The Two Plinys

Dateline:  Early morning, August 24, 79 AD, Misenum, Italy.  Roman Naval Commander, Pliny the Elder, discusses the days affairs with his nephew, the Roman poet and administrator, Pliny the Younger.  Let’s listen in.

Pliny the Younger: “Uncle.  I miss the old August when it was called ‘Sextilis’”.

Pliny the Elder: “Now, Nephew.  Show some respect for Augustus Caesar who renamed Sextilis.  You just want to say a name which sounds like a dirty word.”

The Younger: “Those Roman rulers are sure full of themselves.”

The Elder: “Be careful, Nephew.  Remember that those powerful rulers made me Naval Commander and you Administrator.  Who do you think pays for all those in vogue tunics you wear each weekend while partying across the bay in Pompeii?”

The Younger: “Speaking of Pompeii, look at that large, dark cloud rising over Mount Vesuvius.  Could that be a volcanic eruption?”

The Elder: “I doubt it.  We had no foreshadowing of such events.  Mother Nature would send us a signal before the volcano erupts.”

The Younger: “What about the constant earthquakes over the last four days?”

The Elder: “Boy, those were strange.  But only if we had some warning about Mount Vesuvius.”

The two Plinys watched as the ash cloud rose 98,000 feet from Mount Vesuvius over Pompeii.  Even Naval Commander Pliny could no longer deny what they were witnessing.  Pliny the Elder ordered his ships to prepare for a rescue mission across the Bay of Naples to assist with evacuation of Pompeii by sea.

As he neared the coast, Pliny the Elder was met met with a thick shower of ash, hot cinders, lumps of pumice, and pieces of rock falling from the sky.  In response to the helmsman’s advice to turn back, Pliny the Elder declared: “Fortune favors the brave!”  The ships were lost to fire falling the sky; Pliny the Elder suddenly died from either a heart attack or stroke; and his crew escaped on land walking along the coast to safety.

We know of these events because of the eyewitness accounts and stories in letters Pliny the Younger penned to Roman historian Tacitus.  Pliny the Younger noted the initial massive explosion and ash cloud with flaming fallout on Pompeii and surrounding areas.  While lives certainly were lost then, the remaining residents of Pompeii could still seek to escape the area by sea or by foot even with one to two-inch superheated pieces of pumice raining down.

It was not until early the next morning, August 25, that pyroclastic surges spewed forth from Vesuvius.  These rapid moving, dense and exceedingly hot masses destroyed all in their paths from the volcano to the sea.  When the 570 degree F molten rock cooled, Pompeii had been leveled with a new coastline along the bay.  Anything left in Pompeii, whether people or property, was lost in the pyroclastic surges.

I had been under the mistaken impression that the volcanic eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 AD presented as a sudden and cataclysmic event.  I recall photographs of ash covered and preserved victims discovered millennia later in everyday life scenes as if instantaneously struck by the volcanic eruption.  Yet, those in Pompeii experienced four straight days of increasingly stronger earthquakes before the explosion on August 24.  No precautions were taken.  The toxic ash cloud reached almost 100,000 feet with flaming embers and rocks then instantly falling on Pompeii.  Still no full scale evacuation.  By the next morning, many people inexplicably remained in Pompeii.

I understand that modern technological advances were not available in 79 AD.  There were no municipal early warning systems.  Jim Cantore was not available to report from the side of the volcano.  Nonetheless, between the four days of earthquakes and ash explosion, all had notice to get out of Dodge as quickly as possible.  Some, of course, had no alternative but to stay.  Perhaps they cared for elderly or infirmed who could not be moved.  Perhaps they were the First Century version of first responders.  Perhaps their masters prevented them from fleeing.  These people were among the more than 1,000 lost in Pompeii alone.

Mount Vesuvius stands as the only active volcano on the European mainland.  Certainly, eruptions over the past few millennia taught us lessons about the consequences of placing population centers near an active volcano.  As for Pompeii and the surrounding areas, 600,000 currently live in the defined danger zone of Mount Vesuvius and an additional 3,000,000 reside in the range of those who may be significantly affected by an eruption.  Mount Vesuvius is the most densely populated volcanic region in the world.  Even Jim Cantore and the Weather Channel may not be able to save those guys.

Arrrgh!  ’Tis Pirate Radio My Friend!

England.  1964.  Rock-N-Roll is a teenager growing from the Do-Wopp ’50s bands to Elvis, and now to England’s own Beatles.  Beatle-mania is sweeping through Europe and heading toward the United States.  Yet, you can almost never hear a song from the Beatles on the radio in England.  The BBC holds a monopoly on the British airwaves, and, due to their longstanding agreements, will only play recordings of artists for a few hours a week (and at very odd hours).  Do not worry, the BBC can, and does, use its own orchestra to play renditions of Beatles songs.  Oh, boy!

Enter Radio Caroline.  Ronan O’Rahilly secures an ocean trawler, outfits it with studio equipment for a radio station, and adds a 100 foot high transmission tower.  O’Rahilly anchors the vessel three miles off the coast of England in international waters and blasts Rock-N-Roll.  The DJs live aboard for two or three weeks at a time and appear as early forms of some crazy radio crew with different, outlandish personalities and cult-like followings.  Being in international waters, no radio license is required.  Hence, Radio Caroline is considered Pirate Radio.

Radio Caroline is an instant hit.  In fact, it is so successful that two boats are deployed with the Caroline North and Caroline South.  Full radio coverage for England!  Let the Beatles, Stones and all their friends rock on.  Other ships from different companies join the mix and soon the BBC is challenged by the Carolines, Radio London, Radio 270, and Radio Scotland.  Being operated by DJs and musician types, keeping a radio station afloat while on the high seas was not always easy.  In one instance, the Caroline North lost power for half a day when someone plugged in a toaster which was one too many amps for the electrical system.   

Radio Caroline had no problem attracting advertisers as their audiences, while not official, numbered in the millions.  The Pirate Radio stations also saved substantial sums as they played music royalty-free in international waters.  Instead of outrage in not receiving royalties, record companies and rock artists themselves sent their works directly to the Pirate Radio stations and requested that their songs be added to the playlists.  In fact, a number of record companies offered additional “encouragement” to have their artists’ music played on air.  The blatant bribery practice became known as “Payola”.  Many artists saw it as a badge of honor to support Radio Caroline as no support was forthcoming from the BBC.  These artists made cameo appearances on the Carolines.

The stodgy BBC could not help but take notice of the upstart Pirate Radio stations.  Yet, the BBC made no changes in their own programming or approach until 1967.  The BBC played the “If you can’t beat ‘em, destroy ‘em” card in 1967.  The BBC lobbied Parliament alleging that Pirate Radio stations posed a threat to shipping interests.  The Pirate Radio signals might interfere with emergency shipping radio frequencies.  Ah, the good old BBC worried about the safety and well-being of shipping so much that it lobbied for new maritime laws.  That sounds right for the business of the BBC.

In addition, the BBC argued on behalf of the Rock-N-Roll artists, the very same artists the BBC refused to play on its stations, claiming it unfair that these artists did not receive royalties.  As noted, these artists and their record companies voluntarily sent their music to the Pirate Radio stations and enticed the stations to play the music.  It appears that this newfound “moral outrage” for the benefit of others drove the BBC.

Parliament passed the Marine Broadcasting Offenses Act in 1967 making it a crime to broadcast radio signals into England which could possibly interfere with emergency shipping frequencies.  The penalty for any broadcaster, including the DJs themselves, was 400 Pounds and two years in jail.  The Act would take effect on August 15, 1967.  In response, Radio London, Radio 270, and Radio Scotland ceased broadcasting on August 14, 1967.  Place those stations in the “beat ’em” category.  At the stroke of Midnight, Radio Caroline proudly announced that the Carolines remained on the air and continued with Rock-N-Roll songs.  For a number of months, Radio Caroline continued with no enforcement action against the owners or the DJs.  Radio Caroline, the sole remaining Pirate Radio station, became more popular than ever.

Within the next year, the BBC then played its “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” card.  BBC launched its own full time Rock-N-Roll channel.  The BBC reached out for the Pirate Radio DJs and offered substantial pay for a job with no legal risk and not having to live of a ship for weeks at a time.  Many DJs left for the BBC.  At that point, O’Rahilly could have declared victory, claimed that he forced the BBC to change formats, and folded up his operation with a nice profit.  Unfortunately, O’Rahilly refused to let go and watched as he lost his DJs, and then lost sponsor after sponsor as the audience continued to shrink.  A few years later, the Carolines were sold off for scrap by the creditors.  An inglorious ending, but somehow fitting for a Rock-N-Roll story.

In later years, when asked how he came up with the name Caroline for his ships, O’Rahilly told the story of a photograph of a very young Caroline Kennedy playing under JFK’s desk in the Oval Office.  Caroline wore a wide smile while all the grown ups had to pause with the business of running the United States government while a child played.  That is what O’Rahilly wanted: have fun while totally disrupting the business of radio.  Perhaps Pirate Radio off the coast of England became a shipwreck of sorts, but O’Rahilly got his Caroline moment.

A Spaniard in the Far East 

August 6, 1945.  An atomic bomb explodes over Hiroshima.  August 9, 1945. A second atomic bomb explodes over Nagasaki.  These events directly lead to the end of World War II less than one month later.  While the estimates vary greatly, at least 20 million military personnel and over 40 million civilians were lost in WWII.  Japanese occupation forces in China were responsible for the deaths of 3 million soldiers and over 10 million civilians.

At Hiroshima, approximately 140,000 died with the blast of Little Boy with an additional 70,000 later passing from radiation poisoning and cancer attributed to the bomb.  For Nagasaki, the numbers are 40,000 dead due to the blast and another 40,000 later deaths from the Fat Man bomb.  I cannot imagine the moral debate which had to unfold to determine dropping nuclear weapons on civilian centers.  The bombs brought a swift end to the war, ended Japanese use of biological and chemical weapons, stopped further genocide, and avoided the planned invasion of mainland Japan with anticipated six figure fatalities.  And still, leaders needed to decide whether to obliterate civilian populations of two cities.  Humanity should never be in a position to confront such Hobson’s Choices.

There is no celebration with the anniversaries of the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.  There may be relief in what was definitely avoided.  Soldiers and their loved ones may have gratitude for the end of conflict.  There may be sadness for lives lost.  Hiroshima and Nagasaki should stand as reminders of precisely where the atrocities of WWII lead us.

This year, I was determined to find some different way to remember these events.  I discovered Pedro Arrupe.  Pedro studied medicine in his homeland of Spain where he grew up among the elite of society.  Although an excellent medical student, he left school to become a Jesuit priest, and he did complete a doctorate in Medical Ethics.

In the late 1930s, the Jesuits assigned Father Arrupe to missionary work in Hiroshima, Japan.  Arrupe did not believe that he connected with the Japanese community and he considered seeking a different post.  On December 8, 1941, the day after the Japanese struck Pearl Harbur, the authorities arrested Father Arrupe while he celebrated mass.  Father Arrupe was imprisoned and charged with being a spy (imagine that, detaining someone who does not look like you and raising suspicion just because they look different — good thing no one was ever interred here in that way!).

On Christmas Eve, while still imprisoned, the very few converts and supporters of Father Arrupe gathered outside his cell and sang Christmas carols.  This gesture to console the very person whose job it was to console others renewed Arrupe’s faith and convinced him to remain in Hiroshima after his release one month later.

Father Arrupe resided with other missionary priests just outside Hiroshima.  He recalled August 6, 1945 in the following way: “The pendulum stopped, and Hiroshima remained engraved in my mind.  It has no relation with time.  It belongs to motionless eternity.”

With Arrupe’s residence just beyond the core blast zone, but still heavily damaged, authorities told Father Arrupe and his colleagues not to enter the blast zone as there is a gas in the air that kills for another 70 years.  Father Arrupe’s response:

“It is at such times one feels most a priest, when one knows that in the city there are 50,000 bodies which, unless they are cremated, will cause a plague.  There were besides 120,000 wounded to care for.

Of course, when one is told that in the city there is a gas that kills, one must be very determined to ignore that fact and go in.  And we did.”

Father Arrupe and his seven brother Jesuit priests converted their novitiate into a makeshift trauma center.  As front line workers, they immediately recovered and treated 200 injured people and then addressed scores more thereafter.  Arrupe, with his medical training, instructed others how to provide care.  These caregivers proceeded with no concern for their own well-being.

There it is!  Humanity, sacrifice and compassion.  Even in some of the darkest moments in human history, we can discover stories confirming these traits.  Father Arrupe, with his medical training and compassion as a missionary priest, survived an atomic explosion and lead a recovery effort.  Father Arrupe, the person who despondently almost gave up his mission just a few years before, became the right person at the right time, in part, due to Christmas carols.

I have always heard that only cockroaches and lawyers could survive a nuclear blast.  That may be true, but we need to add the human spirit to the equation.