Welcomed Aaron Manky'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. When we look back on the most impressive feats of human engineering, we don't often think about what
went into making them possible. The Apollo eleven mission that put Americans on the Moon back in nineteen sixty nine took years of planning, development and testing. The Eiffel Tower in France took over two years to build, while the Statue of Liberty was completed after eight years of construction. Greatness takes time. Unfortunately, the Swedish Royal Navy probably should have baked one particular project just a little bit longer. Modern Sweden is a country we often equate with neutrality
when it comes to political matters. They didn't take a side during either World War, although there were times when they made strategic policy and financial decisions when it benefited them. However, back in the seventeenth century, Sweden was a formidable European empire. It won many wars against countries like Poland and Russia, thanks in large part to its ruler, King Gustavus Adolphus. He reigned for twenty years, and for much of that
time he was at war. Heck, his father left him three wars already in progress when he passed away in sixteen eleven, pretty rough for a fresh seventeen year old. Ascending to the throne around January of six to honor Sweden's militaristic might, the king ordered the construction of some new ships. A contract was signed with shipbuilders in Stockholm to build a total of four ships, two with keel's measuring one eight feet in length and two measuring one
hundred thirty five feet. Unfortunately, despite the contract, the king couldn't make up his mind. He kept changing his order and the ship builders ran into production problems because of that. On top of that, the Swedish Navy lost ten ships that year, meaning the original timeline had shrunk. The plan was to start building two ships of a completely different size, with keels now one twenty feet in length. Sadly, that plan lasted only a short time until the king got
wind of Denmark's latest addition to their fleet. It seems they were working on a ship with two gun decks, unheard of in Sweden, but the king didn't care. He couldn't go to war with a lesser ship, so he forced the one ft vessel to be built with two gun decks instead of one as originally planned. The ship builder, Henrik Hybertson, said it couldn't be done. Then, he had already prepared the lumber to build one large and one small ship, and he was growing sicker by the day.
Hendrik died in seven, two years after the project had started, but before he could see his creation in the water. The work was then passed down to a colleague who followed the king's orders. He doubled the size of the gun deck, as well as the number of cannons on board, from thirty six to almost seventy, and then he carved numerous wooden ornaments like sculptures of soldiers, lions, crests, and filigrees to adorn the ship. This not only extended the
construction schedule, but it also increased the ship's weight. Unfortunately, due to the frenetic nature of its construction and the untimely death of the ship's designer. It was believed that no formal plans had ever been drafted. Henrik Hybertson most likely increased the dimensions of the original ship in his mind, but didn't write anything down, and it was a recipe for a disaster. By the time it was completed in sixty eight, the ship, dubbed the Vassa, was a force
to be reckoned with. It had been named after the royal house from which the king had descended, and was intended to carry three hundred soldiers into battle. August tenth of sixty eight was the Big Day, the day that Sweden and her enemies would see the future of naval warfare in all its glory. The itinerary had the Vassa carrying the small crew and honored guests from Stockholm Harbor to a fortress nearby. After the guests were dropped off, the ship would then travel to an island where it
would defend the Swedish Naval Reserve from Poland Lithuania. But the trip was cut short by a lot. Minutes after it touched the water, a strong wind caused the Vasa to lean dangerously to port. A second gust knocked the ship entirely over causing the lower gun decks to flood. The Vassa wasn't able to recover, and twenty minutes later
it was completely underwater, taking thirty lives with it. Amazingly, the ship was finally recovered in the nineteen sixties and has since become the main attraction of a museum in Sweden thanks to its remarkable state of preservation, and it's also become a cautionary tale for business owners, entrepreneurs and leaders everywhere who can learn a hard lesson from the Vasa's demise that executive meddling can often sink ships. Kids
do stupid things growing up. They get together with their friends and ride bikes without their helmets on, or light fireworks in the street, or, in the case of one time traveling teen, grab onto a passing car while writing a skateboard. And such actions have led to a question. We've all been asked at one point or another, if all your friends jumped off a bridge, would you do it too? Well, Robert Emmett Oddlum didn't jump off a bridge because of his friends, and he didn't do it
to impress someone he was attracted to. He did it to prove a point. Robert was born in Ogdensburg, New York, in August of eighteen fifty one. His brother had served in the Union Army during the Civil War, and his sister, shar At Oddlam Smith, was an activist for women in the workplace. She also helped establish the practice of including ingredients on product labels. Robert aspired to similar success as his siblings, heading down to Washington, d c. In eighteen
seventy eight to start a swimming school. Among his pupils were the children of politicians in generals, such as the soon to be president James Garfield and Union General William T. Sherman. His school did well for a while, and Robert helped get the word out by performing athletic feats in the Potomac River. He once swam a rowing course all by himself, and he often challenged others to swimming races, betting as
much as five hundred dollars at a time. No one ever took him up on the bet, but it didn't stop Robert from showing off his skills. He once held his breath underwater for over three minutes and even jumped ninety feet from a bridge at Occoquan Falls in Virginia. He became known for jumping from tall heights, plunging feet first into the Potomac from his high as a hundred feet above, and he did it without sustaining a single injury.
Of course, Robert was never satisfied. Eventually, his swim school sank and he got a job as a lifeguard and swim instructor at a Virginia hotel. But despite the setback, he continued to perform feats of endurance, such as an eighteen miles swim between the towns of Old Point, Comforts and Ocean View. And yet, no matter how far he swam, nor how high he jumped from, he still desired to
leave his mark on the world in a big way. Sure, he was gaining fame for his various stunts, but he wanted to make a splash, and that opportunity finally arrived on May nineteenth of eight five. You see, Robert wanted to be the first person to jump off the recently completed Brooklyn Bridge in New York, a one thirty ft drop into the East River. News of the jump spread throughout the city in the days leading up to it.
He gave an interview for the New York Herald about his reason for wanting to perform such a dangerous feat, saying that he want to demonstrate something he had been explaining to people for years. No one who jumps from tall heights dies during the fall. He hoped that anyone who witnessed his leap from the Brooklyn Bridge would know how safe it was, for example, to jump into a firefighter's net from the roof of a burning building. Well, the day finally arrived and the police were out in
full force. They refused to allow Robert to perform his jump, even though thousands of New Yorkers had arrived on the bridge to watch it happen. They set up a checkpoint and inspected every carriage crossing the bridge in hopes of catching him before he could jump. The cops stopped one particular cab on the bridge, then asked the person inside about their reason for being there. The man said that he planned to jump into the river without any issue.
The police had caught their man, or so they thought. Several hundred feet behind that carriage was another one with the real Robert inside. He snuck himself out onto the railing while the officers were distracted and prepared for his death. To find leap, he raised one arm over his head to act as a rudder during his drop, and then he stepped off the bridge. The cops tried to stop him, of course, but they couldn't catch him in time. The
fall only took a few seconds. Robert was okay for the first hundred feet, but then his body tilted a bit. He didn't land feet first as he planned. He landed on his right side, and after he slipped below the water, his body pop back up face down. A rescue team quickly pulled him out, and things looked grim. He wasn't moving. Then after some time Robert came to. He asked if the jump was okay, and the people looking after him said he had done well. Sadly, it had gone worse
than he had thought. His body had suffered serious internal injuries, and as blood spurted from his mouth, the rescue boat sped towards land, after which an ambulance was called, but it was too late. He was dead within the hour. Robert Emmett ODDLM went down in history. Though as having been proven right all along, it is rarely the drop that kills you. It just seems that he forgot about the landing. 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.