The Western Hemisphere before Columbus.
David Hosack attends to a mortally wounded Alexander Hamilton.
"Hosack felt a hitching panic build, his instincts wound too tightly, overtaxed, a clockwork spring about to snap. Only Hamilton could do this to him. The frame prone before him was frail, narrow, woman-small. His coat, waistcoat, shirt, underclothes sopping him up, holding him together. Delicate embroidery sodden, delicate fingers cold with the loss of blood. Hosack had seen this man’s blood before, and the blood and vomit and delirious fever-dreams of his wife, his children. But this was—Hosack sickened, the scene before him tilting. Three years before—Hamilton’s son, Phillip, bleeding out after his own duel on the same Weehawken site. Their faces so alike, their mangled bodies. Their right sides."
Revisiting California’s grape vines more than 70 years after the publication of The Grapes of Wrath.
A hundred years ago, in the midst of an American food crisis, two spies who had once sworn to kill each other came together with a plan to feed America: hippo meat.
On a book of photographs shot by Leni Riefenstahl in the 1950s and 1960s depicting an African tribe.
On Marie-Madeline Marguerite, a 1600s French serial killer.
This is the second installment in The Hairpin's "Lady Killers" series. Previously: "The Blood Countess."
A utopian German settlement in Chile had already turned darkly cultish by the time it became a secret torture site for enemies of the Pinochet regime.
A 42,000-word, 3-continent spanning “hacker tourist” account of the laying of the (then) longest wire on earth.