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Get Out

Apr 05, 20229 minEp. 395
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Episode description

So many curious stories can be found at the root of everyday things we take for granted today. Let's explore two of them here.

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Transcript

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Welcomed Aaron Mankey's Cabinet of Curiosities, a production of I Heart Radio and Grim and Mild. Our world is full of the unexplainable, and if history is an open book, all of these amazing tales are right there on display, just waiting for us to explore. Welcome to the Cabinet of Curiosities. For quite some time, there has been an ongoing debate as to whether a tomato is a fruit

or a vegetable. Of course, it has long been established as a fruit, but there are still holdouts out there, not unlike flat earthers who cling to their antiquated beliefs that the tomato is a vegetable solely because it is often eaten among other vegetables. But there was a time when the debate around tomatoes was much more venomous to It was definitely got off to a bad start in history.

It all began when they were accused by a fourteenth century Catholic naturalist of being man breaks in disguise and thus condemned by God. Things didn't get any better when tomatoes were first brought back from America by Cortes. No one dared eat them, because well, no one knew what would happen if you did, But then when someone did, it didn't go well. People began to get sick from tomatoes, sometimes even dying. The tomato was only partially at fault, though,

you see. The actual culprit was the tableware at the time, which was made of pewter, containing a remarkably high concentration of lead and a twist that could tie together a historical fiction mystery novel. It was the acid of the tomatoes that brought the lead out. Thus began the tomatoes unfortunate nickname the poison Apple, and it faded from the dietary habits of everyone. Some theorized that the poison came from the tomato skin, which could coat the stomach and

cause stomach cancer, while others blamed tomatoes for appendicitis. Whatever the case, it simply wasn't worth the risk. That is until one Colonel Robert Gibbon Johnson he'd had enough of the poor reputation of his beloved garden snack. Colonel Johnson knew as we do, that tomatoes were not dangerous to humans, but he had a very doubtful public around him, frequently pointing fingers and calling him mad. For eating these supposedly

deadly forbidden fruit. Johnson loved tomatoes so much that he offered a yearly prize to whoever could grow the largest, although at the time they were still only used for decorative purposes and nothing more. Finally, Johnson decided to do something bigger. He announced that he would eat a tomato, which by then had earned another nickname, the wolf peach, and he would do it on the steps of the

courthouse for all to see. That morning, he emerged from his mansion to the cheers and jeers of nearly two thousand people. Dressed in his usual black suit, he walked down the street towards the courthouse, the crowd in tow and a fireman's band playing a tune to commemorate the occasion. He mounted the steps, tomato in hand, and turned to

the crowd, delivering his mission for the occasion. To help dispel the tall tales, he said, the fantastic fables that you have been hearing, and to prove to you that it is not poisonous, I am going to eat one

right now. The crowd cheered and jeered some more, expecting to see what would surely be a gruesome death of epic proportions as this foolish man ate a fruit not only poisonous but also perhaps condemned by God himself, And as the tomato passed into the gullet of the colonel, the crowd was perhaps a little disappointed that he wasn't smitten by a bolt of lightning, or at least left convulsive on the ground from stomach pains. No, Johnson didn't

die on the steps of the courthouse that day. He lived on and proved that tomatoes were never poisonous, and if they ever were condemned by God, perhaps he'd lightened up a bit. Over the years, the actual history of this event was passed down orally from postmaster to historian before being written down for the first time nearly a

century later. So while the dramatics of this event may well be embellished, the result of the event is not, and much like the tomato over the century, this event earned itself a nickname the Salem Tomato Trials, making it hands down the second most famous trial to ever occur in Salem, well, that is, Salem, New Jersey. Language is ever changing words enter and leave our lexicon all the time. For example, almost nobody channels their inner Teddy Roosevelt and

uses bully to express approval anymore. On the flip side, words like bird a side and tater tots were inducted into the Oxford English Dictionary in two thousand twenty one. For every rolodex that goes the way of the dinosaur, there's a conscious uncoupling that takes its place. But many words stand the test of time and we can chart their origins back hundreds even thousands of years. And one such word happened to come from ancient Greece, and it

was all thanks to one man. His name was Klistones, and he was known as the father of Athenian democracy. Clisthenes was a Greek lawmaker who had enough of the tyrants in control. With assistance from the Spartans and a noble Greek family, he was able to overthrow the person in charge and install a democratic system of government instead. Suddenly Athenians were not beholden to the whims of a few rich and powerful families. They could now vote their

own best interests instead. The familial tribes of old were replaced with new tribes based on where they lived or their dems, and it was leave that as many as one hundred and thirty nine dems existed at one time. Along with a democratic system of voting, Clystones also introduced sortition, a way of choosing individuals for government roles based on

criteria other than their hereditary or family relations. He did everything in his power to give the people a voice, one they had been lacking under their previous rule, and nowhere was that more obvious than one other civic practice

Clystones established in Athens. It was a form of voting, but rather than holding an election for a position within the community, people instead voted to exile someone, and for a period of ten years a concept was a safety mechanism, a way to prevent potential tyrants from rising to power and destroying democracy. Each year Athenians were asked whether they

would like to nominate someone to leave. If a majority voted yes, then another election would be held two months later, in which votes would be cast either against or or the exile. But citizens didn't cast their votes on pieces of papyrus, Such a precious medium was too expensive for something that could be soon discarded. Instead, they used what they already had available, pottery. After all, so many of their stories were already painted and carved into vases, cups,

and bowls. It made sense that the broken shards of those vessels could be reused in some way. In fact, the idea of using broken pieces of clay for writing dates back thousands of years to the ancient Egyptians. Much of these objects still exist today thanks to Egypt's dry desert climates, were able to gain more insight into the daily lives of the ancient Greeks and the ancient Egyptians

because of them. But whereas the Egyptians used the pottery shards for everything from medical prescriptions to dream diaries, the Athenians primarily used theirs to get rid of unwanted citizens. One by one, each voter would tell ascribe the name of the person they wanted gone. Since many Athenians were illiterates and could not write themselves. The scribe would then carve the name into a piece of clay, which was

then tossed into a large urn with the others. Finally, the vote counters tallied up the results by sorting the shards into different piles, one for each name. The pile with the most pieces indicated which person had to leave as long as their name had been etched into at least six thousand shards. If the korun wasn't met, then the vote didn't count. The whole process of exiling someone had been designed by Clysnes around broken fragments of pottery,

also called ostraca. This is where the term for banishing someone from a community, or ostracizing them came from. Sadly, the first victim of the practice of someone who probably never expected to have it used against them. It was Clistines, the man who had introduced it in the first place. I hope you've enjoyed today's guided tour of the Cabinet of Curiosities. Subscribe for free on Apple Podcasts, or learn more about the show by visiting Curiosities podcast dot com.

The show was created by me Aaron Mankey in partnership with how Stuff Works. I make another award winning show called Lore, which is a podcast, book series, and television show, and you can learn all about it over at the World of Lore dot com. And until next time, stay curious. Yeah,

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