Turn, Turn, Turn

it never slowed down or sped up. It was constant and always in motion, and his passion for that motion eventually led him to a career as a horologist a watchmaker during the eighteenth century, and John Joseph hailed from Belgium but moved to England in seventeen sixty when he was twenty five years old. He was skilled with his hands, building all sorts of intricate and ornate objects for English royalty,

including a barrel organ for the Princess of Wales. He moved on six years later, embracing his passion for time by working alongside British jeweler James Cox. But James Cox made a lot more than just necklaces and elaborate rings. Together, the two men designed watches, clocks, and elaborate automatons, such as the Silver Swan. What was the Silver Swan, you might ask, Well, it was a three foot tall machine made to look like a majestic swan gliding across the water.

The operator would wind up the gears inside, which would power the swan to do things like turn its head, dip down to eat silver fish, and even preen itself. The water effect was achieved by glass rods that spun underneath. The whole effect lasted about thirty two seconds but never failed to inspire awe in the minds of spectat ars, and it was all thanks to the automaton's precise inner

workings built by John Joseph. His expertise could be seen in another creation as well, a barometric clock known as Cox's Timepiece that would wind itself whenever the air pressure changed. When he wasn't constructing complicated clockwork, John Joseph also spent his time expanding his skills, but eventually he moved on from the world of time pieces and clock based robots

to making musical instruments. It was work that made him popular among the English elite, often building pianos and harpsichords on commission for friends and popular composers of the time. He soon found himself invited to parties where he entertained guests with his inventions and peculiarities. Peculiarities he used to market his talents. For example, that one mass grade ball he showed up in a wheelchair of his own design.

At another event, he demonstrated the first version of an invention that wouldn't catch on for few decades, probably because he hadn't quite worked out the kinks. His device allowed him to zip around the room on wheels, much like a wheelchair. There was just one problem with it. He didn't know how to stop. With his violin in hand, John Joseph glided from group to group, chatting with those who could stop him or at least break his fall. After a jovial exchange with one group of guests, the

eccentric inventor took off on his latest creation. However, he had no way of breaking heck, he couldn't even turn. Instead, he careened into an expensive mirror, breaking it and destroying his violin. In fact, John Joseph was seriously injured by the stunt, so his gadget was tucked away until it could be improved upon. Instead, he devoted his attention to a museum of his own inventions, of which there were many.

Over the course of his life, John Joseph developed prosthetics for people born without limbs, away to summon servants from various rooms in his house, and a rotate in tea table, and so much more. But there was one idea of his that deserved to see the light of day again, and eventually it did. In the eighteen forties, his retired invention was revived for the production of an opera where

actors had to simulate ice skating on stage. Twenty years later, an American inventor named James Plimpton changed John Joseph's original design to allow for more control. It started a craze called rink Omania, and it soon took off all over the world. Today, his creation is used in professional sports and was even featured at the Olympics. It has become a fun way for folks to travel on foot or take out the competition. John Joseph, the Belgian horologist and tinkerer,

had invented inline roller skates. My own grandfather owned a roller rink, and my mother grew up on wheels, zipping around just like John Joseph had long ago. Even today, people who put them on love the sensation of speed as they glide down the street. The feeling of wind through their hair adds something to the magical experience of skating, which is quite fitting really, because John Joseph's last name was Merlin. The jobs we perform have an effect on

those around us, even when we don't realize it. The mechanic who fails to fix a doctor's car might contribute to a patient's health because the doctor couldn't get to work on time. The subway worker who forgets to tighten a bolt could cause a derailment, putting hundreds of lives in jeopardy. We don't realize that every day, the lives of people we've never met are in our hands because of one decision we either do or do not make.

And no one knew that better than James Edwin Wide, whose decision affected passengers along his section of railway in eighteen seventy seven in ways they would never understand. Wide was a signal man who worked for the Cape Town Port Elizabeth Railway surface in South Africa. When moving between the train cars, he liked to jump from one to

the next, a habit that had earned him the nickname Jumper. However, on one fateful day in eighteen seventy seven, Wide underestimated his distance and fell between the cars of a moving train. They rolled over him, cutting off both of his legs at the knees. He survived the ordeal and lost his legs, but he managed to keep his job. Things got a lot harder for him after that. For one, the distance from his home to the station was half a mile. He also had problems doing simple tasks like sweeping the

floors of the station and taking out the trash. To help him with his daily chores, Wide hired and assistant named Jack. Jack took care of sweeping and the trash, which allowed his boss to recover and indulge in his on the job hobby. Taxidermy Jack also brought stra Wide to work by pushing him to and from his home in a wooden cart. But there was still one big

problem to contend with switching the signals. Without legs, it was difficult for Why to get around the station if he had to hand off keys to a conductor or change the signals he had to maneuver about on two wooden legs that he had made for himself. It was painful and exhausting, but his assistant, Jack was a quick study. He watched and listened for the cues from both his supervisor and the approaching trains. Once a train reached a certain point on the track, it's whistle would blow a

number of times to signal what it needed. For blows meant the conductor required keys a different number told Wide to trigger a track change, and his newly hired assistant, Jack picked up on the nuances of the job pretty quickly, and before long he was running the station by himself, handing off keys and switching the tracks on his own. One day, though, Jack's employments with the railroad was put in danger. As he was pulling the lever to switch the tracks. A passenger caught a glimpse of him at

work and was shocked. She reported him to the railway authorities, who stepped in to assess the situation. Apparently they had known about Mr Wide's hiring of an assistant, they just didn't know who he had hired. Jack, you see, was a baboon. Wide had spotted him at a local market leading an ox pulled wagon. He was shocked by the animal's ability to perform that sort of work without any supervision, so he bought Jack and took him back to the station,

where he taught him how to sweep floors and remove trash. Eventually, he also showed Jack how to push him from his home to the station and back in a wooden cart. But this productive primate was a lot smarter than Wide gave him credit for. Jack paid attention to the sequence of sounds from the train whistles and learned how and when to switch the tracks. When Wide's boss got wind of the baboon in the station, they came down to

see Jack for themselves. They tested his skills by having an engineer blow a train whistle several times in succession. Jack got to work and pulled the corresponding lover without question. The railway authorities were in awe of his prowess. In the end, rather than fire Wide and have Jack removed, they did something completely unexpected. They hired him. Jack the baboon made twenty cents a day, plus half a bottle

of beer a week, all working for the Railroad. He spent nine years Pauline Switches before passing away from tuberculosis, but throughout his time at the station, he never made a single mistake, giving new meaning to the term monkey business. 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. Yeah,