The Kodinka Field Stampede Disaster

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Call one eight hundred six seven seven three six to learn more or visit Trimfia Radio. com Your package says delivered, but delivered where exactly . hall Theway, the lobby , your neighbor's apartment? Instead of playing detective with your deliveries , get a mailbox at the UPS store . We'll sign for your packages, text you when they arrive , and keep your deliveries low key. Under locking key, get three months free mailbox services with a new annual agreement at the UPS store. For full details and to get your coupon, visit the UPSTO. com slash offer. She may have been Antoinette at birth, but to most people today, she's Madame Chari. Born in Paris in eighteen seventy eight, Antoinette had a humble upbringing, working as a seamstress and a nightclub dancer. In nineteen oh nine, she got married, a normal choice for a normal girl, or well, so she thought, but she soon discovered that her new husband wasn't quite who he seemed to be. No, the man she knew as Andre was actually Anthony Macaluso, a fugitive from the law, but Antoinette didn't run the other way. No, instead she figured, Hey, if he can fake an identity, why can't I? And so, with imagination and the art of the con on her side , the couple left Paris and moved to the best location on Earth for starting fresh , New York City . And so, goodbye, Antoinette, and hello, Madame Sheree, one of the nineteen twenties' most infamous Socialites. Spinning backstories of glitz and glamour, these lovebirds wriggled among the city's elites, and it worked. Soon that humble seamstress was designing costumes on Broadway . But as we all know, nothing gold can stay. And when her beloved Anthony died in nineteen twenty four, Madame Chari was bereft. She ditched New York City, vanishing into six hundred acres of New Hampshire woodlands, and there, deep in mourning and far from society, she built a castle. Half Roman ruin, half French chalet. This place was lavish, festoon with fureds and scar let draperies with a massive stone staircase winding up the side, it was like a real life fairy tale. But don't get me wrong here, just because she moved into the woods didn't mean that she quit being a socialite. On the contrary , Madame Sheree became famous for her opulent drunken parties thrown right there in her forest palace. All the biggest names in the New York theater scene came to drink their way through prohibition. Well, Madame Chari reigned over it all from a cobra backed chair she called the Queen's throne. Now what did the rural New Hampshire Townies think of her? Nothing flattering, that's for sure, but she didn't care , flaunting her boa clad, bejewelled self wherever she could. Eventually, though, the money ran dry and the madam's reign ended. She spent her final days in a nursing home, surviving on welfare until passing away in nineteen sixty five at the age of eighty seven. But while it lasted, that mysterious party girl and her forest castle had been one of New England's most glamorous secrets . And well, if the stories are to be believed , maybe it still is. Because, you see, it's said that if you hike the public trails in the part of Chesterfield, New Hampshire, now known as the Madam Sheree Forest, you might just hear the sounds of a phantom party wafting through the trees while a shadowy costumed woman hovers just out of sight. How will you know you're in the right spot? Oh that's easy. Just look for a crumbling grand staircase curving upward toward the sky . That's right, the ruins of our castle are still there. It just goes to show some parties linger on , long after the final guest has left . I'm Erin Manke and this is Lore It was a time that was known as the reign of terror, and it certainly lived up to that name . As the most notorious stage of the French Revolution, the reign of terror was a nearly year long stretch between seventeen ninety three and seventeen ninety four, that would go down in history as one of the bloodiest times the world has ever seen. And it was all thanks to a rather ironically titled group called the Committee of Public Safety. Yeah, suffice to say, public safety may not have been the most accurate title for these guys. Essentially, this revolutionary committee put itself in charge of France , running the government as a dictatorship, and their favorite pastime killing any and all opposition to the revolution. And sure, that included executing rival political leaders as well as the ruling aristocracy like Marie Antoinette's famous beheading. But the Committee of Public Safety murdered plenty of ordinary citizens too. Basically, if they decided that you weren't supporting the cause loudly and proudly enough, well that was, it. Off with your head . In June of seventeen ninety four, the committee ramped it up a notch, announcing that people were no longer entitled to a public trial. No the committee could kill with impunity , and that's exactly what they did. In the next month alone, fourteen hundred people were guillotined just in the city of Paris. Now, understandably, even other revolutionaries were starting to become a teensy bits uncomfortable with all of this unfettered head chopping, and so the head of the committee, Robespierre, was finally toppled literally, and thus the reign of terror came to an end. By the time the smoke cleared and the dead were counted , sixteen thousand five hundred and sixty four people had been guillotined in France over less than a year. Another ten thousand had died in prison while thousands more were drowned in the river at Nunt. Add to that another two thousand human lives subjected to mass execution in Lyon via cannons loaded with grape shots, and while the reign of terror had certainly taken its toll , people weren't too stoked on all that bloodshed, and in the final stages of the Revolution, the cultural pendulum swung the other way. Soon enough, the aristocrats who fled during the reign of terror started to feel safe returning to France. And so how you might ask, do a bunch of rich people who narrowly escape to beheading celebrate their homecoming? Why? By truly horrendous parties, of course . They were called Bell de Victims, or Victims Balls. And don't expect an invite in your mailbox anytime soon because these high society guest lists were elite . Allegedly to garner a coveted invitation, you had to either have escaped the guillotine yourself or had a family die beneath the falling silver blade. Imagine this though, a room of twirling dancers all dressed in morning wear and crepe paper armbands symbolizing death. A young man asks you to dance, but instead of a customary b ow, he jerks his head sharply to the side. Looking around, you realize all the dancers are performing the same eerie greeting, an imitation of a neck being severed. Meanwhile, pinned a guest gowns are mementos of lost loved ones, and I don't mean roses or brooches. No, they've affixed blood soaked scraps of the clothing their families had been executed in, purchased back from the executioner. Writing to his wife back in England, British diplomat Henry Swinbourne said after attending one such sore that it was as fine a ball as ever was given in days of yore. Three hundred of the company had lost near relations by the guillotine. Some of the men there danced with their hats on and with red heels. Now to be honest, due to the extreme exclusivity of these victims balls, we don't know for sure whether all the rumors of what went down behind closed doors are true or not. Some historians think reports of the balls may have been satirical exaggerations, but honestly, given what the aristocracy was visibly doing in public during that time, I wouldn't be surprised if things were indeed even more ghastly in private. And I know what you're wondering, what were they doing in public? Why, what any high society always does? Flaunting the latest fash . For example, there was a hairstyle known as I kid you not the guillotine cut that was all the rage among wealthy ladies. It was a short choppy do meant to mimic the neck exposing haircut that execut ion victims were given before beheading. And if you think that's in poor taste, wait until you hear about some of their outfits. You see, a blood red color known as amaranth had become the official color of high society. To quote fashion historian Anne Heaganay, women wore amaranth victim ribbons around their necks to commemorate the cut of a guillotine's blade. Ghoulish amaranth victim ribbons were also worn crossed over bodices or sleeves down the sides of dresses or twined into hairdos. And yes, you heard that right folks. Rich women tied blood red ribbons around their necks to look like they had been guillotined , as a fashion statement. And if that sounds familiar to you, it may be because the fashion went on to influence a number of prominent ghost stories. Washington Irving, the author of the Legend of Sleepy Hallow, wreenote a piece called The Adventure of the German students, in which a young man visits France during the Revolution and has a fling with a French girl wearing a thick ribbon necklace, only to later learn that she'd been dead the whole time, the victim of the guillotine. Alexandra Dumas's novel The Woman with the Velvet Necklace follows a similar plot about a beheaded mistress with her head attached by a ribbon. But you may probably know a different more modern vers ion of this tale. In fact, you may have read it as a kid. That's right. From Alvin Schwartz's In a Dark Dark Room, it's a little story called The Green Ribbon The French Victims Balls may have been ghoulish, but at least all the guests were alive , which is more than I can say for this next party that we'll be attending, an ocean and a century later. Miss Betty Hun lived her summers in Delaw are. For the twenty four year old, it was a chance to escape the noise and bustle of Philadelphia and enjoy a slower pace of life. There were her summer friends to catch up with cocktails to drink, swimming to be had , she spent her days lazy around her family's summer home near Dover, an old house called Wildcat Manor, which had belonged to the Huns for generations. But the real star of the summer, why that would have to be ghost hunting party. Now we've talked in the past about things like comet watching parties, events hosted on the specific date a comet was supposed to appear so that you and your guests could all take in the celestial sight together . And well, Betty's annual ghost parties were a similar idea . They took place on a specific day, september twenty sixth of every year, to be exact, and also involved getting a bunch of folks together to watch a strange glowing object manifest against the night sky. But the big difference here, Miss Hun and her guests weren't gathering to watch a comet. They were there to watch a ghost , or rather, two ghosts . You see, according to local lore, september twenty sixth marked the date when two women had drowned in the river right near Wildcat Manor. Ever since then, it was said that the victim's ghosts would appear in full, phantasmic gl right at midnight and remain visible for nearly an hour. In fact, belief in the story was so prevalent one newspaper claimed older residents in the area refused to leave their houses at night for fear of the ghosts . But hey, Betty wasn't afraid of no ghosts. And so she figured what better way to spend an evening than by getting all her best friends together once a year, sneaking down to the river, and trying to see a good old fashioned haunting. And this one, that is the ghost party of nineteen oh one, would be the biggest one yet. Now sure, rumors are one thing, but did two women actually drown near Wildcat Manor? Well, my researchers could n't find any record of it. But then again, plenty of life or death events took place at Wildcat Manor that never made the papers. Because the thing is, while that sprawling house may have seemed like little more than a summer playground for a wealthy family , it was actually anything but Wildcat Manor apparently had a double life. Long before Betty's time there, it had been a vital stop on the underground railroad . You see, purchased by the family in seventeen fifty eight, the property would go on to remain with the Huns for nine generations. And during one of those generations, it was stewarded by an ancestor of Betty's named John Hun. Now, John, like the rest of the Huns, was a devout Quaker. As such, he was also a staunch abolitionist , and let's just say, he put his money where his mouth was. This guy was known for getting into full on physical fights with slavehold ers and even spent time in the south teaching formerly enslaved people how to read, but his greatest contribution to the cause, well, that would be his unofficial title as the architect of the Delaware Underground Railroad. It went a little something like this . John paid a black boat captain to help smuggle enslave people to Delaware . Then they would find respite and safety at Wildcat Manor before continuing on their journey. Heck, local historians believe that Harriet Tubman herself passed through the manor's doors. All of which is to say, given the countless dangers the huns and their visitors faced, it's certainly not impossible that some unreported casualties may have taken place in the shadow of that looming Delaware mansion, casualties like the drowning of two unnamed women , which brings us back to september twenty sixth of nineteen oh one , where with that true darker history watered down by time, Betty hunned on her finery and prepared for a ghost hunt. And slowly her guests trickled in. twenty girls all dressed in phantom white, along with just enough men to, as the newspaper put it, protect them from the real goblins. Up at the house, I imagine there was laughter and teasing. Maybe the young people even shared ghost stories of their own over d ancing and drinks. But as the hours ticked by and the light began to dim, the tone changed in wildcat manner. What had been a light, playful affair began to grow serious. Nerves kicked in. As the newspapers would later report , although some of the girls began the adventure out of a spirit of fun, they became alarmed until their teeth chattered in hopeless confusion. Translation The party may have been all fun and games at first, but deep down the guests really believed in those ghosts. Finally, though, just before the bell told midnight, the entire party crept down to the river . And then , while honestly, I wish I could tell you because when reporters asked the party goers later whether they had in fact managed to catch a glimpse of those two dripping apparitions , while every single guest flat out refused to answer the question. Sadly, Betty Huhn became a spirit herself only fifteen years later, dying of tuberculosis in nineteen sixteen . And I can't help but wonder if one were to visit that riverside spot some cool September evening just as midnight neared, would they find a third ghost shimmering on the water? After all, maybe some parties never have to end at all . And then again, if the next So we'll attend today teaches us anything. It's that certain shind digs should never have been hosted in the first place It was May of eighteen ninety six, and Russia was buzzing with excitement. A new czar was about to be crown ed, and to celebrate, Moscow had promised to throw the greatest party the country had ever seen . And this wouldn't just be for the well to dos. No, the festivities would be fully open to the public, and all of Russia was invited . There would be circus performers and music and games, not to mention plenty of beer. A grand orchestra would play a cantata composed specifically for the occasion followed by an open air liturgy from the Orthodox Church. And to top it all off, there would be a speech given by none other than the new car himself . But the real star of the show, well, that would be the party favors . Because, you see, in thanks for showing up, every single attendee was promised a free, incredibly swanky souvenir bundle. And to be honest, I get the appeal. The swag bag consisted of bread baked by famous Moscow baker Philipov, half a pound of sausage, sweets and walnuts and gingerbread imprinted with the royal couple's initials, all wrapped up in a headscarf featuring images of the Kremlin and the new royal couple . But there was one item in that bundle that outshone all the rest. It was a cup . And not just any cup. No, this ornate coronation trinket was entwined with red , blue, and gold enamel, and emblazoned with the year, the Tsar, and the Tsarina's initials, and a double headed eagle. And rumor had it that every single cup was supposed to contain none other than a gold coin . Now, was this coin rumored true? Definitely not. But the whispers spread anyway, and even without that, the actual bundle was more than enough to entice visitors from well outside Moscow to make the trip into the city. After all, the gifts had been advertised far and wide, including in rural provinces where the citizens lived in poverty. This kind of offering wasn't just symbolic. It was of real tangible value . And so yes, why not leave the farm for a day? The cows can milk themselves, right? Now, the government had planned for large crowds, but even so, let's just say that their estimates fell a little short. Okay, more than a little. You see, they were expecting around two hundred thousand attendees, but their advertising had been too good, and more than twice that number showed up, flooding in from all over the country. Although the festivities weren't supposed to kick off until ten AM on may thirtieth, people lined up for this thing a full day early, like they were vying for tickets to the Aeros tour. They slept on the ground and woke up before dawn, everyone hoping to beat the crowd and snag those sweet, sweet souvenirs. By four AM, the crowd was restless. The one hundred and fifty odd booths that were set up to distribute goodies had hardly finished getting organized, but already the m ass had begun to surge forward. New rumors had begun to circulate as well. You see, people were saying that despite the promises, there wouldn't be enough of the bundles for everyone. And well, for thousands of Russians who had travel ed miles and miles just to snag one of these things, that was going to be a problem. People were getting antsy. It was clear that ten o'clock start time wasn't going to work out. And so at six AM or,ders were given to open the booths and begin handing out the souvenirs. And I bet you can guess what happened next . All hell broke loose. The five hundred thousand person crowd became a stampede. People climbed over one another, crushing each other underfoot. Human bodies were trampled beyond recognition, bones protruded through flesh, and eyeballs dangled from sockets . But still, the mob continued to storm the fairgrounds. And speaking of those fairgrounds, the event took place on a one point five square mile plot called Kodinka Field, and it wasn't traditionally used for festivals, quite the opposite, actually. Kodinka Field was a training ground for the Russian military , complete with over one hundred and fifty training obstacles. In other words, this wasn't just an open meadow. It was filled with ditches, ravines, and wells , all of which the panicked mass was tumbling into. Heck, just one of those wells ended up drowning two dozen people. It seemed a place designed to practice for war had become an actual battlefield. Oh, and by the way, to make matters worse, the organizers didn't think to have any medic on site , and by the time the ambulances did get there, it was far, far too late. The Kodinka tragedy, as it came to be known, had taken its toll . The official death count ? one thousand three hundred and eighty nine , but some estimates claim it may have been up to three thousand human lives. Countless more were injured , many never fully healing. And in the wake of the bloodshed, survivors went right back to standing in line, but not for souvenirs this time. No, they were queuing outside the morgues, desperately hoping to find their missing loved ones' bodies. Eventually, many of the victims were buried in a mass grave, countless limbs tangled eternally together just as they had been in those terrible final moments. A single monument stands atop the site . It bears no names, no elegies, not even an acknowledgement of the awful events of that day. Now, all the monument says is the date. And if you're wondering what became of the tens of thousands of commemorative cups, well, they're still out there. Apparently, while working on this episode, my writer Jenner Rose had to talk herself down from bidding eight hundred dollars for one on eBay. Hazards of the job, right? Heck Leo Tolstoy used to keep a coronation cup on his desk to hold loose pens . Only they are no longer called coronation cups. No, it didn't take long for these doomed part y favors to be known by a different name , the Kodinka cup of sorrows When the world shows us its darkest parts, the best antidote is to join together g inather community and remember that there are always things worth celebrating . But what happens when the celebrations themselves bring the darkness? When festivities meant to bring mirth end in calamity ? Well, the horror feels even worse then , because to be promised fun and given death isn't only a tragedy , it's a betrayal . Of course, the very act of partying can be a betrayal in itself sometimes , an eerie let them eat cake frivolity while others are suffering. Whether it's the French aristocracy throwing macabre balls while the working class struggled to cobble their lives back together or teenage girls playing ghostbusters on the spot where two women drowned, it's a delicate line. Sure, a party can be an act of resistance, fighting for joy despite the world's cruelties, but it can also be an insult , the elite and protected putting up blinders while the world burns around them . Speaking of which, you might be wondering how the new Tsar reacted to the disaster that was supposed to be his coronation. Well, the answer is not great. In the hours after the stampede, rather than help in the rescue efforts, he flounced off to attend a lavish ball thrown by the French ambassador. All night, he was seen gl ad handling and dancing, delighting at the one hundred thousand fresh roses and illuminated fountains decorating the venue. Talk about adding insult to injury, right? And the people of Russia sure thought so. After the Kodinka tragedy, major distrust fell upon not only the Tsar but the entire system . And I will be honest, if I didn't know any better, I might say the stampede had been an ill omen of things to come , because that car why his reign would not only end with his own death, but the toppling of the entire monarchy. That's right, the man coronated in that field of blood was none other than Nicholas II , the final Tsar of Russia . And just like those doomed revelers in Kodinka, he didn't die alone. No, he was executed alongside his wife, Alexandra and their five children , Olga, Tatiana, Maria, Alexi, and Anastasia , or, as they're better known today , the Romanovs. Thank you for being my plus one to some of the most dreadful social events of the season. But the festivities aren't over just yet. You see, while some parties devolve into chaos by accident , for others, that madness in mayhem is no mistake. And I have one more tale that should expl ain exactly what I mean. 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Plans start at eight ninety nine cents per month, limitations apply . Learn more on netflix. com Waking up exhausted, foggy, and running on empty? For me, one of the missing pieces was magnesium support. That's why I added magnesium breakthrough biopimizers to my nightly routine. It's a powerful Olimwood magnesium complex with seven forms of magnesium, designed to support relaxation, sleep, stress response, and recovery. If you're ready to feel more rested and have a great summer, go to biopimizers dot com slash haggs and use code HGS for fifteen percent off any order. At first you think the chateau is on fire, but moving closer you realize it's merely illuminated by flickering orange floodlights, an illusion, and as it turns out, the first of many . Your costume makes getting through the doorway a bit of a chore, but once you're inside, the bulkiness of your outfits is the last thing on your mind. Ahead of you, a grand staircase line with butlers , but these aren't regular butlers, no they're dressed and acting as cats. One butler naps against the banister while another playfully bats at a third one's tail. You climb past a butler looking a dainty paw and reaching the top of the stairs, finally join the other guests . But you aren't in any old cocktail lounge, no, you seem to have been thrust into a strange dark maze decorated with cobwebs made of lace and ribbons. To your left a, man with countless hands springing from his skull is trying to keep from tangling on the draperies. To your right, a woman coated in gold leaf hands drink to a man painted to resemble a cloud filled sky. All around you are more cat buttlers bearing torches to help the guests who get lost in the maze. And finally, there, ahead of you, you spot your host, Marie Helene, the Queen of the Ball. At least you think it's her , it's hard to tell for sure , because in place of Marie Halen's head is a massive glistening stag's head with diamond tears dripping from its eyes. Welcome to the Surrealist Ball of nineteen seventy two . It may sound like a cross between a fairy tale and a fever dream, but this very real , unreal party took place on december twelfth of nineteen seventy two, just outside of Paris. It was hosted by Marie Helene Rothchild, who, having married into the famous banking dynasty, had access to certain perks. Perks like free reign of the Rothchild's opulent nineteenth century castle called Chateau De Ferrier. And hey, if we've learned anything from Madame Chari at the beginning of this episode, when you have a castle on your hands, it's downright irresponsible to not throw the most elaborate themed party the world has ever seen . Luckily, Marie Hallene knew exactly what to do. The guest list included one hundred and fifty members of Hollywood fashion and literary royalty. Everyone from Bridget Bardot and Grace Kelly to Eve Saint Laure n were on attendance, and they all dressed the part too. The invitations called for and I quote, black tie, long dresses and surrealist heads. And if ever a group of people committed to the bit, this was the crew. Perfume designer Helene Roche wore an entire gramophone atop her head. Several guests referenced famous works of art, with one wearing a green apple, marguerite in front of her face, and another sporting a mask made of a collage of Mona Lisa. Audrey Hepburn arrived with her face encircled by a wicker bird cage dotted with miniature birds, and to eat dinner she had to open a tiny door in the front. Speaking of which, up there in the ribbon maze full of cat butlers, the guests were starting to get hungry. So when the time came for dinner, those butlers escorted everyone to a room of tables, where a whole new bizarre world awaited them. There were fur covered plates, taxidermy tortoises and broken baby dolls served as the centerpieces, while dead fish lay next to the forks. And as for the seating, well, that was a whole new puzzle to so