 An explosion is heard more than 3,000 miles away from its source. A man is sentenced to hang himself. Another man goes to jail because he fried a steak. Yes, impossible as those statements sound, they're all true. And this is Lindsay McCary back with another session of Can You Imagine That. The proof of those statements made a moment ago will be forthcoming in just one and a half minutes. So, wait for us, will you please? The terrific volcanic explosion of the island of Krakatoa. It takes the prize for being the world's biggest and loudest noise and the most tragic. But before we tell you about it, we'll build up to it by telling you about other big noises. Our first is the dynamite explosion on the island of Novozembla in the Arctic one day in December 1933. The sound of it was detected in Berlin, Germany, more than 2,000 miles away. Can you imagine that? Then there was the noise caused by the landing of the Great Siberian Meteor on June 30, 1908. Which was heard over a distance of 400 miles. Not only that, it affected weather instruments in Europe. But those two big noises are pikers when it comes to the explosion of Krakatoa. Their sounds were merely detected while Krakatoa was actually heard by human ears more than 3,000 miles away in Rodriguez. Krakatoa was an island in the Sunda Straits between Sumatra and Java. I say was because after the explosion caused by volcanic disturbances only a cavity 1,000 feet below sea level was what remained of the island. But far more serious than the actual explosion was the effect. A succession of gigantic sea waves, some of them more than 50 feet in height was generated. The destruction caused by these waves was beyond all imagination. Harbors, villages, settlements and fishing fleets were wiped out by the inundations. 36,000 human beings were killed. But the most amazing fact in this story of cataclysm and disaster was that some of the waves generated by the explosion traveled to vast distances. Long waves generated at periods of more than an hour reached Cape Horn 7,818 miles away. And science tells us that probably some of them reached the English Channel at a distance of 11,040 miles. This runs the amazing and terrible story of the destruction of the island of Krakatoa in August 1883. Here's a story that will touch a deep chord of sympathy within any of us who have experienced the gnawing, imperious pangs of hunger. It was in the month of January 1915 that detectives Carlin and Kelly were passing the lunchroom of Sigmund Luft, 338 West Van Buren Street, Chicago. Hey, Carlin, take a look at that stake in the window of Luft's lunchroom. Say, somebody ought to do something about Luft leaving swell-looking stakes like that sitting in his window. Makes the guy hungry just to look at it. Well, standing here won't get anything done for us. Come on. About two hours later, detectives Carlin and Kelly again passed Luft's lunchroom. And this time, hey, Carlin, the stake's gone. Gone? That's funny. Luft has closed up for the night. Maybe he felt the same way we did about the stake and came back to get it. Come on, let's go. We gotta go. Hey, wait a minute. Listen, that's a steak frying. Smell it? Yeah. And take a look at the lock of the door there. It's been broken. Come on, take it easy. All right, you. Put him up. Come on, come on, bud. You're going to take a little walk with us. Oh, wait a minute, please. Come on, come on. No, wait, please. Let me finish the steak first. No, nothing to him. That steak's coming along with us for evidence. Come on. What's the idea of breaking in a place and eating all the... Still begging to be allowed to eat the steak. The burglar was led to headquarters. Once there, he told the desk sergeant, I just got here from Seattle two weeks ago. There wasn't any jobs, and our stone broke. I'd have busted open the vault of the national bank to get at that steak. That's how hungry I was. And so the burglar's ravenous appetite, plus his inability to wait until he found a safer place to fry the steak, got him in bad with the law. Can you imagine that? Speaking of the law, here's a case where one of its administrators practiced what he preached. It was in Knoxville, Tennessee that Magistrate John L. Minot was driving his car one day in February of 1931. He turned the street corner and... All right, what's the idea? You're the driver of this car. Yes, officer, I am. I turned the corner and crashed into this parked car. Oh, you did, huh? Well... Oh, I... I didn't recognize you, Your Honor. That's quite all right. I want you to issue a warrant, officer. Warrant? What's your honor? This car, you hit, is parked all right. I don't want you to issue a warrant for the owner of that car. I want you to issue it for John L. Minot. For...for yourself, Your Honor? Exactly. The charge is reckless driving. Yes, Magistrate John L. Minot issued a warrant for himself and in his court the next day... Case of John L. Minot charged with reckless driving. I find myself guilty and hereby sentence myself to a fine of $5 to be paid to the clerk. Here you are, clerk. Well, our hats are off to Magistrate John L. Minot who practiced what he preached and fined himself for reckless driving. I wonder if many of you know the origin of the phrase the 400 of society. Well, it was back in the year 1892 that Mrs. William Astor gave her renowned ball at her famous residence at Fifth Avenue and 34th Street in New York. A man named Ward McAllister, who was the accepted arbiter of things social, managed the affair. Because of the limited quarters in which to give the ball, Mr. McAllister restricted his invitation list to just 400. And the reason? Well, said Mr. McAllister. I have restricted the invited guests to 400 in number simply because there are only 400 people who can be considered as being in society. So from that remark comes our term 400 as applied to the blue buds of society. Can you imagine that? Certainly one of the oddest things I have come across in my search for can you imagine that items is this one. This is the year 1672 in what is now New York City. Ben Johnson, not the Ben Johnson of literary fame, but another, was brought up for trial accused of theft. After deliberation the city court rendered a verdict on November 26, 1672. Said the presiding judge. Ben Johnson, we've heard all the evidence against and for you and it is now the judgment of this court that you die by hanging as a punishment for your thefts. Because you are the municipal hangman you must therefore hang yourself to pay your debt to society. I refuse to do that, Your Worship. You will carry out faithfully the sentence of this court, Ben Johnson. I won't. I refuse to hang myself. Then we'll get someone who will do it. Mr. Featherstone, will you... Hold off there a minute, Your Worship. You can't get anyone else to hang me because the law says that I'm the official hangman of this municipality and there ain't been a new one appointed. And you can't appoint a new one until I'm gone and out of the way. Well, I ain't gone and I ain't going to hang myself so I ain't going to be out of the way. I know me rights by the law and I'm staying tight to them. I... Well... You will stand there a moment, Ben Johnson. Mr. Featherstone... Okay, Mr. Fauston. Ben Johnson, your logic is admirable but your character is not. We find that we cannot sentence you to hang yourself. But we do hereby sentence you to 39 lashes with the catternine tails, the loss of one ear and banishment from this colony. And continuing with our studies and jurisprudence, I wonder if you can make a guess at who was the greatest policeman who ever lived. Well, some authorities say it was Jacob Hayes. Hayes was appointed the first and the only High Constable of New York. And why is he considered among the greats? Well, he was the first policeman to shadow a suspect. He was the first to use the so-called third-degree methods and he was the first to shock a confession out of a murderer by confronting a suspect with the body of the victim. He traveled alone and was always in danger of being killed by cutthroats and bandits who infested New York Harbor. He loved to place himself in some waterfront dive, sit there inconspicuously and size up the persons who entered. He had a photographic memory for faces. He could see a person once and ten years later recall the person's name, what the person was wearing, where he had been seen and he could even minutely describe identifying marks so small as to elude the ordinary observer. Can you imagine that? Well, comes now the time for our musical Can You Imagine That? This time it's another chance for you to play detective with a melody. First, we're going to play Stridella Wampa from Verdi's opera Il Trovatore. Then you're to guess what famous old German song it reminds you of. Really? All right, here goes. Did you catch it? Well, in case you didn't, here's the song you've probably hummed or whistled at one time or another. At least you've heard it. Listen to it now and see how close Verdi came to this older song when he wrote Il Trovatore. Doo, doo, leeks mere him heaps and doo, leeks mere him zin doo, doo, marks with his heaps zin, zin, zin, zin, zin yah, yah, yah, yah zin, zin, zin, zin yah, yah, zin, zin And with that little bit of melody sleuthing, I'm going to turn you now back to your own announcer. So until the next time we meet, this is Lindsey McCarrie saying goodbye now.