That That Nation Myglue is All Together Sitting

Sometimes I use an automated transcription service. I feed it an audio recording – say, of an interview – and it spits out a transcript. The service touts the power of its AI. All the rage these days.

I found a reading of the Gettysburg Address by Orson Welles on YouTube. Obviously, it’s an analog recording with some imperfections. I recorded it as I would a phone conversation – producing a tape that isn’t high fidelity, but easily understandable for an English speaker. Then I let the transcription service have it.

Started out OK, then…

Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation or any nation, so conceived and so dedicated.
We met on a great faculty have
come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who hear, feed their lives, that that nation myglue
is all together sitting, we should do this.
In a larger sense,
we cannot dedicate,
we cannot consecrate
we cannot tell
the brave men living and
consecrated far above our power to add or detract.
The world will little note nor long remember what we say here.
I can never forget
it is for us, the living rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which failed here.
far so nobly advanced.
It is shrouded for us to be here dedicated to the great past remaining before us.
Honored
to take increased devotion for that was
the last measure of devotion.
We hired to resolve
these debts from outside in
this nation
shall have a new freedom
government
by the people,
for the people

Still a few bugs in the system, looks like.

To be fair, when I did this test again, but with the service transcribing the speech as it “listened” to the video play, the results were much better. Not flawless, but not bad.

1 Dollar, Singapore

Every time I woke last night, which was a few times, I could hear drizzle, but not the tip-tip-tip of frozen drops hitting hard surfaces. I must have slept through the wind gusts, which were reportedly strong in the wee hours. While out late this afternoon, I noticed a number of large tree branches that had been knocked down, as well as a tree completely uprooted and on its side, about a half mile from where we live.

The day was windy and raw, but we had no precipitation after dawn, liquid or otherwise, and the tree and bush branches were no longer tinged with ice. This NWS map from this morning shows how we in northern Illinois dodged the worst of the snowstorm.

What does it all mean? Its snows in the North in winter. Except when it doesn’t.

One more banknote for now. This one does have some Roman letters, prominently featured, and is worth more than a few U.S. mills or cents: the Singapore dollar. The languages on the note include English, Chinese, Malay and Tamil, the four most common ones spoken there.

Also, it’s one that I picked up myself in 1992 or ’94, since these notes – part of the “ship series” – were current at the time, and worth about 60 U.S. cents. These days, I understand that S$1 trades for about 75 U.S. cents, so my note has gained some value, at least in nominal terms. That is, if it can be used as currency at all, since the city-state phased out dollar notes in favor of coins more than 20 years ago.

The ship on the obverse is a junk, common in the waters around Singapore and its predecessor settlements once upon a time. In the ship series, the larger the denomination, the larger the ship, beginning at S$1 and up to the S$10,000 note featuring a general bulk carrier, Neptune Canopus (that note has also been discontinued).

The S$1 reverse features Singapore’s national flower, the Vanda Miss Joaquim, and the Sentosa Satellite Earth Station.Sentosa Island 1992

The flower is also known as the Papilionanthe Miss Joaquim, or the Singapore orchid, and apparently there is a Singaporean drag queen called Vanda Miss Joaquim, which I have to say is a pretty good name for a drag queen.

As for the Earth station on Sentosa, that was the city-state’s first one, operational since 1971. Sentosa is a two-square-mile island just off the southern shore of the main island of Singapore. Formerly a military facility – under the British and then the Singaporeans after independence – the island is better known these days for its recreation, development of which began about 50 years ago.

Back in ’92, I took a cable car over to Sentosa for a look around, though the Earth station wasn’t among the things I saw. Unlike the facility at Tidbinbilla near Canberra, I don’t think it was open to the public.

Sentosa wasn’t nearly developed then as it seems to be now.

Universal Studios Singapore, for instance, didn’t open until 2010, and S.E.A. Aquarium (South East Asia Aquarium) not until 2012. Even the Sentosa Merlion wasn’t there in ’92, since it was completed three years later – and taken down in 2019.

The cable car offered nice views of the island, which isn’t really captured in my snapshots.Sentosa Island 1992 Sentosa Island 1992

I believe this dragon-fountain was fairly near the cable car station on Sentosa, but I haven’t been able to confirm its continued existence, though this is a more recent image.Sentosa Island 1992

I walked over the Fort Siloso, a former coastal artillery battery.Sentosa Island 1992

I also visited the Sentosa Wax Museum that day, mostly I believe to get out of the heat. Most of the wax figures had to do with the history of the city-state (I think), including figures showing two surrenders: the British to the Japanese in 1942 and the Japanese to the Allies in 1945. Not something you’re likely to see anywhere else.

There’s a Madame Tussauds on the island now, so I suspect the old wax museum was replaced by it. The current wax museum’s web site says the place has an “Images of Singapore” exhibit, but I suspect the real action is at the “Marvel Universe 4D” and the “Ultimate Film Star Experience,” and the “K-Wave” zone. Exactly something you’re likely to see somewhere else.

Obviously I haven’t been Madame Tussauds Singapore, but I did pay money, entirely too many pounds sterling, to see the one in London. The place wrote the book on tourist traps. That isn’t to say that wax museums can’t be interesting; the one included in the admission to Tivoli Gardens in Copenhagen was charming indeed, even a little surreal sometimes, such as the setup in which wax Einstein was playing chess with wax Hitler.

Möngö Notes

The winter storm blasting the upper states showed up in my neighborhood today first in the form of a lot of rain, but cold enough to leave a coating of ice on the bare trees and bushes. Then the rain itself started to freeze.

More currency with no Roman letters on it (well, not many). Three bits of currency, each measuring a diminutive 1¾ by 3½ inches, roughly the size of a business card.Mongolian currency

I didn’t have to do any looking around to know who issued them: Mongolia. I’m familiar with Mongolian notes, ever since I picked up a few of them in Ulaanbaatar.

Besides, the Mongolian national symbol – the Soyombo, which appears in the national flag – is a certain giveaway.

“The Soyombo is… attributed to Zanabazar, the 17th-century leader of Mongolian Lamaism, a great statesman, and the father of Mongolian art and script,” says the University of Pennsylvania, including an interpretation of the ying-yang that’s new to me.

“The yin-yang symbol means that men and women are unified. During Communist times it was interpreted as two intertwined fish, which symbolize vigilance and wisdom, as fish never close their eyes.”

Not having eyelids isn’t quite the same as being vigilant, I’d say, and I don’t much associate fish with wisdom, but I suppose that’s just anthropocentric bias, isn’t it?

I didn’t pick up the notes in country. They came with the grab bag of international paper money cheapies, and are 10-, 20- and 50-möngö notes.

A möngö is one-hundredth of a tugrik (tögrög), the base unit. Considering that U.S. $1 fetches about 3,500 tugrik these days, even 50 möngö isn’t going to be worth much. Indeed, Wiki says of the notes, “Very rare in circulation. Abundant among collectors.”

The möngö notes depict Mongolian sports: archery, wrestling and horse riding. Those are known as the “Three Games of Men,” the Mongolian embassy to the U.S. tells me. It also says that “nowadays, track and field sports, football, basketball, volleyball, skating, skiing, motorcycle racing, mountain climbing, chess and other sports are widely played in Mongolia.”

Also, there’s a Mongolian American Football Association. Learn something new every day.

1 Ruble, Transnistria

I’ve looked at enough ruble-denominated currency to know what “ruble” looks like in Cyrillic, namely, рубль. This is somebody’s one-ruble note. 

Not Russia, nor Belarus, which are the two nations that currently call their money that. Not the defunct Armenian ruble, Latvian ruble or Tajikistani ruble, either.

Instead, this is a Transnistrian ruble. To the naked eye, and not the scanner, those black rectangles are shiny silver, which I take to be an anti-counterfeiting measure. That inspires the question: who would counterfeit these notes? Perfidious Moldovans?

In news reports, Transnistria is inevitably referred to as a “breakaway” territory from Moldova that’s “Russian backed.” A polite way – and why do we need to be polite? – to call them Russian stooges. The map accompanying this article shows how that might be a geopolitical concern these days.

In any case, internationally unrecognized Transnistria has its own currency, with the one ruble sporting the famed Russian military commander Alexander Vasilyevich Suvorov, who did so much to facilitate his nation’s imperial expansion under Catherine the Great.

Field Marshal Suvorov has a more direct connection with Transnistria, however, since he’s considered the founder of modern Tiraspol, capital of the breakaway territory. He ordered fortifications built on the site late in the 18th century, though the city had antecedents going back to Greek settlement around 600 BC.

The reverse features an uninspiring image of a monument in Transnistria to one or both of the Jassy-Kishinev offensives of 1944, probably the second, since it was a smashing success for the Red Army and (remarkably) the U.S. Army Air Corps.

“On August 20, 1944, the Soviet Second Ukrainian Front, under the command of General Rodion Malinovsky, and the Third Ukrainian Front, under the command of General Fyodor Tolbukhin, launched a two-pronged attack against German Army South Ukraine…” the National World War II Museum explains.

“By August 23, the German Sixth Army had been surrounded by the two converging Soviet fronts. German air support was nowhere to be found, because it had been eliminated by the United States Fifteenth Air Force.

“While it does not receive a lot of attention, the offensive was one of the most successful joint operations of the war. It was quite an achievement, considering this was only the second time that the Americans and Soviets worked together. Yet you would have to look hard to find literature on the offensive. Perhaps it is time to give the Second Jassy-Kishinev Offensive the attention it deserves.”

2 Taka, Bangladesh

“Presidents Day” is here again, but no holiday for me. George Washington’s birthday isn’t until Wednesday, anyway. It’s all very well to honor the father of our country, but, like Dr. King, why couldn’t he have been born in some warmer month?

Here’s another banknote of mine without Roman lettering that I decided to identify over the weekend.

No Cyrillic, either. It turned out to be relatively easy to pin down, since most notes tend to feature one or the other, even if a country’s dominant language(s) are in another script. Another useful clue are the Hindu-Arabic numerals for the date, 2013.

It’s a two-taka note from Bangladesh, whose symbol is the curious ৳, which seems to suggest the Bengali script for the word, টাকা, but also a Roman t. Various sources say this note has mostly passed from circulation, replaced by coins. Also, its one-hundredth division, poysha, has evaporated in the heat of decades of inflation. In theory, a 2-taka note is worth just shy of U.S. 2 cents.

Speaking of fathers of nations, though a rather different example, father of Bangladesh Sheikh Mujibur Rahman is on the observe. Next to him is the National Martyrs’ Memorial near Dhaka, commemorating those who died for independence in bloody 1971.

In the upper right corner, the national emblem of Bangladesh. “Located on the emblem is a water lily, that is bordered on two sides by rice sheaves. Above the water lily are four stars and three connected jute leaves,” Wiki notes. Jute may yet have its day as a green fiber.

On the reverse, another memorial to the dead. In this case, the Shaheed Minar (The Martyr Tower) of the Bengali Language Movement, whose day happens to be tomorrow.

20 Rubles, Tajikistan

When I had something else to do the other day, naturally I decided it was time to find out where this banknote was from.

I’m assuming that’s the obverse. I’ve had it for a while, obtained as part of a package of banknotes from around the world that I bought for a modest sum a few years ago. They’re all of modest value. In many cases, as modest as possible: zero. This is one of those.

The first thing to look up were the nations that use Cyrillic, so I did. Then the flag threw me off, since I took it to be the Hungarian flag. Except Hungarians don’t use Cyrillic. Could there be some quasi-Hungarian entity somewhere that does?

No. Closer examination of the flag – and it is much harder to see with your eye than the scan – revealed a small gold crown topped by stars in the while middle bar. That proved to be the key. Tajikistan’s flag looks like that, so from there I took a quick look at that country’s currency.

These days, Tajikistan’s currency is the somoni, named in honor of Ismoil Somoni, a ninth-century (849-907) potentate of the region I previously knew nothing about.

He isn’t forgotten in Tajikistan. To quote Wiki: “With the end of Soviet rule in Tajikistan, Ismail’s legacy was rehabilitated by the new Tajik state. He is depicted on the SM 100 banknote. Also, the highest mountain in Tajikistan (and in the former Soviet Union) was renamed after Ismail. The mountain was formerly known as Stalin Peak and Communism Peak but was subsequently changed to the Ismoil Somoni Peak.”

So that’s what happened to Communism Peak. I’m sure I learned that was the highest mountain in the Soviet Union years ago – and that it had been Stalin Peak for a while – but hadn’t thought about it since.

The table of recent Tajikistani currency shows that I don’t have a 20 somoni note, because those weren’t issued until 2000. For a few years before that, however, the country used the Tajikistan ruble. That’s what I have.

The building under the flag is the Majlisi Oli, where the parliament of Tajikistan meets, for what it’s worth. Which probably isn’t much, considering that the nation’s strongman, Emomali Rakhmon, née Emomali Sharipovich Rahmonov, runs elections essentially the same way as in the Tajik SSR, to his president-for-life benefit. He apparently runs the country with a dash – more than a dash – of a cult of personality, too. I’m a little surprised he isn’t on the money.

“Poems were read in his honor in parliament, and the state media often compares him to the sun,” Deutsche Welle reports. “All around Tajikistan, posters with pictures and sayings of Rakhmon have been put up. In public, each person must address Rakhmon as Chanobi Oli, or ‘Your Excellency.’ “

Windmills of Batavia

This is the Fabyan Windmill in Kane County, near the Fox River.

Nearly 15 years ago, we saw the Fabyan Windmill, which was brought to the site by the whim of a wealthy local resident years earlier. It’s still there. But we didn’t visit on Saturday, though it’s only a little north of where we went in Batavia.

We saw other windmills last weekend, all collected near the river in Batavia. None of them were Dutch-style. Instead, they were the kind you used to find, and still find, on North American farms and ranches.

Such as the Pearl Steel windmill, made ca. 1900 by the Batavia Wind Mill Co.Windmills of Batavia, Illinois

A plain sort of design. The people’s windmill, you might say.

In the late 19th- and early 20th centuries, Batavia was a hub of windmill manufacturing – a supplier of the technology to the nation. By mid-century, that was done, and Batavia moved past its windmill days until the 1990s. Then local citizens made an effort to find, acquire and erect Batavia-made windmills, mostly on the peninsula in the Fox River that we strolled around last weekend.Windmills of Batavia, Illinois

Another example: a Challenge Vaneless Model 1913 windmill. I like the floral aesthetics of this one. Batavia Windmills
Windmills of Batavia, Illinois

A Goodhue Special, Appleton Manufacturing Co., early 20th century.Windmills of Batavia, Illinois

A Challenge 27 windmill, by the Challenge Wind Mill and Feed Mill Co., which is a later example (immediate pre-WWII years) and apparently a great success as a culmination of earlier cool Machine Age technology.Windmills of Batavia, Illinois

“As a self-oiling mill, the main casting served as its own oil reservoir,” the sign in front of the Challenge 27 mill explains. “Two large crank gears lifted the oil out of the reservoir and and carried it to both the pinion gears and an oil trough located at the base of the guide rods. From here the oil was lifted to lubricate the crosshead and then transmitted during every revolution of the wheel to the front main bearing under the wheel’s hub. From here, the oil flowed back to the reservoir through the force of gravity.”

Two more (among several others): Challenge OK Windmill, also by Challenge, but of less certain date, ca. 1900.Windmills of Batavia, Illinois

And a U.S. Model E.Windmills of Batavia, Illinois Windmills of Batavia, Illinois

Early 20th century again, made by the U.S. Wind Engine and Pump Co.

Excellent restorations, though they seem to be fixed in place, and so don’t turn with the wind anymore. Probably a preservation strategy. Still, windmill enthusiasts (there must be some) are advised to visit Batavia, and also to take a look at this handy guide to the machines rising over park land in that village.

Along the Fox River, Batavia

We’re having a few days of faux spring. I ate lunch on the deck today, and noticed that the croci in the back yard are just beginning to push upward. That’s in contrast to last year, when that happened well into March, and no there were blooms until early April.

Temps were in the upper 40s on Saturday, and there was no threat of rain, so we took a walk along the Fox River in Batavia, Illinois.Fox River in Batavia, Illinois

Not so warm that there still isn’t a film of ice. Faux spring, after all, is still winter.Fox River in Batavia, Illinois

We walked along a peninsula that juts into the river. It’s partly parkland, with an easy trail near the edge of the water all the way around.Fox River in Batavia, Illinois Fox River in Batavia, Illinois

At the northern tip of the peninsula is a gazebo. Called a “pavilion” on the signs, but I know a gazebo when I see one.Fox River in Batavia, Illinois Fox River in Batavia, Illinois

The Challenge Dam.Fox River in Batavia, Illinois

There’s been a dam of some kind on the site since the 1830s, originally providing water power for various small factories along the river (flour, ice, lumber, paper, stone), a function long relegated to the past. The current concrete dam is a bit more than 100 years old, taking its name from the Challenge Wind Mill and Feed Mill Co., whose building was next to the dam.  More prosaically, it’s also called Batavia Dam, and there seem to be long-term plans in the works to remove it.

The former wind mill (and feed mill) building.Fox River in Batavia, Illinois

I didn’t take a closer look, but the Batavia Historical Society says the building is in use even now, “partially filled with various, small companies.”

The city of Batavia has a building on the peninsula.Fox River in Batavia, Illinois

And a bulldog statue. Fox River in Batavia, Illinois

The Bulldogs are the local high school mascot, and 15 painted bulldogs were to be found in Batavia in the warm months of 2018.

Taishō-Era Beer

Back to the vault of my old correspondence again, for a postcard I mailed from Japan nearly 29 years ago. I picked up a set of cards at the Sapporo Brewery in Sapporo, Hokkaido on our trip there in the fall of ’93. One reason to visit the brewery — the main one, as it happened — was dinner at the beer garden, for its splendid Mongolian barbecue.

The cards were reproductions of old advertising posters for that brand of beer.

A Taishō-era (大正) poster, in this case. In particular, Taishō 13, or as most of the rest of the world would call it, 1924.

As an era, Taishō didn’t last much longer, expiring in 1926 with the sickly emperor Yoshihito, who became known as Taishō posthumously. Taishō Democracy, such as it was, didn’t last much longer either, since like Weimar Germany, it had never really taken root, and the Depression laid the groundwork for its demise.

Face to Face With a Short Snorter for the First Time

After our walk in the forest on Sunday, we dropped by an antique mall that we visit occasionally, and I saw something I’d read about years earlier, but had never actually seen. And I mean many years ago – maybe as long ago as junior high in the mid-70s, when I was browsing through one of the dictionaries we had at home, as one did before the Internet. I did, anyway.

By chance one day, I happened across the term short snorter. Occasionally afterward I’d mention it to someone else, and no one had ever heard of it. But I didn’t forget. That’s the kind of obscurity worth treasuring. In more recent years, I found mention of them online.

There under glass on Sunday – which accounts for the glare – was a short snorter.

Evidently, this silver certificate began its career as a short snorter on July 11, 1944 at Crumlin, near Lough Neagh, in County Antrim, Northern Ireland.

In our time, naturally, there are web sites devoted to short snorters. Even so, I’m sure that most people still haven’t heard of them, since they seem to have faded after WWII, as lost to time time as A cards.

“A short snorter is a banknote which was signed by various persons traveling together or meeting up at different events and records who was met,” the Short Snorter Project says. “The tradition was started by bush pilots in Alaska in the 1920s and subsequently spread through the growth of military and commercial aviation. If you signed a short snorter and that person could not produce it upon request, they owed you a dollar or a drink.”

Not only was it a real thing, there are short snorters with names, as the page details, such as the General Hoyt Vandenberg Snorter, the Harry Hopkins Snorter and the Yalta Snorter, among others.

The page also claims that “short snorters come to light at coins shops and coin shows where most dealers pay very little for them as they are heavily worn and ‘not very collectible.’ ”

Tell that to the antique dealer offering the note I saw. The asking price: $95. Obscurity worth treasuring, maybe, but I wasn’t inclined to pay that much.