Solar eclipses are remarkable natural phenomenons that reliably send humanity’s gaze skyward. The upcoming solar eclipse is particularly exciting, with the phrase “100 years” getting thrown around a lot. It’s not because this is the first solar eclipse to happen in 100 years—far from it. But it is the first solar eclipse in nearly 100 years to cross over the width of the United States, making it possible for millions to witness totality from within the arching pathway. The last time that happened, it was June 1918.

Traveling to the path of totality was just as expected then as it is now—and automobiles have definitely been in use for a while these days.

With any luck, good weather will allow clear observation of this century’s sequel to 1918’s eclipse, with all its similarities and differences.

Safe travels to those making their way to the path of totality! Find more on the 1918 eclipse and reactions to it with a search on Newspapers.com.

Ah, romance. Methods of flirting sure have changed over the years, haven’t they? With the introduction of the internet, dating has become so impersonal, so informal. Just a glance at a face and a flick of the finger. So different from the way it used to be.

But perhaps not so different as it seems.

A mention of the 1920s brings with it visions of sparkling flapper dresses, ornate decor, city living, and some sweet jazzy tunes to dance to. Dating apps were a feature of the distant future, but in 1920s Berlin, the concept of dating from a distance was alive and well in the form of telephones and pneumatic tubes.

Two nightclubs in particular provided these handy services: The Resi and the Femina.

For the bold, there were the telephones—simply dial up the lady or lad who catches your eye and ask them to dance. For those more timid attendees, there were the tubes. Pencil down a message of admiration or wrap up a little gift, send it rocketing through the conveniently located tube to the table of your choice, and wait to see if they receive it well.

Sounds pretty familiar after all, doesn’t it?

Find more on these nightclubs and dating practices of the past with a search on Newspapers.com.

On this day in history, the discovery of Marilyn Monroe’s unexpected death spread across headlines.

Though speculations and theories about her death spread like wildfire, the official cause of death was reported as a self-administered overdose of sedative drugs.

But before this sobering end of life there was a glittering and memorable career that—whether you care for her acting or not—turned Norma Jeane Mortenson (Baker) into a cultural icon whose memory and influence has yet to fade even 55 years later.

Find more on Marilyn with a search on Newspapers.com.

100 years later and some things never change…even if everything changes around you.

From The Chatham Press, Chatham, New Jersey, July 1918:

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Turns out, the term “Smart Alec” almost certainly exists because of a real life man named Alec Hoag. He was a crafty criminal who was a little too clever for his own good.

His usual method of thievery is described in the clipping above, but the “smart” part of Alec’s con was that he got the police in on it too, bribing them with shares of the stolen goods if they looked the other way. Of course, working out a way to cut the police out of their shares was probably not so smart, but that’s exactly what Alec did. The police eventually figured it out, and thus came the downfall of the original Smart Alec.

Find more like this with a search on Newspapers.com.

How many times have curious drivers caused traffic by stopping or slowing down to stare at something on the side of the road? Of course, the solution used in the circumstance below probably wouldn’t go over very well these days.

From Pennsylvania’s The Evening News, August 1930:

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On July 4, 1776, the founding fathers scratched their names onto parchment (and into history) as they signed the Declaration of Independence. Fifty years later, on a day of fireworks and celebration of the anniversary of that historic day, both Thomas Jefferson and John Adams took their final breaths.

Jefferson took the lead, reportedly happy to go once he had seen the morning of the 4th.

Adams succumbed about five hours later, unaware that Jefferson had preceded him in death.

Adams and Jefferson were the last living members of the original group of revolutionaries who fought for freedom from the British Empire. As death dates go, this seems a fitting one for two of the men who drafted the declaration which the United States celebrates every year on this day.

Find more on the lives and deaths of Thomas Jefferson and John Adams with a search on Newspapers.com, or seek out clippings on a topic of your choice with a search of interest to you.

Today we take a look at the frustrating and jaw-dropping history of the “Radium Girls.”

If you’ve never heard of this particular incident before, the “Radium Girls” were factory workers who had the joy of unknowingly contracting radiation poisoning while doing the seemingly innocuous task of painting watch dials. This work was done in three United States factories—one in New Jersey, one in Illinois, and one in Connecticut—who used radium in their paint to make it self-luminous, and all the while the women were led to believe the paint was harmless.

They were paid per dial so time was of the essence, and the quickest way to get those paintbrushes pointed enough to paint such fine lines was by shaping the tip with one’s lips—a method encouraged by the instructors to avoid wasting excess time with other methods such as wet rags or a rinse in water.

It’s not known exactly how many women were affected by the radiation poisoning that soon spread through their systems, but as the death toll began to rise the connection between the radium paints and the deaths became more and more clear. Meanwhile, factories like the U.S. Radium Corporation maintained that the girls had died from unrelated causes. They insisted that the amount of radium used in the paint was so small as to be harmless, which was true—for the finished watches. Not so for the factory girls exposed to the dangerous substance day after day, stroke after stroke.

In New Jersey, five women who worked at the United States Radium Corporation sued the company for the health problems—and, quite bluntly, the certain death—that they would suffer because of the factory’s negligence. These five were called the “Radium Girls” in the news stories that sprung up over the next several decades.

They eventually won, though the money was often used to pay for their funerals. The last of the five women died two years after their case was settled.

Some good did manage to come from the horrific and avoidable fates of these women. Laws regarding compensation for disease or injury from occupational hazards were improved, and the window of time in which an employee could collect such compensation was extended. The nation’s understanding of the dangers of radium increased exponentially, and within a decade new precautions had been put in place to avoid a slow-building disaster like this one from ever happening again—at least, not from radium.

Find more on this oft-untold piece of history with a search on Newspapers.com.

On this day in 1948, the first U.S. and British pilots fly to Berlin bearing food, medicine, water, clothing and fuel in response to the Soviet Union blockade of the western section of the city.

Known as the Berlin Airlift, the operation brought around 2500 tons of supplies daily and continued to do so for four months after the blockade was lifted in May 1949.

Find more on this event in history with a search on Newspapers.com.

Don’t have a library? Never fear—the library will come to you. Such was the thought in eastern Kentucky, 1935, when the Pack Horse Library initiative began.

The job was no walk in the park. The lack of library access was often due to how remote these places were, and access to them was found through stony creeks, mud-caked footpaths, and on the skirting edges of cliffs. The librarians often had to walk on foot, leading their horse behind them, for the safety of themselves and their mounts. Library headquarters would be set up in the various counties in whatever building would offer room, and from here the librarian would stock up, travel with a pocket-full of adventures or recipes or romances, and later return to get a fresh batch to circulate.

“She” in this instance is Grace Caudill Lucas, who worked as a pack horse librarian

The Pack Horse Libraries lost their funding in 1943 and were forced to close up shop. Fortunately, bookmobiles were not far behind and took the reins—so to speak—in 1946 as a modernized version of the “horsemobile” libraries of the Great Depression. But for a decade, thousands of Kentucky residents had these brave women to thank for caring enough about literacy, education, and imagination to traverse the craggy Kentucky countryside with their bags full o’ books.

Find more on this snippet of history with a search on Newspapers.com.