The New York TimesThe Lively Morgue

Jan. 4, 1933: The oceanliner L’Atlantique, en route to Cherbourg from Bordeaux for “annual overhauling,” caught fire near the Normandy coast, near its destination,  and “rumors of sabotage were current.” The fire had spread so swiftly, starting from somewhere in the first-class quarters, that its cause couldn’t be determined, and 17 of its 238 crew were presumed dead (and, later, five stowaways were found dead). A literal tug-o’-war ensued, as ships from France, Germany and the Netherlands vied to tow it back and receive compensation. A French and Dutch ship reached the beleaguered vessel first, and “the tugs started pulling in opposite directions, getting nowhere and endangering the L’Atlantique even further.” Order was restored by a nearby warship. Photo: The New York Times
Jan. 4, 1933: The oceanliner L’Atlantique, en route to Cherbourg from Bordeaux for “annual overhauling,” caught fire near the Normandy coast, near its destination,  and “rumors of sabotage were current.” The fire had spread so swiftly, starting from somewhere in the first-class quarters, that its cause couldn’t be determined, and 17 of its 238 crew were presumed dead (and, later, five stowaways were found dead). A literal tug-o’-war ensued, as ships from France, Germany and the Netherlands vied to tow it back and receive compensation. A French and Dutch ship reached the beleaguered vessel first, and “the tugs started pulling in opposite directions, getting nowhere and endangering the L’Atlantique even further.” Order was restored by a nearby warship. Photo: The New York Times

Jan. 4, 1933: The oceanliner L’Atlantique, en route to Cherbourg from Bordeaux for “annual overhauling,” caught fire near the Normandy coast, near its destination,  and “rumors of sabotage were current.” The fire had spread so swiftly, starting from somewhere in the first-class quarters, that its cause couldn’t be determined, and 17 of its 238 crew were presumed dead (and, later, five stowaways were found dead). A literal tug-o’-war ensued, as ships from France, Germany and the Netherlands vied to tow it back and receive compensation. A French and Dutch ship reached the beleaguered vessel first, and “the tugs started pulling in opposite directions, getting nowhere and endangering the L’Atlantique even further.” Order was restored by a nearby warship. Photo: The New York Times

May 14, 1935: The American yacht Yankee, towed into Gosport, in southern England, to compete in the America’s Cup (which is an international award named for a schooner named America, which raced around the Isle of Wight and earned the inaugural trophy in 1851). After months of fervent speculation and drama, the Yankee had a mixed record,  often bested by the Endeavour and the Astra, before being scrapped in 1941. Photo: The New York Times
May 14, 1935: The American yacht Yankee, towed into Gosport, in southern England, to compete in the America’s Cup (which is an international award named for a schooner named America, which raced around the Isle of Wight and earned the inaugural trophy in 1851). After months of fervent speculation and drama, the Yankee had a mixed record,  often bested by the Endeavour and the Astra, before being scrapped in 1941. Photo: The New York Times

May 14, 1935: The American yacht Yankee, towed into Gosport, in southern England, to compete in the America’s Cup (which is an international award named for a schooner named America, which raced around the Isle of Wight and earned the inaugural trophy in 1851). After months of fervent speculation and drama, the Yankee had a mixed record,  often bested by the Endeavour and the Astra, before being scrapped in 1941. Photo: The New York Times

June 3, 1933: A drydock inspection of one of the S.S. Manhattan’s propellers in Brooklyn, claimed by the caption to drive the ship two feet forward with every revolution, which could bring it to speeds of 21 knots “with only five boilers in use.” An article published Aug. 13, 1932, reported that the Manhattan carried three stowaways — “Arnold Ronner, 19, of Hartford, and Steve Bohnensteuger, 22, of Manheim, Germany …, and Charles Lake, 21, of Clinton, Iowa, farmer boy, in the first class hold” — and that there was a “thé-dansant on the veranda deck” that afternoon. Photo: The New York Times
June 3, 1933: A drydock inspection of one of the S.S. Manhattan’s propellers in Brooklyn, claimed by the caption to drive the ship two feet forward with every revolution, which could bring it to speeds of 21 knots “with only five boilers in use.” An article published Aug. 13, 1932, reported that the Manhattan carried three stowaways — “Arnold Ronner, 19, of Hartford, and Steve Bohnensteuger, 22, of Manheim, Germany …, and Charles Lake, 21, of Clinton, Iowa, farmer boy, in the first class hold” — and that there was a “thé-dansant on the veranda deck” that afternoon. Photo: The New York Times

June 3, 1933: A drydock inspection of one of the S.S. Manhattan’s propellers in Brooklyn, claimed by the caption to drive the ship two feet forward with every revolution, which could bring it to speeds of 21 knots “with only five boilers in use.” An article published Aug. 13, 1932, reported that the Manhattan carried three stowaways — “Arnold Ronner, 19, of Hartford, and Steve Bohnensteuger, 22, of Manheim, Germany …, and Charles Lake, 21, of Clinton, Iowa, farmer boy, in the first class hold” — and that there was a “thé-dansant on the veranda deck” that afternoon. Photo: The New York Times

Nov. 16, 1969: Just a few months after Dwight D. Eisenhower’s death, his premonitions of a military-industrial complex were being reported on in The Times magazine, in an article with a photograph in which a mechanic checked the intake blades of a C-5 Galaxy Transport, built by Lockheed in Marietta, Ga. “Since the U.S. is both underwriter and customer, … it should own the defense industry.” Photo: George Tames/The New York Times
Nov. 16, 1969: Just a few months after Dwight D. Eisenhower’s death, his premonitions of a military-industrial complex were being reported on in The Times magazine, in an article with a photograph in which a mechanic checked the intake blades of a C-5 Galaxy Transport, built by Lockheed in Marietta, Ga. “Since the U.S. is both underwriter and customer, … it should own the defense industry.” Photo: George Tames/The New York Times

Nov. 16, 1969: Just a few months after Dwight D. Eisenhower’s death, his premonitions of a military-industrial complex were being reported on in The Times magazine, in an article with a photograph in which a mechanic checked the intake blades of a C-5 Galaxy Transport, built by Lockheed in Marietta, Ga. “Since the U.S. is both underwriter and customer, … it should own the defense industry.” Photo: George Tames/The New York Times

March 10, 1933: Finally, a “fool-proof hover plane,” which, the back of the photo explained, would revolutionize “air transport, since it can take off vertically from the ground and descend in like manner.” Its inventors added that it could “hover or fly backwards at will.” Whose will, it didn’t say, raising the specter of a very frightening giant mechanical dragonfly indeed. Photo: The New York Times
March 10, 1933: Finally, a “fool-proof hover plane,” which, the back of the photo explained, would revolutionize “air transport, since it can take off vertically from the ground and descend in like manner.” Its inventors added that it could “hover or fly backwards at will.” Whose will, it didn’t say, raising the specter of a very frightening giant mechanical dragonfly indeed. Photo: The New York Times

March 10, 1933: Finally, a “fool-proof hover plane,” which, the back of the photo explained, would revolutionize “air transport, since it can take off vertically from the ground and descend in like manner.” Its inventors added that it could “hover or fly backwards at will.” Whose will, it didn’t say, raising the specter of a very frightening giant mechanical dragonfly indeed. Photo: The New York Times

April 2, 1933: According to some paste-on scholarship on the back of this photo, the French engineer Joseph Archer devoted 11 years to perfecting his propellered  “airline cab,” which was intended to scoot along at 150 miles per hour, suspended from an overhead monorail. Repeated fruitless Google and Times archive searches suggest that Mr. Archer’s invention was not a pedestal-smashing success, nor was his work on a trench mortar as legacy-making as it seemed at the time of this photo’s issue. A side view of the cab can be found here. Photo: The New York Times
April 2, 1933: According to some paste-on scholarship on the back of this photo, the French engineer Joseph Archer devoted 11 years to perfecting his propellered  “airline cab,” which was intended to scoot along at 150 miles per hour, suspended from an overhead monorail. Repeated fruitless Google and Times archive searches suggest that Mr. Archer’s invention was not a pedestal-smashing success, nor was his work on a trench mortar as legacy-making as it seemed at the time of this photo’s issue. A side view of the cab can be found here. Photo: The New York Times

April 2, 1933: According to some paste-on scholarship on the back of this photo, the French engineer Joseph Archer devoted 11 years to perfecting his propellered  “airline cab,” which was intended to scoot along at 150 miles per hour, suspended from an overhead monorail. Repeated fruitless Google and Times archive searches suggest that Mr. Archer’s invention was not a pedestal-smashing success, nor was his work on a trench mortar as legacy-making as it seemed at the time of this photo’s issue. A side view of the cab can be found here. Photo: The New York Times

April 24, 1948: The freighter Charles Tufts, which crashed on the shores of Sea Gate, Brooklyn, made an addition to the spectacles available to Coney Island sightseers. The Charles Tufts was a Liberty ship, one of the fleet of cargo vessels built during World War II, and the man it was named for donated the land in Medford, Mass., that would eventually become Tufts University. It took 12 hours and five tugboats to free the boat. Photo: The New York Times
April 24, 1948: The freighter Charles Tufts, which crashed on the shores of Sea Gate, Brooklyn, made an addition to the spectacles available to Coney Island sightseers. The Charles Tufts was a Liberty ship, one of the fleet of cargo vessels built during World War II, and the man it was named for donated the land in Medford, Mass., that would eventually become Tufts University. It took 12 hours and five tugboats to free the boat. Photo: The New York Times

April 24, 1948: The freighter Charles Tufts, which crashed on the shores of Sea Gate, Brooklyn, made an addition to the spectacles available to Coney Island sightseers. The Charles Tufts was a Liberty ship, one of the fleet of cargo vessels built during World War II, and the man it was named for donated the land in Medford, Mass., that would eventually become Tufts University. It took 12 hours and five tugboats to free the boat. Photo: The New York Times

Feb. 24, 1960: At the Art Model Studios in Mount Vernon, N.Y., where men would spend their days “‘just sittin’ around’ whittling — and get paid for it.” An article went on to describe a merry band of obsessive perfectionists who made model boats, mostly ocean liners, for ship companies and museums, spending hundreds of hours and using tools like tweezers to build “a precise fractional scale of the actual ship,” down to the “life preservers that would be tight on an ant.” Photo: Robert Walker/The New York Times
Feb. 24, 1960: At the Art Model Studios in Mount Vernon, N.Y., where men would spend their days “‘just sittin’ around’ whittling — and get paid for it.” An article went on to describe a merry band of obsessive perfectionists who made model boats, mostly ocean liners, for ship companies and museums, spending hundreds of hours and using tools like tweezers to build “a precise fractional scale of the actual ship,” down to the “life preservers that would be tight on an ant.” Photo: Robert Walker/The New York Times

Feb. 24, 1960: At the Art Model Studios in Mount Vernon, N.Y., where men would spend their days “‘just sittin’ around’ whittling — and get paid for it.” An article went on to describe a merry band of obsessive perfectionists who made model boats, mostly ocean liners, for ship companies and museums, spending hundreds of hours and using tools like tweezers to build “a precise fractional scale of the actual ship,” down to the “life preservers that would be tight on an ant.” Photo: Robert Walker/The New York Times

Ski season in Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx opened on Dec. 11, 1964, the park’s slopes sprayed with fake snow and its benches’ fresh paint still drying. Arriving to the opening-day confusion at the ski area was Sacha Grill, shown here, a ski instructor who, apart from the fact that he carried skis, dressed more like a yacht club member than a skier. Perhaps that’s why the concession owner asked him, “Hi, who’re you with?” The Times reported that Mr. Grill “explained that he was one of the ski instructors.” The owner didn’t miss a beat. “Oh wow, we need them,” he replied. Photo: Neal Boenzi/The New York Times
Ski season in Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx opened on Dec. 11, 1964, the park’s slopes sprayed with fake snow and its benches’ fresh paint still drying. Arriving to the opening-day confusion at the ski area was Sacha Grill, shown here, a ski instructor who, apart from the fact that he carried skis, dressed more like a yacht club member than a skier. Perhaps that’s why the concession owner asked him, “Hi, who’re you with?” The Times reported that Mr. Grill “explained that he was one of the ski instructors.” The owner didn’t miss a beat. “Oh wow, we need them,” he replied. Photo: Neal Boenzi/The New York Times

Ski season in Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx opened on Dec. 11, 1964, the park’s slopes sprayed with fake snow and its benches’ fresh paint still drying. Arriving to the opening-day confusion at the ski area was Sacha Grill, shown here, a ski instructor who, apart from the fact that he carried skis, dressed more like a yacht club member than a skier. Perhaps that’s why the concession owner asked him, “Hi, who’re you with?” The Times reported that Mr. Grill “explained that he was one of the ski instructors.” The owner didn’t miss a beat. “Oh wow, we need them,” he replied. Photo: Neal Boenzi/The New York Times

April 4, 1957 was one for New York’s history books, as a record 2.4 inches of snow fell, coating Central Park’s boats and budding trees. Twenty-five years later, almost to the day on April 6, 1982, 9.6 inches fell on, or rather, crushed, the city, and since New York was hardly spared of snow this year (February was the second snowiest on record), one can only wait with a wintry mix of hope and dread for what April 2014 will bring. Photo: Neal Boenzi/The New York Times
April 4, 1957 was one for New York’s history books, as a record 2.4 inches of snow fell, coating Central Park’s boats and budding trees. Twenty-five years later, almost to the day on April 6, 1982, 9.6 inches fell on, or rather, crushed, the city, and since New York was hardly spared of snow this year (February was the second snowiest on record), one can only wait with a wintry mix of hope and dread for what April 2014 will bring. Photo: Neal Boenzi/The New York Times

April 4, 1957 was one for New York’s history books, as a record 2.4 inches of snow fell, coating Central Park’s boats and budding trees. Twenty-five years later, almost to the day on April 6, 1982, 9.6 inches fell on, or rather, crushed, the city, and since New York was hardly spared of snow this year (February was the second snowiest on record), one can only wait with a wintry mix of hope and dread for what April 2014 will bring. Photo: Neal Boenzi/The New York Times