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Washington Post
5 days ago
- General
- Washington Post
‘The light filled my head': An oral history of the Hiroshima bombing
This oral history is adapted from Garrett M. Graff's book 'The Devil Reached Toward the Sky: An Oral History of the Making and Unleashing of the Atomic Bomb,' which published on Tuesday. Eighty years ago today, on Aug. 6, 1945, a B-29 bomber named the Enola Gay took off from Tinian Island, in the Northern Mariana Islands, for a mission that its flight crew knew would make history. It belonged to the 509th Composite Group, a unit that had been created and trained in secret for some nine months for the sole purpose of dropping the world's first atomic bomb. In addition to the Enola Gay, which carried the bomb itself, the mission involved several other B-29s, including the weather reconnaissance plane Straight Flush, the camera plane Necessary Evil and the Great Artiste, which carried scientific observers from Project Alberta, the forward-deployed science component of the Manhattan Project. The Enola Gay's commander and lead pilot for the mission, Col. Paul W. Tibbets, was barely 30 years old. Though Tibbets had known the secret of the Manhattan Project since its start, many of the Enola Gay crew learned the phrase 'atomic bomb' only when they gathered for the August mission itself. This oral history is based on archives and books from three continents and more than 100 first-hand memoirs, as well as government reports, testimonies, speeches and memories from reunions of the 509th Composite Group. Times aboard the plane are given in Chamorro Standard Time, the time zone of the base in the Northern Mariana Islands, while Japan Standard Time was an hour earlier. Quotes have been edited for clarity and concision. Maj. Charles W. Sweeney, co-pilot of the Great Artiste: I lit my Cuban Romeo y Julieta and settled back for the three-hour flight to the rendezvous. There was little chitchat. The crew tried to catch some shut-eye. The atmosphere on board was relaxed. Not loose, but tension-free. Relaxed in the way that any group of professionals is when its members are carrying out a job they're supremely trained to do and confident in their abilities. Col. Paul W. Tibbets, lead pilot of the Enola Gay: We were only eight minutes off the ground when Capt. William S. 'Deak' Parsons and Lt. Morris R. Jeppson lowered themselves into the bomb bay to insert a slug of uranium and the conventional explosive charge into the core of the strange-looking weapon. I wondered why we were calling it ''Little Boy.' Little Boy was 28 inches in diameter and 12 feet long. Its weight was a little more than 9,000 pounds. With its coat of dull gunmetal paint, it was an ugly monster. Lt. Morris R. Jeppson, crew member of the Enola Gay: Parsons was second-in-command of the military in the Manhattan Project. The Little Boy weapon was Parsons's design. He was greatly concerned that B-29s loaded with conventional bombs were crashing at the ends of runways on Tinian during takeoff and that such an event could cause the U-235 projectile in the gun of Little Boy to fly down the barrel and into the U-235 target. This could have caused a low-level nuclear explosion on Tinian. Tibbets: Parsons, who knew just about all there was to know about the workings of our bomb, having participated in its development, was blunt and convincing as he spoke of the risks. 'If we crack up and the plane catches fire,' he said, 'there is danger of an atomic explosion that could wipe out half of this island.' Jeppson: On his own, Parsons decided that he would go on the Hiroshima mission and that he would load the gun after the Enola Gay was well away from Tinian. Tibbets: That way, if we crashed, we would lose only the airplane and crew, himself included. Jeppson: This was done, I believe, at about 7,000 feet altitude. Tibbets: Jeppson held the flashlight while Parsons struggled with the mechanism of the bomb, inserting the explosive charge that would send one block of uranium flying into the other to set off the instant chain reaction that would create the atomic explosion. Jeppson: After returning to the cabin, I periodically monitored the circuits in the bomb. Capt. Robert A. Lewis, co-pilot of the Enola Gay: At 45 minutes out of our base, everyone is at work. Tibbets has been hard at work with the usual tasks that belong to the pilot of a B-29. Capt. Theodore 'Dutch' Van Kirk, navigator, and Sgt. Joseph S. Stiborik, radar operator, are in continuous conversation (on the interphone), as they are shooting bearings on the northern Marianas and making radar wind runs. Tibbets: In the cockpit, I found it a good time to catch some sleep. After less than an hour of fitful but useful slumber, I was back at the controls. We ascended gradually from 4,600 to 5,500 feet. Then, at 5:34 a.m., I began our climb in earnest. Twenty minutes later, we reached our new cruising altitude of 9,300 feet. Through broken clouds ahead, the island of Iwo Jima came into view. Sweeney: It was about 5:45 when we caught sight of Iwo. Lt. Jacob Beser, radar specialist aboard the Enola Gay: It was here we would rendezvous with the other two airplanes. Tibbets: In all, seven planes would be taking part in the mission. Two would accompany me, one with scientific instruments to measure the intensity of the blast and another with photographic equipment to make a pictorial record of the event. Then there would be a standby plane, which would land at Iwo Jima for use in case the bomb-carrying plane ran into mechanical trouble. [Editor's note: The three other planes scouted the weather in Hiroshima and two backup targets.] Sweeney: Rising prominently above the island was Mount Suribachi. Technical Sgt. George R. Caron and I slipped in behind Tibbets in formation on each of his wings as he circled Suribachi. As I looked to the east, I saw the sun emerging above the horizon, a huge red ball rising up from the ocean. Tibbets: As we took leave of Iwo Jima, we were slightly more than three hours away from our target. Our target? We weren't sure at this time where we were going. It would be one of three: Hiroshima, Kokura or Nagasaki. Beser: As we neared Japan, I began to detect the familiar Japanese early warning radar. Soon it was locked on us. Then another radar picked us up. At the same time, but on different frequencies that we shared with the Navy, I detected considerable activity off the coast. The U.S. 5th Fleet was in full operation that morning, and the radio chatter of the pilots made fascinating listening. Luis Alvarez, Project Alberta physicist aboard the Great Artiste: Approaching the coast, we donned flak suits and arranged flak mattresses to sit on. I decided not to wear a parachute; if we were shot down, I didn't want to be captured. Tibbets: On this stage of the flight, I was smoking my pipe with a little more intensity than usual. Lewis: After leaving Iwo Jima, we began to pick up some low strata[clouds], and before very long we were flying on top of an undercast. At 7:10, the undercast began to break up just a little, but, outside of a high thin cirrus and the low stuff, it is a very beautiful day. We are now about two hours from 'bombs away.' Capt. Theodore 'Dutch' Van Kirk, navigator aboard the Enola Gay: I could see the weather was perfect. Sweeney: The sky was crystal clear. Capt. James F. Van Pelt, navigator aboard the Great Artiste: There were a few clouds over the water, but I can't remember any day I spent in the Pacific when it was more perfect for flying than it was on Aug. 6. Van Kirk: I could see the coastline of Japan from probably a hundred miles away at that altitude. I could pick out the city of Hiroshima from 75 miles away at least. Tibbets: The next hour was one of suspense as we droned toward the enemy homeland. Without waiting for the weather word, I climbed slowly toward what was to be our bombing altitude of 30,700 feet. Beser: The decision was made, then and there on the Enola Gay, to go to Hiroshima. Tibbets: Considering the historical importance of the event, it seemed hardly fitting to announce that the world's first atomic bomb had been dropped from an unnamed B-29 bearing the number 82. The B-17 I flew in Europe and North Africa was named the Red Gremlin. Most of the planes in the 509th had been given names such as Claude Eatherly's Straight Flush, Sweeney's Great Artiste and Frederick Bock's Bockscar. My thoughts turned at this moment to my courageous red-haired mother. Her name, Enola Gay, was pleasing to the ear. It was also unique, for I had never heard of anyone else named Enola. It would be a fine name for my plane. Several of my crew members, who had become acquainted with mother on her visit to Wendover Air Force base, gave hearty approval. Sgt. Gillon T. Niceley, tail gunner aboard Straight Flush: On our trip to and from Hiroshima, we mostly listened to Tokyo Rose, discussed the mission and, I being in the tail, watched for enemy planes or anything that didn't seem natural. Tibbets: At 7:30, Parsons made some adjustments on the console that controlled the bomb's intricate circuitry. He informed us that the bomb was armed and ready. Lewis: The bomb is now alive. It is a funny feeling knowing it is right in back of you. Knock wood. Van Kirk: We went in across the island [Shokuku] across the inland sea to just west of Hiroshima where he turned on the IP — the initial point. We were supposed to drop at 9:15, so I thought, well, I'm gonna try to get as close as possible. I extended the IP a little bit to use up a little more time. Lewis: It is 8:50. Not long now, folks. Van Pelt: The Colonel turned on course for a bomb run on Hiroshima. We were all getting very tense. The minutes seemed like hours. Tibbets: Although I was sure this was our target, there were other cities in the area and I wanted my judgment corroborated. I remembered a pharmacist of my acquaintance who always required an assistant to verify the label on every bottle before mixing a prescription. 'Do you all agree that's Hiroshima?' I asked the other crewmen. They promptly concurred. Van Pelt: Finally, the Colonel opened his bomb-bay doors. We could see Hiroshima ahead and below us. It is located on the waterfront of Honshu Island with seven rivers and an old castle in the center very near our target. Tibbets: The T-shaped bridge was easy to spot. Even though there were many other bridges in this sprawling city, there was no other bridge that even slightly resembled it. Van Pelt: A bombardier could not ask for a more perfect day. Van Kirk: It's one of the easiest missions that ever flew in my life — much easier than flying over Germany, 'cause the Japanese weren't shooting at us. Tibbets: At 17 seconds after 9:14, just 60 seconds before the scheduled bomb release, he flicked a toggle switch that activated a high-pitched radio tone. This tone, ominous under the circumstances, sounded in the headphones of the men aboard our plane and the two airplanes that were with us; it was also heard by the men in the three weather planes, which were already more than 200 miles away on their return flight to Tinian. Exactly one minute after it began, the radio tone ceased, and at the same instant there was the sound of the pneumatic bomb-bay doors opening automatically. Lawrence H. Johnston, Project Alberta physicist aboard the Great Artiste: We heard the wind rushing as the bomb-bay doors on our plane opened. Beser: At precisely 08:15:15 Hiroshima time, the tone signal stopped. Tibbets: Out tumbled Little Boy, a misnamed package of explosive force infinitely more devastating than any bomb — or cluster of bombs — ever dropped before. Beser: The bomb was on its way. Tibbets: With the release of the bomb, the plane was instantly 9,000 pounds lighter. As a result, its nose leaped up sharply, and I had to act quickly to execute the most important task of the flight: putting as much distance as possible between our plane and the point at which the bomb would explode. The 155-degree diving turn to the right, with its 160-degree bank, put a great strain on the airplane and its occupants. I was flying this biggest of all bombers as if it were a fighter plane. Van Kirk: We made the turn that we had practiced many, many times in how to get away from the bomb — 155-degree turn and put the nose down, pushed the throttles forward, just run like the devil. Alvarez: The bomb took 43 seconds to drop 30,000 feet to its detonation point, our three parachute gauges drifting down above. For half that time, we were diving away in a two-G turn. Before we leveled off and flew directly away, we saw the calibration pulses that indicated our equipment was working well. Jeppson: We had been cautioned not to look back at the bomb explosion and to wear welders' goggles. The plane jerked up as usual when the heavy Little Boy was released. I counted the seconds to myself. I believe I had calculated it would take about 43 seconds to reach either the ground or the planned detonation elevation above the ground. For a second I thought, 'It didn't work; it must be a dud.' I had been told by [Project Alberta team leader] Ed Doll before the flight, 'This bomb cost $2 billion; don't lose it.' Alvarez: Suddenly, a bright flash lit the compartment. The pressure pulse registered its N-shape wave on our screens. Sweeney: The sky was bleached a bright white, brighter than the sun. I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut, but the light filled my head. Johnston: A white flash coming up through our small window made a bright disk on the ceiling of the plane that faded to orange. Tibbets: Caron, the only man aboard the plane with an immediate view of the awesome havoc we had created, tried to describe it to us. Suddenly, he saw the shock wave approaching at the speed of sound — almost 1,100 feet a second. Condensing moisture from the heated air at the leading edge of the shock wave made it quite visible, just as one sees shimmering air rising from the ground on a hot, humid day. Johnston: We felt a double jolt as the shock wave hit our plane. Tibbets: There was a startling sensation that I remember quite vividly to this day. My teeth told me, more emphatically than my eyes, of the Hiroshima explosion. At the moment of the blast, there was a tingling sensation in my mouth and the very definite taste of lead upon my tongue. This, I was told later by scientists, was the result of electrolysis — an interaction between the fillings in my teeth and the radioactive forces that were loosed by the bomb. Sweeney: My tail gunner, Pappy Dehart, began uttering gibberish over the intercom. In combat, a gunner has to report what he sees precisely, distinctly and once, and then wait for the pilot's acknowledgment. Pappy, an experienced gunner, was now running over his own words, his alarm garbling what he was saying. I tried to break in. 'Pappy, say again.' I soon realized that Pappy was trying to describe a sight no human being had ever seen. Harold Agnew, Project Alberta physicist aboard the Great Artiste: I wrote in my notebook, 'It really went off, it really did.' Sgt. Raymond Gallagher, assistant flight engineer on the Great Artiste: What all of us saw was something that I don't think we will ever see, and hope to never see, the rest of our life. Technical Sgt. George R. Caron, tail gunner on the Enola Gay: Everything was burning. I saw fires springing up in different places, like flames shooting up on a bed of coals. I was asked to count them. I said, 'Count them?' Hell, I gave up! Sweeney: Hiroshima now lay to the west, on the right side of my airplane. I looked down and saw a roiling, dirty brown cloud spreading out horizontally over the city. Out of it was emerging a vertical cloud that looked like it contained every color of the rainbow, and more. The colors were vivid — hard to describe — some I had never seen before. Tibbets: The giant purple mushroom had already risen to a height of 45,000 feet, 3 miles above our own altitude, and was still boiling upward like something terribly alive. It was a frightening sight, and even though we were several miles away, it gave the appearance of something that was about to engulf us. Sweeney: As it gained altitude, a huge white mushroom shape formed at the top. Tibbets: Even more fearsome was the sight on the ground below. At the base of the cloud, fires were springing up everywhere amid a turbulent mass of smoke that had the appearance of bubbling hot tar. Lewis: My God, what have we done? Van Kirk: All we could see at the city of Hiroshima was black smoke, dust, looked like a pot of boiling oil covering a city. We flew around in the southeast quadrant of the city to see what we could observe. Couldn't see anything because of the smoke dust. So we turned around and went home. Lewis: Even when the plane was going in the opposite direction, the flames were still terrific. The area of the town looked as though it was torn apart. I have never seen anything like it — never seen anything like it. When we turned our ship so we could observe results, there in front of our eyes was without a doubt the greatest explosion man had ever seen. We were struck dumb at the sight. It far exceeded all our expectations. Tibbets: If Dante had been with us in the plane, he would have been terrified! A feeling of shock and horror swept over all of us. Capt. William S. 'Deak' Parsons, Manhattan Project ordnance director aboard the Enola Gay: It was a terrific spectacle. The huge dust cloud covered everything. The base of the lower part of the mushroom, a mass of purplish-gray dust about three miles in diameter, was all boiling — the entire area was boiling. The purple clouds and flames were whirling around. It seemed as though the whole town got pulverized. Alvarez: After we secured our equipment, we left our cramped quarters and looked out the window for the first time over Japan. By then Sweeney was heading back toward Hiroshima, and the top of the mushroom cloud had reached our altitude. I looked in vain for the city that had been our target. The cloud seemed to be rising out of a wooded area devoid of population. I thought the bombardier had missed the city by miles — had dumped Ernest's precious bomb out in the empty countryside — and I wondered how we would ever explain such a failure to him. Sweeney shortly dispelled my doubts. The aiming had been excellent. 2nd Lt. Russell E. Gackenbach, navigator aboard Necessary Evil: There was almost complete silence on the flight deck. It was evident the city of Hiroshima was destroyed.
Al Bawaba
01-07-2025
- General
- Al Bawaba
AUB Press Hosts Charles Al Hayek at the 66th Beirut Arab International Book Fair: 'How Do We Return History to the Public?'
As part of its participation in the 66th Beirut Arab International Book Fair, AUB Press hosted a compelling discussion titled 'How Do We Return History to the Public?', featuring renowned public historian Charles Al Hayek in conversation with Dr. Bilal Orfali. The event was supported by the Sheikh Zayed Bin Sultan Al Nahyan Chair and organized in collaboration with the Center for Arts and Humanities at the American University of Beirut (AUB).Charles Al Hayek is a Lebanese historian, founder of the Heritage and Roots platform, a researcher at AUB, and the creator and host of Lebanon with a Story, a popular history program broadcast on LBCI. The event attracted a diverse audience of established historians, university students, and history Bilal Orfali opened the discussion by addressing the widespread perception of history as a 'dry' subject in schools—often disconnected from the lived experiences of the people it seeks to represent. Al Hayek expanded on this by noting that while Lebanon's history textbooks were last updated in the 1990s, these changes affected content, not pedagogical approach. The result, he argued, is a non-critical engagement with history. He also emphasized the overlooked value of oral histories—stories, poems, zajjal, and other cultural expressions—as vital sources for understanding the past.'Public history,' Al Hayek explained, 'aims to create accessible knowledge that helps people remember where they come from and better understand the present.' This approach not only informs the public about historical events but encourages critical thinking and the asking of difficult conversation then turned to the importance of individual and collective memory in enriching historical narratives. Al Hayek highlighted the need to bring an emotional dimension back into history, arguing that when emotions are present, they are often exploited to serve political ideologies. Conversely, emotionless history risks being alienating and unrelatable. A more humanized approach would highlight not only political milestones and conflicts but also the everyday lives of people living through these asked about the relationship between general and specific historical narratives, Al Hayek emphasized the power of storytelling as a tool for bridging the gap. Narration, he noted, can transform traditional archives into stories that resonate with broader audiences. However, he cautioned that storytelling can also be manipulated when used to support ideological Orfali raised the issue of how digital platforms are reshaping the way younger generations engage with history. While short-form content on social media increases accessibility and democratizes knowledge, Al Hayek warned that it also opens the door for misinformation, especially when content creators lack a background in historical research. He proposed the use of serialized content to maintain depth while retaining audience interest. The discussion concluded with a lively Q&A session, where attendees raised questions about contested historical narratives and how best to navigate them.
Khaleej Times
27-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Khaleej Times
'Police used to chase me': Seniors in UAE recount early days in book titled 'story lines'
A boy who helped run Abu Dhabi's first cinema at age 12. A civil servant who once crossed a desert road with passport control between Dubai and the capital. A man who's worked under a single UAE employer for more than 50 years. These are just a few of the voices featured in Story Lines. The new book captures the memories and milestones of 27 senior citizens and long-time residents who helped shape the UAE's early decades, long before it became the global nation it is today. Launched last week at an event by AmCham Abu Dhabi in partnership with Uhibbook Publishing, the collection is the result of a two-year community storytelling initiative aimed at combating senior isolation and preserving the nation's oral history. 'The idea began as a volunteering programme to engage retired professionals who were facing social isolation, even though many had family and friends,' said Mehnaz Anshah, co-founder of Uhibbook. The seniors from UAE, India, Jordan, the UK, and other countries shared their recollections through handwritten notes, voice recordings and in-person interviews. Volunteers, many of them youth recruited via helped collect and transcribe their narratives. 'There was no template. Some stories arrived as voice notes; others were scribbled in Arabic. It was a mosaic of formats and languages,' said Uhibbook co-founder Sadia Anwar. Among the storytellers is Dr Ahmed Al Khoori, who recalls a barefoot boyhood in Abu Dhabi in the 1950s, when fresh water was drawn from shallow wells and school involved sharing textbooks between five children. By the age of 12, he was helping run the emirate's first cinema with his uncle. By 14, he was working in what would become Adnoc. 'I used to wear shoes only during class,' he recalled. 'During break I'd take them off — the sand was softer.' He remembers helping dig wells for water and learning to shoot pigeons with an air rifle; a gift from his father. 'The police used to chase me,' he laughed, 'but they never caught me. Their guns were too heavy, and I was faster.' Encouraged by Sheikh Zayed bin Sultan Al Nahyan to prioritise education, Al Khoori went on to study in the UK, earn a doctorate, and train generations of young Emiratis as an engineer and mentor. At 75, he continues to collect artefacts and has amassed more than 10,000 items, with plans to open a private museum. For Rashad Bukhash, another featured storyteller and chairman of the UAE Architectural Heritage Society, the book is a call to preserve more than just buildings. 'Writing down our stories is very important,' said Bukhash, who began journaling his life as a schoolboy in the 1960s and has since published more than 40 books. 'It's not just about individuals, it's the story of the country, of the human being, of how far we've come.' He reminisces about playing football with neighbourhood children, collecting stamps from market trash bins, and catching hundreds of bats with istikanas and an air gun in a local abandoned house. 'I think that was a Guinness world record,' he joked. One of his most vivid memories dates back to his first visit to Abu Dhabi in 1968: 'When we reached Seih Shuaib, the border between Dubai and Abu Dhabi, there was passport control. It was Eid Al Fitr, and the journey felt endless.' Another contributor, Farooq Musba, 76, left India for Dubai in 1973 before being transferred to Abu Dhabi, where he has remained under the same company ever since. 'I've been with Abdullah Hussain & Sons for over 50 years,' said Musba. 'My children were born and raised here, and now they work here too. Abu Dhabi is my home.' Musba raised nine children in the capital, all of whom completed their studies here. 'No one has gone back to India,' he said. 'We are settled. My daughters married engineers and accountants. My boys are working in government departments and private companies. One of them even opened his own business.' Though nearing 80, he still walks to work daily. 'In summer, winter — same no problem,' he said. 'I don't feel old. If I go with the children, I still play sports. My hair is grey, but my heart is young.' The project also underscores how cultural documentation can foster intergenerational understanding. 'You read the story of the people, and on another hand, the story of the country,' said Bukhash. 'There are lessons to teach your children, your friends.' For AmCham Abu Dhabi, which helped facilitate connections and amplify the project through its Arts, Culture and Education Committee, the initiative reflects its broader mission of community cohesion. 'We are proud to support initiatives that celebrate the diverse voices that contribute to the fabric of our community,' said chair Lina El Labban Lampkin. 'The stories reflect the spirit of unity, respect and shared progress that defines Abu Dhabi.' The publication is available for purchase on Uhibbook's website for Dh250, with plans to distribute it to local bookstores and institutions in the coming months. Anwar said they've already seen interest from corporates seeking meaningful gifts and from educational and cultural institutions. 'This was a huge experiment,' Anshah concluded, 'we didn't know how to do this — no one had. But we need these voices. And we hope this is just the beginning.'
New York Times
10-06-2025
- Sport
- New York Times
Cubs players young and old keep oral history tradition of baseball alive
CHICAGO — When Craig Counsell was a fresh-faced rookie second baseman with the 1997 Florida Marlins, the veterans had a postgame routine. Win or lose, they would gravitate to the training room and talk about what just happened on the field. 'Or just bull—-ing,' Counsell said. 'But in between the chatter was talk about baseball.' Advertisement That was a team loaded with veterans, such as Darren Daulton, Bobby Bonilla and Gary Sheffield. The Marlins went on to win the World Series and Counsell famously scored the winning run in Game 7. Those BS sessions are where Counsell, now the Chicago Cubs manager, got his education about baseball. 'It's where you learn how to act, it's where you learn about the highest level of the game, it's where you learn what not to do, it's where you learn what you want to do,' Counsell said. 'You learn there's an oral history to the game and how you will be treated. … Often, how you are treated as a younger player is how you're going to treat the next generation behind you.' Twenty-eight seasons later, despite all the advancements in technology that allow us to shelter ourselves from the outside world, the oral history of the game is still being passed down in training rooms, dugouts, clubhouses and team planes. Perhaps nowhere more than with Counsell's Cubs, where the old players and young players are treating each other pretty good these days. 'I know, like, it's a little thing, but I know a flight attendant who worked one of our flights recently,' Cubs pitcher Jameson Taillon told me the other day. 'She had also worked flights for a different team and she's like, 'You guys are so much more interactive. You are all talking to each other.' I was like, 'Oh, what does the other team do?' She said the minute they get on the flight, it's headphones. No one interacts. For us, we have guys going up and down the aisle. Everyone's just moving around, talking, it's cool.' Justin Turner, Taillon and Ben Brown were recently sitting around discussing how Nolan Ryan's career spanned from the late 1960s through the early 1990s, which got them into a deeper conversation. 'We were talking about that in the locker room actually, just like how closely connected you are in baseball,' Taillon said. 'We did it with Justin Turner. You can connect him to (Hall of Fame pitcher) Robin Roberts through like five or six dudes. (Roberts) played in the '40s and '50s. That's something I hope never gets lost in baseball, just understanding the history and how closely connected we are to each other.' Advertisement Roberts pitched 19 years, starting in 1948 and finishing in 1966. It took me a few minutes to make a connection between him and Turner, and it only took three players. Roberts finished his career with the 1966 Cubs and he pitched with Fergie Jenkins, who came back to the Cubs at the end of his career and pitched in 1983 in front of a second baseman named Ryne Sandberg, who finished his Cubs career in 1997, when a 26-year-old pitcher named Miguel Batista appeared in 11 games (getting tagged with an 0-5 record). Batista was a 40-year-old reliever on the 2011 Mets with Turner. Turner and Taillon talked about the oldest guys they played with, and although Cubs pitcher Drew Pomeranz wasn't in that conversation, he noted he would win that competition. 'Jamie Moyer,' he said. 'I was there for his 49-year-old win.' A 23-year-old Pomeranz started 22 games for the 2012 Rockies and was locker neighbors with the almost-50 Moyer, who broke into the majors with the 1986 Cubs. Moyer led Pomeranz around, showed him the ropes and wasn't shy about sharing his advice and stories of a lifetime in the game. 'They would just come out of him, you didn't have to ask,' he said. Something Moyer might've learned from Rick Sutcliffe or Dennis Eckersley on the Cubs almost 40 years ago could be passed down today on a pitching staff that includes seven pitchers between the ages of 33 and 38 and young starters such as Brown (25) and Cade Horton (23) and up-and-coming closer Daniel Palencia (25). Pomeranz credits advice Randy Wolf gave him about keeping a mental checklist on the mound. Taillon said Gerrit Cole, a contemporary in Pittsburgh and New York, taught him about creating a weekly routine. I got the idea for this column after hearing about how Taillon and fellow veteran Matt Boyd were teaching younger Cubs pitchers to chart pitches, which is apparently a lost art these days. 'When we were in the minor leagues, the day after you pitched, you did the computer in the stands,' Taillon said. 'Day two, you did video. Day three, you'd chart in the dugout. Every day as a starter, you were working during the game, and it taught me a lot about watching the game, not just sitting there and wasting time in the dugout. … I think it's less about doing a chart, more about let's see if we can learn how to watch what's going on. I think that's true in life, in general.' Advertisement When we talked, Taillon had just returned from throwing a bullpen session, and he noted that Brown and Horton probably stopped to watch because they saw Boyd there. 'Now, when we're out there for the game today, they might want to ask me questions about what I was working on or what I was doing, which is really cool,' he said. Taillon noted that he takes in as much as he gives out from younger players, particularly when it comes to things like nutrition and training techniques, which have evolved since his days as a high schooler in Texas. 'You get on the right team with the right guys and it's like I want to talk pitching with Ben Brown because he's such a great dude,' he said. Brown feels the same way. 'We're just constantly in conversation,' he said. 'Whether he's asking me questions or I'm asking him. I feel like our relationship is so unique and special in that way, and he's so humble that he would want to listen to what I have to say about something.' Palencia credits conversations he's had with guys like Pomeranz and Ryan Pressly, whose job he took, with helping him figure out how to do a very stressful job. 'Drew and Pressly, we talk about the game a lot,' Palencia said. 'Every time we're watching games, we talk, like what you can do in this situation. If you got a two-run lead, you can just attack here because a solo homer is not going to beat you, don't let the games speed you up, stuff like that.' Taillon said during a game, infielders like Dansby Swanson and Nico Hoerner will come up to him and talk about pitches he threw. Palencia said Turner gave him confidence after he blew a save in Miami. 'It's easy for some position players to be worried about their at-bats or whatever,' Taillon said. 'Our guys are invested in everything.' Last week, we were talking to Javy Báez in the visiting dugout on the South Side. I told him how Pete Crow-Armstrong, whom he was traded for in 2021, said he used to watch Báez's base running as a learning tool. Báez, the wild-swinging baseball artist, broke into the majors 11 years ago and is now the veteran on a young, first-place team. Advertisement 'It feels great, honestly, that people look up to me,' he said. 'But what I tell young guys is to not copy but to take some stuff from the players that they look up to and just do it yourself with your style. And if it works, you gotta keep using it.' Crow-Armstrong (23) and Matt Shaw (23) don't have to look far for role models in their clubhouse. Swanson, Hoerner, Ian Happ, Kyle Tucker, Seiya Suzuki, on and on. Everyone has something to offer. 'The more different guys you're around, the different organizations you're in, you see different ways and styles of doing things, and you kind of cherry-pick the stuff that you like and that applies to you and that you think you can use to make you a better player,' Turner said. Counsell remembers how a veteran hitter he played with in Arizona showed him how to anticipate pitchers' patterns. 'My favorite guy to just be around hitting was Mark Grace,' he said. 'It was just very simple for him, and the way he communicated it was very simple, and really it was helpful for me.' While it's his job to run the team, Counsell is self-aware enough to know that some of the best advice and encouragement comes from teammates, not coaches and managers. But on occasion, he will offer his two cents. 'We faced (Justin) Verlander the other day and they pulled a clip of Counsell's homer off Verlander,' Turner said. 'He said, 'Look guys, if I can do it …'' (Top photo of Justin Turner talking with Matt Shaw: Darren Yamashita / Imagn Images)
BBC News
09-06-2025
- General
- BBC News
New historic audio archive tells stories of rural life on Exmoor
Interview recordings that capture personal stories and pivotal moments in Exmoor's history have been published for the first audio was recorded between 2000 and 2002 by archivist Birdie Johnson, to capture life at the national recordings are now available to listen to on the South West Heritage Trust's website and cover topics ranging from farming and mole catching to the Lynmouth flood in 1952 and the formation of the new National Park Johnson, who is from Exmoor, said: "As my father got older, we would sit at the table talking about his life. I used to say 'I must record you'. Then he died and I never had. That's how I got interested in oral history." The Exmoor Oral History Archive features 78 interviews, totalling more than 200 hours, and covers both the North Devon and West Somerset sides of the national recordings include memories stretching back to before World War One, offering insights into local life and work, which for many began when they were 14. There are also stories about how women used to do their laundry in iron furnaces over the fire and gave birth at home. The audio comes with black and white portraits of the interviewees by taken by photographer Mark J Rattenbury."It's not just a personal vanity thing, it's enormously useful and valuable to researchers and people chasing family connections," Ms Johnson said."Those recordings are going to be preserved forevermore and when formats change they will be automatically upgraded. It's a huge thing." 'Labour of love' Ms Johnson said that after her father died, she trained to become an oral archive was originally recorded as part of a Dulverton and District Civic Society project to capture for posterity life on Exmoor at the turn of the century."It gradually built up. What I thought would be a small project became a really established one, with the Civic Society behind us," she added."It was very egalitarian and democratic. Our cart went around all of Exmoor, into post offices and community centres, asking people to suggest people and why."It was a labour of love."South West Heritage Trust archivist Liz Grant added: "The contributors – farmers, doctors, teachers, postmen, local councillors and more – reveal a deep connection to Exmoor, with recollections that highlight strong community ties."It's incredibly exciting... to know that the archive will now be safeguarded, not only for future generations but forever."
