack. It was a horrible sight, Miles later wrote: “fawning punks, all trying to buy Vicious drinks or hand him drugs while he staggered about, puffy-faced, one eye almost closed, barely able to mumble.” Finally, ten days after the murder, Vicious tried to slash his wrists with a broken light bulb and was carted off to Bellevue screaming, “I want to die!” A yearbook photo of Nancy Deborah Spungen, Nancy’s mother, arrived in New York from Philadelphia stunned by the news and grieving, though, as the mother of a heroin addict, not really surprised. Still, she was appalled by the detectives’ obvious assumption that a girl like Nancy was just another piece of female refuse in a city that had seen more than its share, that she’d deserved what had happened to her, and that she should now be swept off the streets and forgotten. It was a sentiment echoed in the British tabloid headline “Nancy Was a Witch!,” in the cruel jokes at her expense on "The Tonight Show" and "Saturday Night Live," and in the unending stream of hate calls the Spungens received at home. It was a strange world in which the victim of violence could inspire such loathing, Deborah reflected. Something about an unprotected young woman out in the world, refusing to obey the strictures placed on others, always had and apparently always would provoke society’s rage. Whatever the truth, Vicious and Spungen have become as inseparable in death as Cathy and Heathcliff – not least as a result of Alex Cox’s 1986 biopic Sid & Nancy , starring Gary Oldman and Chloe Webb. That film speculated that Vicious did stab her, albeit while keeping it ambiguous as to whether it was intentional or accidental. Vicious after a court appearence Vicious on Nancy's death Their outlaw image has been reproduced ever since, almost to the point of meaninglessness. Today, their importance as icons far outstrips Vicious’s minimal accomplishments as a musician. McLaren called Vicious “the ultimate DIY punk idol: someone easy to assemble and therefore become”. John Lydon, the Pistols’ snarling frontman, expressed his regret at ever having drafted his childhood friend into the band, remarking in 2014: “He didn’t stand a chance. His mother was a heroin addict. I feel bad that I brought him into the band, he couldn’t cope at all. I feel a bit responsible for his death.” Rumour has it that it was Vicious’s mother, Anne Beverley, who had supplied the heroin that killed him and it was her who found his body the next morning, lying on the floor next to a needle and a charred spoon. Described by Lydon as “an oddball hippie” in Rotten: No Irish, No Blacks, No Dogs (1993), Beverley had separated from Vicious’s father and moved around a lot during his childhood, including a spell in Ibiza where she reportedly sold cannabis to make a living. She finally settled in Hackney. A vain but unpredictable adolescent in thrall to Eddie Cochran and glam rock, Sid Vicious was given his name by Lydon in honour of the latter’s pet hamster; both were prone to bite. In punk’s earliest days, Vicious was a regular at Oxford Street’s 100 Club, known for clearing the dance floor by swinging a bike chain, throwing drinks, and apparently inventing pogo dancing by leaping up and down on the spot to get a clearer look at the stage. He was the original drummer for Siouxsie and the Banshees at their first gig at the venue and was one of the many members of the aborted Flowers of Romance, a band that might have amounted to a super-group had it ever got off the ground; its members included Viv Albertine and Palmolive of The Slits, Keith Levene who was later in Lydon’s Public Image Limited, and Marco Pirroni, guitarist to Adam Ant. Joining the Pistols in 1977 gave Vicious an outlet for his anger. The band’s meteoric rise, and fall, from the Manchester Lesser Free Trade Hall to their final show at San Francisco’s Winterland Ballroom, was as brilliant as it was brief. Vicious' death certificate The Sex Pistols, a runaway train of engineered chaos and anti-establishment provocation steered by the extremely canny McLaren, allowed Vicious to indulge his every primal instinct for an audience of enraptured teens drawn to his sneering persona. The drug-taking wasn’t the half of it; his self-destructive, attention-seeking behaviour even stretched to self-harming with the serrated lid of a Heinz Baked Beans tin, while he and Spungen would burn each other’s arms with cigarettes. Accounts of what Vicious was really like vary depending on who you ask. Stories of his physically abusing Spungen, vomiting on groupies, strangling cats, and brawling with rednecks on the Pistols’ disastrous US tour certainly abound. But others who knew him tell a different story. Steve Severin of the Banshees has commented that “he had a brilliant sense of humour, goofy, sweet, and very cute”. Spungen’s middle-class mother, Deborah, recalls him as being endearingly shy, childlike and inarticulate when he visited her at home in Philadelphia. And he was certainly desperately in love with her daughter. In her own book about Sid and Nancy, And I Don’t Want to Live This Life (1983), its title one of Vicious’s own lines, Deborah records him telling her tearfully over the phone from prison: “I don’t know why I’m alive anymore, now that Nancy is gone.” And what of Nancy? The 20-year-old is usually written off as a destructive junkie, a low-life chancer and a bad influence on everyone she met. Spungen was to the Pistols what Yoko Ono had been to The Beatles and Courtney Love would be to Nirvana, the argument goes. Worse, she was a contaminant, importing heroin chic from New York to London when she followed another punk band, Johnny Thunders and the Heartbreakers, across the Atlantic. But there is more than a hint of misogyny in such dismissals. Sid Vicious, Nancy Spungen & Lemmy from Motorhead She is also now believed to have had an undiagnosed psychiatric condition. Her mother’s memoir describes Spungen’s disturbing behaviour as a child, from threatening her siblings during temper tantrums to attacking a babysitter with scissors. Ultimately, Sid and Nancy’s grotty demise stands as a cautionary tale, warning that the ruinous nihilism they came to represent amounted to little more than a dead-end. Their defiance led them only to a darkened room at the Chelsea Hotel, and a spiral of mutually-assured destruction. The post-punk and new wave movements that Lydon and his peers went on to embrace were far more optimistic, joyous and experimental, entertaining grander visions of a better world – something that Vicious and Spungen seemingly couldn’t imagine, and tragically never saw. The “no future” refrain from “God Save the Queen” proved to be a self-fulfilling prophecy for the young lovers. Sources Sex Pistols’ Sid Vicious on Trial for the Murder of Girlfriend (Dengrove Collection) https://archives.law.virginia.edu/dengrove/writeup/sex-pistols-sid-vicious-trial-murder-girlfriend   Flashback: Nancy Spungen Found Dead at Chelsea Hotel (Rolling Stone) https://www.rollingstone.com/culture/culture-news/flashback-nancy-spungen-found-dead-at-chelsea-hotel-118648/   Room 100: Sid, Nancy, and the Night Punk Rock Died (Library Journal review) https://www.libraryjournal.com/review/room-100-sid-nancy-and-the-night-punk-rock-died-2254162   Who Killed Nancy? — British Council / film project page https://filmsandfestivals.britishcouncil.org/projects/who-killed-nancy   Sid Vicious / Anne Beverley (lot / auction description referencing note and pact) https://www.christies.com/en/lot/lot-4562747   “Inside Sid Vicious’s drug-fuelled last party” (The Independent) https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/music/features/sid-vicious-death-anniversary-nancy-b2486804.html   How Did Sid Vicious Die and Did He Kill Nancy Spungen? (Newsweek) https://www.newsweek.com/how-sid-vicious-died-did-he-kill-nancy-spungen-sex-pistols-pistol-fx-hulu-1711609   “Bury me in my leather jacket, blue jeans and motorcycle boots” (analysis of the note) https://a-desk.org/en/magazine/enterradme-con-mi-chaqueta-de-cuero-mis-vaqueros-y-mis-botas-de-motorista/   The Tragic Suicide Note Sid Vicious Left Behind (Scribd document) https://www.scribd.com/document/638288713/The-tragic-suicide-note-Sid-Vicious-left-behind   “After 30 years, a new take on Sid, Nancy and a punk rock mystery” (The Guardian) https://www.theguardian.com/music/2009/jan/20/sid-vicious-film   Inside The True Story Of Sex Pistols Bassist Sid Vicious (AllThat’s Interesting) https://allthatsinteresting.com/sid-vicious   Not So Lonesome Death of Nancy Spungen — BardachReports https://www.bardachreports.com/not-so-lonesome-death-of-nancy-spunge

In the remote Blenio Valley of Ticino, on the southern side of the Swiss Alps, a man once roamed its rugged paths armed with a camera, capturing the vivid tapestry of village life. That man, Roberto Donetta, was not a celebrated artist in his time but rather a destitute seed pedlar with a knack for photography. Between 1900 and 1930, he produced over 5,000 glass plate negatives, documenting a world that was as isolated as it was rich in character. His images, rediscovered decades after his death in 1932, reveal the life work of a man that clearly had an abundance of natural talent for visual storytelling. A Life of Struggles Roberto Donetta was born in the Blenio Valley, a region that epitomised rural poverty in late 19th-century Switzerland. Life in this Italian-speaking enclave was harsh, with limited opportunities forcing many to emigrate. Donetta was no exception. Like his neighbours, he left the valley in search of work. Initially, he travelled to Northern Italy, where he sold chestnuts on the streets to make ends meet. Later, he found himself in London, peddling seeds. These experiences not only exposed him to different worlds but likely shaped his understanding of people and their daily struggles, a theme that would later dominate his photography. At 21, Donetta married and went on to have seven children. Yet, despite his best efforts, he struggled to provide for his family. Somewhere along the way, he met Dionigi Sorgesa, a sculptor who became a pivotal figure in Donetta’s life. Sorgesa taught him the basics of photography and gifted him his first camera, igniting a passion that would give Donetta’s life a new direction. The Wandering Photographer Returning to Switzerland, Donetta merged his trade as a seed pedlar with his newfound love of photography. With a heavy plate camera and portable backdrops in tow, he travelled from village to village, offering his services as a photographer. He captured the people of the Blenio Valley in their most authentic moments: blacksmiths hammering at their forges, butchers laughing together, children playing in sun-dappled woods, and families mourning at funerals. His photographs were far more than simple documentation. The compositions were carefully considered, the lighting meticulously balanced, and the subjects imbued with a striking presence. It was clear that Donetta saw himself as an artist, even if he lacked formal recognition or financial success. His images possess a timeless quality, their clarity and depth pulling the viewer into the lives of his subjects. But despite his artistry, Donetta’s financial situation remained precarious. He barely scraped by, producing postcards for sale and relying on the goodwill of locals who, though sympathetic to his plight, were also his creditors. Isolation and Loss Donetta’s personal life unravelled as his economic hardships deepened. His wife and children left him, moving to France in search of better opportunities. Alone in the valley, Donetta became a figure of both pity and respect. While his community valued his contributions as a chronicler of their lives, he was largely overlooked as an artist. He lived out his final years in a circular stone house, a former school that had been closed due to a lack of students. There, he continued his photography, undeterred by his circumstances. When he died in 1932, he owed money to many locals who had supported him during his most difficult times. The Rediscovery of a Legacy Upon Donetta’s death, his possessions were auctioned to settle his debts. Ironically, the most valuable of these possessions—his archive of over 5,000 glass plate negatives and prints—was deemed worthless. Left in the attic of the local parish, the collection was forgotten for over 30 years, preserved only by chance. In the late 1970s, this treasure trove was rediscovered, sparking a reappraisal of Donetta’s life and work. The Commune of Corzoneso, which had inherited the archive by default, began to recognise the significance of his photographs. Slowly, Donetta’s work gained attention, and his reputation as one of Switzerland’s great outsider photographers began to take shape. Today, his former home serves as the headquarters of the Roberto Donetta Foundation . This small 18th-century stone building houses his archive and serves as a centre for preserving and promoting his legacy. The foundation’s work ensures that Donetta’s remarkable contributions to photography are not only remembered but celebrated. A Legacy Preserved The rediscovery of Roberto Donetta’s work has ensured that his vision lives on, inspiring new generations of photographers and historians alike. His images are now recognised as invaluable not only for their artistic merit but also for their historical significance. They offer an intimate glimpse into a world that, without Donetta’s efforts, might have been lost to time. Self portraits of Roberto Donetta Sources Museo di Val Blenio – Roberto Donetta photographic archive https://www.museovallediblenio.ch/en/roberto-donetta Roberto Donetta Foundation – Photographic collections and biography https://www.fondazionerobertodonetta.ch Swissinfo.ch – “Roberto Donetta, the travelling photographer who captured Swiss rural life” https://www.swissinfo.ch/eng/culture/roberto-donetta-the-photographer-who-documented-a-vanishing-way-of-life/42944486 The Guardian – “The Swiss farmer who photographed a vanishing world” https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/gallery/2017/mar/30/roberto-donetta-swiss-photographer-of-rural-life-in-pictures Fondation suisse pour la photographie (Fotostiftung Schweiz) – Roberto Donetta archive and exhibitions https://www.fotostiftung.ch/en/collection/artists/roberto-donetta/ LensCulture – “Roberto Donetta: Forgotten Swiss Visionary” https://www.lensculture.com/articles/roberto-donetta-forgotten-swiss-visionary Atlas Obscura – “The Glass Plate Photographer of Blenio Valley” https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/roberto-donetta-swiss-photographer Fotomuseum Winterthur – Collection: Roberto Donetta glass negatives https://www.fotomuseum.ch/en/collection-research/collection/roberto-donetta/ World Press Photo Foundation – Historical essay on Swiss vernacular photography https://www.worldpressphoto.org/collection/photo-contest/archive/roberto-donetta ArtBlart – “Roberto Donetta: Photography and Life in the Blenio Valley” https://artblart.com/2017/03/28/roberto-donetta-photography-and-life-in-the-blenio-valley/

Spitalfields at the junction of Commercial Street and Brushfield Street. The building at the right is Spitalfields Market. To the left is a branch of the Pearce & Plenty cafe chain, with a sign for the General Gordon Temperance Hotel. In the early 20th century, London stood as a mighty symbol of the British Empire’s power and wealth, its skyline punctuated by architectural marvels and the rhythmic hum of industry. Yet beneath this facade of prosperity lay a much grimmer reality—a reality of extreme poverty, squalor, and homelessness, largely hidden from the public eye. Jack London, better known for his tales of adventure like The Call of the Wild  and White Fang , peeled back this veil in a way few others had done. Through his foray into photography, London captured a side of the British capital that many had ignored, revealing the true conditions of the city’s destitute masses. His journey into London’s East End in 1902 was a significant departure from his literary reputation. Armed with a camera and a journalist’s notebook, Jack London documented the lives of the city’s impoverished, humanising them in a way few journalists had dared to do. Men sleeping in Green Park. In a book that became to be known as The People of the Abyss he described the time when he lived in the Whitechapel district sleeping in workhouses, so-called doss-houses and even on the streets. It was said that about half a million people were living in these awful and terrible conditions in Britain’s capital city. London took the photographs that illustrated his extraordinary book (between 1900 and 1916 the American writer took more than 12 thousand photographs). Men working in casual ward of workhouse picking oakum – teasing out of fibres from old ropes and was very hard on the fingers London was most disturbed by the number of “old men, young men, all manner of men, and boys to boot, and all manner of boys” who had no other choice other than to sleep on the streets. “Some were drowsing standing up; half a score of them were stretched out on the stone steps in most painful postures…the skin of their bodies showing red through the holes, and rents in their rags.” London had trouble finding anyone to show him the East End: “But you can’t do it, you know,” friends said, to whom I applied for assistance in the matter of sinking myself down into the East End of London. “You had better see the police for a guide,” they added, on second thought, painfully endeavouring to adjust themselves to the psychological processes of a madman who had come to them with better credentials than brains. “But I don’t want to see the police,” I protested. “What I wish to do is to go down into the East End and see things for myself. I wish to know how those people are living there, and why they are living there, and what they are living for. In short, I am going to live there myself.” “You don’t want to live down there!” everybody said, with disapprobation writ large upon their faces. “Why, it is said there are places where a man’s life isn’t worth tu’pence.” “The very places I wish to see,” I broke in. “But you can’t, you know,” was the unfailing rejoinder.” According to Michael Shelden, George Orwell ‘s biographer, the English writer had read London’s book while in his teens and greatly inspired as can be seen in Down and Out in Paris and London and the Road to Wigan Pier . Inside the courtyard of Salvation Army barracks Sunday Morning. The People of the Abyss was published in 1903 the same year as his novel Call of the Wild was serialised – bringing London international fame. London later said: “Of all my books, the one I love most is The People of the Abyss . No other work of mine contains as much of my heart.” Jack London: Adventurer, Novelist, Photographer Born John Griffith Chaney in 1876 in San Francisco, California, Jack London was no stranger to poverty. Raised by a struggling single mother, London experienced homelessness and hardship from an early age. His youth was spent working odd jobs and travelling the world as a sailor, eventually leading him to the Klondike Gold Rush. It was here that his literary talents began to blossom, drawing from the harsh realities of life in the wilderness to create vivid tales of survival. An East End Slavey (a maidservant, especially a hard-worked one.) While London is primarily remembered as an author, his keen eye for detail and empathy for the downtrodden made him a powerful documentary photographer. His work in London was driven not only by a fascination with the urban underclass but also by his socialist leanings, which propelled him to expose the injustices suffered by the poor. His experience living among the homeless and impoverished in America had already given him the insight that poverty was a universal condition, not confined by borders. Bank Holiday, Whitechapel In 1902, at the height of his literary fame, London travelled to London, England. There, he embarked on a radical project—living among the poor and documenting their conditions both in writing and photography. His observations would form the basis for The People of the Abyss  (1903), a searing indictment of the social and economic inequality that plagued London at the time. While the book focused primarily on written descriptions, his photography complemented these words, capturing the faces and living conditions of those he met. A street in Wapping The East End: London’s Underbelly To truly understand Jack London’s photography, it’s essential to place it within the context of the area he chose to document: the East End of London. At the turn of the century, the East End was a sprawling, overcrowded district where the poorest of the poor resided. The area had long been associated with destitution and vice, home to the city's largest concentration of slums, sweatshops, and workhouses. “Gigantic dosshouse” Rowton House, Fieldgate Street, Whitechapel By the late 19th and early 20th centuries, London was a global hub, attracting migrants from across the British Empire and Europe, many of whom settled in the East End. The population density was staggering, with thousands crammed into decaying tenement buildings. According to reports, the East End population grew by 50% between 1801 and 1901, resulting in around 600,000 people living in appalling conditions by the turn of the century. Many were unable to find regular work, and those who could often laboured in exploitative conditions for minimal wages. Homeless Women Spitalfields Garden (church yard of Christ Church) Sanitation was virtually non-existent in many parts of the East End. Raw sewage would often flow through the streets, contributing to outbreaks of diseases like cholera, typhoid, and tuberculosis. The life expectancy in these areas was abysmally low; for men in the East End, it was as little as 29 years, compared to 55 for those in wealthier districts. Homeless men and women Spitalfields Gardens (Christ Church churchyard) Jack London’s Photographic Exploration What set Jack London apart from other journalists and social commentators of his time was his willingness to immerse himself in the world he wished to document. Rather than merely observing from a distance, London lived among the poor in the East End, often disguising himself to avoid suspicion. This hands-on approach allowed him to gain the trust of the locals and capture their lives with unflinching honesty. Frying Pan Alley,(Situated close to Middlesex Street and Petticoat Lane market) Spitalfields His photography was raw and direct, a reflection of the grim realities he encountered. One of his most famous photographs shows a group of homeless men sleeping outside on the Embankment, their faces weathered and gaunt, their clothing ragged. Another stark image features a mother and her children huddled together in a squalid alleyway, their expressions a haunting blend of despair and resignation. “Two relay system lodging, lodgers who have been on night work waiting till the beds of a doss house are vacated by men employed during the way.” – original caption London’s subjects were not posed or idealised; they were captured as they were—exhausted, malnourished, and downtrodden. In doing so, London succeeded in humanising the poor in a way that few others had. His photography stood in contrast to the sensationalised depictions of poverty often found in newspapers of the time, which tended to blame the poor for their plight. London’s Techniques and Impact Jack London’s approach to photography was highly innovative for its time. While he was not a trained photographer, his keen observational skills and sense of narrative allowed him to create powerful images that told a story. He used a simple box camera, relying on natural light and candid moments to create his compositions. This gave his work a sense of immediacy and authenticity, as if the viewer were walking alongside him through the streets of the East End. Under the arches of the bridges that span the Thames In many ways, London’s work can be seen as a precursor to modern documentary photography. His focus on the human condition, his use of candid photography, and his desire to expose social injustice would influence generations of photojournalists to come. His photographs were not only a record of the physical environment but also a commentary on the systemic issues that kept people trapped in poverty. Part of a room to let. A typical East End home where the people live, sleep, eat all in one room. London’s work had a profound impact on public perceptions of poverty in Britain. The People of the Abyss , along with his photographs, shocked middle and upper-class readers who were largely unaware of the extent of the suffering taking place within their own city. The book sold well and helped to spark debates about social reform, particularly regarding housing and labour conditions. Mile End Road showing the People’s Palace To fully appreciate the magnitude of what Jack London captured in his work, it’s essential to understand the broader social and economic context of the time. The late Victorian and Edwardian periods were marked by severe inequality, with wealth concentrated in the hands of a few while vast numbers of people lived in abject poverty. Poverty Rates : By 1900, over 30% of London’s population was living in poverty, according to social reformer Charles Booth’s survey. This meant that nearly 1.2 million people in the city were unable to afford basic necessities like food, shelter, and clothing. Homelessness : Homelessness was rampant, particularly in the East End. A 1904 report by the Salvation Army estimated that there were as many as 100,000 homeless people in London, with many of them sleeping rough in parks, alleyways, and under bridges. Workhouses : For those unable to find work, the workhouse was often the last resort. These institutions, meant to house the poor and unemployed, were notorious for their harsh conditions. Inmates were required to perform grueling labour, such as breaking stones or picking oakum, in exchange for basic food and shelter. The conditions were intentionally made miserable to deter people from seeking assistance. Child Mortality : One of the most heartbreaking aspects of poverty in London was the high rate of child mortality. In some parts of the East End, as many as one in three children died before reaching the age of five, often due to preventable diseases like diarrhoea, measles, and whooping cough. Malnutrition and lack of access to clean water were major contributors to these deaths. Life Expectancy : As mentioned earlier, life expectancy in the poorest districts of London was shockingly low. In some areas, men and women could expect to live only into their late 20s or early 30s, compared to their wealthier counterparts in the West End, who often lived into their 50s and 60s. Labour Conditions : Many of those who did find work were employed in dangerous and exploitative conditions. Factories, sweatshops, and docks employed thousands of workers, often paying them less than a living wage. Women and children were particularly vulnerable, often working long hours for pitifully low pay. Jack London’s work in the East End was a pioneering effort in both photography and social journalism. His ability to blend writing with visual storytelling created a powerful narrative that brought attention to the plight of the poor in ways that had not been done before. While his time in London was relatively brief, the impact of his work reverberated for decades, influencing not only photojournalism but also social policy. A shop where old clothes are sold – A group of children and a handful of adults, stand around a table that is covered with clothing. Jackets and coats are hung on an outside wall behind them, and shoes, hats, and other items sit on the ground around the table.(original caption) His photographs remain a haunting reminder of a period in London’s history when the city’s most vulnerable citizens were ignored and neglected. These images, coupled with his unflinching prose, forced a society accustomed to averting its gaze to confront the harsh realities faced by its underclass. In this way, Jack London's work transcended the boundaries of journalism and photography, becoming a call to action for social change. View in Hoxton London’s contribution to the photographic documentation of poverty set the stage for later works by prominent photographers such as Jacob Riis, who would document similar conditions in New York, and Lewis Hine, who exposed the plight of child labourers in America. His work serves as an important historical document, providing a visual archive of a time and place that many would prefer to forget but must always remember. Sources Huntington Library – Jack London Photographs and Negatives collection https://hdl.huntington.org/digital/collection/p16003coll7 Huntington Library – The People of the Abyss (photo materials and cover) https://hdl.huntington.org/digital/collection/p16003coll7/id/3304 Flashbak – “Jack London’s Extraordinary Photos of London’s East End in 1902” https://flashbak.com/jack-londons-extraordinary-photos-of-londons-east-end-in-1902-441162/ Rare Historical Photos – “London’s East End Life Through the Lens of Jack London, 1902” https://rarehistoricalphotos.com/jack-london-photography-london-east-end/ Wikipedia – The People of the Abyss https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_People_of_the_Abyss Public Domain Review – “Jack London’s The People of the Abyss (1903)” https://publicdomainreview.org/collection/the-people-of-the-abyss-jack-london-1903/ The Guardian – “Jack London’s Photos of East End Poverty, 1902” https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/gallery/2016/feb/09/jack-london-the-people-of-the-abyss-in-pictures Smithsonian Magazine – “Jack London’s Photographs of London’s Poorest” https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/jack-londons-london-180958303/ British Library – “Jack London’s The People of the Abyss” contextual essay https://www.bl.uk/collection-items/jack-london-the-people-of-the-abyss Library of Congress – Jack London Prints and Photographs Online Collection https://www.loc.gov/pictures/search/?q=jack+london+london+east+end

When Bruce Mozert first peered into the clear, blue waters of Silver Springs, Florida, in 1938, he didn’t just see fish or waving seagrass. He saw a stage. Beneath that glassy surface, Mozert imagined a world where people could sip cocktails, mow the lawn, and read the newspaper, all while floating gracefully in a dreamlike bubble of sunlight and water. It sounds whimsical, but that’s precisely what he did. Mozert’s underwater photographs weren’t scientific experiments or technical demonstrations. They were playful, human, and somehow both utterly surreal and completely ordinary. They captured mid-century America at leisure, only this time, the lawn chairs and martinis were submerged. The Spark Beneath the Surface Bruce Mozert was born in Newark, New Jersey , in 1916, but it was Florida that made him famous. In the late 1930s, Silver Springs was already attracting filmmakers and tourists alike for its crystal-clear waters. It had served as a filming location for Tarzan movies and early underwater scenes long before CGI existed. Mozert arrived with an artist’s curiosity and a knack for invention. He wasn’t a diver in the modern sense because this was long before recreational scuba gear became widely available, but he had an instinct for how to turn an idea into an image. After seeing underwater scenes filmed through glass, he thought, why not put the camera under the water itself? He designed his own waterproof camera housing out of metal and rubber, a homemade contraption that allowed him to submerge his lens safely. “If you want something done right, you sometimes have to build it yourself,” he later joked in an interview. That bit of tinkering marked the start of something remarkable. Suddenly, the underwater world wasn’t just for fish, it became a place for imagination. Life Aquatic, 1940s Style By the early 1940s, Mozert was staging elaborate photo shoots in Silver Springs. His models, usually local women, performed playful scenes that blurred the line between fantasy and advertisement. One might be shown reading a newspaper, the pages perfectly flat thanks to a clever use of weights and props. Another might lounge on an underwater sunbed, sipping a drink through a straw connected to the surface. In one famous shot, a woman appears to fry fish on an underwater grill, bubbles rising like steam. They were simple jokes, visual gags really, but technically astonishing for the time. Mozert had to think about light diffusion, air bubbles, fabric movement, and how to make an ordinary object look “normal” when submerged. And he did it all without modern scuba tanks, relying on air hoses and long breath-holds between takes. The results were uncanny. These were not the grim or mysterious underwater worlds seen in exploration documentaries. Mozert’s scenes were domestic, cheerful, and oddly futuristic, glimpses of a world where humans could live comfortably beneath the waves. Advertising Beneath the Waves Mozert’s photography wasn’t just an art experiment, it was also good business. Silver Springs was a natural tourist attraction, and local businesses quickly realised that his underwater scenes could sell the idea of the park as something magical. His images appeared on postcards, posters, and magazine spreads across America. “See Florida’s Silver Springs – Where Magic Happens Underwater!” read one popular ad campaign featuring Mozert’s photographs of smiling swimmers waving to the camera. By the 1950s, his images had become iconic representations of Florida’s “Old Florida” era, a time when roadside attractions, mermaid shows, and citrus stands captured the country’s imagination. These weren’t high-concept art photos. They were fun, practical, and deeply tied to place. Mozert helped turn Silver Springs into one of the most photographed natural sites in the United States , long before the age of Instagram filters. The Science of Play What made Mozert’s work stand out wasn’t just the novelty, it was the precision. Shooting underwater in the 1930s and 40s meant grappling with unpredictable challenges. Light bends differently underwater, colours shift, and everything moves just a little slower. To make his subjects appear relaxed, Mozert often used tricks: weighted props, anchored costumes, and hidden air hoses that allowed the models to breathe without surfacing. He even invented his own lighting systems. Since electrical equipment couldn’t safely be used underwater, he worked with natural sunlight and mirrors, redirecting beams into the depths to illuminate his subjects. Despite the technical difficulties, his photos always look effortless. They’re full of laughter, calm, and that special mid-century optimism, the belief that technology and imagination could make anything possible. The Queens of the Deep Mozert’s models were often dubbed “Queens of the Deep,” and they became minor celebrities in their own right. Many were local women, some of whom worked at Silver Springs or nearby Ocala. They wore elegant swimsuits, full makeup, and perfectly coiffed hair, creating a glamorous contrast with their watery surroundings. The resulting images are some of the most charming examples of 20th-century underwater portraiture, a blend of pin-up art, tourism, and playful surrealism. One memorable image shows a woman sitting on a coral-coloured chair reading a magazine, while another shows her posing as a waitress offering a drink to a fish. These weren’t just underwater tricks; they were lighthearted celebrations of everyday life. And unlike many staged glamour shots of the era, Mozert’s photos had a sense of humour. They winked at the viewer, inviting you to imagine yourself in the scene. From Silver Springs to the Silver Screen As Mozert’s fame grew, so did his opportunities. Hollywood came calling. He worked as a still photographer on film sets that used Silver Springs as their backdrop, including Creature from the Black Lagoon  (1954) and various Tarzan films. His practical knowledge of underwater lighting and composition made him invaluable. Even when special effects improved, filmmakers often turned to Mozert’s methods for inspiration. But he never left Silver Springs behind. He remained based there for most of his life, continuing to photograph and document the area even as the crowds thinned and the age of roadside attractions faded. A Window into Another Time Looking back now, Mozert’s photographs are more than just novelties, they’re historical artefacts. They capture a particular vision of mid-century America, a place of optimism, invention, and playful escapism. They also remind us that creativity isn’t always about the grand gesture. Sometimes it’s about seeing the familiar from a completely new perspective, literally, in this case, from below the surface. As underwater photography advanced through the decades, from Jacques Cousteau’s ocean documentaries to today’s high-definition coral reef explorations, Mozert’s early experiments remain surprisingly fresh. His photos invite a smile, and maybe even a moment of wonder at what can happen when curiosity meets water. Rediscovery and Legacy In his later years, Bruce Mozert continued to work as a photographer, capturing local life, natural beauty, and community events. He passed away in 2015 at the age of 98, leaving behind a vast archive of underwater photographs now preserved by museums and private collections. His work has since been exhibited in art galleries and retrospectives around the world. The Smithsonian Magazine  called him “the man who turned underwater photography into an everyday art form,” while The New York Times  described his work as “a delightful blend of fantasy and practicality.” Modern underwater photographers still cite him as an influence. His homemade camera housings paved the way for the waterproof technology we take for granted today. And his visual humour remains unmatched, proof that art doesn’t always have to take itself seriously to make a lasting impression. A Quiet Revolution Underwater Bruce Mozert never set out to change photography. He just wanted to explore. His images show that art can thrive anywhere, even in a spring-fed pool in rural Florida. He didn’t chase fame or fortune; he found joy in the process of creation. His models didn’t perform in grand studios or expensive sets, but in the same clear waters where visitors could swim on a sunny afternoon. And yet, what he produced was nothing short of revolutionary. By bringing the everyday world beneath the waves, he blurred the boundary between fantasy and reality. It’s hard not to smile looking at those images, ladies sipping lemonade underwater, typing on typewriters, or grilling lunch as if it were the most natural thing in the world. They’re silly, charming, and timeless. As one of his friends once said, “Bruce didn’t see limits; he saw reflections. And he always found a way to get the camera just a little deeper.” Modern Echoes Today, underwater photography is a sophisticated art form. Divers can capture intricate coral ecosystems, macro shots of tiny sea creatures, and cinematic portraits of models in floating gowns. But Mozert’s influence is still visible in the genre’s playful side. Fashion photographers often create underwater editorials inspired by his style, ethereal, light-hearted, and full of motion. Even advertising campaigns occasionally nod to his work with vintage-style underwater scenes. In a world where so much photography feels heavily filtered and edited, his natural light, clear water, and spontaneous charm feel refreshingly honest. Silver Springs Today Silver Springs itself, now part of a Florida state park, has changed since Mozert’s day. The glass-bottom boats still glide across the surface, giving visitors a glimpse of the world below. But the underwater sets and staged photoshoots are long gone, replaced by conservation efforts to preserve the fragile ecosystem. Yet if you walk along the water’s edge on a quiet morning, you can almost imagine it, the faint click of a camera shutter beneath the ripples, and a model in a one-piece swimsuit smiling through her bubbles. That’s Bruce Mozert’s gift: he made the invisible visible, and the ordinary extraordinary, all with a camera, a homemade waterproof box, and an endless sense of curiosity. Sources Florida Memory Project – State Library and Archives of Florida https://www.floridamemory.com Smithsonian Magazine – “The Life Aquatic with Bruce Mozert” https://www.smithsonianmag.com/travel/the-life-aquatic-with-bruce-mozert-38188395 Studio Hourglass Blog – “Inside the Studio of the Legendary Bruce Mozert” https://studiohourglass.blogspot.com/2020/01/inside-studio-of-legendary-bruce-mozert.html Artsy – Bruce Mozert: Silver Springs Underwater (At the Party) https://www.artsy.net/artwork/bruce-mozert-silver-springs-underwater-at-the-party Silver Springs: The Underwater Photographs of Bruce Mozert  by Gary Monroe https://upf.com/book.asp?id=MONRO001 The New York Times – Bruce Mozert obituary (2015) https://www.nytimes.com/2015/10/21/arts/bruce-mozert-underwater-photographer-dies-at-98.html Ocala StarBanner – Interview with Bruce Mozert (2007) https://www.ocala.com/story/news/2007/09/22/bruce-mozert-legendary-underwater-photographer/31124431007/ Time Magazine – “The Man Who Brought Everyday Life Underwater” https://time.com/4092014/bruce-mozert-underwater-photography/ Florida Humanities Council – “Springs Eternal: Florida’s Fragile Fountains of Youth” project https://floridahumanities.org/projects/springs-eternal Visit Florida – “Discover Silver Springs, Home of Bruce Mozert’s Underwater Photography” https://www.visitflorida.com/travel-ideas/articles/arts-history-bruce-mozert-underwater-photography-silver-springs/ University Press of Florida – Gary Monroe publications archive https://upf.com/authorbooks.asp?lname=Monroe&fname=Gary Getty Images – Bruce Mozert photo archive collection https://www.gettyimages.com/photos/bruce-mozert LIFE Magazine – archival spreads featuring Silver Springs promotions https://books.google.com/books?id=J08EAAAAMBAJ&source=gbs_all_issues_r&cad=1 Marion County Museum of History and Archaeology – Mozert photo collection https://www.marioncountyfl.org/about/history/marion-county-museum The Atlantic – “The Surreal, Submerged World of Bruce Mozert” https://www.theatlantic.com/photo/2015/10/the-surreal-submerged-world-of-bruce-mozert/411307/ Atlas Obscura – “The Man Who Made Housewives Look Glamorous Underwater” https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/the-man-who-made-housewives-look-glamorous-underwater

A Queen with a Sword and a Setar History rarely gives enough room to women who led from the front, especially those who did so in armour. One such remarkable figure is Sultana Chand Bibi, also known as Chand Sultana or the Queen of Ahmednagar. Born in 1550 into royalty, she was no ordinary princess content with courtly comforts. She was a scholar fluent in Arabic, Persian, Turkish, Marathi, and Kannada, a musician skilled with the setar, and an artist who painted flowers in her spare time. But more importantly, she was a ruler who held her own against one of the most powerful empires in Indian history, the Mughals under Emperor Akbar. Her story is one of intellect, courage, and political skill. It is also a tale of tragic betrayal, for Chand Bibi’s greatest enemy was not just the Mughal army, but also the political intrigue within her own palace walls. Chand Bibi Hawking with attendants Born into Power and Intrigue Chand Bibi was the daughter of Hussain Nizam Shah I, Sultan of Ahmednagar, and the sister of Burhan Nizam Shah II. From her youth, she was exposed to the political manoeuvrings of the Deccan Sultanates — a world of shifting alliances, court conspiracies, and constant war. Her father ruled Ahmednagar, one of the five major Deccan Sultanates that emerged after the breakup of the Bahmani Empire. These kingdoms, Ahmednagar, Bijapur, Golconda, Bidar, and Berar, were powerful yet perpetually at odds. As part of a strategy to secure peace, Chand Bibi was married to Ali Adil Shah I, the ruler of the Bijapur Sultanate. Their union was both political and symbolic, a link between two Deccan dynasties meant to ensure mutual protection. Bijapur itself was a culturally rich court, influenced by Persian art, literature, and architecture. It was here that a stepwell, known as Chand Bawdi, was constructed by her husband and named in her honour. But behind the decorative arches and water-fed gardens, the palace was a battlefield of ideologies and ambition. The Regent of Bijapur When Ali Adil Shah I died in 1580, a young boy, his nephew Ibrahim Adil Shah II, was declared the new ruler. With no strong heir, Bijapur became vulnerable to manipulation by powerful nobles. At first, a general named Kamal Khan seized control as regent, showing little respect for Chand Bibi. Realising his intentions to usurp the throne, she formed an alliance with another commander, Haji Kishvar Khan, and led a daring palace coup. Kamal Khan was captured and executed. But peace did not last long. Kishvar Khan, her new ally, grew arrogant and demanded absolute control. He even imprisoned Chand Bibi in Satara Fort and attempted to crown himself king. However, his tyranny made him deeply unpopular, and a group of generals united under Ikhlas Khan, a powerful Habshi (Ethiopian-origin) commander, to overthrow him. Chand Bibi playing polo After Kishvar Khan’s death in exile, Chand Bibi briefly took up the regency once more, maintaining stability until new factions arose. This turbulent period in Bijapur’s history, a swirl of coups and betrayals, revealed Chand Bibi’s political sharpness and personal courage. Despite being a woman in a male-dominated court, she commanded respect through intellect and strategy. Eventually, once order returned, she withdrew from Bijapur and returned to her birthplace, Ahmednagar. A New Crisis in Ahmednagar When Chand Bibi returned to Ahmednagar in the 1590s, the Deccan was under growing pressure from the north. The Mughal Emperor Akbar had already expanded his empire across much of India and now looked southwards toward the Deccan Sultanates. In 1591, Akbar sent envoys demanding that the Deccan rulers accept his supremacy. They refused. Two years later, the emperor sent his army to enforce submission. The timing could not have been worse for Ahmednagar. Its ruler, Ibrahim Nizam Shah, was killed in battle against the Bijapur forces. He left behind an infant son, Bahadur Shah. The court was divided, some nobles backed the child-king under Chand Bibi’s regency, while others installed a rival, Ahmad Nizam Shah II, under the Deccani minister Miyan Manju. The infighting escalated, and Miyan Manju, desperate, called on Akbar’s son Prince Murad Mirza for help. This invitation of the Mughals into Deccan politics was a fatal mistake, one that Chand Bibi recognised immediately. She stepped in to unify the kingdom and declared the infant Bahadur Shah as the rightful ruler, assuming regency in his name. The Siege of Ahmednagar In November 1595, the Mughal army arrived outside Ahmednagar’s walls. What followed was one of the most remarkable sieges in Indian history, led by a woman who refused to surrender. Inside the fort, the defenders faced famine, disease, and dwindling morale. Outside, the Mughals brought their formidable artillery and siege machines. Despite the odds, Chand Bibi personally took command, riding on horseback, inspecting defences, and rallying her troops with the cry: “The fort is our honour, defend it to the last!” Her leadership inspired men and women alike. For months, the fort held firm. Even as supplies ran out, she refused to yield. Eventually, facing starvation, she negotiated peace, ceding the province of Berar to the Mughals in exchange for lifting the siege. It was a calculated move. By conceding one region, she bought time to rebuild and seek allies. Siege of Ahmednagar (1561–1562) Rallying the Deccan Following the siege, Chand Bibi sent urgent messages to the neighbouring sultanates of Bijapur and Golconda, urging them to unite against the common Mughal threat. Her nephew, Ibrahim Adil Shah II, responded, dispatching 25,000 troops under Sohail Khan. Golconda’s ruler Muhammad Quli Qutb Shah also sent reinforcements. The combined Deccan armies clashed with the Mughal forces at Sonpet (Supa) on the banks of the Godavari River in February 1597. Though Chand Bibi’s alliance fought valiantly, the Mughals ultimately prevailed. Yet their victory came at great cost, internal feuds, disease, and exhaustion weakened their campaign. Prince Murad died soon after, and Akbar’s forces temporarily withdrew, giving Chand Bibi a fragile reprieve. The Second Siege and Her Tragic Death But the peace was short-lived. In 1599, Akbar sent a new army under his son Prince Daniyal and the general Khan-I-Khana to finally capture Ahmednagar. The city once again came under siege. Inside the fort, Chand Bibi’s resources were drained, her ministers divided, and morale broken. She decided to negotiate surrender, hoping to preserve the lives of her people. But rumours spread like wildfire. A court eunuch named Jita Khan, misunderstanding her intent, accused her of treachery. “She has betrayed the fort to the Mughals!” he shouted. The panic turned to fury. In a tragic twist, her own soldiers stormed her chambers and killed her, the very woman who had defended them for years. Her death marked the fall of Ahmednagar. On 18 August 1600, after a siege of four months, the Mughal army entered the fort. A Misnamed Tomb and a Misunderstood Legacy For centuries, travellers to Ahmednagar have pointed to a grand domed structure on a hill and called it “Chand Bibi’s Mahal.” In truth, the monument is the Tomb of Salabat Khan II, a Mughal-era noble. Yet the misattribution speaks volumes about how strongly Chand Bibi’s name endures in local memory. As for her remains, historical accounts suggest that her bones were later transported to Mashhad, Iran, to be interred near the Imam Reza shrine, a resting place worthy of her royal lineage. Chand Bibi in Popular Culture Her story has echoed across generations. In 1931, filmmaker Narayanrao D. Sarpotdar  made a silent film titled Chandbibi , retelling her heroic stand at Ahmednagar. Six years later, in 1937, actress Shakuntala Paranjpye portrayed her in the Hindi-language film Sultana Chand Bibi , bringing her legend to new audiences. Despite her importance, Chand Bibi remains relatively unknown outside academic circles. Yet her image, a regal woman in armour, defending her fort against an empire, endures in the cultural imagination of southern India. A Woman Ahead of Her Time In a world where female rulers were rare and often marginalised, Chand Bibi’s leadership stood as a powerful exception. She was not only a queen and regent but also a linguist, diplomat, and artist. She moved between the courts of Bijapur and Ahmednagar with intellect and grace, wielding both sword and pen with equal strength. Her rule was not built on lineage alone but on wisdom and courage, traits that earned her loyalty from soldiers and fear from rivals. Unlike many rulers who sought conquest for power’s sake, Chand Bibi fought for survival, for her people, her land, and her belief that the Deccan could remain free. Legacy of the Warrior Queen Today, Chand Bibi is remembered in Maharashtra and Karnataka as a symbol of resistance. Her name appears in school textbooks, local legends, and ballads sung by wandering storytellers. Her life is a reminder that leadership is not defined by gender or circumstance but by conviction. She faced invasions, betrayals, and impossible odds, yet her courage outlived empires. When the Mughal forces finally entered Ahmednagar, they did not merely capture a city, they inherited a legend. In the centuries since, the Deccan’s forts have crumbled, dynasties have faded, and empires have turned to dust. But Chand Bibi’s defiance remains one of the most remarkable acts of courage in India’s medieval history. Conclusion Chand Bibi’s life reads like an epic, equal parts courage, tragedy, and brilliance. Her ability to lead armies, manage fractious courts, and hold her own against the Mughal war machine makes her one of India’s most remarkable historical figures. Even in death, her story resonates as one of resilience and sacrifice. She lived at a time when women were seldom given political agency, yet she not only governed but also shaped the destiny of two kingdoms. As one Persian chronicler wrote of her, “She was as fierce as a lion in battle and as wise as Solomon in counsel.” Four centuries later, Chand Bibi’s legend continues to inspire, a reminder that true power often wears a quiet grace, and that courage, once shown, can echo forever. Sources The History of the Deccan , H.K. Sherwani (Government of Andhra Pradesh, 1974). Akbarnama  by Abul Fazl (translated by H. Beveridge, Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1902). R. C. Majumdar, The Mughal Empire , Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, 2007. A. R. Kulkarni, Medieval Deccan History , Atlantic Publishers, 1998. History of the Adil Shahi Dynasty of Bijapur , S.M. Latif, 1890. Sultanate Women of the Deccan , Rekha Pande, Deccan Studies Journal, 2012. Richard Eaton, A Social History of the Deccan, 1300–1761 , Cambridge University Press, 2005.

On a warm Sunday afternoon in July 1928, the roar of engines and gunfire shattered the quiet streets of Brooklyn’s Borough Park. A sleek, coffee-coloured Lincoln coupe careened out of control, mounting the kerb before crashing into the stoop of a brick townhouse on 44th Street. Slumped at the wheel was Francesco Ioele, better known as Frankie Yale, the borough’s most feared gangster. He had been shot dead with a weapon never before used in a New York City gangland hit: the Thompson submachine gun. Yale’s murder would send shockwaves through the underworld. It wasn’t just the brutal efficiency of the killing or the cutting-edge firepower on display, it was the identity of the man in the coffin. Yale had been more than a crime boss. He was a mentor to Al Capone , a pioneer of modern racketeering, and one of the first American mafiosi to build a truly multi-ethnic criminal enterprise. His funeral, a display of opulence and underworld respect, would be remembered for years. But in death, as in life, Yale was both feared and misunderstood. His story, now largely relegated to the footnotes of Mafia lore, deserves closer attention, not only for its blood-soaked chapters but for what it reveals about the evolution of organised crime in 1920s America. Early Life: From Calabria to Coney Island Francesco Ioele was born on 22 January 1893 in Longobucco, a small mountain town in the Calabria region of southern Italy. The Ioele family, father Domenico, mother Isabella (née DeSimone), and four children, emigrated to New York around 1900, settling in one of the many crowded, immigrant-heavy tenements of Lower Manhattan. From an early age, Francesco seemed destined for something other than factory work or honest labour. He gravitated toward street life and, crucially, was taken under the wing of John Torrio, a rising figure in the notorious Five Points Gang. Members of the Five Points Gang. Circa 1890 Under Torrio’s guidance, young Ioele began learning the ropes of extortion, gambling, and enforcement. By 1909, after Torrio moved west to Chicago , Ioele Americanised his name to “Yale,” aligning himself with a more urbane image that would serve him well as he rose through the criminal ranks. Despite his squat, broad-shouldered frame and unassuming height, Yale quickly earned a reputation as both a skilled brawler and a calculated operator. He was arrested in 1912 on suspicion of homicide, one of many early brushes with the law that failed to slow his momentum. Building a Criminal Empire in Brooklyn By the 1910s, Frankie Yale had outgrown his street-level roots. Like his mentor Torrio, he understood that power came not just from muscle, but from structure, and above all, profit. Operating primarily out of Brooklyn, Yale began consolidating control over key industries that were, at the time, poorly regulated and highly susceptible to coercion. One of his earliest and most lucrative rackets was ice delivery, an essential service in a pre-refrigeration era. By offering “protection” to ice men, who were often more victims than collaborators, Yale turned an everyday necessity into a steady stream of income. July 3, 1921, Robert Vanella, his bride Sadie and his best man John Donato Torrio. With the profits, Yale opened the Harvard Inn in 1917, a lavish bar on Seaside Walk in Coney Island. The name was more than just aspirational branding; it helped cultivate his public persona as a refined, upwardly mobile man of influence. It also became the workplace of a young Al Capone, who served as a bouncer. It was at the Harvard Inn that Capone received his now-iconic facial scars, slashed during an altercation with the brother of a woman he had insulted. After two years under Yale’s tutelage, Capone was sent to Chicago, where he joined forces with Torrio, completing a mentorship that helped shape one of the most infamous gangsters in American history. A young Capone Yale’s organisation became a prototype for the modern American Mafia. Unlike earlier Italian gangs that were tied to specific regional identities (Sicilian, Calabrian, Neapolitan), Yale’s outfit was inclusive, drawing in Italians from across the peninsula and even collaborating with non-Italian gangs if business demanded it. His operations expanded into prostitution, gambling, protection rackets for restaurants and food suppliers, and a growing bootlegging empire fuelled by the newly enacted Prohibition laws. He was also, in an oddly entrepreneurial flourish, a cigar baron of sorts. Yale sold low-quality cigars in boxes bearing his own grinning portrait. The stogies were reputedly foul-smelling, but they were a testament to his unusual blend of vanity and marketing acumen. Simultaneously, he co-ran a funeral parlour—Uliano & Yale Funeral Home—conveniently located across from his residence. When asked what he did for a living, Yale would sometimes smirk and say, “I’m an undertaker.” The Men Who Worked for Yale Frankie Yale’s crew included men who would later become major figures in organised crime. Alongside Capone, he employed Joe Adonis, Anthony “Little Augie” Carfano, and Albert Anastasia, the future boss of what would become the Gambino crime family. Yale’s chief enforcer was Willie “Two-Knife” Altieri, a hitman infamous for using a blade in each hand to dispatch targets with theatrical brutality. Joe Adonis Though feared by his enemies and associates alike, Yale was a complicated figure in the community. He had a public image as a sharp dresser, earning him the nickname “the Beau Brummell of Brooklyn”, and was widely known for his acts of generosity. To the working-class residents of his neighbourhood, he could be counted on for a helping hand. He replaced stolen tills for shopkeepers, offered handouts to down-on-their-luck vendors, and gave unsolicited financial advice with his charity. This dual image, local benefactor and ruthless killer, only added to his legend. A Man of Violence Behind the charm, however, was a deep capacity for violence. When his younger brother Angelo crossed him, Yale beat him so severely that he required hospitalisation. He was known to settle scores with fists, knives, and bullets, and had little patience for disrespect. In May 1920, he is believed to have travelled to Chicago at the behest of Torrio and Capone to assassinate James “Big Jim” Colosimo, who had refused to enter the bootlegging trade. Though suspected by police, Yale was never charged, just another incident in a long trail of suspected but unproven murders. Attacks, Ambushes, and Escalating Bloodshed Yale’s position in Brooklyn was never entirely secure. The underworld in 1920s New York was fragmented and ferociously competitive. Traditional accounts long held that Yale was engaged in a bitter turf war with the Irish White Hand Gang over control of the Brooklyn docks. While this remains a popular narrative, more recent scholarship has suggested that Yale’s fiercest enemies were other Italian factions, each vying for dominance in a city increasingly ruled by money and blood. On 6 February 1921, Yale and his men were ambushed in Lower Manhattan as they exited their car en route to a banquet. One bodyguard was killed, the other wounded, and Yale himself sustained a serious lung wound. He survived, but the message was clear—his position was under threat. Five months later, his car was again attacked in Bath Beach, with his brother Angelo and another man wounded. That attack was allegedly retaliation for the murder of a Manhattan gangster named Ernesto Melchiorre, killed after a visit to the Harvard Inn. Yale's men would later gun down Melchiorre's brother, Silvio, outside a café in Little Italy, fuel on the fire of ongoing vendettas. By 1923, attempts on Yale’s life were so frequent they became almost routine. In July of that year, assassins mistook his chauffeur for him and killed the man in broad daylight as he returned from a church christening with Yale’s wife and daughters. Murder in a Flower Shop In November 1924, Yale was summoned once again to Chicago. Torrio and Capone, now battling for control over the Windy City’s vast bootlegging empire, needed help eliminating a dangerous rival—Dean O’Banion, the unpredictable and sharp-witted leader of the North Side Gang. On 10 November, Yale is believed to have entered the Schofield Flower Shop on North State Street with two of Capone’s men, John Scalise and Albert Anselmi. There, they shot O’Banion dead as he tended to a floral arrangement. Dean O’Banion Yale was arrested eight days later at Union Station alongside associate Sam Pollaccia. He claimed he had come to Chicago for the funeral of Mike Merlo, the recently deceased president of the Unione Siciliana, and stayed on to visit friends. With no concrete evidence to disprove his alibi, police were forced to release him. Still, suspicion clung to him like cigar smoke, and the O’Banion killing triggered a brutal and prolonged gang war in Chicago that would claim dozens of lives, including eventually those of Scalise and Anselmi. The Adonis Club Christmas Ambush A year later, on 26 December 1925, Yale was once again at the centre of another infamous underworld shooting, this time back in Brooklyn. Richard “Pegleg” Lonergan, the boss of the White Hand Gang, arrived at the Adonis Club intending to disrupt Yale’s annual Christmas gathering. What followed remains murky. One version has Lonergan walking into an ambush orchestrated by Yale and Al Capone, who was visiting New York at the time while his son recovered from an ear infection. Another interpretation, supported by some contemporary accounts, suggests a spontaneous shootout sparked by a drunken insult delivered by gang member Cornelius “Needles” Ferry. Whatever the cause, the result was carnage. Lonergan, Ferry and another man were killed, while several others were wounded. Though Capone was widely believed to have participated, no charges were ever filed. The incident signalled the collapse of the once-feared White Hand Gang and confirmed Yale’s dominance over the Brooklyn waterfront, at least for the time being. Richard “Pegleg” Lonergan Falling Out with Capone By the mid-1920s, Yale was one of the most powerful men in Brooklyn. His bootlegging empire thrived, and he had made deep inroads into labour racketeering, controlling unions and dock operations. But while his position in New York was secure, his relationship with Capone was beginning to unravel. Yale was a key supplier of Canadian whisky to Capone’s Chicago outfit. He arranged for shipments to land in New York and ensured their safe passage westward. But soon, Capone’s trucks began disappearing, hijacked before they could leave Brooklyn. Suspicious of betrayal, Capone dispatched James "Filesy" DeAmato to monitor the shipments. DeAmato reported back that Yale was behind the hijackings. The discovery marked the end of their long association. On 1 July 1927, DeAmato attempted to kill Yale, but failed. Six days later, DeAmato was found shot dead in Brooklyn. Capone, perhaps still feeling a sense of old loyalty, made a final gesture. He invited Yale to Chicago in September to attend the Dempsey–Tunney heavyweight title rematch at Soldier Field. The meeting was cordial, but the trust was gone. Capone returned to Chicago’s internal wars and political manoeuvres, while Yale resumed his place in Brooklyn, unaware that the final chapter of his life was being written. The Day Brooklyn Went Quiet On 1 July 1928, precisely one year after DeAmato’s murder, Yale received a phone call while at his Sunrise Club in Bensonhurst. The caller told him something was wrong with his wife Lucy, who was at home with their one-year-old daughter. Ignoring his associates’ offers to accompany him, Yale climbed into his new Lincoln coupe, a custom vehicle with armour plating. Unfortunately for him, the windows had not been bulletproofed. As he drove north on New Utrecht Avenue, a dark Buick sedan pulled alongside him. Inside were four men armed with pistols, a shotgun, and a Thompson submachine gun. When the light changed, Yale accelerated, but the Buick kept pace. As they turned onto 44th Street, the gunmen opened fire. A shotgun blast hit Yale in the side of the head. Moments later, a burst from the Tommy gun tore through his skull. Either wound would have been fatal. Yale’s car veered off the road, mounted the pavement, and crashed into the steps of a brownstone at 923 44th Street. It was the first recorded use of a Thompson submachine gun in a New York gangland killing. The Funeral of the Decade In death, Yale received one of the grandest send-offs the American underworld had ever seen. His silver casket, reportedly worth $15,000, was laid out in state. He was dressed in formal evening wear, a gold rosary wrapped around his fingers and grey suede gloves resting on his chest. A diamond ring adorned one hand; a belt buckle bearing his initials, made with 75 tiny diamonds, was fastened at his waist. It was said Capone had gifted the buckle to those he respected most. The funeral procession stretched for blocks. Thirty-eight cars were required to carry the floral arrangements. Over 250 black Cadillacs transported mourners, and thousands of Brooklyn residents lined the streets to witness the spectacle. As his casket was lowered into the ground at Holy Cross Cemetery, two women stepped forward to claim they were his widow. At the graveside, 112 mourners dropped roses into the open grave. Legacy and the Road to the Castellammarese War In the weeks following the murder, police found the Buick abandoned just blocks from the scene. Inside were several weapons, including the Tommy gun later linked to the 1929 St. Valentine’s Day Massacre in Chicago. The car itself was traced to Knoxville, Tennessee; the guns to a dealer in Chicago named Peter von Frantzius. Capone was questioned multiple times but never charged. The killers were never positively identified, though speculation centred on Capone’s hitmen—Tony “Joe Batters” Accardo, Fred “Killer” Burke, Gus Winkler, George “Shotgun” Ziegler, and Louis “Little New York” Campagna. Yale’s criminal empire did not vanish with him. It was quickly carved up: half passed to his lieutenant Anthony “Little Augie” Carfano, the other half absorbed by the former D’Aquila crime family, now under the leadership of Al Mineo. Joe Masseria soon seized the moment to orchestrate the murder of D’Aquila himself, consolidating power and nudging New York towards all-out Mafia civil war. The December 1928 Hotel Statler meeting in Cleveland was called, in part, to avoid a repeat of the violence sparked by Yale’s murder, but the effort failed. The resulting struggle, known as the Castellammarese War, would claim dozens of mobsters and reshape the American Mafia. Yale’s killing, in many ways, marked the beginning of this bloody new era. Sources Lacey, Robert. Little Man: Meyer Lansky and the Gangster Life.  Little, Brown, 1991. Sifakis, Carl. The Mafia Encyclopedia: From Accardo to Zwillman.  Facts on File, 2005. Reppetto, Thomas. American Mafia: A History of Its Rise to Power.  Henry Holt, 2004. English, T.J. The Westies: Inside New York’s Irish Mob.  St. Martin’s Press, 1990. Eig, Jonathan. Get Capone: The Secret Plot That Captured America’s Most Wanted Gangster.  Simon & Schuster, 2010. Landesman, Fred. Frankie Yale: Brooklyn Gangster.  Gangland Press, 1997. Kobler, John. Capone: The Life and World of Al Capone.  Da Capo Press, 1971. Critchley, David. The Origin of Organized Crime in America: The New York Mafia, 1891–1931.  Routledge, 2008. FBI: The Vault – Organized Crime Files (Frankie Yale, Al Capone). https://vault.fbi.gov/organized-crime New York Times  archives (1928): coverage of Yale’s murder and funeral. Brooklyn Daily Eagle  archives: reports on Yale’s business interests and police investigations, 1919–1928. Raab, Selwyn. Five Families: The Rise, Decline, and Resurgence of America’s Most Powerful Mafia Empires.  St. Martin’s Press, 2005. Crime Magazine  – “The Murder of Frankie Yale,” 2014. Smithsonian Magazine  – “How Prohibition Built the American Mob,” 2018. Chicago Tribune  archives – references to Capone’s early years working under Yale in Brooklyn.

On 2 August 1993, in the sleepy village of Savona, New York, an act of violence so shocking in its brutality would forever alter the landscape of juvenile justice debates in the United States. The victim was four-year-old Derrick Robie, a cheerful, red-headed boy with a love for nature and baseball. The perpetrator was thirteen-year-old Eric Smith—another redhead, known in the village for his quiet nature and trademark thick glasses. The murder was incomprehensible not only because of the youth of those involved, but also due to the intimate and senseless brutality of the act. What unfolded that morning left a permanent scar on the Savona community and ignited national discussions about how the justice system should deal with violent offenders who were still, legally speaking, children. Derrick Robie The Crime: A Chance Encounter With Horror It was a sunny Monday, and like many children in the village, Derrick Robie was on his way to a local summer camp programme in a park just a few streets from his home. On most days, his mother Doreen walked him there. But that morning, with a line of storms forecasted and the air already thick and muggy, she decided he was old enough to go alone. Unbeknownst to her, Eric Smith had also decided to head to the park that day. Smith, a loner who was routinely bullied at school for his appearance, had been barred from camp due to behavioural issues, but loitered near the park nonetheless. When he saw Derrick walking alone, Smith approached the younger boy and offered to show him a shortcut through a wooded lot nearby. Derrick followed. What happened next was horrifying. Once out of sight from passers-by, Smith strangled him until he passed out, then, he dropped a large rock on his head, and sodomized him with a small stick. Smith then took Kool-Aid from Derrick's lunch box and poured it into Derrick's open wounds. The cause of death was determined to be blunt trauma to the head with contributing asphyxia. Smith then left the scene and returned home. Derrick's Parents Later that afternoon, with Derrick missing and a storm brewing, the community mobilised a search. It was a neighbour who found Derrick’s body in the woods. Emergency services were called, but it was immediately evident that the child had been brutally murdered. Investigation and Confession: A Community Turned Inward At first, suspicion fell nowhere. Savona was a quiet, rural town where crimes of this magnitude simply didn’t happen. But within days, attention began to fall on Eric Smith. His odd behaviour in the aftermath raised red flags—he showed an unusual curiosity about the murder and asked probing questions about how the investigation was unfolding. What pushed the investigation forward was a family friend who noticed Smith’s behaviour and urged his mother, Tammy Smith, to take him to speak with police. He seemed to enjoy talking about the murder, and at first he denied seeing Derrick, but later confessed, saying: “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry. I killed that little boy.” Smith in court He was calm, even matter-of-fact, as he relayed how and why he had killed Derrick. When asked why he did it, Smith chillingly responded: “I don’t know. I just wanted to see what it felt like to kill someone.” Trial and Sentencing: When a Child Is Tried as an Adult Eric Smith’s confession made headlines across the country. A 13-year-old committing such a brutal crime raised deeply uncomfortable questions for the public and for the legal system. Although Smith’s age could have placed him in the juvenile justice system, prosecutors chose to try him as an adult—one of the youngest ever in New York State. His defence argued that he suffered from intermittent explosive disorder and had been the target of constant bullying, both of which may have contributed to a psychotic break. They also noted that Smith had no prior criminal history. But the details of the crime were too gruesome, too deliberate. The jury convicted him of second-degree murder, and in August 1994, he was sentenced to a minimum of nine years to life in prison. Incarceration and Parole: Nearly Three Decades Behind Bars Smith spent the first years of his incarceration in juvenile facilities before being transferred to adult prisons as he aged. For years, he was described by prison staff as a model inmate, non-violent, reflective, and involved in educational programmes. While in jail, Smith read out an apology letter to Derrick's family on public television: I know my actions have caused a terrible loss in the Robie family, and for that, I am truly sorry. I've tried to think as much as possible about what Derrick will never experience: his 16th birthday, Christmas, anytime, owning his own house, graduating, going to college, getting married, his first child. If I could go back in time, I would switch places with Derrick and endure all the pain I've caused him. If it meant that he would go on living, I'd switch places, but I can't. At the end of this statement, Smith states that he cannot bear the thought of "walls, razor wire, and steel metal bars" for the rest of his life. He has also apologized to Derrick in interviews. But parole was another matter entirely. Between 2002 and 2020, Smith was denied parole ten times. Each time, Derrick Robie’s parents appeared before the board, delivering emotional testimonies about the ongoing pain of their loss. They argued that some actions were simply too heinous to ever be forgiven or released. In 2021, on his eleventh attempt, Eric Smith was finally granted parole. He was 42 years old. The decision caused a renewed wave of public debate—had he served enough time? Was he truly rehabilitated? And was it safe to let him live freely? Smith was released from prison in February 2022 and resettled in Queens, New York, under lifetime parole supervision. He now works at a law firm and has expressed a desire to counsel troubled youth, hoping to prevent others from making the same mistakes he did. Public Response and Legacy Public opinion has remained divided. While some argue that Smith’s release was a reasonable recognition of his age at the time of the crime and the work he had done in prison, others believe his freedom is a grave injustice to the Robie family. Derrick’s parents, Doreen and Dale Robie, have been outspoken in their dismay. In interviews, they have described the release as a re-traumatisation and a constant reminder of what was taken from them. They continue to advocate for victims' rights and greater restrictions on parole for violent juvenile offenders. Eric Smith’s case became one of the most cited examples in debates about juvenile sentencing during the 1990s and early 2000s. It played a part in shaping public and political attitudes towards trying minors as adults—especially in violent cases. A Case That Still Haunts More than thirty years later, the murder of Derrick Robie remains one of the most disturbing crimes committed by a juvenile in modern American history. It serves as a cautionary tale about neglect, bullying, and the capacity for violence, even in those so young. At the heart of the tragedy are two boys whose lives intersected with terrible consequences—one murdered, the other imprisoned, both forever marked by a single act of brutality. The questions it raised about culpability, rehabilitation, and justice, continue to echo today. Sources: Wikipedia: Eric Smith (murderer) – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eric_Smith_(murderer) CBS News: Timeline of Eric Smith’s Case – https://www.cbsnews.com/news/eric-smith-released-derrick-robie-murder-timeline/ Oxygen: Where is Eric Smith Now? – https://www.oxygen.com/crime-news/where-is-derrick-robie-murderer-eric-smith-now People.com : Robie Family Reactions – https://people.com/boy-4-vanished-summer-camp-family-friend-alarming-questions-8756974

Emma Goldman was never one to shy away from controversy. A fierce advocate for women’s rights, free speech, and anarchism, she dedicated her life to fighting for social justice, often at great personal cost. Arrested multiple times and eventually deported, Goldman’s legacy endures as one of the most forward-thinking and uncompromising activists of her era. From Russia to Rochester: A Revolutionary Awakening Born on June 27, 1869, into a poor Jewish family in Kovno, in the Russian Empire (now Lithuania), Goldman experienced hardship from an early age. Her father, Abraham Goldman, was a strict and authoritarian figure who discouraged her intellectual pursuits, believing that women should not receive formal education. Despite this, Goldman developed a love for reading and independent thought. The family moved to St. Petersburg when she was a teenager, where she encountered radical political ideas that would later influence her activism. Emma Goldman's family in St. Petersburg, Russia in 1882. From left to right: Emma, standing; Helena, seated, with Morris on her lap; Taube; Herman; Abraham. As a teenager in 1885, she fled her homeland with her sister Helena, seeking a better life in the United States. She settled in Rochester, New York, where she worked in a garment factory, enduring the grueling conditions typical of industrial labour at the time. It was here that she became deeply involved in the labour movement, witnessing firsthand the brutal exploitation of workers. The event that truly radicalised Goldman was the Haymarket Riot in Chicago in 1886. A protest for an eight-hour workday turned violent when a bomb was thrown, killing several police officers. In the crackdown that followed, several anarchist leaders were convicted, and four were hanged. For Goldman, this was an unjust act of repression against those fighting for workers’ rights, and it cemented her commitment to the anarchist cause. New York City and Anarchism Goldman later moved to New York City, where she quickly became a central figure in the anarchist movement. She was known not only for her fiery speeches but also for her association with fellow Russian anarchist Alexander Berkman. The two were romantically and politically linked, sharing a vision of radical change. In 1892, Berkman attempted to assassinate Henry Clay Frick, the owner of Carnegie Steel, in retaliation for Frick’s role in violently suppressing striking workers in Homestead, Pennsylvania. The Homestead Strike was a pivotal moment in U.S. labour history, as Pinkerton agents, hired by Frick, fired on striking steelworkers, killing several. Berkman saw the assassination attempt as a necessary act of political violence. He was sentenced to 22 years in prison, but despite widespread suspicion, Goldman was not charged due to lack of evidence. She remained devoted to his cause, visiting him in prison and working to spread anarchist ideals. Champion of Women’s Rights and Birth Control Goldman’s activism extended far beyond anarchism. Working as a nurse and midwife among New York’s poor, she saw firsthand how lack of access to birth control trapped women in cycles of poverty and subjugation. She argued that reproductive freedom was essential for gender equality, a position that made her a mentor to Margaret Sanger, the pioneer of the birth control movement and the founder of the organisation that would become Planned Parenthood. Emma Goldman speaking about birth control in Union Square, New York City, 1912. Goldman publicly lectured and distributed information on contraception, an act that led to her arrest under the Comstock Act of 1873. This law made it illegal to disseminate contraceptive information or devices through the mail or across state lines, viewing such material as obscene. In 1915, Goldman was arrested for lecturing on birth control in New York City and spent two weeks in prison. Undeterred, she continued her advocacy, believing that women’s control over their own bodies was fundamental to achieving true equality. Her influence was evident in later milestones: in 1916, Sanger opened America’s first birth-control clinic, though it was shut down after just ten days. However, persistence paid off—by 1936, an amendment to the Comstock Act allowed American doctors to prescribe contraceptives legally, and by 1960, the first birth-control pill received FDA approval. One of Emma Goldman's mugshots Anti-War Activism and Deportation Goldman’s defiance extended to her anti-war stance. During World War I, she and Berkman opposed the U.S. draft, viewing the war as a capitalist endeavour that exploited the working class. The two formed the No Conscription League, encouraging young men to resist the draft. Their activism led to their arrest in 1917, and after two years in prison, they were deported to Russia under the newly passed Anarchist Exclusion Act. Initially hopeful about the 1917 Bolshevik Revolution, Goldman quickly became disillusioned with the repressive policies of the Soviet government. She had believed that Russia would be a model of anarchist ideals, but instead, she witnessed state control, political purges, and authoritarianism under Lenin’s rule. Unable to reconcile her anarchist beliefs with Soviet governance, she left Russia in 1921 and spent the rest of her life in exile, moving between Germany, France, England, and Canada. Goldman's deportation photo Emma Goldman's Final Years and Legacy Goldman died in Toronto in 1940 at the age of 70 after suffering a stroke. She was buried in the German Waldheim Cemetery near Chicago, alongside the Haymarket anarchists who had so profoundly influenced her life. Nicknamed “Red Emma,” she was a relentless advocate for justice, challenging authority wherever she saw oppression. Whether fighting for workers’ rights, free speech, birth control, or peace, she never backed down, making her one of the most enduring figures in the history of radical activism. Her words and ideas continue to inspire movements for social change today, proving that while governments may have tried to silence her, Emma Goldman’s voice was never truly lost. Sources Emma Goldman, Living My Life  (1931, reissued by Dover Publications). Candace Falk, Love, Anarchy, and Emma Goldman: A Biography  (Rutgers University Press, 1984). Alice Wexler, Emma Goldman: An Intimate Life  (Pantheon Books, 1984). Richard Drinnon, Rebel in Paradise: A Biography of Emma Goldman  (University of Chicago Press, 1961). Paul Avrich & Karen Avrich, Sasha and Emma: The Anarchist Odyssey of Alexander Berkman and Emma Goldman  (Harvard University Press, 2012). PBS American Experience : “Emma Goldman: An American Anarchist.” Library of Congress – Emma Goldman Papers Project  (University of California, Berkeley). Smithsonian Magazine – “Emma Goldman and the Power of Rebellion.” The Anarchy Archives – Primary Writings and Letters of Emma Goldman . The Atlantic  – “Emma Goldman’s Fight for Freedom,” 2019. National Archives (US) – Records on Goldman’s 1919 deportation to Russia. The Guardian  – “The Life and Legacy of Emma Goldman,” 2017.

In January 1913, Vienna found itself at the intersection of history. The Austro-Hungarian capital was a cosmopolitan city, buzzing with culture, politics, and intellect, a hub of the old European order standing on the precipice of collapse. But perhaps what is most remarkable about this time is that, unbeknownst to the world, several men who would come to shape the course of the 20th century were all, at one point, living in this city. These men—Adolf Hitler, Leon Trotsky, Joseph Stalin, Sigmund Freud, and Josip Broz Tito—would leave indelible marks on history, but at that time, they were merely figures walking among the crowded streets of Vienna, their destinies yet unwritten. Vienna in 1913: A Crossroads of Ideas and Revolution Vienna was not just the capital of an empire; it was a city of contrasts. It was a place where high culture met extreme poverty, where intellectual ideas flourished amid political turmoil. The city was a meeting ground for ethnicities, nationalities, and ideologies, home to both the conservative imperial court and the most radical thinkers of the time. The Austro-Hungarian Empire itself was on the verge of disintegration, held together by the ageing Emperor Franz Joseph I, who had ruled for over six decades. Vienna’s intellectual milieu was dominated by thinkers who sought to challenge the established order. This was the world of Sigmund Freud, who revolutionised the understanding of the human mind with his pioneering work on psychoanalysis. But it was also the world of revolutionaries like Trotsky and Stalin, who dreamed of overthrowing the old regimes and replacing them with new political orders. And in the midst of this, a failed artist named Adolf Hitler wandered the city, nursing his resentments and dreams of future glory. Trotsky and Stalin: A Chance Encounter In January 1913, Leon Trotsky, a prominent Russian revolutionary and editor of the socialist newspaper Pravda , was living in Vienna. At the time, Trotsky was engaged in the political battles that were shaking the Russian revolutionary movement. Exiled from Russia, he had made Vienna his home, where he connected with other exiles and continued his agitation against the tsarist regime. It was here that Trotsky met a man who, unbeknownst to him, would one day become one of his greatest rivals. This man, travelling under the pseudonym "Stavros Papadopoulos," had recently arrived from Krakow. His real name was Iosif Vissarionovich Dzhugashvili, better known to history as Joseph Stalin. Stalin had come to Vienna to meet Trotsky in the midst of revolutionary activity. At this point, Stalin was relatively unknown, an obscure Bolshevik agitator who had not yet achieved the power he would later wield as the leader of the Soviet Union. Trotsky described the encounter years later with clear distaste. He recalled Stalin as a small, unimposing figure with greyish-brown skin pockmarked from childhood smallpox, a man whose eyes betrayed no warmth. Stalin’s appearance did not impress Trotsky, nor did his manner. Yet, despite Trotsky’s dismissive attitude, Stalin was a figure of considerable ambition, already known among Bolsheviks for his ruthless political instincts. Their meeting in Vienna, a seemingly insignificant encounter at the time, foreshadowed the bitter rivalry that would erupt between them during the Russian Revolution and the civil war that followed. Sigmund Freud: The Father of Psychoanalysis Meanwhile, Sigmund Freud, already a towering figure in the intellectual world, was practising on Vienna's Berggasse. Freud’s revolutionary theories about the unconscious mind and psychoanalysis had garnered him both acclaim and controversy. He believed that the mind was a battleground of hidden desires and conflicts, often sexual in nature, which influenced behaviour and neurosis. Freud's office in Berggasse 19 became a pilgrimage site for those interested in the new field of psychoanalysis. His theories were transforming not only psychiatry but also culture, challenging Victorian morality and the traditional understanding of the self. Vienna’s café culture, where intellectuals gathered to debate ideas, was an ideal environment for Freud, who surrounded himself with a group of disciples eager to delve deeper into the recesses of the human mind. Yet Freud, though focused on the internal world of the psyche, could not escape the political upheavals that gripped his city. Vienna’s streets were filled with political radicals, anti-Semitic agitators, and restless workers. Freud, a Jew, was well aware of the growing currents of anti-Semitism that would eventually come to engulf Europe. Adolf Hitler: The Failed Artist Among the residents of Vienna at this time was a young man who would later plunge the world into its most catastrophic war. Adolf Hitler, then a 24-year-old aspiring artist, had twice failed to gain admission to the prestigious Vienna Academy of Fine Arts. He lived in a men's hostel on Meldermannstrasse, a dreary and impoverished existence that he would later describe with bitterness. Hitler spent much of his time painting watercolours of Vienna’s streets and buildings, attempting to make a living by selling them to tourists and shopkeepers. But more importantly, his time in Vienna exposed him to the virulent anti-Semitism and radical nationalism that was prevalent in certain circles. Hitler absorbed these ideas with fervour, his political and racial ideologies slowly taking shape during these years of failure and poverty. He frequented the city’s anti-Semitic tabloids, devoured pan-Germanic literature, and attended nationalist meetings where the seeds of his future beliefs were sown. At the time, Hitler was an insignificant figure, one of many struggling artists and dreamers in a city that offered little hope for someone of his limited talents. Yet, his experiences in Vienna were crucial in shaping the worldview that he would later impose on Germany and much of Europe, with devastating consequences. Freud's favourite haunt, the Cafe Landtmann, still stands on the Ring, the renowned boulevard which surrounds the city's historic Innere Stadt. Josip Broz Tito: The Future Marshal of Yugoslavia In 1913, another future leader was in Vienna, though at the time, he was far from the corridors of power. Josip Broz Tito, the man who would later lead Yugoslavia as a communist dictator, was working at the Daimler automobile factory in Wiener Neustadt, a town south of Vienna. Tito was young, ambitious, and politically active, though his future as a leader of a communist state was still distant. Tito’s time in Vienna was marked by his involvement in socialist circles, where he connected with fellow workers and intellectuals who were part of the international socialist movement. The city’s working-class districts were hotbeds of political agitation, and Tito, like Trotsky and Stalin, found himself drawn into the currents of revolutionary thought that were sweeping through Europe. Tito’s path to power would be vastly different from those of Trotsky, Stalin, and Hitler, yet his time in Vienna, like theirs, was crucial in shaping his political identity. The ideas he encountered there would later inform his leadership during and after the Second World War, when he would lead the Yugoslav Partisans in their fight against Nazi occupation and later establish a socialist state independent of Soviet control. Trotsky and Hitler frequented Cafe Central, just a few minutes' stroll away, where cakes, newspapers, chess and, above all, talk, were the patrons' passions The Diverging Paths of History No-one knows if Hitler bumped into Trotsky, or Tito met Stalin. But works like 'Dr Freud Will See You Now, Mr Hitler' - a 2007 radio play by Laurence Marks and Maurice Gran - are lively imaginings of such encounters. It is remarkable to consider that in 1913, these five men—Adolf Hitler, Leon Trotsky, Joseph Stalin, Sigmund Freud, and Josip Broz Tito—were all living in the same city, their lives intersecting in ways that history would only later reveal. They were men of vastly different backgrounds and ideologies, yet they all emerged from the same crucible of early 20th-century Vienna, a city on the brink of war, revolution, and collapse. Each of these men would go on to change the world in profound and often horrific ways. Hitler would rise from obscurity to become the Führer of Nazi Germany, leading Europe into the devastation of the Second World War and orchestrating the Holocaust. Stalin would succeed Lenin as the leader of the Soviet Union, overseeing one of the most brutal regimes in history and playing a key role in shaping the global order of the 20th century. Trotsky, though ultimately defeated by Stalin, would remain one of the most influential thinkers of the communist movement. Freud’s ideas would continue to shape psychology and culture, even as his theories came under criticism. Tito would lead Yugoslavia through the turbulent decades of the Cold War, maintaining a delicate balance between East and West. Their time in Vienna, though largely forgotten in the grand sweep of history, was a pivotal moment in their lives. The city was a microcosm of the tensions and ideas that would explode into the First World War, the Russian Revolution, and the political upheavals of the 20th century. Vienna in 1913 was the calm before the storm, a brief moment when these future titans of history walked the same streets, unaware of the fates that awaited them. Sources Florian Illies, 1913: The Year Before the Storm. (Sceptre, 2012). Brigitte Hamann, Hitler’s Vienna: A Dictator’s Apprenticeship.  (Oxford University Press, 1999). Robert Service, Trotsky: A Biography.  (Macmillan, 2009). Simon Sebag Montefiore, Young Stalin.  (Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2007). Vladimir Dedijer, Tito: The Story from Inside.  (Penguin, 1953). Peter Gay, Freud: A Life for Our Time.  (Norton, 1988). Vienna City Archives – Residency and census records, 1912–1914. Café Central Museum Vienna – historical notes on early 20th-century patrons. Smithsonian Magazine , “When Hitler, Trotsky, Tito, Freud and Stalin Were Neighbours in Vienna,” 2013. BBC Culture – The Strange City Where Hitler and Freud Once Crossed Paths,  2014. The Guardian  – Vienna 1913: The Year Genius and Madness Shared a City,  2013. #history #hitler #trotsky #tito #freud #stalin

We don't tend to go in for political assainations in the UK, it's just not cricket. But this was a time when we tried it on for size... There are days when Westminster hums along like a well oiled clock. Then there was Monday 11 May 1812. Just after five in the afternoon Spencer Perceval walked from Downing Street to the House of Commons. It was a routine journey he had made many times. In the lobby a quiet Liverpool merchant named John Bellingham stood up from a chair near the fireplace, reached into a specially sewn pocket inside his coat, drew a pistol, and fired. Perceval staggered, gasped “I am murdered,” and fell. Inside a heartbeat the Commons lobby turned from chatter to chaos. Members rushed to the fallen Prime Minister. William Smith, the MP for Norwich and grandfather to Florence Nightingale, was first to reach him. In the confusion Smith initially thought the victim was his friend William Wilberforce. Only when he turned the body did he realise that the man at his feet was the Prime Minister. Perceval was carried into the Speaker’s quarters, laid on a table with his feet resting on two chairs. A surgeon arrived within minutes but the faint pulse stopped. Perceval was declared dead at about 5.20 pm. The minutes before the shot The House had begun at 4.30 pm. Inside the chamber Henry Brougham had remarked that the Prime Minister ought to be present and a messenger was sent toward Downing Street. Perceval had already set out on foot, choosing to dispense with his carriage. Meanwhile, the unremarkable figure in the lobby had taken his place. Bellingham had been seen there on several recent days, quietly asking journalists and clerks to point out ministers by sight. Weeks earlier he had visited a gunsmith on Skinner Street and bought two large calibre pistols. He then asked a tailor to add an inside pocket to his coat so one of the pistols could sit ready to hand. When the shot rang out Bellingham did not run. He sat back down on a bench. In the first seconds of pandemonium he might well have strolled out into the street, a witness later suggested. Instead, an official who had seen the act pointed him out. MPs and attendants seized him, disarmed him, and searched him. Bellingham remained calm. “I have been denied the redress of my grievances by government,” he said. “I have been ill treated. They all know who I am and what I am. I am a most unfortunate man and feel sufficient justification for what I have done.” His own MP, Isaac Gascoyne of Liverpool, happened to be present and confirmed his identity. An impromptu committal hearing was held that evening in the Serjeant at Arms rooms with MPs who were magistrates. Bellingham insisted on explaining himself despite warnings about self incrimination. “I have done my worst, and I rejoice in the deed,” he said. By eight o’clock he was charged with murder and sent to Newgate to await trial. Posthumous portrait of Spencer Perceval by G. F. Joseph , 1812 Who were the two men Spencer Perceval was born in 1762, educated at Harrow and Trinity College, called to the bar in 1786, and entered Parliament in 1796. A devout evangelical Anglican, he opposed Catholic emancipation but worked with William Wilberforce on the abolition of the slave trade in 1807. He became Solicitor General, then Attorney General, then Chancellor of the Exchequer in 1807 and finally Prime Minister in 1809. Colleagues thought him worthy rather than brilliant. One observed, with a sailor’s eye for metaphor, “He is not a ship of the line, but he carries many guns, is tight built, and is out in all weathers.” His government was formed during a difficult stretch of the Napoleonic Wars. The Walcheren expedition had gone badly. King George III lapsed into permanent incapacity in 1810 and the Prince of Wales became Regent. Perceval’s greatest strategic call was to keep Wellington’s army in the field in Portugal despite cost and cabinet doubts. In the long view this proved decisive. At home, however, the war economy and his hard line policies caused distress. The Orders in Council of 1807, a British answer to Napoleon’s Continental System, allowed the Royal Navy to detain neutral ships trading with France and its allies. American trade suffered, British exports withered, and whole industries in Yorkshire, Lancashire, Birmingham and the Potteries endured grim times. Petitions poured into Parliament. More than a hundred witnesses told committees about unemployment, poverty and hunger. Riots broke out in Manchester in April 1812. Luddite machine breaking spread and Perceval made it a capital offence, a move denounced by Lord Byron as barbarous. The atmosphere was raw. John Bellingham was not a radical firebrand. He was a clerk turned trader who had worked in Russia. In 1804 a disputed debt led to his arrest at Archangelsk. He believed he had been falsely imprisoned for reasons tied to a soured insurance claim and the hostility of local merchants. He appealed again and again to the British Embassy without success and spent years in custody, part of it after he had already been released once. His wife Mary returned to England to support their family. Bellingham finally came home in late 1809, uncompensated and angry. He petitioned the Foreign Office, the Treasury, the Privy Council, and the Prime Minister. Polite refusals followed. He told a Treasury official that if the door of justice remained closed he would take justice into his own hands. No one took the remark as a threat. He did exactly what he said. London reacts News of the assassination spread through Westminster and across the city within hours. A knot of people outside the Commons cheered as the arrested man was brought to a coach. Some tried to shake his hand. Others climbed onto the carriage and had to be beaten back with whips. William Cobbett, then in prison for seditious libel, wrote that the poor rejoiced that they had been rid of a man they saw as the leader of policies that hurt their liberties. The authorities feared a wider rising. Foot Guards and mounted troops patrolled the streets. The City militia turned out and local watches were strengthened. In Parliament the mood was stunned and sorrowful. The next day George Canning spoke of a man who had provoked no enemies beyond the political. MPs voted a grant of fifty thousand pounds and a two thousand pound annuity for Perceval’s widow Jane and their twelve children. It was a generous provision for a family that had not been wealthy. The inquest and a very swift trial On Tuesday 12 May an inquest at the Rose and Crown in Downing Street returned a verdict of wilful murder. The Attorney General pushed for the earliest possible trial. On Friday 15 May, four days after the shooting, the case opened at the Old Bailey before Sir James Mansfield. The law at the time limited the role of defence counsel in capital cases. The Attorney General William Garrow assisted the prosecution. Henry Brougham declined to appear for the defence. Peter Alley acted instead, with Henry Revell Reynolds. The prosecution laid out Bellingham’s past and his preparations. The gunsmith confirmed the sale of two pistols on 20 April. The tailor described the hidden pocket he had sewn. Numerous eyewitnesses described the shot and the calm that followed. Alley asked for a postponement to seek witnesses for an insanity defence. Mansfield refused. The trial continued. This document is part of a collection of notes on the assassination of British Prime Minister Spencer Perceval. This is the announcement made by the Lord Chancellor to the House of Lords upon receiving news of the assassination of Perceval, which he refers to as 'a most melancholy and a most atrocious circumstance having taken place in the Lobby of the other House'. When Bellingham spoke he thanked the Attorney General for discarding insanity. “I think it is far more fortunate that such a plea should have been unfounded, than it should have existed in fact.” He read his petition to the Prince Regent and argued that the British mission in St Petersburg had denied him justice years earlier. He said that if anyone had truly deserved the shot it was the former ambassador Lord Granville Leveson Gower rather than “that truly amiable and highly lamented individual, Mr Perceval.” The judge directed the jury to the test then used for criminal insanity. The single question, he said, was whether at the time of the act the prisoner had a sufficient degree of understanding to distinguish right from wrong. The jury retired. They returned in about fifteen minutes with a verdict of guilty. Following his execution John Bellingham’s skull became the subject of research for phrenologists, representing the head of a destructive personality. Shown here is a comparison of Bellingham’s skull with that of a ‘Hindoo’, from A System of Phrenology (1834) by George Combe The sentence was delivered in the solemn tones of early nineteenth century justice. Bellingham was to be hanged by the neck until dead, his body then dissected and anatomised. He was executed at Newgate at eight in the morning on Monday 18 May. A large crowd gathered. Soldiers stood ready after rumours of a rescue. Bellingham climbed the steps quickly and without tremor. After the drop his body was taken to St Bartholomew’s Hospital for dissection by Sir William Clift, who meticulously recorded his findings so that to this day we know what he and the audience observed during the procedure. The stomach contained a small quantity of fluid, "which seemed to be wine" The bladder was empty and contracted The brain was found to be "firm and sound throughout" Reports noted that his clothes were later sold off to the curious at high prices. On the day before he died he wrote to his wife, “Nine hours more will waft me to those happy shores where bliss is without alloy.” Skull of John Bellingham The wider story around 1812 The Orders in Council that had helped to create the sour public mood were repealed on 23 June 1812. The move came too late to ease relations with the United States. Within weeks came the declaration that began the War of 1812. At home the new administration of Lord Liverpool slowly moved away from some of Perceval’s hard line positions. Press freedoms widened. Campaigns for Catholic relief and parliamentary reform gathered pace. Enforcement against the illegal slave trade grew lax in these years despite Perceval’s earlier moral stance. Yet Perceval’s insistence on keeping Wellington in the Peninsula mattered. That army would push north into Spain and toward the Pyrenees as the tide of the war turned. In that sense history gave some weight to his judgement. Still, his reputation faded. Charles Dickens later sniffed that he was a third rate politician scarcely fit to carry Lord Chatham’s crutch. What endured in the public mind was not policy but the shocking manner of his death. Grief, memory, and debate Perceval was buried at St Luke’s Church in Charlton and memorialised in Westminster Abbey, Lincoln’s Inn and Northampton. In July 2014 a brass plaque was installed in St Stephen’s Hall at the Palace of Westminster near the spot where he fell, replacing a cluster of patterned floor tiles that had once served as an unofficial marker. His family received the parliamentary grant and annuity that kept them from hardship. Questions about the fairness of the trial arose quickly. Henry Brougham called the proceedings a disgrace to English justice. Later scholars have argued that the court rushed the case in the heat of public feeling, that an adjournment to gather evidence on Bellingham’s sanity should have been allowed, and that Mansfield’s summing up showed bias. A study in 2012 even floated the idea that Bellingham may have been encouraged or quietly supported by certain Liverpool mercantile interests who had suffered under Perceval’s economic policies. There is no firm evidence for a conspiracy and most historians do not accept the theory, but it continues to surface whenever the case is revisited. Memorial plaque to Spencer Perceval, in Lincoln's Inn Fields There are also the smaller human threads. In the week before he died Perceval is said to have spoken of uneasy dreams and was urged to miss the sitting. He refused to be turned aside by a mere dream. The detail may be apocryphal, but it has clung to the story for two centuries because it feels so very British. We queue, we tut, we carry on. Even our only political assassination arrived without a mob, without a plot, with a single crack of a pistol in a marbled lobby and an assassin who politely waited to be arrested. What remains Spencer Perceval holds a singular place in British political history. He is the only Prime Minister to be murdered in office. His killer was not a revolutionary but a middle class merchant who decided that a closed door of justice justified a bullet. The country gasped, then resumed its business. The war went on. The Orders were repealed. A new ministry took shape. Monuments went up. A family grieved and was supported. And each May, those who know their history can still point to the corner of St Stephen’s Hall and picture a quiet Monday when Westminster lost a Prime Minister to a single shot. Sources Hansard Parliamentary Archives. Debates and reports, 11 to 12 May 1812. https://hansard.parliament.uk/ Old Bailey Proceedings Online. Trial of John Bellingham, 15 May 1812. https://www.oldbaileyonline.org/ The National Archives UK. Home Office and inquest papers on the assassination of Spencer Perceval. https://discovery.nationalarchives.gov.uk/ British Library Newspapers. Contemporary coverage, May 1812. https://www.bl.uk/ BBC History. The assassination of Spencer Perceval; Orders in Council context. https://www.bbc.co.uk/history Garnett, R. Spencer Perceval: The Prime Minister Who Was Murdered . London, 2012. Goddard, Kathleen S. “The Trial of John Bellingham.” Analysis of procedure and insanity plea, 2004. Linklater, Andro. Study of the commercial context and Liverpool reaction, 2012. Westminster and Parliamentary Estates Directorate. St Stephen’s Hall memorial plaque notes, 2014. Cobbett, William. Commentary from prison on public reaction to Perceval’s government, 1812.

Ilse Koch, notoriously known as the “Bitch of Buchenwald,” stands as one of the most infamous figures in the brutal history of Nazi Germany. Born Margarete Ilse Köhler on 22 September 1906, her life began unremarkably in Dresden, but she would go on to become a symbol of unimaginable cruelty and sadism during her time at the Buchenwald concentration camp. As the wife of Commandant Karl Otto Koch, Ilse used her position to torment prisoners in ways that shocked even the Nazi regime itself. Accused of heinous crimes, including the collection of human skin for gruesome artefacts, Koch’s role in the atrocities of the Holocaust remains one of the darkest chapters of World War II history. Her life, trials, and mysterious legacy continue to raise questions about the depths of human depravity, earning her a place in history as one of the most feared women of the Third Reich. Ilse Koch's early life was far from extraordinary. Raised by a factory foreman, her childhood was described as unremarkable, with her teachers noting her as polite and content. At the age of 15, she enrolled in accounting school—one of the few professional opportunities available to women at the time. She soon found work as a bookkeeping clerk in post-World War I Germany, a period marked by profound economic turmoil and social disillusionment. In the early 1930s, as Germany's struggles deepened, Koch, like many of her peers, joined the Nazi Party. Hitler’s ideology, promising economic recovery and the restoration of German pride, resonated with a populace beleaguered by the Treaty of Versailles and the hardships following the Great War. The Nazi Party first focused on turning the German people against democracy and the Weimar Republic, blaming its politicians for Germany’s defeat and subsequent miseries. Adolf Hitler, with his magnetic speeches and promises of abolishing the hated Treaty of Versailles, captivated Koch and others. The treaty had stripped Germany of its military might and forced it to pay enormous reparations, worsening the already dire economic situation. Many Germans, like Koch, were desperate for solutions, and the Nazi Party appeared to offer hope. The Buchenwald Years It was through her involvement in the Nazi Party that Koch met her future husband, Karl Otto Koch. They married in 1936, and the following year, Karl Koch was appointed Commandant of Buchenwald, one of the largest concentration camps in Germany, located near Weimar. The camp, which opened shortly after Dachau, was marked by an iron gate inscribed with the words *Jedem das Seine*, meaning “to each his own.” However, for the prisoners, it carried a far more sinister implication: “Everyone gets what he deserves.” Ilse and Karl Koch with their son Artwin Ilse Koch quickly embraced the chance to actively participate in her husband’s gruesome work at Buchenwald, seizing the opportunity to carve out her own place within the Nazi regime. Far from staying in the background, she became one of the most feared and sadistic figures at the camp. Her cruelty and desire for power were evident from the outset. One of her earliest acts was to commission the construction of an extravagant indoor sports arena, costing $62,500—a fortune at the time, equivalent to roughly $1 million today. The money for this lavish project was stolen from the very prisoners she and her husband oversaw, highlighting her complete disregard for human life and suffering. Koch’s love of horseback riding became another tool for her cruelty. She frequently rode not just within the arena but also through the camp itself, where her presence was met with terror. Prisoners who made the mistake of catching her eye were met with brutal consequences. She took pleasure in taunting those already enduring unimaginable conditions, sometimes whipping those who dared to look at her as she passed. Her actions, particularly towards children and the vulnerable, solidified her reputation as one of Buchenwald’s most merciless tormentors, a woman whose cruelty knew no bounds. Survivors of Buchenwald would later claim during her trial that Koch took special pleasure in sending children to the gas chambers. Another horrifying aspect of her sadistic behaviour was her supposed fascination with human skin. It was claimed that she collected lampshades, book covers, and gloves made from the skin of prisoners, particularly those with distinctive tattoos. These prisoners were said to be skinned after execution, and their remains were then incinerated. Items reportedly made from human skin were found after the camp’s liberation and used as evidence during her trial. This crime, however, has been said to be apocryphal. While various objects fashioned from human skins were discovered in Buchenwald's pathology department at liberation, their connection to Koch was tenuous, given that she had not been at the camp since the summer of 1943. The more likely culprit was SS doctor Erich Wagner, who wrote a dissertation while serving at Buchenwald on the purported link he saw between habitual criminality and the practice of tattooing one's skin. Ilse Koch is sentenced to life in prison by a US military. Arrest and Trials On 24 August 1943, both Karl and Ilse were arrested following an investigation led by SS judge Konrad Morgen . Morgen's indictment, issued 17 August 1944, formally charged Karl Koch with the "embezzlement and concealing of funds and goods in an amount of at least 200,000 RM," and the "premeditated murder" of three inmates - ostensibly to prevent them from giving evidence to the SS investigatory commission. Ilse was charged with the "habitual receiving of stolen goods, and taking for her benefit at least 25,000 RM..." While Ilse Koch was acquitted at the subsequent SS trial in December 1944, Karl was found guilty, sentenced to death, and ultimately executed at Buchenwald only days prior to its liberation. Despite their numerous crimes, Ilse Koch was initially acquitted due to a lack of conclusive evidence. While the grisly lampshades and other items were recovered, investigators could not prove they were made from human skin. Koch herself insisted they were made from goatskin. Ilse Koch on trial. The liberation of the camp brought Koch’s sadistic actions into the public eye. Survivors gave interviews detailing her atrocities, and there was a public outcry for her to face justice. In 1947, she was brought before the General Military Government Court for the Trial of War Criminals. Koch conceived another child with a fellow German war crimes internee under murky circumstances while awaiting her trial at Dachau. Koch gave birth to a son she named Uwe Köhler while incarcerated at Landsberg prison in October 1947. The child was immediately handed over to Bavarian child welfare authorities. Uwe only discovered the identity of his mother as a teenager, and began to correspond with, and visit, his mother in 1966. Clemency and Rearrest In a controversial turn of events, General Lucius D. Clay, the interim military governor of the American Zone in Germany, reduced Koch’s sentence to just four years in 1949. The reduction of Koch's sentence to four years resulted in an uproar, when it was made public, but Clay stood firm by his decision.   Years later, Clay stated: There was absolutely no evidence in the trial transcript, other than she was a rather loathsome creature, that would support the death sentence. I suppose I received more abuse for that than for anything else I did in Germany. Some reporter had called her the "Bitch of Buchenwald", had written that she had lamp shades made of human skin in her house. And that was introduced in court, where it was absolutely proven that the lampshades were made out of goat skin . In addition to that, her crimes were primarily against the German people; they were not war crimes against American or Allied prisoners [...] Later she was tried by a German court for her crimes and sentenced to life imprisonment. But they had clear jurisdiction. We did not. However, he added: “I hold no sympathy for Ilse Koch. She was a woman of depraved character and ill repute. She had done many things reprehensible and punishable, undoubtedly, under German law. We were not trying her for those things. We were trying her as a war criminal on specific charges.” The public was outraged by her release, and Koch was soon rearrested. During her second trial in 1950, she frequently collapsed and had to be removed from the courtroom. The proceedings saw over 250 witnesses testify, with four witnesses confirming they had seen Koch selecting prisoners for their tattoos or had been involved in creating human-skin lampshades. However, due to a lack of concrete evidence, the charge was once again dropped. On 15 January 1951, Koch was sentenced to life imprisonment, convicted of “charges of incitement to murder, incitement to attempted murder, and incitement to the crime of committing grievous bodily harm.” Final Years and Legacy During her imprisonment, Koch appealed her conviction multiple times, but all were dismissed. She even petitioned the International Human Rights Commission but was again rejected. Her son, Uwe, born during her imprisonment at Dachau, discovered his mother’s identity later in life and visited her frequently in prison. Koch hanged herself with a bed sheet at Aichach women's prison on 1 September 1967 at age 60. She experienced delusions and had become convinced that concentration camp survivors would abuse her in her cell. Her suicide note was written to her son Uwe: "There is no other way. Death for me is a release." In 1971, Uwe sought posthumous rehabilitation for his mother. Via the press, he used clemency documents from her former lawyer in 1957 and his impression of her based on their relationship in an attempt to change people's attitude towards Koch. She was buried in an unmarked grave at the prison’s cemetery. The mystery surrounding the infamous lampshades endures. While many historians doubt their existence, a Jewish writer named Mark Jacobson sought to verify the story after a man named Skip Hendersen purchased a lampshade said to be a Nazi relic. Initial DNA testing suggested the lampshade was made from human skin, but later tests pointed to it being cowskin. This uncertainty remains one of the many dark secrets Koch took to her grave, leaving behind a legacy of cruelty and horror that continues to haunt history. Ilse Koch will forever be remembered as the Bitch of Buchenwald, a symbol of the extremes of human depravity and the unchecked cruelty that defined the Nazi regime. Sources United States Holocaust Memorial Museum (USHMM) – Buchenwald Concentration Camp Overview https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/buchenwald Brown, Daniel Patrick. The Camp Women: The Female Auxiliaries Who Assisted the SS in Running the Nazi Concentration Camp System.  Schiffer Publishing, 2002. Gedenkstätte Buchenwald (Buchenwald Memorial) – Historical Records and Exhibits on Ilse and Karl Koch https://www.buchenwald.de/en/ Neander, Joachim. “The Lampshade Controversy: The Story of Ilse Koch.” Holocaust and Genocide Studies , Vol. 22, No. 1 (2008): 131–145. Lower, Wendy. Hitler’s Furies: German Women in the Nazi Killing Fields.  Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2013. Wikipedia – Ilse Koch https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ilse_Koch Yad Vashem Archives – War Crimes Trials Documentation (Ilse Koch, 1947–1951) https://www.yadvashem.org/ Der Spiegel  Archive – Postwar Trials of Karl and Ilse Koch (1947–1951) https://www.spiegel.de/ Kogon, Eugen. The Theory and Practice of Hell: The German Concentration Camps and the System Behind Them.  Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1950. BBC History – The Female Perpetrators of the Holocaust https://www.bbc.co.uk/history/worldwars/genocide/women_perpetrators_01.shtml

In the dark world of Nazi concentration camps, where cruelty was institutionalised and compassion almost unthinkable, a chilling detail emerged after the war, some of the most sadistic guards were not men, but women. Among the names that surfaced during post-war trials, few drew as much fascination and revulsion as Jenny-Wanda Barkmann, the young Hamburg woman who became known as “The Beautiful Spectre.” When Allied forces began prosecuting the perpetrators of the Holocaust, the public was stunned by reports of women like Irma Grese, Elisabeth Volkenrath, and Gerda Steinhoff, whose acts of barbarity often matched or even surpassed their male counterparts. In total, 21 women who served as concentration camp guards were executed after the war, and Barkmann was one of them. Jenny-Wanda Barkmann Early Life and Nazi Indoctrination Jenny-Wanda Barkmann was born on May 30, 1922, in Hamburg, Germany. Very little is known about her childhood, but she grew up in a country increasingly shaped by Adolf Hitler’s rise and the pervasive reach of Nazi ideology. For many young Germans, especially those born in the 1920s, Hitler’s promises of national pride and renewal were intoxicating. The Hitler Youth and its female counterpart, the League of German Girls (Bund Deutscher Mädel), indoctrinated teenagers in notions of obedience, racial superiority, and unquestioning service to the state. As the Nazis consolidated power in the 1930s, children like Barkmann were drawn into a system that glorified discipline, hierarchy, and loyalty to the Führer above all else. By the time Barkmann reached adulthood, Germany was already at war. When she was 22 years old, she began seeking employment within the Nazi administration, specifically as a camp guard. Why she would volunteer for such a post in 1944, when Germany’s defeat seemed inevitable, remains unclear. Historians suggest it may have been a mix of opportunism, indoctrination, and a misplaced sense of patriotism. The Female Guards of the Third Reich Of the roughly 55,000 guards who served across the concentration camp system, around 3,700 were women, many of them volunteers. The Nazi regime encouraged women to take on roles in female-only subcamps, particularly in places like Ravensbrück, which served as a training and holding camp for female SS personnel. Recruitment was disturbingly casual. Job advertisements appeared in German newspapers inviting women to “show their love for the Reich” by joining the SS-Gefolge, a civilian auxiliary branch attached to the SS. Many of these recruits had little or no professional experience — they were waitresses, hairdressers, teachers, opera singers, or matrons. Some were even conscripted after their information was retrieved from SS files. SS women camp guards being paraded for work in clearing the dead. The women include Hildegard Kanbach (first from left), Irene Haschke (centre, third from right), the Head Wardress, Elisabeth Volkenrath (second from right, partially hidden) and Herta Bothe (first from right). Herta Bothe accompanied a death march of women from central Poland to Bergen-Belsen. She was sentenced to 10 years imprisonment and released early from prison on December 22, 1951. Elisabeth Volkenrath was head wardress of the camp and sentenced to death. She was hanged on December 13 1945. Irene Haschke was sentenced to 10 years imprisonment. Training was short and often brutal. Initially, women were trained at Lichtenburg in 1938, but from 1939 onwards, Ravensbrück, located near Berlin, became the main training centre. Courses lasted from four weeks to six months and covered ideological indoctrination, discipline, and punishment. According to former SS overseer Hertha Ehlert, who testified at the Belsen Trial, the training was “physically and emotionally demanding.” Trainees were instructed on how to identify “sabotage” and enforce punishments, often being encouraged to treat inmates as subhuman. One survivor recalled a chilling exercise in which “the Germans brought a group of fifty women to the camp to undergo training. The women were separated and brought before the inmates. Each was told to hit a prisoner. Only three asked the reason why, and only one refused, she was jailed. The rest quickly got into the swing of things, which they had been warming up for their whole lives.” Uniforms gave these women a sense of authority they’d never experienced before. Heavy leather boots, starched blouses with ties, military-style hats, and tailored coats conveyed the illusion of status and control. One former prisoner, Kitty Hart, recalled that after her liberation from the Salzwedel subcamp, she took the coat of a captured SS woman and removed the buttons. When a U.S. officer asked where she got it, he reportedly said, “All that time when we were freezing, some of us to death, we hated those vicious bitches in their windproof, waterproof coats. And now I have one for myself.” For many of these women, the uniform became the only thing separating them from the very inmates they tormented. Stutthof: The Camp of the “Beautiful Spectre” The Stutthof concentration camp, located in a marshy forest near the village of Stutthof, east of Danzig (now Gdańsk, Poland), was the first camp established outside Germany’s pre-war borders and the last to be liberated. Founded on 2 September 1939, the day after Germany’s invasion of Poland, Stutthof was initially intended to imprison Polish intelligentsia, politicians, and resistance members. Later, its population expanded to include Jews, Soviet POWs, and political prisoners from across Europe. The Stutthof concentration camp Conditions were appalling. Prisoners faced forced labour, starvation, disease, and mass executions. In total, over 65,000 people perished in Stutthof, including around 28,000 Jews, through shootings, gas chambers, and lethal injections. By the time Jenny Barkmann arrived in 1944, she was assigned to Stutthof’s SK-III women’s subcamp, where she quickly developed a reputation for unprovoked violence. Eyewitnesses later described her as “beautiful, young, and completely without mercy.” She regularly beat prisoners, sometimes to death, and personally selected women and children for the gas chambers. Because of her attractive appearance and her hauntingly detached demeanour, inmates began referring to her as “Die schöne Gespenst”  — The Beautiful Spectre . Her tenure at Stutthof lasted barely a year, yet her cruelty was such that her name would be remembered long after the camp’s liberation. Life Behind Barbed Wire: The Culture of the Female Guard The world of the female SS overseers was one of disturbing contradictions — a blend of privilege, brutality, and moral decay. At many camps, romantic and sexual relationships between SS men and female guards were common. Even married guards often had affairs, and drunken parties were frequent in the SS canteens. One former camp insider recalled, “The guards all had monstrous eating and drinking bouts in the SS canteens, after which they were so far gone that they could not recall in the morning who they spent the rest of the night with.” Heinrich Himmler, head of the SS, reportedly told his male subordinates to regard female guards as comrades and equals. At the Helmbrechts subcamp in Germany, the commandant had an openly romantic relationship with the head overseer, Helga Hegel. In some cases, female guards even became pregnant within the camps. Others, like Irma Grese, who served at Ravensbrück, Auschwitz, and Bergen-Belsen , were notorious for their sexual sadism. She was rumoured to have had relationships with Dr. Josef Mengele, Josef Kramer, and several prisoners, whom she later sent to their deaths. Irma Grese and Josef Kramer in the Celle courtyard, 8 August 1945 Corruption was rife. Guards stole from prisoners’ possessions, sometimes amassing small fortunes. Ilse Koch, the infamous “Witch of Buchenwald,” and her husband, Commandant Karl Koch, looted millions of Reichsmarks. When they were caught, Karl was executed for corruption, but Ilse escaped conviction. In other camps, female guards were punished for theft but rarely for violence. One woman who beat a prisoner to death received one day’s imprisonment for the murder. Yet not every female overseer was cruel. Post-war testimonies mentioned a few who showed moments of decency or compassion. Klara Kunig, who served at Ravensbrück and Dresden-Universelle, was dismissed in 1945 for being “too polite” to inmates. Another at Auschwitz was flogged by her peers for aiding prisoners. But these cases were rare, exceptions to an otherwise grim rule. The Collapse of the Reich and Barkmann’s Arrest As Soviet troops advanced toward the Baltic coast in early 1945, chaos engulfed the Stutthof region. Guards and administrators fled, destroying evidence of atrocities and forcing prisoners on brutal death marches through the freezing countryside. Barkmann fled too, disguising herself and using a false identity to hide in Gdańsk. Her freedom was short-lived. In May 1945, she was recognised and arrested at a train station by Polish authorities. Eyewitnesses said she initially denied her identity, but survivors from Stutthof soon identified her. She was detained and interrogated for her role in the murders at the camp. Jenny-Wanda Barkmann in front of a pile of shoes at the Stutthof concentration camp. The Stutthof Trials In 1946, the first trial of Stutthof concentration camp personnel took place in Gdańsk. The defendants included six female SS guards, among them Jenny Barkmann, Ewa Paradies, Elisabeth Becker, Wanda Klaff, and Gerda Steinhoff, as well as one male SS officer and six Polish “kapos” who had served as prisoner-overseers. The courtroom atmosphere was charged. Survivors described the guards’ sadism in harrowing detail, recounting how they had beaten inmates, forced them into roll calls for hours, or selected children for gassing. Despite the gravity of the proceedings, Barkmann’s behaviour was disturbingly flippant. Witnesses said she giggled during testimony, preened before mirrors, and flirted with guards. Female guards of the Stutthof concentration camp at a trial in Gdańsk between 25 April and 31 May 1946. First row (from left): Elisabeth Becker, Gerda Steinhoff, Wanda Klaff. Second row: Johann Pauls, Erna Beilhardt, Jenny-Wanda Barkmann When the guilty verdict was read, Barkmann reportedly said, “Life is indeed a pleasure, and pleasures are usually short.” She and ten others were sentenced to death by hanging. The executions were scheduled for 4 July 1946, to take place publicly at Biskupia Górka Hill near Gdańsk. The Public Execution of the “Beautiful Spectre” The executions at Biskupia Górka were intended as both punishment and warning. A crowd of approximately 200,000 people gathered to watch, including survivors of Stutthof who had volunteered to serve as executioners. Public execution of Stutthof concentration camp personnel on 4 July 1946 by short-drop hanging. In the foreground, from left to right, are female camp overseers Barkmann, Ewa Paradies, Elisabeth Becker, Wanda Klaff, and Gerda Steinhoff. The condemned were lined up on wooden gallows for short-drop hangings, which caused death by strangulation rather than a quick neck break. Photographs from the day show five women standing in the front row, Barkmann, Ewa Paradies, Elisabeth Becker, Wanda Klaff, and Gerda Steinhoff, moments before their deaths. Barkmann, calm and composed, reportedly said nothing as the noose was placed around her neck. She was 24 years old. Because of the massive turnout and the macabre atmosphere, authorities decided against any further public executions, citing “humanitarian concerns.” For many Poles who had suffered under Nazi occupation, however, the moment marked a grim sense of justice served. Jenny Barkmann The Legacy of Jenny Barkmann Jenny Barkmann’s story remains one of the most unsettling in the history of the Holocaust, not simply because of her brutality, but because of what she represented. She was young, attractive, and unremarkable in background, an ordinary person who embraced extraordinary cruelty. Her case forces historians and the public alike to confront uncomfortable questions: How could someone so ordinary become an agent of mass murder? How could such sadism coexist with vanity, flirtation, and laughter? Holocaust scholar Wendy Lower, in her book Hitler’s Furies , explores how the Nazi regime drew thousands of women into its machinery of death, as secretaries, nurses, and guards. Many, like Barkmann, were not coerced but volunteered, seeing it as an opportunity for advancement or patriotic duty. The transformation of such women into killers, Lower argues, stemmed from ideological indoctrination and a social order that gave them unchecked power over others. In this system, cruelty was not only permitted but rewarded. Barkmann’s final words, “Life is indeed a pleasure, and pleasures are usually short,” capture both her nihilism and her detachment. To the end, she appeared to view her life — and the lives she destroyed, as nothing more than fleeting moments in a pleasure-driven existence. Sources Brown, Daniel Patrick. The Camp Women: The Female Auxiliaries Who Assisted the SS in Running the Nazi Concentration Camp System . Schiffer Publishing, 2002. Stutthof Museum Archives, Gdańsk. United States Holocaust Memorial Museum (USHMM). Holocaust Encyclopaedia: Stutthof Concentration Camp. “Stutthof Trial, Gdańsk 1946.” Polish National Archives. Lower, Wendy. Hitler’s Furies: German Women in the Nazi Killing Fields . Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2013. Photographic archives: “Public execution of Stutthof concentration camp personnel, July 4, 1946,” Wikimedia Commons. Eyewitness accounts and post-war testimonies, cited in Brown (2002). Wikipedia: “Jenny-Wanda Barkmann” (accessed 2025). Ravensbrück Memorial Site documentation, Brandenburg, Germany. Hart, Kitty. Return to Auschwitz: The Remarkable Story of a Girl Who Survived the Holocaust.  Atheneum, 1981.