The Origins of 6 Great American Songs

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Every school-aged kid learns that Francis Scott Key penned the words to "The Star-Spangled Banner" while watching the British navy pound Fort McHenry during the War of 1812. Is there any more to the story, though? What about the other patriotic songs we belt out to honor our country? Here's a look at the stories behind some of America's most flag-waving tunes.

1. "THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER"

Yes, Key wrote the lyrics while watching the bombardment of Fort McHenry in 1814, but your teachers probably didn't tell you the origins of the music. The anthem takes its melody from "To Anacreon in Heaven," a British drinking song sung by members of London's Anacreontic Society. Key originally called his poem "Defence of Fort M'Henry," but the name changed to "The Star-Spangled Banner" when sheet music for the tune became available.

The song didn't immediately catch on as the national anthem, either. Although the patriotic tune was popular, it didn't become the national anthem until Congress gave it the official nod in 1931. Prior that, the U.S. had not had an official national anthem, although "Hail, Columbia" often played the part at ceremonies.

2. "HAIL, COLUMBIA"

Composed by German immigrant Philip Phile, this march was first written in honor of George Washington's 1789 inaugural inauguration. A few years later, in 1798, Joseph Hopkinson added lyrics and the song was debuted anew at a benefit concert in Philadelphia. It quickly caught on and became the country's unofficial national anthem. It is less familiar to modern audiences, but it still makes official appearances—it's played for the Vice President's entrance in the same way "Hail to the Chief" is played for the President.

3. "MY COUNTRY, 'TIS OF THEE"

The words to this old favorite date back to 1831, when Samuel Francis Smith wrote them while he was studying at Andover Theological Seminary. Smith started writing lyrics at the request of his friend Lowell Mason, a well-known organist, who needed some help adapting tunes he'd found in some German music books.

The two friends decided they really liked one of the songs in the German text, so Smith banged out the familiar lyrics to "My Country, 'Tis of Thee." Smith and Mason probably didn't know it since they were working from the German translation, but their new song actually shared its melody with the British national anthem, "God Save the King." Despite the odd British ties, the song was a hit after its 1831 debut at Boston's Park Street Church.

4. "AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL"

Katharine Lee Bates likely didn't know she was going to write what would become one of the country's most beloved songs when she visited Colorado in 1893 for a lecture tour. Bates, a professor of English at Wellesley, became particularly interested in the Rockies, so she wrote a poem entitled "Pike's Peak." These words are what we now think of as the lyrics of "America the Beautiful." The poem first appeared in print in the weekly newspaper The Congregationalist in 1895, and in 1904 Bates made some slight tweaks for a revised publication in The Boston Evening Transcript.

The poem became so popular that people around the country started singing it to whatever melody they could fit the words, including "Auld Lang Syne." The melody we know actually dates back to 1882, when Newark choirmaster Samuel Augustus Ward wrote it for a song called "Materna." The melody and lyrics first started appearing together in 1910, and by 1926 Ward's music and Bates' words were pretty much permanently joined as "America the Beautiful."

5. "YANKEE DOODLE"

No one's quite sure exactly when "Yankee Doodle" first appeared, but credit for writing the lyrics usually goes to Dr. Richard Shuckburgh, a British army doctor who served in the French and Indian War. According to the story, Shuckburgh watched the ragtag, disheveled colonial militias fight alongside the orderly, dapper British forces and wrote the lyrics to mock the colonists. ("Doodle" is an archaic term for a bumpkin, simpleton, or rube.)

It's not clear when the colonists decided to steal the British troops' derisive ditty and use it as a march of their own, but it's suggested that both sides sang the song at the Battle of Lexington and Concord, the British to mock their foes and the Americans to rally their forces.

6. "HAIL TO THE CHIEF"

The song that means the President's about to arrive can be traced back to a Scottish poem. Sir Walter Scott's "The Lady of the Lake," a narrative poem first published in 1810, contains the words "Hail to the chief who in triumph advances! Honored and blessed be the ever-green pine!" The poem became such a runaway hit that various theater companies started producing Scott's narrative for the stage.

One of these theatrical productions made its debut in Philadelphia in 1812. This version borrowed songs from some of the London adaptations of the poem, including James Sanderson's tune "Hail to the Chief." The song became quite popular, and in 1815 it was played to honor the late George Washington.

In 1829 Andrew Jackson became the first president to be honored with a playing of the song, but we really have John Tyler's wife, Julia, and James K. Polk's wife, Sarah, to thank for the association of the song with the presidency. Mrs. Tyler made the first request that the song be played to herald the chief executive's arrival at events. When Polk succeeded Tyler, Sarah Childress Polk took an even firmer stance, stating that "Hail to the Chief" should accompany her husband to official events, and the tradition took off. (Contrary to popular belief, the song was not written for James Madison, our shortest president, whose arrival—according to legend—often went unnoticed, thus necessitating a theme song of sorts.)

This story originally ran in 2009.

15 Historic Diseases that Competed with Bubonic Plague

Jan Josef Horemans, Interior with a surgeon and his apprentice attending to a patient (1722), Wellcome Collection // CC BY-NC 4.0
Jan Josef Horemans, Interior with a surgeon and his apprentice attending to a patient (1722), Wellcome Collection // CC BY-NC 4.0

In 1665, about a quarter of all Londoners died of the Great Plague—but bubonic plague was not the only deadly disease circulating in the city. A published register, called London’s Dreadful Visitation, or, A Collection of All the Bills of Mortality, recorded the causes of death and the number of victims in London between December 20, 1664 and December 19, 1665. The systematic, parish-by-parish tally reveals the rapid spread of plague throughout the capital: a total of one victim, recorded in the first week, increased to 7165 during the week of September 12-19, 1665.

But quite a few Londoners met their fates in other ways. Here’s a look into the antiquated diseases that managed to kill those that Yersinia pestis couldn’t catch.

1. Winde

Winde is listed throughout the Bills as a constant cause of death. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, winde referred to paroxysms of severe gastrointestinal pain, which could have been symptoms of numerous diseases.

2. Purples

Purples described purple blotches on the skin caused by broken blood vessels, indicative of an underlying illness, such as scurvy or a circulation disorder. It could also mean the most severe stage of smallpox.

3. Livergrown

People who died of livergrown suffered from an enlarged (or failing) liver. Doctors could diagnose it through the combination of other symptoms, like jaundice and abdominal pain. It was commonly a result of alcoholism, but could be caused by a number of disorders.

4. Chrisomes

Infant mortality was extremely high before the advent of modern medicine. The Bills distinguished abortive (miscarried), stillborn, infant, and chrisom deaths—the latter term specified infants who died within the first month of life, around the time they were baptized with special white cloths (which were called chrisomes).

5. Rising of the Lights

18th century illustration of lungs and heart
Jacques-Fabien Gautier d'Agoty, The Lungs and the Heart (1754), Wellcome Collection // CC BY-NC 4.0

Physicians and scholars have debated the origin of the term rising of the lights. According to the OED, the condition indicated any kind of illness characterized by a hoarse cough, difficulty breathing, or a choking sensation. Croup, asthma, pneumonia, and emphysema were all culprits.

6. Timpany

The condition of having serious swelling or bloating in the digestive tract, which produces a hollow sound when tapped, is still called tympany today. The sort that would have proven fatal to humans could have been caused by kidney disease, intestinal infections, or cancerous tumors.

7. Tissick

The term tissick, a corruption of phthisis, originated in ancient Greek and persisted through Latin, French, and English for thousands of years, only to end up an obsolete word referring to a “wasting disease of the lungs,” according to the Online Etymology Dictionary. In the 17th century, that could indicate the wheezing and coughing associated with asthma, bronchitis, or possibly tuberculosis.

8. Meagrome or Megrim

We recognize this obscurely spelled ailment as migraine. During the years of the Great Plague, any internal head trauma, from an aneurysm to a brain tumor, would be filed under megrim.

9. Imposthume

Imposthume was a swelling, cyst, or abscess, usually filled with pus or other putrescence. At the same time that it was being recorded as a cause of death, imposthume took on a metaphorical meaning and referred to an egotistical or corrupt person “swollen” with pride.

10. Head Mould Shot

In newborns, the bony plates of the skull are not fused together, which makes it easier to fit through the birth canal. Head mould shot described a condition where the cranial bones were so compressed by delivery that they overlapped (or overshot) each other and caused fatal pressure on the brain. Today, the condition, now known as craniosynostosis, is treatable with surgery.

11. Quinsie

18th century illustration of a woman getting her throat examined in a pharmacy

Quinsie, which evolved from a Latin word meaning “choke,” is still occasionally used in modern England. It describes a complication of tonsillitis in which an abscess grows between the tonsil and the throat. Unless the abscess was removed, a patient could suffocate from the blockage.

12. Surfeit

A surfeit means an excess of something. In the Bills of Mortality, it’s hard to identify the substance in question. Sometimes, as in the case of King Henry I and his lampreys, it can refer to overeating a food that becomes poisonous if taken in large enough quantities.

13. French Pox

When people across Europe came down with syphilis beginning in the 1490s, they blamed the French. (Perhaps they should have blamed Christopher Columbus and the Spanish, whom historians believe brought the bacterial infection back from the New World.) Rightly or wrongly, French pox is what the Bills of Mortality lists for deaths by advanced syphilis, whose symptoms included rash, blindness, organ failure, and tissue necrosis.

14. Bloody Flux

Dysentery, a.k.a. bloody flux, was common among densely crowded Londoners without clean drinking water. People contracted dysentery from food or water contaminated with one of several pathogens, and its main symptom was bloody diarrhea (the aforementioned flux) and severe dehydration.

15. Plannet

Plannet is likely a shorthand for “planet-struck.” Many medical practitioners believed the planets influenced health and sanity. A person who was planet-stricken had been suddenly maligned by the forces of particular planets. They would likely present symptoms also associated with aneurysms, strokes, and heart attacks.

The American Museum of Natural History Moves Its Great Canoe—for the First Time in 60 Years—to Its Revitalized Northwest Coast Hall

From left to right: Kaa-xoo-auxc (Garfield George), Jisgang (Nika Collison), Megan Humchitt, Haa’yuups (Ron Hamilton), and Chief Wigviłba Wákas (Harvey Humchitt) performing traditional ceremony before the move of the Great Canoe at the American Museum of Natural History in New York.
From left to right: Kaa-xoo-auxc (Garfield George), Jisgang (Nika Collison), Megan Humchitt, Haa’yuups (Ron Hamilton), and Chief Wigviłba Wákas (Harvey Humchitt) performing traditional ceremony before the move of the Great Canoe at the American Museum of Natural History in New York.
©AMNH/D. Finnin

The Great Canoe at New York City's American Museum of Natural History is one of the largest dugout canoes on Earth. Suspended from the ceiling of the Grand Gallery, it appeared weightless. Visitors entering from 77th Street may have assumed the canoe was built for the space, like the museum's massive blue whale model. But the real history of the vessel can be traced back 150 years to the Pacific Northwest. Now, as the artifact moves locations for the first time in 60 years, AMNH is working with First Nations advisors to strengthen the connections between the new exhibit and its past.

On January 28, 2020, the Great Canoe was rolled in a custom cradle from the Grand Gallery to the neighboring Northwest Coast Hall. Design elements of the Great Canoe indicate it came from the Heiltsuk and Haida nations on Canada's Pacific coast, but the identities of its builders and many other details of its construction remain a mystery. A group of representatives from First Nation communities in British Columbia kicked off the event with traditional song and prayer. They concluded the ceremony by circling the boat and blowing tufts of eagle down over it. The Indigenous representatives then explained the significance of canoes to all First Nations in the region.

"Canoes are absolutely central to the cultures of all the people who are represented here today," Nuu-chah-nulth artist and cultural historian Haa'yuups, or Ron Hamilton, who's co-curating the renovation of the Northwest Coast Hall, said. "All of our people made their livings not long ago in and out of the sea [...] From birth until death, our people lived in and out of canoes."

Moving the Great Canoe at the American Museum of Natural History in New York.
©AMNH/M. Shanley

Even to cultures built around sea travel, the canoe at AMNH is exceptional. It measures 63 feet long and was dug out of a single Western red cedar tree. The body was carved in the 1870s, and it's possible that the orca and raven illustrations and the seawolf figurehead were added after its initial construction. AMNH trustee Heber Bishop acquired the piece for the museum in the late 19th century, and following a journey that included travel on a ship, train, and horse-drawn carriage, it arrived in New York in 1883. The Great Canoe was displayed in the Northwest Coast Hall from 1899 to 1960, when it was moved to the Grand Gallery where it resided most recently. January's move marks the boat's return to the hall after a six-decade absence.

The relocation is part of the museum's two-and-a-half-year revitalization of the Northwest Coast Hall. The exhibit includes hundreds of objects and nearly a dozen totem poles, all of which originate from the same general region of the world as the canoe. Like the canoe, the stories of many of these artifacts have been lost or misinterpreted over the years—largely because none of their original owners were involved in getting them onto the museum floor.

AMNH is determined not to repeat the mistakes of the past with this new project. By seeking the counsel of 10 First Nation advisors, each coming from a different nation represented in the hall, the museum hopes to reflect their cultures in a rich, accurate light. "[Collaboration] is something we definitely try to encourage, specifically in relation to conservation," museum curator of North American ethnology Peter Whitely tells Mental Floss. "We really want it to be a participatory collaboration, because long-term, it's our responsibility to these communities to continue a pattern of mutual engagement."

Jisgang (Nika Collison), Haa’yuups (Ron Hamilton), Kaa-xoo-auxc (Garfield George), Chief Wigviłba Wákas (Harvey Humchitt), and Judith Levenson in the Objects Conservation Laboratory at the American Museum of Natural History.
From left to right: Jisgang (Nika Collison), Haa’yuups (Ron Hamilton), Kaa-xoo-auxc (Garfield George), Chief Wigviłba Wákas (Harvey Humchitt), and Judith Levenson in the Objects Conservation Laboratory at the American Museum of Natural History.
©AMNH/D. Finnin

Jisang, or Nika Collison, of the Ts'aah clan of the Haida Nation, spoke of her role as advisor following the canoe move ceremony. The museum sends her digital images of the artifacts being restored—that way, when she's home, she can consult with other members of her community and dig up context for each piece. "We get these great big files with these digital photos so you can go home and work with the carvers or the weavers that know things," she said. One photo she received showed a wolf mask missing its ears: "My brother was going through it, and he said, 'I think I found the ears,' because they were labeled as a separate piece."

The Northwest Coast Hall is currently closed for the revitalization effort, and in 2021, it will reopen with the Great Canoe in its new position suspended from the ceiling. In the meantime, advisors will continue working with the museum to update the collection. "We’re putting our treasures back together," Collison said, "because that’s the history of museums, that a lot of things came in without our knowledge to go along with it."

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