Isabel Sans

Isabel Sans believes history is fun, and if you don't think so, then you're doing it wrong. Growing up in central Maryland and regularly visiting DC, she never thought she'd be working with dusty old things like archives. A law librarian, thesis paper on Soviet literature, and a magnificently hubristic foray into creative writing set her straight. A History major at the University of South Carolina, Isabel describes her approach to studying and sharing the past as "chaotic good": give her a chance and she'll show you just how weird, wonderful, and textured the world has always been.

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What is BORF? Washington commuters in 2004 were all too familiar with the graffiti campaign and its mysterious artist. Even if the paint is gone, the punky, rebellious message remains. Borf is one, Borf is many. Borf is coming for your comfort.

The Senate has adjourned for the day, and the legislators, journalists, and visitors that had filled the chamber file out into the warm evening. Massachusetts Senator Charles Sumner, a well-known abolitionist, remains at his desk, scribbling notes among his spread of papers. A stranger approaches him from the aisle. He is holding a cane with a knobbed golden head. Leaning over, he reproaches Sumner for disparaging a relative of his in a speech given several days prior. Sumner still does not know who is speaking to him.

It is May 22, 1856, and as the stranger raises the cane over his head, America lurches closer to civil war.

In 1942, the USSR sends a young woman, its most effective sniper, to the United States as a member of its delegation to President Roosevelt's International Youth Assembly. But she has a second reason for her trip: to entreat the Allies to open a second front in Europe. American observers, unfortunately, seem less interested in her rhetoric than the unflattering cut of her uniform.

"By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes!" Who is the mysterious man who visits Edgar Allan Poe's grave to leave a yearly offering of roses and cognac to the poet Baltimore claims as its own?

You may have heard that Martin Van Buren once fought Congress tooth and nail to keep a pair of baby tigers he received as a gift. That story may be untrue, but the real-life events are a zoo in itself: with lions, horses, and diplomatic misadventures!

In 1971, twelve women moved into a house on Capitol Hill, becoming the first serious lesbian collective in America. Contentious from the start and lasting only a year and a half, these Furies (as they called themselves) nonetheless incited a reckoning within the feminist movement, with thought and theory that is still being discussed today.

Today, Washington has a lively drag scene, from brunches to balls. But the roots of that culture extend past Stonewall. In the 1880s, a freed slave named William Dorsey Swann crowned himself the first drag "queen" at gatherings in and around the Dupont Circle neighborhood.

Twenty-six thousand years ago, a mastodon dies in a sinkhole in northern Kentucky. Millenia later, he emerges again from the sediment, this time as the pièce de résistance of a bitter transatlantic intellectual battle waged by none other than Thomas Jefferson.

At noon on March 4, 1849, James K. Polk writes in his diary that his presidential term has ended. But his successor, Zachary Taylor, doesn't take up office until noon on March 5. So who was president for those twenty-four hours? According to some people, our eleventh-and-a-half President: David Rice Atchison.

What was the first message telegraphed to the Capitol in 1844? If you answered "What hath God wrought?" you're wrong! Read about the long road to Samuel Morse's most famous telegraphed words, and the messages that preceded it.