In the red-rock country of southeastern Utah is a new national park, a quarter-million acres of silence, brilliant color, and vistas unmatched anywhere on Earth.
“Whom can we trust now?” cried out General Washington when he discovered his friend’s “villainous perfidy.”
The classic American baseball poem might have vanished if not for an actor's impromptu performance.
Horace Greeley founded the “Trib”— and the union that eventually helped kill it. But in 125 years it knew many a shining hour.
The traitor was not destitute, but his family's life was not comfortable after the Revolutionary War.
Gravely ill, John C. Calhoun came to the Senate one last time to call for the South and North to part ways while still equals.
Frick lawsuit threatens historians' ability to present all sides of a subject.
In the last quarter of the nineteenth century you could ride in a handsome coach-and-four from a fashionable hotel on Fifth Avenue to Tuxedo Park or even to Philadelphia. The fare was just three dollars, and your driver might be a Roosevelt or a Vanderbilt.
Japanese naval air power was wrecked at the Battle of the Philippine Sea, but, says a U. S. carrier admiral who was there, our Navy missed a chance to destroy the enemy fleet and shorten the war.
In words and pictures, George Catlin recorded the secret ceremony, a blend of mysticism and horrific cruelty, by which the Mandans initiated their braves and conjured the life-sustaining buffalo.
Newport it was not; but to judge by its summertime throngs, its religious fervor, and the exuberance of its architecture, there was nothing to match the likes of the “Cottage City of America.”