Almost 207 years ago our infant country attacked Tripoli under circumstances that are eerily similar to contemporary times. That conflict, immortalized in the Marine Corps Hymn, "From the Halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli" called the Tripolitan War or the Barbary Pirate War, came shortly after we gained our independence from England. The United States chose to fight the pirates of Barbary, rather than pay tribute, as did all the other nations who traded in the Mediterranean Sea. The decision was bold, but the eventual victory by the tiny United States Navy broke a pattern of international blackmail and terrorism dating back more than one hundred and fifty years.

The Barbary States was a collective name given to a string of North African seaports stretching from Tangiers to Tripoli. These ports were under the nominal control of the Ottoman Empire, but their real rulers were sea rovers or corsairs who sallied forth from the coast cities to plunder Mediterranean shipping and capture slaves for labor or ransom. Among the famous prisoners ransomed from the shackles of Barbary were St. Vincent de Paul, and Miguel de Cervantes, author of Don Quixote.

Common piracy by the Barbary States blossomed into a sophisticated racket in 1662, when England revived the ancient custom of paying tribute. The corsairs agreed to spare English ships for an annual bribe paid in gold, jewels, arms, and supplies. The custom spread to all countries trading in the Mediterranean.

England paid tribute for the vessels of her American colonies, and France guaranteed it for them during the War of Independence. The new United States awoke abruptly to an ugly responsibility of independence when in 1785 the Dey of Algiers seized an American ship and jailed its crew for nonpayment of tribute.

The Dey was in no hurry to wring tribute from this new source of revenue. The capture of American ships would be more profitable, and in view of the naval weakness of the United States, a rather safe venture. Eleven of the first unfortunate Americans to fall into his hands died before their country ransomed the rest ten years later.

To the sea hawks of Barbary, the American ships in the Mediterranean were "fat ducks" prime for the plucking. In this view, they were encouraged by England and France whose trade was being hurt by the upstart Yankees. Turkey, overlord of Barbary, was an ally of Britain. The North Africans depended on free trade with France for supplies. Hence the pirates were forbidden to attack British shipping and in plain self-interest could not raid the French. With targets so limited, the American "fat ducks" were a godsend. By 1794, the Dey of Algiers had plundered eleven American ships and held one hundred and nineteen of their survivors for ransom.

President George Washington tried to reach an agreement with the Barbary States but with little success. His agents, one of whom was John Paul Jones, had diplomatic doors slammed in their faces.

Washington's ambassadors in Europe worked to free Americans enslaved in Barbary dungeons, but John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, and Thomas Jefferson were ridiculed.

In 1785, the exasperated Jefferson suggested that war was the only solution. His mind was "absolutely suspended between indignation and impotence." Jefferson declared that tribute was "money thrown away" and that the most convincing argument that these outlaws would understand was gunpowder and shot. The future president proposed a multi-national effort between European powers and America that would in effect economically blockade North Africa and ultimately provide for a multi-national military force to combat pirate terrorism. The European powers chose to continue paying tribute to the Barbary States.

John Adams, the next President, went along with the Europeans and paid for peace in the Mediterranean. Congress, in 1795, authorized payment of tribute. Algiers was granted the equivalent of $642,500 in cash, munitions, and a 36-gun frigate, besides a yearly tribute of $21,600 worth of naval supplies. Ransom rates were officially set for those Americans already in Barbary prisons-$4,000 for each passenger, $1,400 for each cabin boy. Sunday after Sunday, a sad roll of names was read out in the churches of Salem, Newport, and Boston, listing the men in irons. Congress would only pay $200 for their freedom, the rest of the money had to be raised privately. Eventually, at long last, the American captives of the Dey of Algiers walked into the light, except for thirty-seven dead, whose ransoms had to be paid nevertheless.

Adam's acquiescence to Algiers prompted Tunis and Tripoli to demand and be promised their own blood money. Tripoli, especially, was piqued at the Dey of Algiers' good fortune.

The payment of blackmail did not end the indignities perpetrated by Barbary. An absurd episode in 1800 pointed up the futility of giving in to the pirates. When the frigate George Washington docked in Algiers with a consignment of tribute, the Dey, to impress his master, the Sultan of Turkey, shanghaied the American ship to run an errand for him. The captain of the luckless ship, William Bainbridge, was forced to haul down the American flag and to run up the Algerian colors. The George Washington was commandeered to take a shipment of treasure, livestock, and some lions to the Sultan in Istanbul.

Yusuf, the Pasha of Tripoli, seeing the weakness of the Americans, decided to increase demands on the United States. Among the trifles he ordered as part of the American tribute were several diamond-studded guns. On the occasion of the death of George Washington the Pasha informed President Adams that it was customary when a great man passed away from a tributary state to make a gift in his name to the crown of Tripoli. Yusuf estimated Washington to be worth about $10,000.

By the spring of 1801, Yusuf had heard nothing about his $10,000 and his impatience with America had grown to a fine rage. The Pasha summoned the American representative to his court, made him kiss his hand and decreed that, as a penalty, tribute would be raised to $225,000, plus $25,000 annually in goods of his choice. If refused, the alternative was war. To make his point, Yusuf had his soldiers chop down the flagpole in front of the American consulate, a significant gesture in a land of no tall trees-and one that meant war.

The reason for Yusuf's lack of tribute was that the United States had a new president — the former frustrated ambassador, Thomas Jefferson. Upon entering office, Jefferson had been appalled to discover that tribute and ransoms paid to Barbary had exceeded $2,000,000, or about one-fifth, of the entire annual income of the United States government.

Jefferson decided that a little "showing of the flag" in the Mediterranean was more appropriate than tribute. He ordered the frigates President, Essex, and Philadelphia and the sloop Enterprise to blockade Tripoli and convoy American shipping. This squadron, under Commodore Richard Dale, had to patrol and control a coastline over 1,200 miles in distance, which resulted in a "most desultory blockade."

Violence was also a factor in the settling of the coal miners' strikes in Alabama in 1894. A month after the strike started, miners in Johns, Adger, and Sumpter were ordered to leave the company houses. The company "strategy in breaking the strike was to import Negro labor to work in the mines. During the strike's first week, 100 Negroes were brought from Kansas." On May 7, 1894, a band of armed men invaded the Price mine at Horse Creek "blowing up boilers, burning supplies and destroying property." On July 16, in a gunfight at Slope, 5 miles from Birmingham, three Negro strikebreakers and a deputy were killed. Troops were ordered into the area by the governor and remained there until August 14, when the strike was settled.

Percy Kilbride (July 16, 1888 - December 11, 1964), born in San Francisco, California, was a popular character actor. Despite being raised in a big city, he made a career of playing country hicks, most memorably as lazy Pa Kettle in the Ma and Pa Kettle movie series.

Kilbride began working in theater at the age of 12 and eventually became an actor on Broadway. Ironically in light of his most familiar roles, he first played an 18th-century French dandy in A Tale of Two Cities.

His film debut was as Jakey in White Woman in 1933. He left Broadway for good in 1942.

In 1945 he appeared in The Southerner.

In 1947 he and Marjorie Main played the supporting parts of Ma and Pa Kettle in The Egg and I, starring Fred MacMurray and Claudette Colbert. Those were followed by the popular Ma and Pa Kettle series with Kilbride and Main playing the main characters, during which time he also played in other movies.

Kilbride retired after making the 1955 film Ma and Pa Kettle at Waikiki He did, however, take a small role in Son of Flubber in 1963.

He died in Los Angeles, California, after having been struck by a car while walking near his home with a friend.

A lifelong bachelor, Kilbride left his estate to four nephews and a sister.

Joseph Jefferson Jackson (July 16, 1888 – December 5, 1951), nicknamed "Shoeless Joe", was an American baseball player who played Major League Baseball in the early part of the 20th century. He is remembered for his performance on the field, and for his association with the Black Sox Scandal, when members of the 1919 Chicago White Sox participated in a conspiracy to fix the World Series. As a result of Jackson's association with the scandal, Kenesaw Mountain Landis, Major League Baseball's first commissioner banned Jackson from playing after the 1920 season.

Jackson played for three different Major League teams during his twelve-year career. He spent 1908-09 as a member of the Philadelphia Athletics; 1910 through the first part of the 1915 with the Cleveland Naps/Indians; and the remainder of the 1915 season through 1920 with the Chicago White Sox.

Jackson, who played left field for most of his career, currently has the third highest career batting average. In 1911, Jackson hit for a .408 average. That average is still the sixth highest single-season total since 1901, which marked the beginning of the modern era for the sport. His average that year set the record for highest batting average in a single season by a rookie. Babe Ruth claimed that he modeled his hitting technique after Jackson's.

Jackson still holds the White Sox franchise records for triples in a season and career batting average, In 1999, he ranked Number 35 on The Sporting News' list of the 100 Greatest Baseball Players, and was nominated as a finalist for the Major League Baseball All-Century Team.

Joe Jackson was born in Pickens County, South Carolina. As a young child, Jackson worked in a textile mill in nearby Brandon Mill. Jackson's job prevented him from devoting any significant time to formal education. The absence of a formal education would be prevalent throughout Jackson's life. It would even become a factor during the Black Sox Scandal and has even affected the value of his collectibles. Because Jackson was uneducated, he often had his wife sign his signature. Consequently, any thing autographed by Jackson himself brings a premium when sold. In 1900, at the age of 13, Jackson started to play for the Brandon Mill baseball team.

According to Jackson, he got his nickname during a game with the Brandon Mill team. Jackson suffered from a blister on his foot from a new pair of cleats. They hurt so much that he had to take his shoes off before an at bat. Once Jackson was on base, a fan started yelling inappropriate and vulgar comments at him. One of the things Jackson was called was a "Shoeless son of a gun." The name stuck with him throughout the remainder of his life.

1908 was an eventful year for Joe Jackson. Jackson began his professional baseball career when he joined the Greenville Spinners of the Carolina Association. He married Katie Wynn and eventually signed with Connie Mack to play Major League baseball for the Philadelphia Athletics. For the first two-years of his career, Jackson had some trouble adjusting to life with the Athletics. Consequently, he spent a portion of that time in the minor leagues. Between 1908 and 1909, Jackson appeared in ten games. For much of the 1909 season, Jackson played 118 games for the South Atlantic League team in Savannah, Georgia. He batted .358 for the year.

The Athletics finally gave up on Jackson in 1910 and traded him to the Cleveland Naps. After spending time with the New Orleans Pelicans of the Southern Association, the Naps called him up to play on the big league team. He appeared in 20 games for the Naps that year and hit .387. In 1911, Jackson's first full-season, he set a number of rookie records. His .408 batting average that season is a record that still stands. The following season, Jackson batted .395 and led the American League in triples. The next year Jackson led the league with 197 hits and .551 slugging average.

In August of 1915 Jackson was traded to the Chicago White Sox. Two-years later, Jackson and the White Sox won the World Series. During the series, Jackson batted .307 as the White Sox defeated the New York Giants.

In 1919, Jackson batted .351 during the regular season and .375 with perfect fielding in the World Series. Unfortunately, the heavily favored White Sox lost the series to the Cincinnati Reds. During the next year, Jackson batted .385 and was leading the American league in triples when he was suspended, along with seven other members of the White Sox, after allegations surfaced that the team had thrown the previous World Series.

After the White Sox unexpectedly lost the 1919 World Series to the Cincinnati Reds, eight players, including Jackson, were accused of losing games intentionally. In September 1920, a grand jury was convened to investigate. In 1921, A Chicago jury acquitted the eight players of fixing the 1919 World Series. However, Kennesaw Mountain Landis, the newly appointed Commissioner of Baseball, banned all eight players. Jackson never played major league baseball after the 1920 season.

In 1922, Jackson returned to Savannah and opened a dry cleaning business. During the remaining twenty years of his baseball career, Jackson played and managed with a number of teams across the country, most of which are located in Georgia and South Carolina.

In 1933, the Jacksons moved back to Greenville, South Carolina. After first opening a barbecue restaurant, Jackson and his wife opened "Joe Jackson's Liquor Store," which they operated until his death. One of the more well known stories of Jackson's post-major league life took place at his liquor store. Ty Cobb and sportswriter Grantland Rice entered the store to shop. After Cobb finished his purchased, he asked Jackson: "Don't you know me, Joe?" Jackson replied: "Sure, I know you, Ty, but I wasn't sure you wanted to know me. A lot of them don't."

As he aged, Joe Jackson began to suffer from heart trouble. In 1951, at the age of 64, Jackson died of a heart attack. He is buried at nearby Woodlawn Memorial Park. To this day, his name remains on the Major League Baseball Ineligible list. Jackson cannot be elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame unless his name is removed from that list.

Ned Buntline (March 20, 1823 – July 16, 1886), was the pseudonym of Edward Zane Carroll Judson (E. Z. C. Judson), an American publisher, journalist writer and publicist best known for his dime novels and the Colt Buntline Special he commissioned from Colt's Manufacturing Company.

Edward Judson was born in Stanford, Dutchess County, New York. As a boy, Ned ran away to sea. Buntline is a nautical term for a rope at the bottom of a square sail. As a seaman, he fought in the Seminole Wars, though he saw little combat. After four years he resigned, having reached the rank of midshipman. Buntline spent several years in the east starting up newspapers and story papers, only to have most of them fail. An early success that helped launch his fame was a gritty story serial of the Bowery and slums of New York City titled "The Mysteries and Miseries of New York." An opinionated man, he strongly advocated nativism and temperance. Through his writing and his association with New York City's notorious gangs of the early 1800s, he was one of the instigators of the Astor Place Riot which left 23 people dead. He also had an involvement in a nativist riot in St. Louis - an involvement that would later come back to haunt him. Although a heavy drinker, he traveled around the country giving lectures about temperance. It was on one of these lecture tours that he encountered Buffalo Bill.

While traveling through Nebraska, Buntline heard that Wild Bill Hickok was in Fort McPherson. Having read a popular article about the Wild West figure, Buntline hoped to interview Hickok with the desire to write a dime novel about him. Finding Hickok in a saloon, he rushed up to him saying "There's my man! I want you!". By this time in his life, Hickok had an aversion to surprises. He threatened Buntline with a gun and ordered him out of town in twenty-four hours. Buntline took him at his word and left the saloon. Still looking to get information on his subject, Ned took to finding Hickock's friends. It is likely that this is how he first met Bill, whose real name was William Cody. Traveling with Cody on an Indian scout, Buntline became enamored with the gregarious man. He gave up his desire to write a novel about Hickok and he decided to write one on Cody instead.

Cody at first was a reluctant hero. Buntline's dime novel series: Buffalo Bill Cody - King of the Border Men was a fantastic success. Buntline immediately began plying Cody to come east and take part in a stage play. Cody at first resisted, but after an eastern trip financed by wealthy newspapermen, decided he enjoyed the spotlight after all. Buntline wrote a play titled "Scouts of the Prairie," which opened in Chicago in December of 1872. Although panned by critics, the play was a great success, and it was performed to packed theaters across the country.

While successful, Cody found he couldn't keep the money he made, nor stand the eccentricities of Buntline. At the height of its popularity, the show closed in June 1873, and Cody and Buntline went their separate ways.

Buntline continued to write dime novels, though none were as successful as his earlier work. He settled into his home in Stamford, New York, where he died of congestive heart failure in 1886. Although he was once the wealthiest author in America, his wife had to sell his beloved home "The Eagle's Nest" to pay the bills.