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Six ancient Greek statues discovered in Magnesia on the Meander river in southwestern Turkey
Female and male statues were unearthed in the ruins of a temple to Artemis
Six statues dating back 2,000 years were discovered Saturday in the ruins of the ancient Greek city of Magnesia, situated in southwestern Aydın province's Germencik district, according to Turkish newspaper Daily Sabah.
Professor Orhan Bingöl, who has been overseeing the excavations in the site since 1984, said four female and one male statues were unearthed in the ruins of a temple to Artemis, adding that one of the statues' gender was unknown.
Bingöl specified that all statues were found in the same area and were in good condition of preservation, placed face-down next to each other.
"We know that, along with the ones being displayed in Istanbul, Izmir and Aydın, there have been nearly 50 statues unearthed from Magnesia ruins. This discovery will not be the end of it and clearly shows we can find more statues in this particular area," he noted.
The first excavations in Magnesia were conducted between 1891 and 1893 by a German archaeological team led by Carl Humann. The work lasted 21 months and partially unearthed the theater, the Artemis temple, the agora, the Zeus temple and the prytaneion. Excavations were resumed at the site, after an interval of almost 100 years, in 1984, by Bingöl.
History of Magnesia on the Meander
Magnesia or Magnesia on the Maeander was an ancient Greek city in Ionia, considerable in size, at an important location commercially and strategically in the triangle of Priene, Ephesus and Tralles. The city was named Magnesia, after the Magnetes from Thessaly who settled the area along with some Cretans. It was later called "on the Meander" to distinguish it from the nearby Lydian city Magnesia ad Sipylum.
The territory around Magnesia was extremely fertile, and produced excellent wine, figs, and cucumbers. It was built on the slope of Mount Thorax, on the banks of the small river Lethacus, a tributary of the Maeander river upstream from Ephesus. It was 15 miles from the city of Miletus.The ruins of the city are located west of the modern village Tekin in the Germencik district of Aydın Province, Turkey.
Magnesia lay within Ionia, but because it had been settled by Aeolians from Greece, was not accepted into the Ionian League. Magnesia may have been ruled for a time by the Lydians, and was for some time under the control of the Persians, and subject to Cimmerian raids. In later years, Magnesia supported the Romans in the Second Mithridatic War.
Magnesia soon attained great power and prosperity, so as to be able to cope even with a challenge from Ephesus. However, the city was taken and destroyed by the Cimmerians, some time between 726 BC and 660 BC. The deserted site was soon reoccupied, and rebuilt by the Milesians or, according to Athenaeus, by the Ephesians. The Persian satraps of Lydia also occasionally resided in the place.
In the fifth century BC, the exiled Athenian Themistocles came to Persia to offer his services to Artaxerxes, and was given control of Magnesia to support his family.
The name "magnet" may come from lodestones found in Magnesia.
In the time of the Romans, Magnesia was added to the kingdom of Pergamon, after Antiochus had been driven eastward beyond Mount Taurus. After this time the town seems to have declined and is rarely mentioned, though it is still noticed by Pliny and Tacitus. Hierocles ranks it among the bishoprics of the province of Asia, and later documents seem to imply that at one time it bore the name of Maeandropolis. The existence of the town in the time of the emperors Aurelius and Gallienus is attested to by coins.
Landmarks of Magnesia
Magnesia contained a temple of Dindymene, the mother of the gods the wife or daughter of Themistocles was said to have been a priestess of that divinity.
Strabo later noted the temple no longer existed, the town having been transferred to another place. The change in the site of the town alluded to by Strabo, is not noticed by other contemporary authors, however some suggest that Magnesia was moved from the banks of the Meander to a place at the foot of Mount Thorax three miles from the river.
The new town which Strabo saw was remarkable for its temple of Artemis Leucophryene, which in size and the number of its treasures was surpassed by the temple of Ephesus, but in beauty and the harmony of its parts was superior to all the temples in Asia Minor. The temple to Artemis is said by Vitruvius to have been built by the architect Hermogenes, in the Ionic style. Following a theophany of the goddess Artemis in the 3rd century B.C., the temple and the city were recognised as a place of asylia by other Greek states.
Little remains of either temple today. The site of Magnesia on the Maeander was once identified with the modern Güzelhisar since then the ruins of a temple to Artemis were found at Inck-bazar, and the latter is considered a more likely site.
The first excavations at the archaeological site were performed during 1891 and 1893 by a German archaeological team conducted by Carl Humann, discoverer of the Pergamon Altar. These lasted 21 months and partially revealed the theatre, the Artemis temple, the agora, the Zeus temple and the prytaneion. Excavations were resumed at the site, after an interval of almost 100 years, in 1984, by Orhan Bingöl of the University of Ankara and the Turkish Ministry of Culture.
Findings from the site are now displayed in Istanbul and Aydın, as well as in Berlin and Paris. Copies of the portico (pronaos) of the Zeus temple and of a bay of the Artemis temple can be visited in the Pergamonmuseum in Berlin. Much of the architectural remains of Magnesia were destroyed long ago by local lime burners. The well preserved remains of the Zeus temple have been destroyed by local residents even after Humann's excavation campaign.
In July 2018, six Greek statues discovered. Four female, one male and one with unknown gender were unearthed in the ruins of a temple of Artemis.
Historic Facts About Magnesium
- Magnesium was first discovered outside of the Greek city of Magnesia.
- In 1808, Sire Humphrey Davy first isolated several of the alkaline earth metals, naming them after their oxides as barium, strontium, calcium, and magnium. Davy derived the term “magnium” from the common name for magnesium oxide: magnesia. Eventually the term magnesium replaced the term magnium in general usage.
- Magnesium was used as a curative as early as ancient times, in the form of laxatives and Epsom salts.
- In the 1600’s, water from the famous Epson spring discovered in England was a popular curative, used as an internal remedy and purifier of the blood. In 1695, magnesium sulfate as a salt was isolated from the Epsom spring water by Nehemia Grew.
- Marie de Medici, of the famous and powerful Italian family, described the healing properties of Epsom spring water as, used by “a great store of citizens” especially by “persons of quality”. 4
- Richard Willstatter won the Nobel prize in 1915 for describing the nature of the structure of chlorophyll in plants, noting magnesium as the central element.
- Magnesium is regularly used in the acute treatment of eclampsia during pregnancy and acute myocardial infarction.
How can you know for certain if you have a deficiency?
Magnesium’s impact is so crucial and far reaching that symptoms of its absence reverberate throughout the body’s systems. This makes signs of its absence hard to pin down with absolute precision, even for cutting edge researchers. Doctors Pilar Aranda and Elena Planells noted this difficulty in their report at the International Magnesium Symposium of 2007:
The clinical manifestations of magnesium deficiency are difficult to define because depletion of this cation is associated with considerable abnormalities in the metabolism of many elements and enzymes. If prolonged, insufficient magnesium intake may be responsible for symptoms attributed to other causes, or whose causes are unknown.”
Among researchers, magnesium deficiency is known as the silent epidemic of our times, and it is widely acknowledged that definitive testing for deficiency remains elusive. Judy Driskell, Professor, Nutrition and Health Sciences at the University of Nebraska, refers to this “invisible deficiency” as chronic latent magnesium deficiency, and explains:
Normal serum and plasma magnesium concentrations have been found in individuals with low magnesium in [red blood cells] and tissues. Yet efforts to find an indicator of subclinical magnesium status have not yielded a cost-effective one that has been well validated.” 20
Yet while the identification of magnesium deficiency may be unclear, its importance is undeniable.
Magnesium activates over 300 enzyme reactions in the body, translating to thousands of biochemical reactions happening on a constant basis daily. Magnesium is crucial to nerve transmission, muscle contraction, blood coagulation, energy production, nutrient metabolism and bone and cell formation.
Considering these varied and all-encompassing effects, not to mention the cascading effect magnesium levels have on other important minerals such as calcium and potassium, one thing is clear – long term low magnesium intake is something to be avoided.
Memorial Day Traditions
Cities and towns across the United States host Memorial Day parades each year, often incorporating military personnel and members of veterans’ organizations. Some of the largest parades take place in Chicago, New York and Washington, D.C.
Americans also observe Memorial Day by visiting cemeteries and memorials. Some people wear a red poppy in remembrance of those fallen in war𠅊 tradition that began with a World War I poem. On a less somber note, many people take weekend trips or throw parties and barbecues on the holiday, perhaps because Memorial Day weekend—the long weekend comprising the Saturday and Sunday before Memorial Day and Memorial Day itself—unofficially marks the beginning of summer.
These Women Reporters Went Undercover to Get the Most Important Scoops of Their Day
One November day in 1888, a slight, dark-haired young woman ducked out of the crowd on a street in downtown Chicago and took an elevator up to see a doctor. She’d been uneasy all morning, an unpleasant task ahead. Lines from Thomas Hood’s poem about suicide ran through her mind: “One more unfortunate, / weary of breath / Vastly importunate, / Gone to her death.”
Sensational: The Hidden History of America's "Girl Stunt Reporters"
But Dr. C.C.P. Silva had a good reputation to go with his black goatee and slight paunch. Frequently featured in the Chicago Tribune, he was the surgeon for the city police department and on the faculty of a medical school. In Silva’s office, accompanied by a man claiming to be her brother, she told the doctor she was in trouble. Could he help?
What she wanted was dangerous, Silva answered—the risk of inflammation or complications—and added, “It must also be perfectly secret. To let a single breath of it out would be damaging to you, damaging to the man, and to me.”
Then he told the man to find a place for her to stay and agreed to perform the operation for $75. The young woman must have assured him she could keep a secret.
She would keep his, for a few weeks. She has kept hers for more than a hundred years.
The young woman was one of the nation’s so-called girl stunt reporters, female newspaper writers in the 1880s and s who went undercover and into danger to reveal institutional urban ills: stifling factories, child labor, unscrupulous doctors, all kinds of scams and cheats. In first-person stories that stretched over weeks, like serialized novels, the heroines offered a vision of womanhood that hadn’t appeared in newspapers before—brave and charming, fiercely independent, professional and ambitious, yet unabashedly female.
It was the heyday of the 19th-century daily newspaper. As new technology made printing cheaper, publishers cut newspaper prices to attract residents of the burgeoning cities—recent immigrants, factory workers. This huge potential audience gave rise to a rough competition waged with weapons of scandal and innovation.
After Nellie Bly, whose 1887 series “Ten Days in a Mad House” had been a windfall for Joseph Pulitzer’s New York World, everyone wanted a girl stunt reporter. In little more than two years after Bly got herself committed to New York City’s notorious Blackwell’s Island insane asylum, Annie Laurie fainted in a San Francisco street to report for the Examiner on her ill treatment at a public hospital. For the St. Paul Daily Globe, Eva Gay slipped into an industrial laundry to interview women sickened by the damp. Nora Marks reported for the Chicago Tribune on boys as young as 10 being held for trial at the Cook County Jail, some for more than a month.
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This article is a selection from the November issue of Smithsonian magazine
Their reporting had real-world consequences, increasing funding to treat the mentally ill and inspiring labor organizations that pushed for protective laws. And they were so popular that, while in 1880 it was practically impossible for a female reporter to get off the ladies’ page, by 1900 more articles had women’s bylines than men’s.
The names in the bylines, however, were often fake. Stunt reporters relied on pseudonyms, which offered protection as they waded deep into unladylike territory to poke sticks at powerful men. Annie Laurie was really Winifred Sweet Gay was Eva Valesh Marks was Eleanor Stackhouse. Even Nellie Bly was a false name, for Elizabeth Cochrane. “Many of the brightest women frequently disguise their identity, not under one nom de plume, but under half a dozen,” wrote a male editor for the trade publication The Journalist in 1889. “This renders anything like a solid reputation almost impossible.”
Compared with muckrakers who came after—Jacob Riis and his gritty photographs in the book How the Other Half Lives Ida Tarbell and her reporting on rot at the heart of the Standard Oil Company in 1902 Upton Sinclair and The Jungle, his novel about meatpacking plants—the stunt reporters are little known, little respected. Some never emerged from under cover.
One of these was the woman who wrote the Chicago Times’ abortion exposé in 1888, under the byline “Girl Reporter.” Her personal story, shards of which can be pieced together from newspaper clippings, legal records and musty professional directories, offers perhaps the starkest example of these journalists’ assertion of a female identity—and its erasure over time.
In Illinois, an 1867 statute made it illegal for a doctor to provide an abortion, under the penalty of two to ten years in jail. An exception was made for bona fide medical or surgical purposes. By her count, the Girl Reporter visited more than 200 doctors over three weeks, pleading, crying, taking notes. A medical journal referred to her, sneeringly, as the “weeping beauty.” She documented fees ranging from $40 to $250 (about $1,000 to $6,000 in today’s currency). Among those who agreed to perform an abortion or refer her to someone who would was Dr. J.H. Etheridge, president of the Chicago Medical Society. Her series is the earliest known in-depth study of illegal abortion, according to Leslie Reagan, a historian who has written extensively on women’s health and the law.
Deciphering history, particularly the private lives of women, can be like peering through warped and clouded glass. The Girl Reporter flung the window open. In scene after scene, people have the kinds of conversations that never make it into textbooks. And while the stated purpose of the exposé was “the correction of an awful evil,” it showed the complexity and nuance of the forbidden practice.
“It’s an extremely rare source,” Reagan told me when I called to ask if she had any idea who the reporter might have been. (She didn’t.) “It’s just kind of this amazing thing. I never found anything like it anywhere else.”
The Chicago Times was an unlikely candidate for journalistic excellence. Anti-Lincoln and pro-slavery during the Civil War, it was infamous for spewing inflammatory rhetoric and unearthing things best left buried. A former reporter summed up its early years this way: “Scandals in private life, revolting details from the evidence taken in police court trials, imaginary liaisons of a filthy character, reeked, seethed like a hell’s broth in the Times’ cauldrons and made a stench in the nostrils of decent people.”
But when a new publisher, James J. West, took over at the end of 1887, he determined that it would soon be “one of the ablest and handsomest journals in the world” and cast about for ways to make that happen: new type, fiction by the British adventure writer H. Rider Haggard, a Times-sponsored plan to find bison in Texas, domesticate them and save them from extinction. A writer would file exclusive reports by carrier pigeon.
Nothing worked, though, until a schoolteacher-turned-reporter named Helen Cusack donned a shabby frock and brown veil and went looking for a job in the rainy July of 1888. In factories and sweat shops, she stitched coats and shoe linings, interviewed her fellow workers in hot, unventilated spaces and did the math. At the Excelsior Underwear Company, she was handed a stack of shirts to sew cents a dozen—and then was charged 50 cents to rent the sewing machine and 35 cents for thread. Nearby, another woman was being yelled at for leaving oil stains on chemises. She’d have to pay to launder them. “But worse than broken shoes, ragged clothes, filthy closets, poor light, high temperature, and vitiated atmosphere was the cruel treatment by the people in authority,” she wrote under the byline Nell Nelson. Her series, “City Slave Girls,” ran for weeks.
Circulation surged, and West doubled down on stunt reporting. He approached Charles Chapin, his city editor, and revealed his newest brainstorm. Horrified, calling it the “yellowest” idea he’d ever heard in a newspaper office, Chapin refused to have anything to do with it.
He thought West had forgotten about it, even when the publisher requested a “bright man and a woman reporter” for a special assignment. But in early December, Chapin recalled, he went into the composing room and saw the headline: “Chicago Abortioners.” He quit before the paper hit the streets. (That exact wording doesn’t appear in the series, but Chapin’s memory might have faded: He wrote his account 32 years later, in Sing Sing, where he was serving time for killing his wife.)
In the initial articles, under the all-caps headline “INFANTICIDE,” a male reporter asked cabmen where he could find relief for a relative who had been “led into error.” He met German and Scandinavian midwives in the poorer section of the city and made his case. Some proposed medicines and places for her to stay during recovery. Others said they could help with adoption. But most demanded to see the young woman in question.
Noms de plume: Winifred Sweet took “Annie Laurie” from a family-favorite lullaby. (Library of Congress) Elizabeth Cochrane’s “Nellie Bly” came from a Steven Foster song. (Library of Congress) The Chicago Times aimed high and hit low: Its “Girl Reporter” wrote that she had been told to target “only the physicians of the better class” in her exposé. (Center for Research Libraries - Chicago)
She and her male colleague refined their story over the next few days, switching from midwives to prominent doctors, claiming she was six weeks pregnant rather than two or three months, stressing that money was no object.
The Girl Reporter spent long days going from office to office. She visited Dr. Sarah Hackett Stevenson, who treated her kindly but advised her to have the child and get married, even if it would be “but a step toward divorce.” She interrupted Dr. John Chaffee at his lunch, and he urged her to have the operation right away, telling her, “Thousands are doing it all the time. The only thing to do when one gets into trouble is to get out again.” (A few days later, Chaffee was arrested for giving a woman an abortion that killed her.) Dr. Edwin Hale, a controversial figure since publishing his pamphlet “On the Homeopathic Treatment of Abortion,” gave the reporter a bottle of big, black (and harmless, the doctor assured her) pills to take before admitting herself to the hospital. That way, when he was called to her bedside, and performed the operation surreptitiously, they could blame the medication for causing the abortion.
Beyond the value of the Girl Reporter’s research was her voice. She’s determined: “I felt that there was some big ruffians to be brought down yet, and I was anxious to have a composed mind and a strong heart.” She’s weary: “Tonight as I write this I am sick of the whole business. I did not suppose there was so much rascality among the ‘reputable’ people.” Her prose teemed with self-conscious literary flourishes—puns and alliteration, references to Shakespeare and the Aeneid. This, alternating with casual exclamations, like “ugh” and “really swell,” the gushing enthusiasm for favorite novels and her Sunday-school moralizing, all seem like the first attempts of a big reader and beginning writer. There’s the sense of a real person trying to figure things out.
Righteous anger filled her at first, at the doctors and the women who sought them out, but then something shifted.
“I found that I was beginning to be somewhat of an adept at deceit and this rather startled me,” she wrote. “I began to be suspicious of myself. I have talked so much of my pretended trouble to the doctors that I now and then permitted my thoughts to wander and drift into the channels where it had been wading though the day.” She felt for the woman she feigned to be. Eventually, she cared less about a willingness to commit abortion and more about the failure to sympathize with women in dire straits. When a doctor refused coldly, she imagined saying, “Don’t prate of virtue to me. I am as good as the rest of the world only less lucky.”
In one installment, she mulled over her assignment and the disconcerting feeling that in constantly pretending to be someone else, she was losing her individuality, her sense of self.
“Today I have been wondering whether, if I had to do it over again, I would have taken a position on a newspaper staff,” she wrote. “It used to be the dream of my childhood that I would some day become a writer—a great writer—and astonish the world with my work,” she wrote.
“But did I ever suppose that I would have to commence on a newspaper by filling an assignment like this?
As a cub reporter, she was prepared to compete on the same terms as men. But this assignment was entirely different: “A man couldn’t have done it.”
(Center for Research Libraries - Chicago)
The abortion exposé was West’s dream—a sensation. The Times, which eight months before had run ads for an abortifacient marketed as Chichester’s English Pennyroyal Pills, packed its editorial page with demands that the law be enforced, abortion stamped out. The paper proposed remedies. Women needed instruction on the delights of motherhood. Maybe there should be a lying-in hospital. Or doctors should meet stricter certification requirements. Preachers shouldn’t be squeamish about addressing abortion from the pulpit.
Letters to the editor poured in deep into January, bubbling with praise and outrage and frank evaluations of relations between the sexes. A father wrote in to say he had originally shielded his 18-year-old daughter from the articles, but decided he needed to “take the bull by the horns” and let her read them. Another letter, under the title “Bring the Husbands to Book,” raised the issue of rape. Still another, from a female doctor, said patients had asked her for abortions 300 times in her first year of practice. A doctor who didn’t sign his name confessed that the Girl Reporter’s entreaties might have swayed him. He had turned a woman away, only to be called to her family’s house days later, after she had killed herself. “It is our duty to preserve life whenever possible. Did I do it?” he asked.
Though the Times’ editorials railed against the evils of “infanticide,” the paper’s reportage raised more questions than it answered. That 18-year-old whose father reluctantly handed over the front page? Despite the paper’s moralizing, it would be hard for her to avoid the impression that abortion was common, available to anyone who could steel herself to ask for it. She might even meet with kindness and understanding. Readers received an education in techniques, specific medicines to take and at what dosage. As many readers dourly predicted, no one was arrested (though Dr. Silva was fired as police surgeon). They suggested the series could be read as an advertisement for the doctors listed, rather than a public shaming.
The Times capitalized on curiosity about the Girl Reporter. An illustration on the editorial page showed five sketches of thin, dark-haired women with bangs in front and a bun in the back, wearing an apron over a collared shirt. They looked down, or up, with expressions pensive or half-smiling, line-drawn Mona Lisas. Underneath was written: “Guess which one of the above is the ‘girl reporter’?”
How many female reporters could there have been in Chicago in 1888? Who might have crossed paths with the Chicago Times?
Nell Nelson, hired by the New York World after her success with “City Slave Girls,” had just left town. Elia Peattie, who wrote about ghosts for the Tribune, was headed to Nebraska. Either might have lingered to do one last Chicago piece. Nora Marks had the perfect training as the Tribune’s stunt reporter. Elizabeth Jordan, who would write for the World and become the editor of Harper’s Bazaar, hadn’t yet left Milwaukee, but she was filing reports for Chicago papers.
Highlighting labor conditions and syndicated to rural papers, Nell Nelson’s “City Slave Girls” series delivered a warning to young women who might have been tempted by city lights. (Image Credits: Library of Congress)
Casting a net beyond the bounds of Illinois was even more daunting. Not long after the Girl Reporter finished her series, The Journalist came out with a 20-page issue highlighting women writers, including two pages on African-American reporters, from Mary E. Britton, who edited a column for the Lexington Herald, to Ida B. Wells, who reported on racial inequality for the Evening Star. It offered no clue to the Girl Reporter’s name.
But the popularity of her series offered a path toward her identity: Big sales also meant lawsuits. One Dr. Reynolds sued for libel and $25,000 because his name could be confused with another Dr. Reynolds who was listed under “Physicians Who Recommend Others Who Would Commit Abortion.” Days later, Dr. Walter Knoll sued for $25,000. In January, Dr. Silva sued the Times for $50,000 and the Chicago Mail, also owned by West, for another $50,000.
Surveying the litigation landscape, the Rochelle Herald commented, “That lady reporter of theirs will have a mighty heap of trouble on her hands if she has to attend to all their cases in court as a witness.”
A witness with a name, I realized, one who might have been called to testify.
At the building for the Circuit Court of Cook County, citizens wandered through with kids in tow, looking confused, asking for traffic control or divorce court. But the archive was quiet.
A week before, waiting for the files I requested to come in, I’d searched through online databases of rival papers, which might have been eager to out the Girl Reporter. The Daily Inter Ocean mentioned that Silva didn’t sue just the paper and West, like everyone else he also sued two men and a woman: “Florence Noble, alias Margaret Noble.” A small-town paper also wrote up the lawsuit, and after the woman’s name added, in brackets, “the girl reporter.”
Now I had the files for Silva’s lawsuits against the Times and Mail on the table in front of me. They were frail pieces of dingy cardboard, folded into thirds, filled with papers. Cases would usually have a narrative, where the plaintiff lays out the complaint. A handwritten note on the front of the Mail narrative said the enclosed was a copy of the original, “which is lost from the files.” The narrative for the Times lawsuit was missing entirely. And there wasn’t much else. Before the end of 1889, West was sentenced to prison for overissuing stock certificates of the Times Company. Five years after that, the Chicago Times was defunct. The rest of the legal file was lawyer after lawyer excusing himself from the case.
But tucked inside was a summons for “The Chicago Times Company, James J. West, Joseph R. Dunlop, Florence Noble alias Margaret Noble and ------- Bowen.” On the back, the deputy sheriff scrawled that he had served the summons to the paper, West and Dunlop, but made no mention of Noble or Bowen. It meant, most likely, they couldn’t be found in the county. Florence Noble was gone.
No online searchable newspapers or magazines from the 1880s or 1890s have a reporter named Florence Noble. The archives of the Illinois Women’s Press Association didn’t list any member with that name. No Florence Noble appears in the Chicago directory for those years. The Chicago Medical Society seethed about the exposé at several meetings, but never described the Girl Reporter in any depth. My comparison of her literary quirks to known Chicago journalists didn’t produce a match.
Of course, Florence Noble could also be an alias. Certainly, “Florence” calls to mind Florence Nightingale, a medical heroine. And “Noble” would be an obvious choice. One of the Times’ editorials was headlined, winkingly, “A Noble Work.”
Or the series might have been too scandalous to launch a career. Stunt reporting in general had a dubious reputation, operating at the margins of decency pretending to be pregnant out of wedlock and seeking an abortion may have been over the line of what a reporter might do and emerge unscathed. Anonymity seems unfortunate in hindsight, but maybe it was essential. Elizabeth Jordan, the New York World reporter, wrote a short story in her collection Tales of the City Room about a respectable young woman lured into writing a “sensational” article by an uncaring editor. Back at the office, male colleagues leered at her. She had to quit and get married to save her reputation.
Even so, by 1896 the World had so many girl stunt reporters its Sunday magazine could barely contain the thrills. “Daring Deeds by the Sunday World’s Intrepid Woman Reporters”: The headline spanned two pages of heart-stopping adventure. Nellie Bly declared she would raise an all-female regiment to fight for Cuba, Dorothy Dare headed out in a pilot ship in a storm, Kate Swan McGuirk rode a horse bareback in the circus. McGuirk, in particular, must have been running on adrenaline. If, under the name “Kate Swan,” she wasn’t leaping overboard to write about rescue crews near Coney Island or seeing what it felt like to be strapped into the electric chair, she was buying opium without a prescription. Every week, a new test of nerve. And in her spare time, she penned more sober articles, often printed on the same page as Swan’s adventures, under the byline “Mrs. McGuirk.”
These features, with lush, half-page illustrations of women facing down dangers, hair and skirts billowing, prefigured nothing so much as comic-book heroines. (See Brenda Starr and Lois Lane.) And as the stakes plummeted and the public good became more difficult to decipher, the reporters were mocked, and the style written off as a fad. Their embrace of writing from a female perspective in female bodies made them all the easier to dismiss as insignificant. Scandalous became silly. The articles ended up as innocuous as those on the women’s page. As a genre, stunt reporting at first offered opportunity for fresh voices and untold stories, but it ended up obscuring originality and individual contributions.
But the contributions were real. Reporters pioneered techniques that would be later hailed by Tom Wolfe in his 1973 manifesto on New Journalism—details of societal status, scene-by-scene construction, dialogue, a distinctive and intimate point of view—the same qualities that make creative nonfiction so wildly popular today. Brooke Kroeger, author of both the survey Undercover Reporting, The Truth about Deception and the definitive biography of Bly, told me that their stunts—not the ones with lion taming and chorus-line dancing, but those that challenged institutions—were “the precursor to full-scale investigative reporting.”
And Florence Noble? Without her identity, her series is less like a novel and more like one of Riis’ photographs. An early experimenter with flash photography, he would barge into a dark tenement room, wake the residents, sprinkle magnesium powder on a frying pan. The circumstances had to be just right: maybe a cub reporter foolishly brave a newspaper with nothing to lose an industry reinventing itself a community of doctors and midwives willing to buck a recent law. Then open the shutter, touch flame to powder and get a burst of illumination.
About Kim Todd
Kim Todd is an author and journalist writing about the natural world. She has written three books, Tinkering with Eden, Chrysalis, and Sparrow, and her work has appeared in Orion, Sierra Magazine, California Wild, and more.
Punjabi Sikh-Mexican American community fading into history
Valentina Alvarez and Rullia Singh are seen posing for their wedding photo in 1917. They are among the thousands of Punjabi-Mexican couples which sprouted up across the Southwestern United States in lieu of anti-immigration laws. (From Karen Leonard’s Punjabi Mexican American Papers/Courtesy of Dept. of Special Collections, Stanford University Libraries)
Amelia Singh Netervala points to her mother’s chicken curry enchiladas as the best metaphor for her childhood.
Born to a Punjabi Sikh father and Mexican mother, her family was full of cultural contradictions: She went to church on Sundays with her mother and three siblings while her father waited outside in the family car. She would have langar — the daily Sikh communal meal — just once a year, when her father would embark on the five-hour journey from Phoenix to the nearest gurdwara in El Centro, a Californian border town in the Imperial Valley. Her clandestine conversations with her mother were done in Spanish, a language her father never mastered.
All the while Netervala never had any doubts about her identity.
“I’m proud of my Mexican heritage and mixed ethnicity,” said Netervala, who grew up on an alfalfa and cotton farm in Casa Grande, 50 miles south of Phoenix. “But if I had to choose, I would identify as being an Indian woman.”
Now in her mid-70s, Netervala is part of the nation’s thinning Punjabi-Mexican population, an identity forged out of historical necessity and made possible by uncanny cultural parallels.
“The children of these unions did not marry into that community, and so now they are dying off,” explained Karen Leonard, a professor of anthropology at the University of California, Irvine who wrote a book on California’s Punjabi-Mexican population. “So their numbers are diminishing.”
The first marriages between Punjabis and Mexican Americans occurred in the early 1900s, after waves of men from Punjab — a geographic region straddling the Indian-Pakistani border — immigrated to the United States by way of Canada.
Although their numbers were initially small, estimated in the few thousands, the Punjabis, who were mostly Sikh, quickly adapted to life in the farming communities of the United States, particularly in California’s Central and Imperial Valleys. Drawing on their extensive agricultural knowledge, the Punjabis planted troves of peach and prune orchards, which today produce 95 percent of the peaches and 60 percent the prunes that grow in Yuba-Sutter County, an fertile agricultural hub California’s Central Valley.
Despite their contributions to California’s farming industry, early Punjabi immigrants were heavily discriminated against both economically and socially, said Vinay Lal, a professor of history at UCLA.
The California Alien Land Act of 1913 prevented all “aliens ineligible for citizenship” in the state to own agricultural land. And although the act primarily targeted wealthy Japanese landowners in California, the Punjabis were not considered citizens and were victimized, Leonard said.
Strict immigrant laws also prevented Punjabis living in the United States from bringing wives from India, creating a distinct problem for the community.
“They would have gone to India to find brides and brought them back,” Lal said. “But when they passed the Asian Exclusion laws, it became impossible for them to leave.”
Traditionally, Punjabis had marriages arranged by their families. But facing strict immigrant quota laws, the then-newly immigrated Punjabis — overwhelming majorities of whom, according to Leonard, were Sikh, at nearly 85 percent — were forced to turn elsewhere.
“Many Punjabis married the Mexican women that worked on their land because of their cultural similarities and proximity,” Leonard explained. “And when they’d show up at the county record office, they could both check ‘brown.’ No one knew the difference.”
The Punjabi men chose Mexican women for a host of other reasons: Physically, Mexican women at the time were thought to resemble Punjabis, Leonard said. Both communities also shared a rural way of life, cooked similar types of food and had a similar material culture.
Perhaps the most important reason, however, was that Mexican women were accessible in the border cities of the United States, Leonard said.
“Most of these women came across the border after the Mexican Civil War,” she added. “They supported themselves by working in the cotton fields of places like California, doing hard physical labor… so if they could marry the boss, hey. It was a leg up.”
According to Leonard’s book, “ Making Ethnic Choices: California’s Punjabi-Mexican-Americans ,” country records show that some 378 marriages, mostly bi-ethnic Punjabi-Mexican couples, were carried out in California, a nexus of the Punjabi-Mexican community.
Although official numbers for the population do not exist, these families averaged between 5 to 6 children apiece.
Many of those children, however, did not decide to marry within the newly formed community. Netervala, who has lived in California for more than 50 years, is happily married to an Indian Parsi, and her children were raised as Zoroastrians with very little Mexican influence.
That’s not to say that the community has completely disappeared. For example, the former mayor of El Centro, California, David Singh Dhillon, was a third-generation Punjabi-Mexican.
But the vast majority of children born to Punjabi fathers and Mexican mothers in the early 20th century have assimilated with the greater Indian community now thriving in California, explained Jasbir Singh Kang, founder of the Becoming American Museum in Yuba City, which celebrates Punjabi history in California.
“It’s true that most of the community has assimilated, but that’s not saying we are ethnocentric,” said Kang, whose family hails from India’s Punjab state. “We cherish that history – the connection between Punjabis and Mexicans – and we are very proud of it.”
Kang, a physician and Sikh leader in Yuba City, considered one of the first Punjabi locales in America, said the passage of the Luce-Celler Bill of 1946 – which granted citizenship to people of Asian and Indian origin – permanently altered the Punjabi-Mexican Diaspora. The act allowed Punjabi landowners to bring wives back from India, thus negating the necessity to marrying outside their community.
And when Punjabi women began coming to the United States, the Punjabi-Mexican community confounded them, Leonard said.
“They even kicked out the Mexican women from the gurdwara, even though those Mexican women helped fund it,” Leonard said.
Today, the Punjabi community in California is one of the largest in the world, estimated at nearly 250,000. For the descendants of the nation’s Punjabi-Mexican couples, many have decided to identify themselves as either Mexican or India, Netervala explained, because it provides a more concrete identity. Her two brothers and sole sister all have Mexican spouses.
“Looking back – when you’re young, you don’t appreciate or realize the wealth that the two cultures brought together,” Netervala said. “But, if you’d ask me, I’d say the [Punjabi-Mexican] community is distinctly American.”
Olympe de Gouges
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Olympe de Gouges, also called Marie-Olympe de Gouges, original name Marie Gouze, married name Marie Aubry, (born May 7, 1748, Montauban, France—died November 3, 1793, Paris), French social reformer and writer who challenged conventional views on a number of matters, especially the role of women as citizens. Many consider her among the world’s first feminists.
Marie was born to Anne Olympe Mouisset Gouze, who was married to Pierre Gouze, a butcher Marie’s biological father may have been Jean-Jacques Lefranc (or Le Franc), marquis de Pompignan (see Researcher’s Note). Marie was married at age 16 and the mother of a son, but the marriage was short-lived. When her husband died, Marie changed her name to Olympe de Gouges, moved to Paris, and vowed never to marry again.
She became active in political causes and took up social issues that ranged from road improvement to divorce, maternity hospitals, abolitionism, and the rights of orphaned children and of unmarried mothers, and she wrote prolifically in defense of her ideas. Among her plays was L’Esclavage des noirs (“Slavery of Blacks”), which was staged at the Théâtre-Français. In 1791, as the French Revolution continued, she published the pamphlet Déclaration des droits de la femme et de la citoyenne (“Declaration of the Rights of Woman and of the [Female] Citizen”) as a reply to the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the [Male] Citizen (Déclaration des Droits de l’Homme et du Citoyen), which had been adopted two years earlier by the National Assembly. In the pamphlet she asserted not only that women have the same rights as men but also that children born outside of marriage should be treated as fairly as “legitimate” children in matters of inheritance.
De Gouges sided with the moderate Girondins against the Montagnards, defended Louis XVI, and called for a plebiscite to allow citizens to choose their form of government. After the fall of the Girondins in the summer of 1793, she was arrested and was subjected to a mock trial, and on November 3 she was sent to the guillotine.
The ideal woman
Nurse tending German soldiers © Of course, Sandes' story is unusual. It was rare for an Englishwoman to fire a weapon in combat during World War One. Numerous people at the time commented on the inappropriateness of women in combat. The ideal woman was nurturing and pacifistic. This ideal was summed up in an immensely popular pamphlet allegedly written by A Little Mother (1916) which sold 75,000 copies in less than a week. According to this pamphlet, women were 'created for the purpose of giving life, and men to take it'. Women's gentleness was even portrayed as being extended to the German enemy. Thus, in a book on English soldiers, called Golden Lads (1916), Arthur Gleeson contrasted the boastful accounts by male soldiers about the number of enemies they had 'potted' with the delicacy with which Englishwomen cared for wounded Germans. While sharing hardship alongside their menfolk, these women 'had no desire for retaliation, no wish to wreck their will on human life', he observed. Danger did not 'excite them to a nervous explosion where they grab for a gun and shoot the other fellow'. Or, as the feminist and pacifist, Helen Mana Lucy Swanwick, noted in 1915 - when women did seem to be supporting the war effort, this was only due to their sense of familial loyalty. To do otherwise might be seen as an insult to their menfolk.
. women's social influence and political advancement was at stake.
Culturally, there are many reasons why both conservatives (like 'A Little Mother') might join with feminists to argue that women were not warriors. For both groups, women's social influence and political advancement was at stake. The power of middle-class women as domestic and moral arbiters depended upon their separation from the sordid world of money-making and life-taking. This was a particularly important argument at this time because so many women were fighting for the right to vote. How should they respond to the argument that only those who fought for their nation (men) had a right to that ultimate gift of citizenship, suffrage? The Woman's Journal tackled this question head-on. On their first page, they published a cartoon which showed a woman holding a baby and saying 'Votes for Women'. Nearby, a heavily armed soldier declared that 'Women can't bear arms', to which a suffragist replied, 'No! Women bear armies'. In other words, women supported the war effort through motherhood, and were thus worthy of the vote.
The Athenian opens the dialogue by asking Kleinias and Megillus whether god or some man is responsible for their laws, and they answer that, for each of them, it is a god (Zeus for the Cretans and Apollo for the Spartans).  God is thus presented from the very start of the dialogue as the appropriate source of law and human institutions. This notion of god as the lawgiver or ruler for a city returns in Book 4, when the three are considering what sort of constitution to give to their new city: there, the Athenian claims that the best ruler for a city to have is god, and that they ought to imitate the rule of god by ordering their society in obedience to the immortal element within themselves, namely reason, which here will have the name of law (Laws 714A see also Laws 762E, where service to the laws is said to be service to the gods). God is also presented in the Laws as the appropriate model for a human life. In the address to the new settlers, they are told that they ought to become like god, and that to do this is to become virtuous in fact, the Athenian claims that god is the measure of human affairs, where this means that god, by possessing the virtues, embodies the standard to which we should aim (Laws 716C&ndashD).  It is also worth noting that the early books of the Laws often present a fairly traditional theology: we&rsquore encouraged to pray to the gods, the gods are presented as having the power to intervene in human affairs, and the Athenian happily uses the names of the Olympian gods (see e.g. Laws 717A, 828B&ndashD).
Book 10 takes up the existence and nature of the god(s) as its main theme, and it is here that we get the most sophisticated theology the Laws has to offer. The bulk of the book is presented as the prelude to impiety laws, and consists in an argument against three beliefs which are the characteristic causes of impiety: (1) that the gods do not exist (2) that the gods are not concerned with human beings and (3) that the gods can be influenced by prayers and sacrifices.
The Athenian begins by addressing those who believe that the gods do not exist. He attributes to these people the view that it is material substances which exist by nature and which are the causes of the motions we see in the cosmos, and says that what they&rsquove failed to understand is the nature and power of soul &ndash that is, the fact that soul is &ldquoamong the first things&rdquo and older than bodies, and that &ldquoit more than anything governs their changes and all of their transformations&rdquo (Laws 892A2&ndash7).  He begins by arguing that soul, which he here defines in terms of self-motion, must be the source of all other motions, as none of them have the capacity to move themselves. Soul is not simply the original source of all motion, however the Athenian also claims that it governs the motion of all bodies which are in motion by using its own characteristic motions (e.g., wishing and believing) to take over the secondary motions of bodies.  As soul governs the motion of bodies in general, it must govern the motions of the heavens in particular (896E) and as those motions are orderly, they must be governed by a good soul possessing reason rather than a bad soul (897B&ndash898C). The Athenian then says that such a soul &ndash one possessing reason and governing the orderly motions of the heavens &ndash ought to be regarded as a god (899A&ndashB). This concludes the argument with someone who thinks that the gods do not exist. The Athenian then turns to argue that god (or, the gods) care for human beings and cannot be bribed. These arguments crucially appeal to a characterization of god as a craftsman and a ruler: god would be a poor craftsman indeed if he did not attend to even the small parts of the whole (i.e., human beings), and a bad ruler if he could be bribed with prayers and sacrifices. 
These arguments raise a number of questions:
The Athenian goes back and forth, in the entire text of the Laws, between speaking of &lsquogod&rsquo and &lsquothe gods&rsquo. How many gods are there, and, if more than one, is there one which is somehow supreme? 
What is the nature of a god? Plato&rsquos argument demonstrates that there are gods by identifying a certain sort of soul &ndash one that possesses reason and governs the heavens &ndash as a god. Are all gods like this, or can there be a god without soul? Plato also claims that soul is &ldquoamong the first things to have come into being&rdquo (892C4). Do some or all gods come into being, or is there a god who has always existed? 
Soul is said to be the cause of all motions and, thus, &ldquoof good things and bad&rdquo (896D6), and Plato suggests the hypothesis of an evil soul precisely to explain bad things (896E). On the other hand, Plato elsewhere explains the existence of evil in other terms  and soul and especially god are deeply linked to reason and good order in this discussion. Is a cosmic soul (either good or bad) responsible for evil in the Laws, or is there some other cause of evil? 
How do cosmic souls govern the motions of the celestial bodies? Is it by being within them, by acting on them by means of some external matter, or in some other way? 
Finally, how does the theology of the Laws relate to the theology of other late dialogues such as the Timaeus, Philebus, and Statesman? 
What is clear from the theological discussion in Book 10, however, is that god is something which governs the cosmos, by using reason, in a way that aims at its best state. This adds richness to the idea that god and god&rsquos rule provides a standard for law and for individual human lives: just as god governs the cosmos, so too law governs a society and reason an individual, in all cases for the sake of their best state. 
Low blood magnesium Magnesium - low Hypomagnesemia
Pfennig CL, Slovis CM. Electrolyte disorders. In: Hockberger RS, Walls RM, Gausche-Hill M, eds. Rosen's Emergency Medicine: Concepts and Clinical Practice. 9th ed. Philadelphia, PA: Elsevier Saunders 2018:chap 117.
Smogorzewski MJ, Stubbs JR, Yu ASL. Disorders of calcium, magnesium, and phosphate balance. In: Skorecki K, Chertow GM, Marsden PA, Taal MW, Yu ASL, eds. Brenner and Rector's The Kidney. 10th ed. Philadelphia, PA: Elsevier 2016:chap 19.