On July 28, 1828, the first-ever stage adaptation of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein was performed in London at the Royal Coburg Theatre. It was called Presumption; or, The Fate of Frankenstein, and while it didn’t exactly follow the novel, it lit the spark that turned Shelley’s gothic tale into a cultural icon.

The play came just ten years after the novel was published anonymously in 1818, and it was one of the earliest examples of a book being reworked into mass entertainment. But here’s the twist — the Creature didn’t speak a single word, and Mary Shelley’s name wasn’t mentioned anywhere. It was promoted as a chilling morality tale, not a piece of high literature.

Despite being stripped down, the stage version worked. Audiences were obsessed. The actor T.P. Cooke, who played the Creature, wore pale makeup and exaggerated movements — a look that shaped how Frankenstein’s monster would appear on stage and screen for the next 200 years. Shelley herself even saw the play and reportedly enjoyed it, even if it wasn’t faithful to her original vision.

This was the moment Frankenstein stopped being just a book and became a myth — something that could evolve, shift, and live on in other forms. It was the start of Frankenstein as pop culture, decades before Boris Karloff or Hollywood ever got involved.

On July 28, 1945, a B-25 bomber flying in heavy fog slammed into the Empire State Building at the 79th floor, killing 14 people and tearing a massive hole in one of the world’s tallest buildings. It happened on a quiet Saturday morning — just a few weeks before the end of World War II — and it remains one of the most surreal accidents in New York history.

The pilot, Lt. Col. William Franklin Smith Jr., had been trying to land at nearby LaGuardia Airport. He got lost in the thick fog, dropped too low over Manhattan, and clipped the skyscraper at full speed. One engine shot through the building and landed on a nearby rooftop. Another plummeted down an elevator shaft, sparking a fire that burned for hours.

Miraculously, the building held. The Empire State’s steel frame absorbed the hit, and only a few floors were structurally damaged. One elevator operator, Betty Lou Oliver, survived a 75-story fall when her elevator cables snapped — a world record for the longest survived elevator drop.

In the chaos, no one panicked about terrorism or sabotage — this was wartime, and people were used to danger. But the crash shook the city. It proved that even the most unshakable icons weren’t untouchable. And yet, just two days later, the Empire State Building reopened — as if to say, New York doesn’t stop.

Washington’s Hemp Farm🍃
George Washington cultivated hemp at his Mount Vernon estate throughout the late 1700s. He grew it primarily for industrial purposes, including making rope, nets, and canvas sails. Hemp was a common cash crop in early America, and Washington even noted its value in his personal diaries. At the time, the psychoactive variety of cannabis wasn’t commonly grown in the colonies.

Radium Makeup💄
In the early 20th century, cosmetics laced with radium were sold as luxury beauty enhancers that promised to rejuvenate the skin. Products like “Tho-Radia” creams and powders claimed to energize your face with radioactivity. Initially, glowing skin was seen as a sign of health—until women began developing radiation poisoning, including bone loss and disintegrating jaws. These products were marketed aggressively despite mounting medical warnings. They were finally banned after widespread public outcry and lawsuits.

Dead Soldier Dentures🦷
In the 18th and 19th centuries, upper-class Europeans often wore dentures made from real human teeth, known as “Waterloo teeth.” These were sourced from the dead—especially young soldiers killed in battle, whose teeth were still strong and white. After major conflicts like Waterloo, tooth traders would scavenge the fields, pulling teeth and selling them to dental supply houses. The teeth were then filed down, fitted to ivory bases, and sold to the wealthy. No one talked much about where the teeth came from.

Londons Beer Flood🍺
In 1814, a massive vat of porter beer at the Meux & Company Brewery in London ruptured without warning. It triggered a chain reaction, breaking nearby vats and releasing over 300,000 gallons of beer into the surrounding slums of St. Giles. The flood destroyed homes, collapsed walls, and drowned eight people, including a young girl at a wake. Locals reportedly scooped up beer with pots and pans in the aftermath. The incident led to tighter industrial safety regulations—but it remained a bizarre tragedy.

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