Welcome to Aaron Menkey'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. Everybody needs a little help every now and then. Someone who has never held a guitar needs to know
where to place their fingers on the strings. A novice dance student must be told how to move their feet, and travelers in unknown destinations need to know where to go. That's where the experts step in, be it their guitar teacher, a dance instructor, or a tour guide. A person with advanced knowledge can be invaluable to someone just learning. But in the pantheon of great teachers, one stands out above the rest. His name was Jack, but he was better
known as Pelaris Jack. During the late eighteen hundreds, Pelaris Jack was responsible for shepherding ships traveling between the cities of Wellington and Nelson in New Zealand. As explorers sailed between the North and South Islands, they would inevitably come upon a dangerous stretch of water known as French Pass. It was a narrow gap fraught with high winds and roaring waves. Two large ships had already sunk to a
watery grave in trying to navigate it. Even the most seasoned captain needed help getting through it, and that's where Pelorus Jack came in. He was first spotted in eighteen eighty eight when a schooner named Brindle entered French Pass. Jack pulled up alongside the boat to assist the Brindle and its crew on their journey. The captain of the Brindle tried to shoot their new guide at first, until the man's wife stepped in and stopped him. It would
have proved a costly mistake too. Within twenty minutes, pellar As Jack had successfully guided the Brindle through the churning waters and jagged rocks to the safety of the Pelarius Sound on the other side. And no, Jack didn't hail from the Pelaris area, but he was familiar with the territory, and word of his good deed quickly spread to sailors all over New Zealand. Regardless of whose stories are to be believed. Jack's reputation for helping ships and needs spread
far and wide. Captains who knew of him would stop at French Pass and wait for him to arrive, refusing to go through it until they knew that he was beside them. But not every ship treated Jack like a guardian angel. A fairy steamer named the S S Penguin nearly killed him in nineteen o four. A passenger tried to shoot the guide with the rifle, but was stopped when others on board restrain him. It didn't matter, though the damage was done. Jack never showed up to escort
the SS Penguin again. A few years later, the ship sunk trying to steer through the channel on its own. After that attempt on his life, Jack was placed under the protection of the Sea fisher He's Act of nineteen o four, The misfortune of ships that ran a foul of Pelorus Jack led to his mystique, and sailors didn't only discuss him among themselves, they talked him up to the newspapers too. Postcards were even printed with his image on them. He performed his job reliably for twenty four years,
and throughout that time developed some bizarre habits. For example, he often ignored wooden boats in favor of mighty steamers with metal hulls. He'd also abandoned the ships halfway through their trip through the pass, letting them find their own way from there. But perhaps the strangest occurrence of Jack's career happened in nineteen twelve, when the friendly Shepherd of the Seas disappeared. One theory suggested that Jack was killed by a harpoon fired by Norwegian whalers in April of
that year. When his decomposing body washed up on a nearby beach. Not long after, experts concluded that he had simply died of old age. Jack would never help boats navigate the turbulent water as a French pass again. He'd never wait at the entrance to Pelarius sound guide them out of the channel, either no more playing in the wakes of the ships or rubbing against their hulls Pelaris. Jack wasn't a good Samaritan doing his nautical duty. He
was a dolphin. When we think of secession, we think of a particular moment in American history when brother fought brother, and two halves of the United States nearly tore the country apart. I'm talking, of course, about the Civil War, and you knew that the South had chosen to secede from the rest of the country with a goal of starting its own republic. Instead, what resulted was a bloody war, costing thousands of lives over the course of four years.
But it wouldn't be the last time part of the US would try to go its own way, and in the late nineteen thirties, residents of Wyoming, South Dakota, and Montana were suffering the Great Depression of ten years earlier had at East much. Farmers were losing their crops to drafts and grasshopper infestations, and it looked to them, at least as if the government didn't care about what happened
to them. The hardest hit areas, often rural, saw almost no federal funding, with much of that going to larger infrastructure projects instead. While agriculture languished, railroads and dams were being built or improved. The Summit felt like the government had failed the people, The politicians that had been elected to represent them had lost their way, and President Roosevelt's
big Government New Deal was the final straw. No longer with thousands of farmers and small town Americans stand by and let the world carry on as if they didn't exist. A new movement had dawned, and it's very vocal champion could be found in the man named A. R. Swickard, the street and water commissioner of shared in Wyoming. Swickard already had an axe to grind. The Republicans who had promised to help his town had seemingly abandoned in him instead.
The time had come to take drastic action. However, Swickard would not resort to taking up arms against the United States. He sought a more peaceful and legal approach to secession. He and the rest of the movement would create their own states Absarrocca. The name was taken from the Native Crow language meaning children of the large beaked bird, and the Absaroka Initiative quickly took flight. Swicker delivered speeches in towns in Wyoming, Montana, and South Dakota about what their
possible new lifestyle might entail. Unsurprisingly, the new state would have a conservative bent, with a focus on small government. At the time, it was poised to become the forty nine state. Illustrated by a state flag design with the number forty nine written across it, Swicker showed crowds of potential license plate, a map, and held a beauty contest called the Miss Absarocca Pageant. It's first and only winner, Dorothy Fellows, joined Swickard in preaching the benefit of an
independent state. The movement kept growing, as did their territory. In fact, as part of his publicity tour, Swickard touted the still under construction Mount Rushmore as a potential tourist destination since it would have fallen within their new state lines, and the coalition was being noticed outside the U S as well. The King of Norway came to Absaroka in
nineteen thirty nine. Well, it was more like he was passing through on his way to visit southeast Montana, but the people there took it as a sign that their fight for statehood was being recognized by the international community. Swickard was relentless in his pursuit of vindication. He held public hearings where those within Absaroka's borders addressed the wrongs committed by the big city politicians who had left them
high and dry, and it seemed to be working. When officials in Montana and Wyoming got word of the unrest among their constituents, they started to listen more closely. Perhaps, if things had been different, we might have fifty one states on our maps today. Unfortunately, the plight of the Absarokans paled and co paris into the conflict going on in Europe. World War two had united the globe under one common goal, and the United States had started sending
its own troops over there to fight. At that point, there was no longer a reason for disenfranchised farmers to start their own state. They dropped their plans to secede and throw their energy into the fray overseas. The movement dissipated, never quite regaining its momentum, leaving Absaroka to become nothing more than a state of mind. 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 Manky 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.