History Untold

⚔️ **From Teenage Confederate Soldier to Keeper of Civil War Memory**

Dr. Richard Edward Bullington (1847–1943) lived a life that spanned one of the most transformative periods in American history.

Born on September 2, 1847, in Hernando, Mississippi, Bullington came of age during the Civil War. At just sixteen years old, he joined the Confederate Army, serving in Company K of the 18th Mississippi and later with forces associated with Forrest's Cavalry. According to local tradition, he had attempted to enlist earlier but was turned away because of his youth. Determined to serve, he returned a year later and entered the conflict that would shape the rest of his life.

As a young cavalryman, Bullington experienced some of the war's most intense fighting. Cavalry operations under Nathan Bedford Forrest were known for their speed, aggressive tactics, and heavy casualties. Like many soldiers of his generation, Bullington witnessed hardships and dangers that few teenagers should ever have faced.

When the war ended in 1865, he began a new chapter.

Rather than remaining defined by the conflict, Bullington pursued higher education and graduated from dental college in 1872. He built a successful career as a dentist and became a respected member of his community. Yet he never lost his connection to the generation that had fought the Civil War.

In later years, Bullington became active in veterans' organizations and the United Confederate Veterans, eventually rising to serve as Commander-in-Chief. Through these organizations, he helped preserve the memories and experiences of aging veterans as the war passed from living memory into history.

By the time of his death from pneumonia on January 20, 1943, Bullington had witnessed extraordinary change—from horse-mounted cavalry charges to the modern age of automobiles, airplanes, and radio.

His story reflects a remarkable historical journey: a teenage soldier who survived a devastating war, built a professional career, and lived long enough to become one of the last links between the Civil War generation and the modern world.

📜 Buried at Elmwood Cemetery in Memphis, Tennessee, Richard Edward Bullington remains a fascinating example of a life that bridged two very different eras of American history.

Nadine Gordimer was born into exactly the kind of life that tends to produce comfortable silence.
She was born on November 20, 1923, in Springs, South Africa — a mining town east of Johannesburg. Her parents were white, middle-class, Jewish immigrants. The apartheid system that was being built around her would protect people like her. Looking away was not just possible. It was expected.
She started writing at nine. Published her first story at fifteen. Began to see, through books and then through her own eyes, the world that existed on the other side of the color line that ran through every street, every building, every human relationship in the country where she lived.
She could not look away.
By 1960, two events had forged something permanent in her. Her best friend, Bettie du Toit, was arrested. And at Sharpeville, government forces opened fire on a crowd of peaceful Black protesters, killing 69 people. Nadine Gordimer entered the struggle that would define the rest of her life.
She became close to the lawyers defending Nelson Mandela and his colleagues — Bram Fischer and George Bizos. She joined underground circles. She and her husband hid people in their home. She wrote — novels and stories that the South African government banned as fast as she could produce them, because they told the truth about what apartheid did to human beings. When the authorities burned her books, she considered it confirmation she was doing something right.
Then came April 20, 1964. The Rivonia Trial.
Mandela had been working on his statement from the dock for weeks — not testimony, but a declaration. Something that would put the apartheid system itself on trial. He asked for help polishing it from two trusted friends: journalist Anthony Sampson and Nadine Gordimer. Together they reviewed and refined the speech that Mandela had written — the address that would end with the words that still echo:
"During my lifetime, I have dedicated my life to this struggle of the African people. I have fought against white domination, and I have fought against Black domination. I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons will live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal for which I am prepared to die."
Gordimer was in the courtroom when Mandela spoke those final words on April 20, 1964. There was a chance — a real chance — that he and the other defendants would be sentenced to death. She described what happened when he finished:
"The strangest and most moving sound I have ever heard from human throats came from the Black side of the court audience. It was short, sharp and terrible: something between a sigh and a groan."
Mandela was sentenced to life imprisonment. He was taken to Robben Island. And Gordimer kept writing, kept testifying, kept working — for twenty-six more years.
In 1986, she testified at the Delmas Treason Trial — a case against twenty-two South African anti-apartheid activists charged with treason. She stood in the courtroom and told the judge that she regarded Nelson Mandela and Oliver Tambo as her leaders. In apartheid South Africa, that statement was not rhetorical courage. It was the kind of thing that got people watched, harassed, and worse.
She said later that the proudest day of her life was not when she received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1991. It was that day in 1986, when she testified to save the lives of twenty-two people who were willing to die for what they believed.
The Nobel Prize committee called her work "magnificent epic writing" that had "been of very great benefit to humanity." She gave a portion of the prize money to the South African Congress of Writers.
In 1990, Nelson Mandela walked out of Victor Verster Prison after 27 years. The cameras were everywhere. The world was watching. Among the first people he asked to see was Nadine Gordimer.
She died on July 13, 2014, at the age of 90. The ANC observed: "Our country has lost an unmatched literary giant whose life's work was our mirror and an unending quest for humanity."
In her lifetime she wrote fifteen novels and over two hundred short stories. Governments banned her books. Police watched her house. She was warned that testifying in treason trials made her a target.
She kept going anyway, driven by a conviction she stated simply and without apology:
"I refuse to accept that one must oneself have been exposed to prejudice and exploitation to be opposed to it. I like to think that all decent people, whatever their religious or ethnic background, have an equal responsibility to fight what is evil."
She was born into the class that apartheid was built to protect. She spent her life fighting it anyway.
And on the morning Nelson Mandela walked free, he wanted to see her.
That tells you everything.

📸 **A Special Moment from the 1950s**

This wonderful photograph captures Salisbury, Massachusetts police officer **Joe Messina** alongside the legendary entertainer **Sammy Davis Jr.** during the 1950s.

Although the autograph has faded with time, a closer look reveals the signature that once marked this memorable encounter. Photographs like this preserve more than just faces—they capture a moment when an ordinary day crossed paths with an extraordinary talent.

Sammy Davis Jr. was one of the most versatile and beloved performers of the twentieth century, celebrated as a singer, dancer, actor, comedian, and member of the iconic Rat Pack. For Officer Joe Messina, this photograph became a lasting keepsake of a chance meeting with one of entertainment's biggest stars.

More than half a century later, the image remains a treasured piece of family and local history, connecting two very different worlds through a single snapshot in time.

📷 Credit: Daniel Messina

🎭 **Remembering Stan Laurel**
**June 16, 1890 – February 23, 1965**

Today we remember the legendary Stan Laurel, one half of the most beloved comedy partnership in motion picture history.

Born Arthur Stanley Jefferson in Ulverston, Lancashire, England, Laurel grew up in a theatrical family and developed a passion for performance at an early age. Before finding worldwide fame, he toured with Fred Karno's renowned comedy troupe, where he served as an understudy to a young Charlie Chaplin.

In 1910, Laurel traveled to America, where he gradually built a successful career in silent films and vaudeville. Although he first appeared alongside Oliver Hardy in *The Lucky Dog* (1921), it was at Hal Roach Studios that the two comedians officially joined forces with *Putting Pants on Philip* (1927), creating one of cinema's most enduring partnerships.

Together, Laurel and Hardy appeared in more than 100 films, delighting audiences with their perfect blend of innocence, mischief, and unforgettable physical comedy. Their classics—including *The Music Box*, *Sons of the Desert*, *Way Out West*, and *Babes in Toyland*—remain treasured by generations of fans.

While audiences knew him as the gentle, bewildered half of the duo, Laurel was also the creative mastermind behind many of their greatest routines, contributing extensively to writing, directing, and developing the comedy that made them famous.

Their 1932 short film *The Music Box* won the Academy Award for Best Live Action Short Subject, and in 1961 Laurel received an Honorary Academy Award in recognition of his extraordinary contributions to the art of screen comedy.

More than sixty years after his passing, Stan Laurel's influence can still be seen in comedians and filmmakers around the world. His timeless humor continues to bring laughter to audiences of all ages.

As Stan himself might have said:

*"Well, here's another nice mess you've gotten me into."*

Rest in peace, Stan Laurel. Your laughter lives on.