Mysteries at the Museum S10E04

Mythical beast that's full of hot air. People saw something large with big bulbous eyes rising above the waves. And a brazen bandit who becomes a star. She really embodied the romantic idea of the Old West. Deep in the vaults of the world's greatest institutions. Fly extraordinary relics, tales of intrigue and wonder, and secrets waiting to be revealed. These are the Mysteries at the Museum. San Sebastian, Spain. Stunning beaches, Michelin star restaurants, and a thriving art scene make this coastal city the official European capital of culture. And helping San Sebastian live up to its reputation is the Koldo-Mitsilena Cultural Center. The museum features the first Basque translation of Macbeth. Illustrated manuscripts from the 16th century, and contemporary sculptures by international artists. But perhaps the most intriguing object is a sheet of stamps from a strange land. We've got 10 colorful images, seven sailing boats, a picture of a man, an image of a woman, and a family crest. They come from a place that next to nobody has visited. According to writer Andrea Mann, these stamps tell a revolutionary tale about the founding of an unusual nation. This is a story about the little guy versus the system. It's the 1960s in the United Kingdom. Roy Bates is a music lover who's obsessed with the latest craze, rock and roll. Roy Bates liked the Beatles, Rolling Stones, a lot of the kind of rock and roll everyone really wanted to listen to. But Roy has a problem. The state-run broadcaster, the BBC, is stuck in the past. As a bastion of traditional values, it only plays rock and roll for a few hours a week. Roy believes everyone should be able to listen to rock and roll anytime they like. So together with a host of other pop music fans, he sets up his own pirate radio station. The people that set up these stations were literally broadcasting from boats outside of British waters. This is why they're called pirate radio stations. But unlike the other pirate radio operators, Roy doesn't just play music from a boat and then sail home. Roy commandeers an abandoned seafort seven miles off the coast of England. It's one of several concrete and steel platforms that were built by the British Army during World War II. The broadcaster lives on the 120-foot-long platform with his wife Joan and his son Michael. Roy Bates saw this as the perfect place for his pirate radio station. It was away from civilization. It's a perfect spot for him. But something happens that will change Roy's life forever. In 1967, the government makes it illegal for British citizens to work for a pirate radio station. The government got wind of what Roy was doing and obviously wanted to put a stop to this. But Roy refuses to let the new rules hold him back. He comes up with a rebellious solution. If British nationals can't operate pirate radio stations, then he'll simply change his citizenship. Roy declared the fort to be his own nation, the nation of Sealand. But Roy doesn't stop there. He and his family then created a national anthem for Sealand, a national flag, currency, and stamps. He really went for it. Bates even bestows passports and government titles to people all over the world. He gives the honor of prime minister to a supporter in Germany named Alexander Achenbach. Achenbach had never been to Sealand, but liked the idea of being a prime minister of a nation. Who wouldn't? When British government officials hear of Bates's declaration, they're furious. They consider Sealand an affront to their sovereignty. And to counter the move, they take drastic actions. One by one, they start destroying Britain's abandoned war force. It seems only a matter of time before Sealand is no more. Roy Bates was worried about the safety of his family and their state of Sealand, and whether that was going to be under attack as well. In August 1978, the Bates family's worst fears are finally realized. Roy and his wife Joan are attending to some business in Europe, leaving their 25-year-old son Michael alone on Sealand. Suddenly, in the distance, Michael sees something alarming. A helicopter, speed boats start arriving, approaching the platform at great speed. Michael realizes Sealand is under attack. It seems that the British have mounted an invasion. Alone on the fort, Roy's son Michael watches as a group of armed men storm Sealand. But when they restrain Michael and hold him captive, he realizes something astounding. It's not the British. It was the country's own prime minister, Alexander Achenbach. To Michael's horror, Achenbach claims that Sealand is his to govern. And the German entrepreneur has big plans for the tiny outpost. Achenbach wanted to build a luxury casino on the platform. Michael is shoved in a helicopter and dropped off on the continent. There, he tracks down his parents, who are outraged. This was obviously horrific for Roy Bates. This was not just his family home that had been taken over, but his nation that had been taken over. But the Bates aren't going down without a fight. They pledge to take Sealand back by force. On August 15, Roy and Michael assemble an arsenal of weapons and fly a helicopter to the platform. They storm the fortress and hold Achenbach's cohorts at gunpoint. They've been caught unawares and they surrendered to the Bateses. Then, to send a message to future attackers, Bates takes one of Achenbach's accomplices and holds him as a prisoner. News of his incarceration reaches Germany. Unsure of what to make of Bates and his claims of sovereignty, the German government demands that the British government secure his release. But in the face of a diplomatic nightmare, the British make a shocking declaration. The British government told Germany that it was nothing to do with them. Sealand was out of British jurisdiction. As a result, Germany has no choice but to send a diplomat to Sealand to negotiate the prisoner's release. After several weeks of talks, Roy Bates agrees to free Achenbach's accomplice. For Bates, the incident is a stunning victory. As Bates pointed out, the very fact that Germany has sent somebody from its embassy to Sealand must mean that it recognized it as a country. And it's this precedent that secures Bates's future. Roy Bates remains free to live on the platform as he sees fit. To this day, the Bates family continues to occupy and manage their rogue dominion. The family has occupied Sealand now for nearly 50 years. This is an utterly unique story. There's something rather lovely about the idea of setting up your own little country and calling yourself prince and your wife princess. And these colorful Sealand stamps at the Koldo-Mitzelena Culture Center symbolize a little-known country and its founders' fierce sense of independence. Windswept beaches, quaint high streets, and delicious seafood. Nantucket, Massachusetts is one of the most popular summer destinations in the country. But centuries ago, the island was best known for its production of whale oil. Today, the history of this bygone trade is preserved. At the Nantucket Whaling Museum. Here, visitors can see the skeleton of a 46-foot sperm whale. A 600-pound glass lens from the community's first lighthouse. And a two-story beam press once used to extract whale oil. But amid these larger-than-life artifacts is a series of much smaller items. The objects we have come in various sizes, monochromatic and made of paper. What this seems to be at first glance are photographs of giant footprints in the sand. According to historian Michael Harrison, these images are evidence of a jaw-dropping event that seized the attention of the nation. These photographs brought to light one of Nantucket's most notorious histories. What bizarre beast was captured in these pictures? August 11, 1937, Nantucket. A local businessman named Ed Crocker offers the editors of the town newspaper a set of astonishing photographs. He says they show the evidence of a giant monster that's roaming the coast. One of the photographs shows Ed Crocker and a friend standing by two giant webbed footprints in the sand. They're more than 60 inches long. They look like they've emerged from the sea. Crocker explains that the photographs were taken the previous day on Nantucket's Madiget Beach. The bizarre photos are a huge scoop for the newspaper. On August 14, the photos are published. Nantucket residents are stunned. But soon, other locals come forward, claiming to have not seen just footprints, but the beast itself. There are reports of a mysterious sea creature being spotted off Nantucket. People saw something greenish, large, with big bulbous eyes rising above the waves. The massive creature is dubbed the Nantucket Sea Monster. Zoologists are asked to analyze the evidence. But even they are baffled. At least one scientist comments that no marine mammal could have left footprints of quite this shape and size. With speculation running wild about the creature's origins, an incredible theory emerges. Since the earliest days of maritime exploration, sailors have told tales of vicious monsters that attack humans and sink ships. The beasts are known as sea serpents. So is one of these legendary animals lurking off the Nantucket coast? It's 1937. Residents of Nantucket Island have reported seeing a strange green monster rising out of the ocean. Some believe the creature could be a real-life sea serpent. So is this legendary beast lurking in Nantucket waters? Four days after the photographs are published, the community gets its answer. Islanders wake to an incredible vision. A massive creature resting in plain sight right on the beach. We'll see a giant green head out of the water, big eyes, giant teeth. It's just what's been reported in the newspaper reports. But there's one key detail that hasn't been reported before. That is the serpent is a giant rubber balloon. It seems the fearsome sea monster was a hoax. The perpetrator immediately steps forward. Famed puppeteer and Nantucket resident, Tony Sarg. Sarg designs the balloons for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York. And he explains that his sea monster stunt was an attempt to boost excitement for the annual event. Sarg proposed a sea serpent balloon to RH Macy and Company for their 1937 Thanksgiving Parade. He also suggested to them that maybe the balloon could be shown earlier than Thanksgiving as a way to drum up interest and thought that it would be good for business. Sarg confesses he used a boat and a long toe line to float his sea serpent balloon in the waters. The massive footprints on the beach were also his creation. And with the help of local reporters who were in on the gag, he was able to fool an entire community. Surprisingly, Sarg's admission is met with joy and excitement. Everybody loved this and embraced this. And when you look at the photographs of this balloon, it's really funny. Several weeks later, Sarg's sea monster is sent to New York City where it floats between skyscrapers on Thanksgiving Day. Today, these photographs at the Nantucket Whaley Museum document a wild chapter in this island's history when stories of a strange monster turned out to be full of hot air. Yuma, Arizona has a unique claim to fame as the sunniest city in the nation. It sees about 313 sun-filled days per year. But on the edge of town is an institution that showcases this region's darker side, the Yuma Territorial Prison. Its museum includes an antique wagon used to transport inmates, a pair of 19th century handcuffs, and an incorrigible cell designed to hold the prison's worst outlaws. But amid these lawman's tools is one object that belonged to one of the most unusual criminals in the Wild West. It is 13 inches long. It is very, very shiny. It has a brown wooden handle. And it's inscribed with a name. Earl Hart. According to curator Tina Clark, this Colt 45 helped a desperate outlaw shoot her way into the history books. Her desire to flee an unhappy life led her on a path to infamy. It's 1899, Phoenix, Arizona. 28-year-old Pearl Hart is a beautiful and impoverished washerwoman. Pearl was cute. She was fun. But it was really a hard, scrabble existence for her. She literally did whatever it took to put food on the table. Pearl is desperate to escape her meager existence. She dreams of becoming a Wild West celebrity, like her hero, Annie Oakley. Pearl saw Annie Oakley as a star, getting paid and beautiful, and everyone loved her. I think Pearl was inspired that something like this could be in her life. But Pearl's lofty goal seems a world away. Here she is, down and out, broke. What can she do? One day, Pearl decides enough is enough. In order to break free from her downtrodden life, Pearl will do something drastic. She turns to a life of crime. She gets together with a failed gold miner named Joe Boop, and the pair hatch a plot. They will rob a stagecoach. The duo picks an easy target. A remote stagecoach route between the Arizona cities of Phoenix and Globe. They knew the route, and they figured out where the stage stopped and let horses have a drink. On May 30th, 1899, Pearl Hart and Joe Boop put their plan into action. Joe ambushes the driver, and Pearl holds up the passengers. She went through the pockets of these passengers. The stickup goes off without a hitch, netting Pearl and Joe $425 in cash. They had the money and rode toward Globe. But the inexperienced criminals make a critical mistake. In their haste to flee the scene of the crime, they become hopelessly lost. They didn't plan their escape at all. They made a couple of circles, so it was a mess. The authorities easily track down the robbers and arrest them. Six months later, Pearl goes to trial. She was found guilty and given five years. At the Yuma Territorial Prison. It appears that Pearl's dreams are over. But in a wild twist, this dead end is just the beginning. Her incarceration may be the big break she's been looking for. It's 1899. A 28-year-old woman named Pearl Hart is obsessed with becoming a star on the Wild West stage circuit. But she's stuck in poverty. In desperation, she turns to a life of crime and ends up behind bars. So is this the end of Pearl's Wild West dreams? Pearl languishes in a prison cell with no hope of escape. But then a strange turn of events unfolds. A local newspaper seizes on a curious detail about Pearl's crime. Pearl is the first woman in America to rob a stagecoach. It became a media frenzy. The crime had a certain romance to it. And the press sent all their reporters out to cover the story. Cosmopolitan magazine even did a two-part serialized story on Pearl Hart. Crowds of admirers line up outside the prison to catch a glimpse of the infamous female bandit. Pearl became a celebrity prisoner. So Pearl capitalized on this. She loved the publicity and she played it up. After serving just 18 months, Pearl leverages her fame and receives a pardon from the government. Now as a free woman with a reputation as a gunslinger, Pearl creates a touring Wild West show and makes a comfortable living performing under the stage name, The Arizona Bandit. Pearl has an incredible legacy. She really embodied the romantic idea of the Old West. Today, Pearl Hart's gun is displayed at the Yuma Territorial Prison. It recalls the strong and spirited woman whose brief foray into a life of crime sent her on a circuitous path to fame and fortune. Anchorage, Alaska sits at the foothills of the Chugach Mountains. The range contains the greatest concentration of glacial ice in the state. And showcasing the grandeur of this spectacular region is the Alaska Museum of Science and Nature. Its exhibits include the state's largest assortment of minerals and gemstones, the fossilized head of a T-Rex, and a host of taxidermy native animals. But one small object looks like it belongs not in a museum, but in a bathtub. This object is approximately two inches tall and three inches wide. And it's instantly recognizable to anyone who's 96 years old or six years old. As historian Dr. Katie Ringsmuth tells it, this familiar toy was involved in an unlikely adventure on the high seas. This little object looks like it has gone through one incredible journey. How did this toy's bizarre voyage inspire a new understanding of the world? November 1992, Sitka, Alaska. Eben Punderson is a part-time journalist and avid beachcomber, searching for odd objects for his collection. One day, Punderson is strolling along the coast when something catches his eye. A bright yellow rubber duck. He probably just thought it was a forgotten toy left behind on the beach. Punderson continues on his way. But as he walks farther, he's surprised to discover even more of the tiny playthings littering the sand. He started finding several dozen of these little ducks. Intrigued, Punderson resolves to find out where these bath toys have come from. He takes out an ad in the local newspaper, asking if anyone else has found similar yellow ducks. So Punderson waited, thinking perhaps he might get one or two responses. But Punderson's estimate is off. Way off. He receives report after report from people who have found little yellow duckies washed up all along Alaska's south coast. The responses were overwhelming. He realized he was on to a big story. In just a few days, Punderson confirms that about 400 toy ducks have been found on the state's shores. Punderson was ecstatic. He received reports from a range of over 400 miles. The mystery is now far bigger than Punderson could ever have imagined. So can this humble beachcomber figure out where in the world all these little toys came from? It's 1992, Sitka, Alaska. Beachcomber Evan Punderson is tracking a bizarre maritime mystery. Hundreds of rubber ducks are washing up along the Alaskan coast. So where are these buoyant playthings coming from? Punderson becomes obsessed with solving the mystery. He is now a journalist on a hot story, and he wants to get to the source of it. Punderson examines one of the rubber ducks, and a clue jumps out at him. The little yellow duck had the words embossed, the first years. It's his first solid lead. He made the connection that the first years was a line of toys manufactured by a company in Massachusetts. Punderson contacts a marketing representative at the New England-based company, who makes a stunning admission. The man explains that the toys were manufactured in China. They had been loaded onto a container ship, along with other goods headed for Tacoma, Washington. But four days into its voyage, the ship hit a massive squall, and 12 containers were washed overboard. One of those containers held 28,800 little toy creatures. The container door flew open, and the steel box sank. But those little resilient toys floated to the surface, and there began their journey to Simca, Alaska. After weeks of investigating, Punderson has finally solved the riddle. But the story is far from over. Only a fraction of the ducks from the container ship washed up on the Alaskan coast. Thousands more remain at sea for years, floating their way around the world. These little ducks have been found in Australia, Chile, Europe, and of course, the United States. And the impact of these enigmatic little ducks goes far beyond the world of beachcombers. Sightings of the plastic playthings on shore and at sea are so frequent that scientists are able to use the data to track the Earth's ocean currents with greater accuracy than ever before. Therefore, they can track hurricanes better or other big storms and other weather patterns that certainly impact us today. And this toy duck at the Alaska Museum of Science and Nature is a buoyant reminder of the serious effort to solve a mystery of the seas. The town of Brookings, Oregon was founded in 1907 by a logging operation to take advantage of the region's lush forests. Today, the area's heritage is chronicled at the Chetco Valley Historical Society Museum. It displays an assortment of early American typewriters, a steam engine once used for plowing, and a mid-19th century sewing machine. But amid these historic relics is one artifact that predates them all. It's over 400 years old. It is about three feet long. It's made of folded steel and the handle is wrapped with corded silk. It's a beautiful and deadly piece of art. According to librarian Brenda Jocks, this ancient sword is linked to an unforgettable tale of war and reconciliation. Though this weapon was designed to kill people, it actually helped to bring them together. How did a weapon of war become a symbol of peace? August 1945. Japan surrenders to the Allies, bringing World War II to a close. And as the Japanese people watch their country capitulate, one man reflects on the role he played in the conflict. 33-year-old Nobuo Fujita. A descendant of samurais, he comes from a long line of warriors. During the war, Mr. Fujita had been a very experienced and dedicated pilot. Despite Japan's defeat in the global conflict, Fujita's countrymen regard him as a war hero. It's a great honor, but Fujita can't shake one overarching emotion. Remorse. One of his favorite comments that he used to make was, what a stupid war we made. Fujita was on board one of the submarines that sprung the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor. And during the war, he trained Japan's deadly kamikaze pilots. But perhaps his most infamous mission was to deliver the only Japanese bombs to strike the American mainland. A small attack near the town of Brookings, Oregon. He dropped two 170-pound thermite bombs, hoping to start raging fires. But they didn't do any damage. They just fizzled. These acts of war have filled Fujita with guilt. He was changed from being an elite pilot to pacifist. He didn't want anything to do with war. Fujita longs to make amends, but he has no idea how. Instead, he does everything he can to forget about his harrowing experience. The decorated officer retires from duty and opens a hardware store. Mr. Fujita did not want to talk about what happened. It's something he wanted to forget. But one day, the former pilot is forced to confront his past. In 1961, he receives a puzzling letter. It's from the Japanese Navy. Fujita is told that a group of Americans are looking for him. They're from the town of Brookings, Oregon. It was the town he had bombed during the war. Fujita is surprised to learn that a civic group has invited him to be the guest of honor at the town's annual festival. It's a carnival and parade that draws visitors from all over Oregon. The letter said that they were looking for a way to promote reconciliation between the two countries. For Fujita, it's a chance to finally come to peace with his role in the war. But the former officer is also skeptical. Given his role in two attacks on American soil, not to mention his work training kamikaze pilots, what if the invitation is actually an elaborate ruse to extradite him to the United States? He was worried it was a trick to get him to come over here. He thought that he was being tried for war crimes. Fujita grapples with a seemingly impossible dilemma. Play it safe and risk regret or put his faith in peace. It's 1961. Former Japanese pilot Yubo Fujita has been invited to Brookings, Oregon, a town he bombed in the Second World War. This invitation has been billed as a peace offering. But Fujita is skeptical. He fears it's a cunning ruse to arrest him for war crimes. So what will Fujita decide? Play it safe or put his faith in peace? After agonizing for weeks, Fujita makes his choice. He will take the people of Brookings at their word. If he was being tried for war crimes, he would face up to it. In May of 1962, Fujita lands in Portland, Oregon. He hoped for the best but was prepared for the worst. The former pilot steps off the plane and is stunned by what he sees. He was greeted with flowers and smiles. He was given a very warm welcome. Fujita is humble. He presents a gift to the people of Brookings as a symbol of reconciliation. A samurai sword that has been in his family for 400 years. This weapon of war has become a symbol of peace. The residents of Brookings gratefully accept Fujita's offering. And the one-time enemy is made an honorary citizen of the town. It was the beginning of a wonderful relationship. In the years that follow, Fujita regularly visits his new friends in Brookings. And after his passing in 1997, his daughter honors his last wishes by spreading his ashes in the town. Today, Fujita's 400-year-old samurai sword is on display at the Chetko Valley Historical Society Museum. It's an unlikely olive branch that bridged the bitter divide between nations. Nebraska's vast prairies make it the ideal location for raising cattle. The state produces over 7 billion pounds of red meat each year. But in the city of Lincoln is an institution dedicated to an activity with a very urban appeal. The National Museum of Roller Skating. Here, visitors can view a range of memorabilia from skating's past. But perhaps the collection's most prized item is the one that started it all. The artifact was eight inches long, had four cylindrical wheels attached to the bottoms, as well as metal brackets at the toe and at the heel. These skates are the first of their kind. But according to museum director James Vanerden, they sent their inventor spiraling into madness. This is a story of one man protecting his creation no matter the cost. It's 1873, New York, New York. Inventor James Plimpton has just patented the first ever four-wheeled roller skate. Mr. Plimpton was very formal and also very ambitious. His roller skates were a revolutionary invention. Plimpton runs a chain of successful roller skating parlors across the East Coast. But he has a very particular way he likes his establishments to run. He sees roller skating as a refined and healthy indoor exercise for the wealthy. Mr. Plimpton wanted his new roller skate to only be in the hands of the upper class. He wanted the roller skating industry to be prim and proper. To that end, Plimpton's parlors have a strict code of conduct. There was no tobacco, smoking, what have you. They had dress code rules. You were not able to wear your overalls from the factory. Women had to wear dresses down to their ankles. Plimpton's rinks are a hit among the country's upper classes and those who share his conservative values. But Plimpton's perfect parlors are about to come under threat. One day, Plimpton hears that a new public rink has opened with a cheap entry fee and skates designed by a man named Samuel Winslow. And though his skates are carbon copies of Plimpton's, the atmosphere at this rink could not be more different. Music is being played, fraternizing by both sexes. Almost like a circus-type atmosphere. This was not what Mr. Plimpton wanted for the roller skating industry and it infuriated him. To Plimpton, this new rink is a vile affront to the conservative institution of roller skating. He vows to bring down Winslow no matter the cost. In 1880, Plimpton sues Winslow for patent infringement, claiming that his rival has illegally copied his roller skate design. So who will win the battle to control roller skating? Trim and proper Plimpton or wild man Winslow? It's the 1880s. James Plimpton has created a roller skate that's wildly popular among the upper class. But a copycat inventor named Samuel Winslow has stolen his skate design and marketed it to a very different crowd. Plimpton vows to protect his invention, but little does he know it could all bring his skating empire to a screeching halt. Plimpton's lawsuit winds its way through the court system, all the while costing Plimpton a huge sum of money. This became an obsession for him to protect every aspect of his invention. And things are about to get even worse. Hundreds of new roller skating rinks pop up across the country, all using Winslow's model. It seems that people everywhere prefer casual skating parlors with fewer rules and restrictions. Plimpton is dumbfounded, but he refuses to give in. Mr. Plimpton did not back down. The crazed inventor sues every rink he can, spending the equivalent of at least $1 million in legal fees. Finally, in 1883, Plimpton wins his lawsuit against Winslow. But it's too late. This was a hollow victory for Mr. Plimpton because he ended up spending most of his fortune protecting his patents. That year, his patent ended up expiring, opening the door to more skate manufacturers. Plimpton's skating business flounders. But Winslow goes on to become the largest producer of roller skates in the United States. And skating itself continues its inexorable rise as a pastime for the masses instead of just the elite. Today, these 1863 parlor skates are preserved at the National Museum of Roller Skating, a reminder of a revolutionary invention and the battle for its destiny. From a floating sea monster to a wild west.