A LIFE AMONG THE FACTOIDS

A LIFE AMONG THE FACTOIDS
Los Angeles Times: Here's a piece of trivia: Americans love trivia. It's everywhere -- TV, newspapers, magazines, everyday conversations. Trivia is irresistible. It can mean nothing. When was the fork first used in America? (1630.) But trivia is entertaining. Who invented the sports bra? (Hinda Miller and Lisa Zobian-Lindahl.)
Trivia, sometimes called a factoid to provide minor intellectual heft, might prove useful in chats or meetings. (You know, this is the first World Series of wild-card teams.) Trivia is like Cliffs Notes for conversations. Trivia suits a TV society and the 21st century. You can sound informed about something without really knowing anything.
Who knows more about trivia than anyone, and how old is he? Caught you. He's Joseph Nathan Kane. And he just died at 103. The son of a New York fur importer, Kane had a fascination with facts, annoying an entire generation of teachers with seemingly unanswerable questions. Who was the shortest president? (James Madison at 5-foot-4.) Kane understood Americans' fascination with trivia. So Kane spent most of a century collecting trivia for his books and our libraries. Without him we might not know that Ch ester Greenwood invented earmuffs, Alexander Douglas patented the bustle and Amelia Bloomer was the first woman to wear guess what? (Bloomers.)
American cross-dresser
Kane's trivia work could be funny -- first American to hug a queen of England (Alice Frazier, 1991); first to be struck by a meteorite (Elizabeth Hodges, 1954, bruised). It could be intriguing -- first notable American cross-dresser (Edward Hyde, 1702). It could be historical -- the initial patent on sandpaper (Isaac Fischer Jr., 1834); first president in a helicopter (Eisenhower, 1957). Or it could be athletic -- first American team sport (not baseball, but lacrosse). Trivia can be curious. (Marvin Stone invented drinking straws in 1886.)
Trivia can be importantly corrective -- Henry Ford didn't invent the car (Charles Duryea did), Isaac Singer didn't invent the sewing machine (Walter Hunt did), and Gustave Whitehead flew a plane two years before Orville Wright. Trivia can be useful: Next time a lawyer acts arrogant, ask who was the first disbarred American attorney (Thomas Lechford, 1639, jury tampering).
WELLSTONE STUCK TO HIS BELIEFS
Detroit Free Press: Twice in two years, a popular politician has died seeking the votes of the people he chose to serve.
U.S. Sen. Paul Wellstone, a maverick Democrat, died with his wife and daughter just 11 days before the Nov. 5 election -- an eerie echo of the 2000 plane crash that killed Missouri Gov. Mel Carnahan 18 days before Election Day.
Wellstone's death Friday heightens the fight for Senate power, where one person can tip the Democratic majority; Republicans had targeted his Minnesota seat as vulnerable. Behind the scenes, scrambling may already have begun, but publicly, at least, all either party focused on Friday was the nation's great loss.
At 5-foot-5, the former college wrestler never stopped fighting for the little guy. He campaigned passionately for mental health care, human rights, workplace protections, veterans and the environment.
'60s radical
Considered too liberal by many -- the left-leaning Mother Jones magazine labeled him the "first '60s radical elected to the U.S. Senate" -- the vibrant populist was universally respected. Self-deprecating and genuinely likable, Wellstone worked to build relationships while sticking to his heartfelt beliefs and fighting good fights. He was the only Democrat in a competitive race to vote against war in Iraq.
This time of year, as election politics grow so ugly, it's easy to become cynical and lose sight of the hours and miles politicians log. Paul Wellstone made those sacrifices tirelessly because he believed in the service part of being a public servant. It shouldn't have taken his death to remember what champions of the people politicians can be.