History Unplugged Podcast Parthenon

In 1850, an impoverished twenty-five-year-old named Fredericka Mandelbaum came to New York in steerage and worked as a peddler on the streets of Lower Manhattan. By the 1870s she was a fixture of high society and an admired philanthropist. How was she able to ascend from tenement poverty to vast wealth?

In the intervening years, “Marm” Mandelbaum had become the country’s most notorious “fence”—a receiver of stolen goods—and a criminal mastermind. By the mid-1880s as much as $10 million worth of purloined luxury goods (nearly $300 million today) had passed through her Lower East Side shop. Called “the nucleus and center of the whole organization of crime,” she planned robberies of cash, gold and diamonds throughout the country.

But Mandelbaum wasn’t just a successful crook: She was a business visionary—one of the first entrepreneurs in America to systemize the scattershot enterprise of property crime. Handpicking a cadre of the finest bank robbers, housebreakers and shoplifters, she handled logistics and organized supply chains—turning theft into a viable, scalable business.

To discuss this story is today’s guest, Margalit Fox, author of The Talented Mrs. Mandelbaum. We look at a colorful fixture of Gilded Age New York—a city teeming with nefarious rogues, capitalist power brokers and Tammany Hall bigwigs, all straddling the line between underworld enterprise and “legitimate” commerce.

Beneath the trench warfare of World War One existed an entirely separate war underground: battles in the mines and dugouts between the Great Powers. In 1914–17, the underground war was a product of static trench warfare, essential to survive it and part of both sides' attempts to overcome it.

In the stagnant, troglodyte existence of trench warfare, military mining was a hidden world of heroism and terror in which hours of suspenseful listening were spent monitoring the steady picking of unseen opponents, edging quietly towards the enemy, and judging when to fire a charge. Break-ins to enemy mine galleries resulted in hand-to-hand fighting in the darkness.  

We are joined by Simon Jones to discuss the ingenuity, claustrophobia and tactical importance of the underground war. He is the author of “The War Underground, 1914-1918: Tactics and Equipment.”

In the months leading up to D-Day, Eisenhower’s attention was in relentless demand, whether he was negotiating, rallying troops, or solving crises from his headquarters in Bushy Park, London. He projected optimism outwardly but resisted it inwardly. The day of the invasion, he gave the most rousing speech of his life, exhorting the tens of thousands of young men of the “Great Crusade” ahead of them. Then in a fleeting moment of quiet, he wrote out a draft of a resignation letter in case the invasion failed.

Outwardly, Eisenhower was a genial cypher. He was liked by all and seemed to make success inevitable. Inwardly, he was near constantly abuzz with brilliance, exhaustion, will, frustration, and the acute awareness that failure was always a possibility. The D-Day landing  sees him at this unique, extraordinarily consequential moment, for D-Day would not only go down as one of the most important military successes in history but would also forge a modern George Washington.

To explore this story, we are joined with today’s guest, Michel Paradis, author of “The Light of Battle.” We see how Ike masterminded D-Day, wielding his unique leadership skills to save Europe and shape the course of history.

On August 20, 1942, twelve Marine dive-bombers and nineteen Marine fighters landed at Guadalcanal. Their mission: defeat the Japanese navy and prevent it from sending more men and supplies to "Starvation Island," as Guadalcanal was nicknamed. The Japanese were turning the remote, jungle-covered mountain in the south Solomon Islands into an air base from which they could attack the supply lines between the U.S. and Australia. The night after the Marines landed and captured the partially completed airfield, the Imperial Navy launched a surprise night attack on the Allied fleet offshore, resulting in the worst defeat the U.S. Navy suffered in the 20th century, which prompted the abandonment of the Marines on Guadalcanal.

The Marines dug in, and waited for help, as those thirty-one pilots and twelve gunners flew against the Japanese, shooting down eighty-three planes in less than two months, while the dive bombers, carried out over thirty attacks on the Japanese fleet. The attacks were led by such figures as Major John L. Smith, a magnetic leader who became America’s top fighter ace for the time; Captain Marion Carl, the Marine Corps’ first ace, and one of the few survivors of his squadron at the Battle of Midway (he would be shot down and forced to make his way back to base through twenty-five miles of Japanese-held jungle; and Major Richard Mangrum, the lawyer-turned-dive-bomber commander whose inexperienced men wrought havoc on the Japanese Navy.

To discuss these stories is today’s guest, John Bruning, author of Fifty-Three Days on Starvation Island.

When global supply chains were shut down in 2020 and messily rebooted after COVID lockdowns ceased, one island nation emerged as the most important player in getting critical components to factories around the world. That was Taiwan, which produces 90 percent of the world’s advanced semiconductors. Without this island nation of 23 million, there are no smart phones, new cars, or any advanced consumer electronics.

Things were no less dull on the foreign policy side, as US-Chinese relations deteriorated. When Nancy Pelosi declared her intent to visit Taiwan in 2022, it sparked frenzied discussions across the United States, China, and Taiwan—a discourse that was characterized by amnesia and half-truths about the history of this pivotal island nation. Today, as relations between Washington and Beijing deteriorate and as tensions over Taiwan reach a boiling point, its survival as an independent democracy is precarious indeed. Any attempt to resolve the impasse and avert a devastating war demands that we understand how it all began.
 
To explore Taiwan’s modern history is toda’s guest Sulmaan Wasif Khan, author of “The Struggle for Taiwan: A History of America, China, and the Island Caught Between.’ The story begins in 1943, when the Allies declared that Japanese-held Taiwan would return to China at the conclusion of World War II. When the Communist Party came to power in China, the defeated Nationalist leader, Chiang Kai-shek, fled to Taiwan, where he was afforded US protection despite establishing a brutal police state. From the White Terror to the Taiwan Straits Crises, from the normalization of Sino-American relations to the tensions of the Trump-era, we look at the tortuous paths that led to our present predicament. War is not inevitable, Khan shows, but to avoid it, decision-makers must heed the lessons of the past.

Today, the words “federalism” and “originalism” are bandied about in the news almost daily, but to get at the underpinnings of these modern interpretations of constitutional law, it is essential to look at how the Constitution was being interpreted and applied during the crucial period of 1815-1861, between the end of the War of 1812 and the beginning of the Civil War.

Early nineteenth-century Americans found themselves consumed by arguments about concurrent power—the areas in which the Constitution had left the line between federal and state authority unclear. The scope of specific concurrent powers became increasingly important, and controversial, in the early nineteenth century. In 1815, the most pressing political and legal issues increasingly concerned situations in which multiple layers of governmental power overlapped—and the Constitution provided no clear delineation. Moreover, the choice of which level of government regulated each subject had dramatic consequences for the policy that resulted.

To explore this topic is today’s guest, Alison LaCroix, author of “The Interbellum Constitution: Union, Commerce, and Slavery in the Age of Federalisms.” We see just how deeply these constitutional questions dominated the discourse of the time.