The names and faces of men like Thomas Edison and Theodore Roosevelt are familiar to us. Perhaps we’ve seen grainy silent video clips of them moving about. We can read their biographies and learn about their achievements and sometimes even famous speeches.
Few of us know what their voices actually sounded like. Does that matter? Absolutely! The voice matters at least as much as the words. It shapes how we feel about the message.
At his inauguration, President John F. Kennedy made a famous plea to the American people: “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country.”
When those who remember or have studied Kennedy read these words, they recall how he looked and sounded, as he said them. Imagine the same words being uttered in a comical way or with a very timid voice. They would have been soon forgotten.
The ghost of San Francisco circa 1900 may haunt some of the narrow alleys of Chinatown. You might sense its presence in the Ferry Building, completed in 1898, and one of the very few large buildings to survive the earthquake in 1906.
But by and large, the city is a modern one that breathes more vitality than nostalgic sighs. To find the past, you must sit quietly, calm your heart and breathing, and drain your mind of all thoughts.
At age 33, a photographer named Willard Worden moved to San Francisco.
Through his lens, we catch a glimpse of the beautiful city that once existed, was destroyed in the earthquake, and rose from the ashes like a phoenix to rebuild itself.
Leon Frank Czolgosz (pronounced show-gotz) was born in Michigan in 1873, to a large, poverty-stricken family. He went to work at the age of 10, and eventually landed a job with good wages at the American Steel and Wire Company, a wire mill in Cleveland, Ohio. Comparatively little is known of him. He was a reliable worker, but he witnessed scenes between striking workers and authorities which affected his mind. A mental breakdown occurred in 1898 which caused him to move home. By that time, he had developed a strong interest in anarchy.
Czolgosz believed American society, presumably represented by U.S. president William McKinley, enabled a handful of rich men to exploit the masses.
McKinley was reelected in 1900, and was scheduled to spend two days at the Pan-Am Exposition in Buffalo, New York. The president’s security team seemed to sense something sinister, and tried to dissuade McKinley from going to Buffalo. When that failed, the President’s secretary George Cortelyou twice removed a visit to the Temple of Music from McKinley’s agenda. In a series of decisions eerily similar to those made by another U.S. president some 60 years later, McKinley ignored his security team’s fears and requested the visit to the Temple of Music be added back to his schedule.