CAMILLE BOHANNON

The modern legend of the Loch Ness Monster is born when a sighting makes
local news on May 2, 1933. The newspaper Inverness Courier relates an
account of a local couple who claim to have seen “an enormous animal
rolling and plunging on the surface.” The story of the “monster” (a moniker
chosen by the Courier editor) becomes a media phenomenon, with London newspapers sending correspondents to Scotland and a circus offering a
20,000 pound sterling reward for capture of the beast.

After the April 1933 sighting was reported in the newspaper on May 2,
interest steadily grew, especially after another couple claimed to have
seen the animal on land.

Amateur investigators have for decades kept an almost constant vigil,
and in the 1960s several British universities launched sonar expeditions
to the lake. Nothing conclusive was found, but in each expedition the
sonar operators detected some type of large, moving underwater
objects.

A plesiosaur and mosasaur.  An illustration from a 1908 "Outing
magazine" article.

President Barack Obama (above) announces the death of Usama bin Laden during a U.S. commando operation in Pakistan. (Because of
the time difference, it was May 2 in Pakistan when the Al Qaeda
leader met his demise and was quickly buried at sea.)          

During the influenza epidemic of 1918, Portland converted one of its newest
and largest buildings, the Portland Auditorium, into a temporary hospital. 

The Spanish influenza pandemic became one of the deadliest events
in history. Although the Spanish flu struck Portland, Oregon more
than a century ago, how Portlanders reacted then has an uncanny parallel to what we’re experiencing now with the Coronavirus. The
first confirmed case in Portland was a soldier, a private on his way
to Texas for training.

Just a week after Portland’s first Spanish flu diagnosis, the Oregon
State Board of Health ordered all public gathering places to shut
down statewide. Parades were canceled. Church services were
suspended. Restaurants sat empty. Dance halls silent. And
suddenly, 36,000 Portland students had nowhere to go. 

In addition to the closures, stores and businesses limited hours. Portland’s famous department store, Meier & Frank, asked
customers not to come into their store but rather to make delivery orders.

Officials urged Portland residents to wash their hands and keep
at least 4 feet apart — the prototype of “social distancing.”
(OPB)

The Oregon Statesman.

CAMILLE
BOHANNON

Eric Harris (left) and Dylan Klebold (right), the perpetrators, recorded
on the high school’s surveillance cameras in the cafeteria, 8–11
minutes before their suicides.