On November 13, 1839, the curtain fell on one of England’s most brutal and long-standing “traditions” — the Stamford Bull Run. For more than 600 years, residents of Stamford, Lincolnshire had chased a bull through the town’s cobbled streets every November, a practice said to have begun under the reign of King John in the early 1200s. Shops would close, windows were boarded up, and thousands gathered to watch the spectacle. The event began with a bull being released from the Bull Meadow, then goaded and chased by a roaring crowd through the marketplace. It was equal parts festival and frenzy — but by the 1800s, the nation’s tolerance for blood sports was running out.

In 1839, animal welfare reformers had finally had enough. The newly formed Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (RSPCA) had been campaigning hard to shut down the event, arguing that it was barbaric and out of step with modern values. When locals tried to stage the bull run anyway, a troop of soldiers was sent in to stop it, an unprecedented move for such a small town. Despite the crowd’s protests and a few violent scuffles, the military intervention worked. For the first time, the bull was saved — and the centuries-old event officially ended.

Many locals were furious. They argued that the bull run wasn’t cruelty but heritage — a community celebration tied to identity and pride. The town even petitioned to bring it back, claiming outsiders had no right to interfere with their traditions. But the tide had turned. England was entering the Victorian era of reform, and Stamford’s bull run became one of the first major casualties in the nation’s growing movement against animal cruelty.

Interestingly, echoes of the old bull run live on today. A few local pubs and streets in Stamford still bear bull-themed names, and old paintings depict the chaotic scene that once filled the market square. What was once viewed as harmless entertainment is now seen as an example of how cultural values evolve. The end of the Stamford Bull Run on November 13, 1839, wasn’t just the death of a custom — it was a landmark moment in Britain’s moral and social progress.

On November 13, 1974, the quiet neighborhood of Amityville, Long Island, became the scene of one of America’s most infamous crimes. In the early hours of the morning, 23-year-old Ronald “Butch” DeFeo Jr. used a .35 caliber Marlin rifle to murder his parents and four siblings as they slept in their beds. What puzzled investigators was the eerie calm of the crime scene — all six victims were found lying face down, seemingly undisturbed, and no one in the neighborhood reported hearing gunshots. DeFeo claimed mysterious voices drove him to kill, setting off decades of speculation about whether something supernatural lurked in the house at 112 Ocean Avenue.

The details of the murders shocked even hardened detectives. Each family member had been shot at close range, and DeFeo went about his day afterward as if nothing had happened — even going to work the next morning. Later that day, he burst into a local bar yelling that his family had been murdered, leading police straight to the scene of his own crime. During his 1975 trial, DeFeo’s lawyers argued insanity, but the jury wasn’t convinced. He was convicted of six counts of second-degree murder and sentenced to six consecutive life terms, dying in prison in 2021.

The story might have faded into history if not for what came next. In December 1975, George and Kathy Lutz moved into the same house with their three children — and fled just 28 days later, claiming to have experienced terrifying paranormal phenomena: slime oozing from walls, unseen voices, and demonic apparitions. Their story became The Amityville Horror, a bestselling book in 1977 and a blockbuster film in 1979. Whether fact or fabrication, it forever tied the DeFeo murders to one of pop culture’s most enduring ghost stories.

Fun fact: the real house still stands today, though its windows have been replaced and the address changed to discourage tourists. Yet fans still drive by, drawn to its dark legend. The Amityville Murders of 1974 remain a haunting blend of true crime and myth — a case where horror, both human and imagined, became inseparable.

Artic Vikings🥶
Viking settlers in Greenland built houses insulated with turf walls several feet thick. They raised cattle, sheep, and goats in heated byres during brutal winters. Archaeological digs reveal hunting tools for walrus ivory, their main export. Climate change likely doomed the colony, but for centuries it thrived in the Arctic.

Persian Chess♟️
The Persians transformed early Indian chess into a more strategic game, introducing professional players who performed in royal courts. Some grandmasters memorized hundreds of game patterns and held long public exhibitions. Surviving manuscripts show advanced openings and endgame theories centuries before European chess formally recorded them.

Victorian Body Thief🪦
Before medical schools had legal cadavers, “resurrectionists” stole bodies from graves. Some wore hollowed-out coats to hide corpses as they smuggled them to anatomy professors. Entire neighborhoods guarded cemeteries at night. Cities eventually installed heavy iron cages—mortsafes—over graves to stop thieves from digging up loved ones for science.

Tudor Teeth🦷
In Tudor England, sugar was so expensive only nobles ate large amounts, yet it rotted their teeth badly. Queen Elizabeth I’s teeth turned black, and commoners sometimes blackened their own to appear wealthy. Physicians even prescribed sugar as medicine, unaware it caused the dental problems they were trying to cure.

If you enjoy this edition of Today In History be sure to send it to a friend and force them to sign up because that’s what good friends do. Until next time, stay curious, question everything, and keep uncovering the mysteries of the past.