Charlie Chaplin & Buster Keaton Go Toe to Toe (Almost) in a Hilarious Boxing Scene Mash Up from Their Classic Silent Films

Coke or Pep­si?

Box­ers or briefs?

Char­lie Chap­lin or Buster Keaton?

A dif­fi­cult choice that usu­al­ly boils down to per­son­al taste…

In the case of the two silent screen greats, they evinced dif­fer­ent per­son­al­i­ties, but both were pos­sessed of phys­i­cal grace, a tremen­dous work eth­ic, and the abil­i­ty to make audi­ences root for the lit­tle guy.

Their endur­ing influ­ence on phys­i­cal com­e­dy is evi­dent in the box­ing scene mash up above, which pulls from Keaton’s star turn in 1926’s Bat­tling But­ler and Chaplin’s wide­ly cel­e­brat­ed City Lights from 1931.

Even cut up and spliced back togeth­er in alter­nat­ing shots, it’s a mas­ter class on build­ing antic­i­pa­tion, defy­ing expec­ta­tions, and the humor of rep­e­ti­tion.

Both films’ plots hinge on a mild fel­low going to extra­or­di­nary lengths to prove him­self wor­thy of the girl he loves.

Chap­lin, besot­ted with a blind flower-sell­er, is drawn into the ring by the prospect of prize mon­ey, which he would use to cov­er her unpaid rent.

His oppo­nent is played by Hank Mann, the brains behind the Key­stone Cops peri­od who went on to work with Jer­ry Lewis.

The pas de trois between the ref and the two box­ers rep­re­sents the pin­na­cle of Chaplin’s long affin­i­ty for the sport, fol­low­ing 1914’s Key­stone short, The Knock­out and 1915’s The Cham­pi­on.

Bat­tling But­ler is built on a case of delib­er­ate­ly mis­tak­en iden­ti­ty, after Keaton’s mil­que­toast rich boy impress­es his work­ing class sweetheart’s fam­i­ly by allow­ing them to think he is a famous box­er whose name he inci­den­tal­ly shares.

The fight scenes were filmed in LA’s brand new Olympic Audi­to­ri­um, aka the Punch Palace, which went on to serve as a loca­tion for the more recent box­ing clas­sics Rocky (1976) and Mil­lion Dol­lar Baby (2004).

The edi­tor who thought to score this mashup to Mari­achi Internacional’s cov­er of Zor­ba El Griego is cer­tain­ly a con­tender in their own right, but read­ers, what we real­ly want to know is in this cham­pi­onship round between Chap­lin and Keaton, who would you declare the win­ner?

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Dis­cov­er the Cin­e­mat­ic & Comedic Genius of Char­lie Chap­lin with 60+ Free Movies Online

What Would the World of Char­lie Chap­lin Look Like in Col­or?: Watch a Col­or­ful­ly Restored Ver­sion of A Night at the Show (1915)

A Super­cut of Buster Keaton’s Most Amaz­ing Stunts

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

The Story of the SynthAxe, the Astonishing 1980s Guitar Synthesizer: Only 100 Were Ever Made

What is the musi­cal instru­ment most thor­ough­ly of the 1980s? Many would say the “key­tar,” a class of syn­the­siz­er key­boards shaped and worn like a gui­tar. Their rel­a­tive­ly light weights and afford­able prices, even when first brought to mar­ket, put key­tars with­in the reach of musi­cians who want­ed to pos­sess both the wide son­ic palette of dig­i­tal syn­the­sis and the inher­ent cool of the gui­tarist. This arrange­ment was­n’t with­out its com­pro­mis­es: few key­tar play­ers enjoyed the full range of that son­ic palette, to say noth­ing of that cool. But in 1985, a new hope appeared for the syn­the­siz­er-envy­ing gui­tarist and gui­tar-envy­ing syn­the­sist alike: the Syn­thAxe.

Cre­at­ed by Eng­lish inven­tors Bill Aitken, Mike Dixon, and Tony Sedi­vy (and fund­ed in part by Richard Bran­son’s Vir­gin Group), the Syn­thAxe made a quan­tum leap in the devel­op­ment of syn­the­siz­er-gui­tars, or gui­tar-syn­the­siz­ers. Unlike a key­tar, it used actu­al strings — not just one but two inde­pen­dent sets of them — that when played could con­trol any syn­the­siz­er com­pat­i­ble with the recent­ly intro­duced Musi­cal Instru­ment Dig­i­tal Inter­face (MIDI) stan­dard.

As Gui­tarist mag­a­zine edi­tor Neville Marten demon­strates in the con­tem­po­rary pro­mo­tion­al video at the top of the post, this grant­ed any­one who could play the gui­tar com­mand of all the sounds cut­ting-edge syn­the­siz­ers could make.

Not that mas­tery of the gui­tar trans­lat­ed imme­di­ate­ly into mas­tery of the Syn­thAxe: even the most pro­fi­cient gui­tarist had to get used to the unusu­al­ly sharp angle of its neck, its even­ly spaced frets, and the set of keys embed­ded in its body. (“That is the point, it’s not a gui­tar,” as Aitken took pains to explain.) You can see Lee Rite­nour make use of both the Syn­thAx­e’s strings and keys in the 1985 con­cert clip above. Nick­named “Cap­tain Fin­gers” due to his sheer dex­ter­i­ty, Rite­nour had been in search of ways to expand his sound, exper­i­ment­ing with gui­tar-syn­the­siz­er hybrid sys­tems even in the 70s. When the Syn­thAxe came along, not only did he record a whole album with it, that album’s cov­er is a paint­ing of him with the strik­ing new instru­ment in hand.

So is the cov­er of Atavachron, the first album Allan Holdsworth record­ed after meet­ing the Syn­thAx­e’s cre­ators at a trade show. No gui­tarist would take up the Syn­thAxe with the same fer­vor: Holdsworth, seen play­ing it with a breath con­troller (!) in the clip above, would con­tin­ue to use it on his record­ings up until his death in 2017. “Peo­ple used to write notes on my amp, ask­ing me to stop play­ing the Syn­thAxe and play the gui­tar instead,” he told Gui­tar World in his final inter­view that year. “But now peo­ple often ask me, ‘We’d love to hear you play the Syn­thAxe — did you bring it?’ I rarely play it onstage any­more because it’s too cost­ly to take on the road and it requires a lot of equip­ment.”

The amount of asso­ci­at­ed gear no doubt put many an aspir­ing syn­the­siz­er-gui­tarist off the Syn­thAxe. (“It’s about as portable as a drum kit isn’t,” writes ear­ly adopter John Hol­lis.) So must the price tag, a cool £10,000 back in 1985. This did­n’t put off gui­tarist Alec Stans­field, whose enthu­si­asm for the Syn­thAxe as was such that he joined the com­pa­ny, hav­ing “knocked long and hard on their door until they gave me a job as a pro­duc­tion engi­neer.” Alas, he writes, “the instru­ment was nev­er a com­mer­cial suc­cess and even­tu­al­ly the com­pa­ny ceased trad­ing. Few­er than 100 instru­ments had been pro­duced in total. In the final months I was paid with a Syn­thAxe sys­tem since cash was tight” — a sys­tem he shows off in the video above

Stans­field sold off his Syn­thAxe in 2013, but what has become of the oth­ers? One of Rite­nour’s Syn­thAx­es even­tu­al­ly found its way into the pos­ses­sion of Roy Wil­fred Wooten, bet­ter known as Future Man of Béla Fleck and the Fleck­tones. “Over a peri­od of time, he began mod­i­fy­ing it into an almost entire­ly new instru­ment: the Syn­thAxe Dru­mi­tar,” writes Com­put­er His­to­ry Muse­um cura­tor Chris Gar­cia. “This sys­tem, which replaced the strings as the pri­ma­ry trig­ger­ing mech­a­nism, allowed Wooten to play the ‘drums’ using the gui­tar-like device.” In the con­cert clip just above, you can behold Future Man play­ing and explain­ing this “Syn­thAxe­Dru­mi­tar,” sounds like a drum kit but looks like a gui­tar — though rather vague­ly, at this point. Call it Syn­thAxe-meets-Mad Max.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Behold the First Elec­tric Gui­tar: The 1931 “Fry­ing Pan”

Bri­an May’s Home­made Gui­tar, Made From Old Tables, Bike and Motor­cy­cle Parts & More

Hear Musi­cians Play the Only Playable Stradi­var­ius Gui­tar in the World: The “Sabionari”

The Nano Gui­tar: Dis­cov­er the World’s Small­est, Playable Micro­scop­ic Gui­tar

How the Yama­ha DX7 Dig­i­tal Syn­the­siz­er Defined the Sound of 1980s Music

Every­thing Thing You Ever Want­ed to Know About the Syn­the­siz­er: A Vin­tage Three-Hour Crash Course

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

A Live Studio Cover of Pink Floyd’s The Dark Side of the Moon, Played from Start to Finish

Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon is such a work of art that to split it up into nine tracks–like clas­sic rock radio has done for years–always sounds non­sen­si­cal. How can you just end “Breathe” on that final chord and not fol­low it with the ana­log drones of “On the Run”? How can you play “Brain Dam­age” and not end with “Eclipse”? And how dare you fade the long coda of “Mon­ey” and segue into a car com­mer­cial?

You can’t, moral­ly speak­ing, I’m telling you.

So that’s why I like the cut of the jib of the Mar­tin Miller Ses­sion Band, who com­mit to cov­er­ing the entire­ty of Dark Side of the Moon in this one long stu­dio per­for­mance. Accord­ing to Miller’s Patre­on page, this is the only full album they’ve cov­ered so far, and they pull through admirably.

And the thing that is refresh­ing here is that the band cov­ers the album up to a point, but not slav­ish­ly. It’s not the Flam­ing Lips’ decon­struc­tion or the sur­pris­ing­ly still lis­ten­able 8‑Bit ver­sion, but nei­ther is it the kind of trib­ute band like Brit Floyd (below). When Miller solos, he’s not aping David Gilmour. The key­boardist Mar­ius Leicht has his own knobs to twid­dle, so to speak. And drum­mer Felix Lehrmann will nev­er ever be con­fused for Nick Mason. (In fact, he gets a lot of grief in the com­ments for being too flash, but when you watch Miller’s oth­er videos and see him giv­ing Stew­art Copeland a run for his mon­ey on their Police med­ley, you see where he’s com­ing from.)

Know­ing what you’re in for, ques­tions arise: are they going to include the var­i­ous spo­ken sam­ples sprin­kled through­out (“I don’t know I was real­ly drunk at the time,” “There is no dark side of the moon real­ly…”). Answer: yes indeed, and fun­ny they are too. Does a sax­o­phon­ist turn up for “Mon­ey” and “Us and Them”? Answer: Yes, and it’s Michal Skul­s­ki. Who can pos­si­bly match Clare Torry’s pipes on “The Great Gig in the Sky”? Jen­ny Marsala does, thank you very much.

So I would set­tle in and try to unlearn your mem­o­ry of every note and beat on the 1973 clas­sic. By doing so, you’ll hear the album anew.

And after that, if you’re still han­ker­ing for that “even bet­ter than the real thing” vibe, enjoy this full con­cert, cir­cu­lar pro­jec­tion screen and all, by the afore­men­tioned Brit Floyd, play­ing Liv­er­pool in 2011.

via metafil­ter

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Dark Side of the Moon Project: Watch an 8‑Part Video Essay on Pink Floyd’s Clas­sic Album

Clare Torry’s Rare Live Per­for­mances of “Great Gig in the Sky” with Pink Floyd

Pink Floyd Films a Con­cert in an Emp­ty Audi­to­ri­um, Still Try­ing to Break Into the U.S. Charts (1970)

Bea­t­les Trib­ute Band “The Fab Faux” Per­forms Live an Amaz­ing­ly Exact Repli­ca of the Orig­i­nal Abbey Road Med­ley

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the Notes from the Shed pod­cast and is the pro­duc­er of KCR­W’s Curi­ous Coast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, and/or watch his films here.

Restored Footage of 1896 Snowball Fight Makes It Seem Like the Fun Happened Yesterday

Ear­ly cin­e­ma is full of leg­ends, but none as endur­ing as the leg­end of the Lumière Broth­ers’ Arrivée d’un train à la Cio­tat (Arrival of a Train at La Cio­tat). The fif­teen-sec­ond reel of a loco­mo­tive so star­tled audi­ences, alleged­ly, they scram­bled from their seats. Ger­man film schol­ar Mar­tin Loiperdinger calls the anec­dote “cinema’s found­ing myth,” a sto­ry repeat­ed over and over, for over 100 years, though there’s no evi­dence it actu­al­ly hap­pened. One film his­to­ry text even titled a chap­ter “Begin­ning with Ter­ror” to under­line the sem­i­nal impor­tance of the event.

If we think about it, the inci­dent, how­ev­er apoc­ryphal, does mark an ori­gin. Con­sid­er how many films after­ward fea­tured trains as a cen­tral scene of the action, from The Great Train Rob­bery to Strangers on a Train to Snow­piercer. There are mag­i­cal trains and train heists in space. Trains are every­where in the movies. If we think about it some more, isn’t cin­e­ma itself some­thing like a train? Even films that play with time still move inex­orably from begin­ning to end, fol­low­ing some sort of dis­cernible through-line from one end to the oth­er.

But, say we were to enter­tain an alter­nate film his­to­ry, a Philip K. Dick-like ver­sion in which, rather than trains, the found­ing myth of cin­e­ma involved snow­balls….


In 1896, the year after the sup­posed pub­lic shock of Arrival of a Train, the Lumières shot Bataille de boules de neige, “Snow­ball Fight,” which you can see in its orig­i­nal black and white, above (with added, faux-vaude­ville music). A group of sol­id cit­i­zens pum­mels each oth­er with snow­balls, then a cyclist, unawares, rides into the fray, gets pelt­ed, and hur­ries off for dear life. It’s a mad­cap ver­ité gem. “The film was shot in Lyon, France using one of the duo’s all-in-one ciné­matographe cre­ations,” notes Petapix­el, “which was part cam­era, part pro­jec­tor, and part devel­op­er.” There were no reports of pan­ics in the the­ater.

At the top of the post, you can expe­ri­ence the short in full col­or and HD, thanks to Joaquim Cam­pa, “who used the AI-pow­ered soft­ware DeOld­ify to upscale the footage to 1080p, inter­po­late addi­tion­al frames for a smoother result, and col­orize the old footage.” Despite appear­ances, it seems the film’s speed remains unchanged. Campa’s star­tling­ly imme­di­ate ver­sion arrives in the midst of a debate over the trendy col­oriza­tion of old films and pho­tos. Rather than bring­ing us clos­er to his­to­ry, the British Library’s Luke McK­er­nan told Wired, dig­i­tal pro­cess­ing “increas­es the gap between now and then.”

Col­orized, cleaned-up, and upscaled images show us the past as it nev­er actu­al­ly exist­ed, his­to­ri­ans claim. But isn’t that what film and pho­tog­ra­phy have always done? As media of tech­ni­cal inven­tion and rein­ven­tion, they inevitably shape and alter the scenes they cap­ture, both dur­ing and after shoot­ing. When Georges Méliès saw the Lumière’s films, he was not inter­est­ed in their real­ism but in their poten­tial for cre­at­ing fan­tasies. He went off to make his spe­cial-effects mas­ter­piece, A Trip to the Moon, which screened in both black-and-white and gar­ish­ly hand-col­ored prints in 1902.

“Sure, it can be argued that adding col­or, inter­po­lat­ing frames, and remov­ing scratch­es is cre­at­ing infor­ma­tion that was nev­er there and could ‘obscure the past instead of high­light­ing it,’” writes Petapix­el. “But how many peo­ple (who aren’t film buffs) will have ever heard of ‘Bataille de boules de neige’ before today? And how many might dis­cov­er a pas­sion for film­mak­ing or his­to­ry as a result?” Per­son­al­ly, I’d like to see more films that look like “Snow­ball Fight.”

via Joaquim­Cam­pa

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Icon­ic Film from 1896 Restored with Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence: Watch an AI-Upscaled Ver­sion of the Lumière Broth­ers’ The Arrival of a Train at La Cio­tat Sta­tion

Watch the Films of the Lumière Broth­ers & the Birth of Cin­e­ma (1895)

The Ear­li­est Known Motion Pic­ture, 1888’s Round­hay Gar­den Scene, Restored with Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Learn the Stories Behind Iconic Songs: The Rolling Stones’ “Miss You,” REM’s “Losing My Religion,” Procol Harum’s “A Whiter Shade of Pale” & More

There was a time when pop lyrics did not exact­ly spark curios­i­ty, doo-lang doo-lang doo-lang.

They may have tapped into some uni­ver­sal teenage feel­ings, but rarely inspired fur­ther thought along the lines of “Hmm, I won­der what—or who—inspired that.”

Dutch sta­tion NPO Radio 2’s inter­view series Top 2000 a gogo lifts the veil.

Each entry reveals the ori­gin sto­ry of a well known song.

The late Bill With­ers, above, inti­mat­ed that every woman he’d even been involved with thought “Ain’t No Sun­shine” was about her, when real­ly, the inspi­ra­tion was the mis­er­able alco­holic cou­ple played by Jack Lem­mon and Lee Remick in the 1962 film Days of Wine and Ros­es.

Danc­ing in the Moon­light,” the endur­ing, incred­i­bly catchy hit for King Har­vest, paints an endear­ing pic­ture of care­free, cavort­ing youth, but as recount­ed by song­writer Sher­man Kel­ly, the event that led to its cre­ation is deserv­ing of a trig­ger warn­ing. Rather than lean­ing in to the dark­ness, he con­jured a light­heart­ed scene far dif­fer­ent from the one he had endured, a switcheroo that the uni­verse saw fit to reward.

One need not be the song­writer to be at the cen­ter of a song’s hid­den his­to­ry. Glo­ria Jones, preacher’s daugh­ter and even­tu­al soul­mate to T. Rex’s Marc Bolan, was a teenag­er when she record­ed Ed Cobb’s “Taint­ed Love,” a song she dis­liked owing to the impli­ca­tions of “taint­ed.” The song became a hit in Eng­land, thanks to a series of mis­ad­ven­tures involv­ing a sailor swap­ping a .45 for ciggies—a devel­op­ment that could have had an impact on Jones’ career, had any­one both­ered to inform her. All this to say, Soft Cell’s 1981 cov­er helped put MTV on the map, but it couldn’t have hap­pened with­out the teenag­er who held her nose and record­ed the orig­i­nal.

Top 2000 is unsur­pris­ing­ly full of deep and touch­ing rev­e­la­tions, but Rolling Stone Ron­nie Wood’s refusal to take things seri­ous­ly is also wel­come. Talk to Mick Jag­ger if you want con­fir­ma­tion that “Miss You” con­cerns the frus­tra­tions of star­dom. Accord­ing to class clown Wood, and his straight man drum­mer Char­lie Watts, the song was a sol­id attempt to go with the dis­co flow. The frus­tra­tion arose from being caged in a Paris record­ing stu­dio, bare­ly able to duck out for escar­got before task mas­ter Kei­th Richards cracked the whip to sum­mon them back.

Bit­ter­sweet is not the adjec­tive we’d choose to describe this his­tor­i­cal moment, but it gave us all the feels to see Alan Mer­rill, whose “I Love Rock n Roll” was a response to the Stones’ “It’s Only Rock ’n’ Roll,” as well as a break­through hit for Joan Jett. Mer­rill died of com­pli­ca­tions from COVID-19 at the end of March.

Explore more songs—over 200—on Top 2000 a gogo’s YouTube chan­nel.

Mul­ti-lin­guists! Con­tribute trans­la­tions to help make the videos avail­able world­wide.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Tom Pet­ty Takes You Inside His Song­writ­ing Craft

How Talk­ing Heads and Bri­an Eno Wrote “Once in a Life­time”: Cut­ting Edge, Strange & Utter­ly Bril­liant

How David Bowie Used William S. Bur­roughs’ Cut-Up Method to Write His Unfor­get­table Lyrics

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Here lat­est project is a series of free down­load­able posters, encour­ag­ing cit­i­zens to wear masks in pub­lic and wear them prop­er­ly. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Foreign Exchange Students Debate Whether American Teenagers Have Too Much Freedom (1954)

The teenag­er was invent­ed in the 1950s. Of course, the stages of phys­i­cal devel­op­ment that char­ac­ter­ize those years tak­ing us from child­hood to adult­hood haven’t fun­da­men­tal­ly changed as long as Homo sapi­ens has exist­ed. But even though there were “teenagers” in, say, ancient Rome, they weren’t teenagers as we’ve known them over the past three or four gen­er­a­tions. It hap­pened amid the eco­nom­ic growth of the years after World War II, first in the Unit­ed King­dom and even more so the Unit­ed States: ado­les­cents, espe­cial­ly high-school stu­dents, turned from mere imma­ture adults into a dis­tinct demo­graph­ic group with its own tastes, pol­i­tics, spaces, mobil­i­ty, and cul­ture.

Before teenagers invad­ed the rest of the world, they must have struck vis­i­tors to Amer­i­ca as by turns thrilling and trou­bling. So it was with the stu­dents in the video above, who came to the U.S. in 1955 — the year of Rebel With­out a Cause — as par­tic­i­pants in the New York Her­ald Tri­bune’s World Youth Forum.

This filmed dis­cus­sion on the curi­ous phe­nom­e­non of the Amer­i­can teenag­er fea­tures Min­ji Kari­bo of Nige­ria, Nas­reen Ahmad of Pak­istan, Paik Nak-chung of South Korea, and Ava Lei­t­e­nan of Fin­land, all of whom had just spent a few months vis­it­ing Amer­i­can schools. Lei­t­e­nan begins on a pos­i­tive note: “I did­n’t know there would be so much smile,” she says. “I can just feel the friend­li­ness flow against me.”

But as many a first-time trav­el­er in Amer­i­ca has dis­cov­ered, that char­ac­ter­is­tic (and some­times over­whelm­ing) friend­li­ness masks a more com­plex real­ty. Kari­bo crit­i­cizes Amer­i­can girls who “think it’s fash­ion­able to tell lies about going on dates dur­ing week­ends, when as a mat­ter of fact they sat at home all the time.” After remind­ing every­one that “you can­not judge the amount of free­dom the Amer­i­can chil­dren have by your stan­dard,” Paik admits that “I see such an infor­mal­i­ty between the ages and between the sex­es, I get rather shocked, but the fact that it is shock­ing does not nec­es­sar­i­ly mean it is not good for them.”

None of these exchange-stu­dent pan­elists shows more skep­ti­cism about Amer­i­ca than Ahmad, whose glimpses of dat­ing and edu­ca­tion there have con­firmed her pref­er­ence for arranged mar­riage and sex-seg­re­gat­ed schools. Maybe it works for Amer­i­can teenagers, but “if we were giv­en sud­den­ly this amount of free­dom,” she says, “I’m afraid you would get fear­ful con­se­quences.” How­ev­er much the four dis­agree about the ben­e­fits and dan­gers of that free­dom, they all seem to believe that Amer­i­cans could stand to reflect on how to make bet­ter use of it than they do. “I think it is a lack of intel­lec­tu­al capac­i­ty to use their free­dom prop­er­ly,” says the young Paik, try­ing del­i­cate­ly to pin down the prob­lem with Amer­i­can life.

After the World Youth Forum, Paik trav­eled the world before fin­ish­ing high school in Korea. He would then return to the U.S. to study at Brown Uni­ver­si­ty before start­ing his career as a lit­er­ary crit­ic and pub­lic intel­lec­tu­al in his home­land. In 2018 he gave a speech at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Chica­go on Kore­a’s “Can­dle­light Rev­o­lu­tion,” and this past sum­mer he pub­lished a new book on D.H. Lawrence, which Kore­an-speak­ers can hear him inter­viewed about here. He’s one of the suc­cess sto­ries among the many par­tic­i­pants in the World Youth Forum, more of whose 1950s dis­cus­sions — on race, on social rela­tions, the Mid­dle-East con­flict — you can watch on this Youtube playlist. 65 years lat­er, no mat­ter our age or nation­al­i­ty, we all have some­thing of the Amer­i­can teenag­er about us. Whether that’s good or bad remains a mat­ter for debate.

via Messy Nessy

Relat­ed Con­tent:

What Life Was Like for Teenagers in Ancient Rome: Get a Glimpse from a TED-ED Ani­ma­tion

1950 Super­man Poster Urged Kids to Defend All Amer­i­cans, Regard­less of Their Race, Reli­gion or Nation­al Ori­gin

How Fin­land Cre­at­ed One of the Best Edu­ca­tion­al Sys­tems in the World (by Doing the Oppo­site of U.S.)

Niger­ian Teenagers Are Mak­ing Slick Sci Fi Films With Their Smart­phones

In Japan­ese Schools, Lunch Is As Much About Learn­ing As It’s About Eat­ing

Pak­istani Immi­grant Goes to a Led Zep­pelin Con­cert, Gets Inspired to Become a Musi­cian & Then Sells 30 Mil­lion Albums

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

The 1937 Experiment in Distance Learning: When Chicago Schools Went Remote, Over Radio, During a Polio Outbreak

As all of us have noticed in recent months, liv­ing in a viral pan­dem­ic real­ly mess­es with your sense of time. A few months feels like a decade. Time slows to a crawl. If you’re a par­ent, how­ev­er, you have before you walk­ing, talk­ing, grow­ing, com­plain­ing reminders that no mat­ter what’s hap­pen­ing in the world, chil­dren still grow up just the same. They need new expe­ri­ences and new clothes just as before, and they need to keep their brains engaged and try, at least, to build on pri­or knowl­edge.

Maybe we’re learn­ing new things, too. (Adult brains also need exer­cise.) Or not. We have some con­trol over the sit­u­a­tion; kids don’t. “Learn­ing loss” over inac­tive months is real, and the gov­ern­ment still has the respon­si­bil­i­ty (for what the word is worth) to edu­cate them. Online learn­ing may feel like a bad com­pro­mise for many fam­i­lies, and its suc­cess seems large­ly dependent—as in reg­u­lar school—on par­ent involve­ment and access to resources. But it’s bet­ter than eight months of the more mind­less kind of screen time.

It may help to know that remote learn­ing isn’t new, even if we’re still adjust­ing to tech­nol­o­gy that lets teach­ers (and boss­es) into our homes with cam­eras and micro­phones. The chal­lenges “may seem unprece­dent­ed,” Stan­ford pro­fes­sor Michael Hines writes at The Wash­ing­ton Post, but “edu­ca­tors may be sur­prised to learn that almost 100 years ago Chicago’s schools faced sim­i­lar cir­cum­stances” dur­ing the polio epi­dem­ic and met them in a sim­i­lar way. In 1937, an out­break forced the city to close schools, and prompt­ed “wide­spread alarm about lost instruc­tion­al time and stu­dents left to their own devices” (so to speak).

Admin­is­tra­tors were “deter­mined to con­tin­ue instruc­tions for the district’s near­ly 325,000 ele­men­tary age stu­dents” through the only remote tech­nol­o­gy avail­able, radio, “still fair­ly new and large­ly untest­ed in edu­ca­tion in the 1930s.” Accord­ing to Hines, a his­to­ri­an of edu­ca­tion in the U.S., the pro­gram was very well orga­nized, the lessons were engag­ing, and edu­ca­tors “active­ly sought to involve par­ents and com­mu­ni­ties” through tele­phone hot­lines they could call with ques­tions or com­ments. On the first day, they logged over 1,000 calls and added five addi­tion­al teach­ers.

You might be wondering—given dig­i­tal divide prob­lems of online learn­ing today—whether all the stu­dents served actu­al­ly owned a radio and tele­phone. Kather­ine Foss, a pro­fes­sor of Media Stud­ies at Mid­dle Ten­nessee State Uni­ver­si­ty, notes that in the late 1930s, “over 80% of U.S. house­holds owned at least one radio, though few­er were found in homes in the south­ern U.S., in rur­al areas and among peo­ple of col­or.” Those who did­n’t were left out, and school author­i­ties had no way to track atten­dance. “Access issues received lit­tle atten­tion” in the media. School Super­in­ten­dent William John­son had no idea how many stu­dents tuned in.

The local pro­gram last­ed less than three weeks before schools reopened. Some felt the instruc­tion moved too quick­ly and “stu­dents who need­ed more atten­tion or reme­di­a­tion strug­gled through one-size-fits-all radio lessons,” notes Hines. Edu­ca­tors today will sym­pa­thize with the over­all sense at the time that those who ben­e­fit­ted most from the radio lessons were stu­dents who need­ed them least.

Learn more about the exper­i­ment in Hines’ his­to­ry les­son (also see Foss’ recent arti­cle), and con­sid­er the lessons we can apply to the present. Remote edu­ca­tion still has flaws, and par­ents still strug­gle to find time for involve­ment, but the tech­nol­o­gy has made it a viable option for much longer than three weeks, and maybe, giv­en future uncer­tain­ties, far longer than that.

via The Con­ver­sa­tion

Relat­ed Con­tent:

NBC Uni­ver­si­ty The­ater Adapt­ed Great Nov­els to Radio & Gives Lis­ten­ers Col­lege Cred­it : Hear 110 Episodes from a 1940s eLearn­ing Exper­i­ment

The His­to­ry of the 1918 Flu Pan­dem­ic, “The Dead­liest Epi­dem­ic of All Time”: Three Free Lec­tures from The Great Cours­es

Dyson Cre­ates 44 Free Engi­neer­ing & Sci­ence Chal­lenges for Kids Quar­an­tined Dur­ing COVID-19

Free Online Draw­ing Lessons for Kids, Led by Favorite Artists & Illus­tra­tors

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Why Do People Join Cults? An Animated Primer Explains

As much as we might like to think we make free choic­es as ratio­nal indi­vid­u­als, we are all more or less sug­gestible and sub­ject to social pres­sures. Social media mar­keters aren’t under any illu­sions about this. Guides for how to exploit psy­cho­log­i­cal vul­ner­a­bil­i­ties and influ­ence behav­ior pro­lif­er­ate. (One of the top-sell­ing busi­ness books on Ama­zon is a man­u­al titled Influ­ence: The Psy­chol­o­gy of Per­sua­sion.) Such tech­niques form the basis of a mas­sive, glob­al ad-based indus­try that also hap­pens to traf­fic in polit­i­cal pro­pa­gan­da and dis­in­for­ma­tion. None of this would be as wild­ly prof­itable and effec­tive as it is if human beings could eas­i­ly resist manip­u­la­tion.

But there are degrees of influ­ence and sus­cep­ti­bil­i­ty. Not every­one who makes an easy mark for adver­tis­ers, for exam­ple, is liable to join a cult or an extrem­ist group. What makes peo­ple sub­ject to the induce­ments of a cult leader? What makes them—in the clichéd phrase cal­lous­ly drawn from the mass sui­cide at Jonestown—“drink the Kool-Aid”? The TED-Ed video above, script­ed by cult expert Dr. Jan­ja Lalich, pro­fes­sor emeri­ta of Soci­ol­o­gy at Cal­i­for­nia State Uni­ver­si­ty, Chico, begins with some basic qual­i­fi­ca­tions.

Not all cults are reli­gious: some are polit­i­cal, ther­a­py-based, focused on self-improve­ment, or oth­er­wise.

Not all new reli­gions are cults.

Lalich defines a cult as a “group or move­ment with a usu­al­ly extreme ide­ol­o­gy, typ­i­cal­ly embod­ied in a charis­mat­ic leader…. Most cults share some basic char­ac­ter­is­tics,” such as a “high-lev­el of com­mit­ment from its mem­bers,” a strict hier­ar­chy, and “claims to pro­vide answers to life’s biggest ques­tions.” Cults have lit­tle tol­er­ance for dis­sent from either the inside or out­side.

The dis­tinc­tions between cults and reli­gions can seem slight, but cults sep­a­rate their mem­bers from the larg­er soci­ety and seek direct and total con­trol over their lives, while most main­stream reli­gions (which may have begun as cults) do not. Reli­gions may pros­e­ly­tize, but cults use meth­ods more akin to pyra­mid schemes to pres­sure recruits into per­son­al­ly iden­ti­fy­ing with the ide­ol­o­gy and spread­ing it. By exploit­ing our desires for con­nec­tion, com­fort, mean­ing, and belong­ing, they cre­ate what the DSM‑V terms “iden­ti­ty dis­tur­bance due to pro­longed and intense coer­cive per­sua­sion.”

Cults “dis­cour­age crit­i­cal think­ing, mak­ing it hard to voice doubts when every­one around you is mod­el­ing absolute faith.” New recruits expe­ri­ence painful cog­ni­tive dis­so­nance that, over time, they try to over­come by strength­en­ing their devo­tion. The sense of sunk cost makes it increas­ing­ly hard for them to admit they have been lied to, manip­u­lat­ed, and used. Cults stunt their mem­bers’ “psy­cho­log­i­cal and emo­tion­al growth,” which is “a par­tic­u­lar prob­lem for chil­dren” who are born or indoc­tri­nat­ed into them. Belief, Lalich’s les­son states, should not force a per­son to sac­ri­fice their fam­i­ly, friends, per­son­al moral­i­ty, and mon­ey to an author­i­tar­i­an leader.

Lalich her­self under­stands cults not only as an aca­d­e­m­ic researcher but as a for­mer mem­ber of a polit­i­cal cult in which, she says, “you weren’t allowed to think for your­self at the same time as you were told to think for your­self.” Which brings us to the burn­ing ques­tion that has been asked so many times over the past four years. Does the absolute, unwa­ver­ing devo­tion to the cur­rent pres­i­dent con­sti­tute cult-like behav­ior? Is “Trump­ism” a cult? An open let­ter on Lalich’s Cult Research site, signed by a num­ber of promi­nent psy­chol­o­gists, psy­chi­a­trists, and oth­er experts, advis­es, “We should look to the evi­dence, and there is evi­dence aplen­ty.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Carl Sagan Pre­dicts the Decline of Amer­i­ca: Unable to Know “What’s True,” We Will Slide, “With­out Notic­ing, Back into Super­sti­tion & Dark­ness” (1995)

Christo­pher Hitchens Dis­miss­es the Cult of Ayn Rand: There’s No “Need to Have Essays Advo­cat­ing Self­ish­ness Among Human Beings; It Requires No Rein­force­ment”

Isaac Asi­mov Laments the “Cult of Igno­rance” in the Unit­ed States (1980)

Umber­to Eco Makes a List of the 14 Com­mon Fea­tures of Fas­cism

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

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