The ancient Greeks loved to make lists. For example, they had lists of admirable epic poets (starting with Homer and Hesiod) and tragic playwrights (Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides).
These lists became popular when, after the conquests of Alexander the Great, many Greeks settled overseas. Their position as an elite in countries like Egypt, Babylonia, and Bactria depended on their being-Greek, and canons of exemplary texts were important: unlike the native population, a real Greek had read these authors and knew how and when to quote them.
The list of Seven Wonders of the World belongs to this category of texts: splendid buildings, worthy of emulation. The original list, now lost, contained seven Greek buildings, but in the early third century, non-Greek monuments were included as well.
It expressed the novel idea that the barbarians could also produce fine works of art, an idea that can be found in the books by several scholars and philosophers of the first generations after Alexander the Great.
Though we think of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World as a single list today, there were actually a number of lists compiled by different Greek writers. Antipater of Sidon, and Philon of Byzantium, drew up two of the most well-known lists.
Many of the lists agreed on six of the seven items. The final place on some lists was awarded to the Walls of the City of Babylon. On others, the Palace of Cyrus, king of Persia took the seventh position. Finally, toward the 6th century A.D., the final item became the Lighthouse at Alexandria.
The walls of Babylon
The walls of Babylon owe their fame to the Greek author Herodotus of Halicarnassus (fifth century).
The Pharos of Alexandria
This lighthouse guided sailors to safe harbor for 1,500 years, using fire at night. A quake in the 14th century KO’d it.
The Statue of Zeus at Olympia
This gold and ivory statue of the king of Greek gods was built around 450 B.C. in the town where the Olympics were born.
The Hanging Gardens of Babylon
The region around Baghdad is dirt now, but it’s where all the hotties partied in the sixth century.
The Colossus of Rhodes
Ancient lore held that this megastatue of the Greek god Helios straddled the harbor entrance of the island of Rhodes.
The Great Pyramid
Erected more than 4,000 years ago, it’s the largest of the ancient wonders and the only one standing today.
The Mausoleum at Halicarnassus
This 135-foot-high tomb for the Persian King Mausolus was erected around 350 B.C. and stood for over 1,000 years.
The Temple of Artemis
In toga times, fans of the goddess of the hunt hit this marble temple, which stood in what is now western Turkey.
Since the it was Greeks who made the lists it is not unusal that many of the items on them were examples of Greek culture. The writers might have listed the Great Wall of China if then had known about it, or Stonehenge if they'd seen it, but these places were beyond the limits of their world.
It is a surprise to most people to learn that not all the Seven Wonders existed at the same time. Even if you lived in ancient times you would have still needed a time machine to see all seven.
While the Great Pyramid of Egypt was built centuries before the rest and is still around today (it is the only "wonder" still intact) most of the others only survived a few hundred years or less. The Colossus of Rhodes stood only a little more than half a century before an earthquake toppled it.
Later, the first item was replaced by the Lighthouse of Alexandria, and this has become the canonical list. However, the ancient sources mention other wonders of the world, like an obelisk in Babylon and the palace of Cyrus in Ecbatana.
Christian authors inserted Noah's Ark, the Temple of Salomo, and the Hagia Sophia in Constantinople. Beda Venerabilis wrote a treatise on the Seven Wonders, in which he mentioned the Capitol, the Lighthouse of Alexandria, the colossus of Rhodes, a figure of Bellerophon, the theater of Heraclea, a bathhouse, and the temple of Artemis.
Retired Greek couples flocked to these tourist traps some 2,000 years ago. Think America’s wonders top ’em? The United States is home to 20 natural and cultural sites inscribed on the World Heritage List - and most of them are national parks! These places are now held in trust for the entire planet as legacies not merely for our own children but for the human race.
You find them in both major metropolitan areas and some of the most remote corners of the country. They protect canyons and craters, redwood forests and vast deserts. They commemorate natural disasters and mankind's accomplishments. They're national monuments, diverse parcels of land all across the country that preserve both pristine lands and the ruins of ancient civilizations.
A patchwork of federal agencies supervises the operation and protection of national monuments, including the National Park Service, Bureau of Land Management, U.S. Forest Service and U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Mount Rushmore and Yellowstone are fine, but the great monuments that will matter tomorrow are the ones that made America what it is today.
The Mighty MO
Long after global warming runs America’s mightiest warship aground, she’ll still be menacing the seas of time.
For a good chunk of the 20th century, when the United States wanted to send a message to its foes, it often came in the form of the USS Missouri, a low-riding shark of a battleship that dished out cannon-barrel diplomacy. “She was simply the biggest and the best,” says Murray Yudelowitz, a gunner who served aboard during WWII. “That’s why Admiral Halsey made her his flagship.” Commissioned in 1944, the Iowa-class battleship’s mission was to protect the Pacific carrier fleet at all costs. At 45,000 tons and stretching 887 feet, she was a hulking bodyguard who packed heavy. Mounted topside at the height of her strength: nine 16-inch/50 caliber guns capable of lobbing 2,700-pound shells 23 miles in 50 seconds. During WWII, her
gunners splashed swarming Japanese zeros, using a technique Yudelowitz describes the way only a sailor can: “When we’d spot dem Jap buckteeth, we’d let ’em have it.” On September 2, 1945, the Missouri steamed into Tokyo Bay and General Douglas MacArthur accepted the Japanese surrender on her teak deck. Mo went on to unleash hell in Korea, then was decommissioned in 1955. But America’s enemies hadn’t seen the last of her. In the ’80s, she was refitted with 32 tomahawk missiles, 16 harpoon missiles, and four 20 mm Phalanx Gatling guns. On January 16, 1991, she launched the Gulf War’s first salvo: 28 tomahawks. She now proudly moors next to the USS Arizona Memorial—a reminder that waking a sleeping giant is a bad idea.
What the ghosts know: A kamikaze attacked the Missouri off Okinawa in 1945. “The pilot landed in pieces all over the deck,” says Yudelowitz. “So we bagged him up and buried him at sea with a 21-gun salute. That was the Missouri; that’s how we did things.”
Message to future generations: “You’re a bunch of pussies.”
The Steel Dragon
In the epic battle of man vs. nature, the colossal Bethlehem Iron Works was America’s greatest industrial gladiator.
She haunts the shores of the Lehigh River in Pennsylvania like a four-and-a-half-mile-long ghost ship. For the tens of thousands who worked at the Bethlehem Steel mill, she’s a sad sight. They remember her simply as “the Steel,” and she supplied much of the raw material that built America.
The first metal rolled off the mill in 1863. Forty years later, it was pumping out armor plating for the Great White Fleet. As the 20th century dawned, the Steel’s 33 furnaces, two forging departments, and seven massive machine shops churned out the hard-and-cold behind America’s crown jewels: The Golden Gate Bridge, the Chrysler Building, and much of the Manhattan skyline owe their existence to Bethlehem Steel.
Hell, so does Europe. After Hitler invaded Poland, company chairman Eugene Grace declared, “Gentlemen, we are going to make a lot of money.” He had no idea. Bethlehem forged steel for nearly 20 percent of U.S. Navy ships, 70 percent of all airplane cylinders, and a third of the big cannons. At peak production, more than 30,000 worked at the mill, their collars bluer than a dead man’s balls. When workers went on strike, the mill’s own police force cracked skulls. It was the kind of place that made a guy want to drink a 12-pack and break a college boy’s nose, just to feel human. Thanks to bloated unions and the “new economy,” Bethlehem Steel folded in 1995, leaving behind the nation’s fifth-largest “brownfield site” and 95,000 people without health benefits. The area was slated to become the National Museum of Industrial History, but even that plan is collecting rust.
What the ghosts know: Bethlehem Steel president Charles M. Schwab once bribed a Russian duke’s mistress with a $200,000 diamond necklace for the right to provide the steel for the Trans-Siberian Railway.
Message to future generations: “We used to have a work ethic until Starbucks’ counter staff came along.”
Saving Time
If we ever blow ourselves up, one of these time capsules should be able to tell our distant descendants about the party.
Mail from six billion
In 2006 the French will launch a satellite that will return to Earth in 50,000 years. It can hold four-page letters from six billion people. Visit keo.org and write one so future inhabitants won’t think we were all whining frogs.
Backward vault
Behind Mount Rushmore is the Hall of Records, a 70-foot tunnel to a titanium vault. Inside: 16 porcelain panels with key texts like the Constitution, the Declaration of Independence, and a
history of the United States. Cool!
NASA goes for the gold
In case the Voyager 1 and 2 space probes run into E.T., they contain gold-plated copper disks with greetings, sounds, images, and music. They also have maps to Earth, so hope the E.T.s bring their own beer and women.
MIA at MIT
In 1939 MIT placed a time capsule beneath a cyclotron, a machine that accelerates charged particles. The capsule was meant to be opened in 1989, but engineers have yet to remove it from under its 18-ton lid. —Kaitlin Bettick
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Be Immortal Want to pass on part of yourself to future generations? Don’t go planting your seed all over town—stuff a box!
When building a time capsule, “Put in interesting things that tell about the times,” says Paul S. Storch, an objects conservator in St. Paul, Minnesota. We hope these items will impart the following messages to future Maxim readers…
1. Smoke Signal
“In our day, sucking down rich tobacco flavor was still legal and fun. Fight for your rights.”
2. Round On Us
“Before making any important decisions, mull things over with a couple of bourbons on ice.”
3. Hiroki Hair
“We bequeath you this lock of Hiroki. May its DNA let him be cloned and humiliated forever.”
4. Holy Object
“Behold our Supreme Deity. Wind him up and follow his every command. D’oh!”
The Fastest Road to Nowhere
Here, 1,000 years from now, our connection to the future will come full circle.
More storied than the Daytona International Speedway itself is how it evolved. In 1934, at the height of the Great Depression, most racing took place on slow dirt roads. But down in Florida, between Ormond and Daytona, was a 23-mile strip of hard-packed sand where rumrunners raced “stock cars”—horsepower-packed jalopies designed to haul moonshine and outrun the law. In stepped Bill France, a mechanic and racing fanatic who lobbied Daytona Beach officials to build a paved oval track. The city finally agreed in 1948, and the first Daytona 500 was held 11 years later, on February 22, 1959.
The largest outdoor illuminated sporting facility in the world, Daytona Speedway can fit more than 200,000 spectators inside its 480 acres, and it has come to define American racing glory. “Running down that massive backstretch at 200 mph, battling 42 of the world’s best drivers…I’m telling you, it’s electrifying,” says two-time Daytona 500 winner Michael Waltrip. Other drivers haven’t been so lucky. Over the years the speedway has claimed the lives of 30 fearless men.
What the ghosts know: Back in the ’50s, when workers were removing dirt to create the track’s 31-degree banks, they hit Florida’s infamously low water table. What bubbled up was the 40-acre lake in Daytona’s infield—purely an accident.
Message to future generations: “We weren’t afraid to go bumper-to-bumper at 190 mph. You shouldn’t be, either.”
Mount Doomsday
This motherbunker will take a nuclear lickin’ and keep on tickin’.
Those who’ve seen the 1983 movie WarGames might recall Cheyenne Mountain, that big-ass bunker with the 25-ton blast doors and computers that track Soviet ICBMs. Well, it’s real—and still there, patiently
bracing for everybody’s worst day.
Built in 1961, the 200,000-square-foot complex is the ultimate deterrent: It can
survive a 30 kiloton nuke, and the 200 folks inside can monitor the aftermath. At their disposal: a grocery store, a medical facility with a dental office, two gyms, a sauna, a chapel, and—since they’ll be the only ones left with hair!—a barber shop.
What the ghosts know: In 1980, Cheyenne detected 2,200 incoming Soviet ICBMs. Then national security advisor Zbigniew Brzezinski was about to advise President Jimmy Carter to retaliate when Cheyenne realized that the “launch” was a just a computer error. Whoops!
Message to future generations: “We were capable of destroying the entire
planet…and maybe we did.”
The House That Bud Built
We may not have nobility, but we do have a King. This was its castle.
“Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy,” Benjamin Franklin once said. Carry that sentiment to its natural conclusion and the world’s greatest religious center is the 100-acre Anheuser-Busch Brewery in
St. Louis. It’s a National Historic Landmark, and inside its six-story 19th-century Brew House, delicious Budweiser still cooks in the kind of atmosphere it deserves: inside traditionally styled stainless-steel tanks, beneath two 50-foot wrought-iron chandeliers. The packaging plant at St. Louis alone can crank out 7,700 cans of beer a minute, 22 million bottles a week, and more than 15 million barrels a year. Translated into beer goggles, it does more to keep America beautiful than the entire cosmetics industry.
What the ghosts know: The post-tour two-beer-limit treat in the bland hospitality center ain’t what it used to be.
Message to future generations: “Americans knew how to party!”
The Emperor of Aerospace
This gargantuan plant keeps 3 million globetrotters high each and every day.
After the polar icecaps melt and the oceans rise, future underwater explorers 30 miles north of what is now Seattle may wander into the remains of a building so large in scale it’ll make their submarines look like minnows in a whale’s belly. Inside they’ll find airplanes.
Back in 1966, to produce the 747, Boeing built the world’s most voluminous building in Everett, Washington. With a footprint of 98.3 acres and an astonishing 472 million cubic feet, the Everett facility can fit 911 basketball courts or 2,142 average-size homes under its 114-foot-high roof. Imagine the house party!
What the ghosts know: During construction, a 46-day rain streak cost Boeing nearly $500,000 in site repairs.
Message to future generations: “Roll the dice.” If the 747 didn’t sell, it would’ve bankrupted Boeing.
The Copper Chasm
When an open pit mine in Utah is visible from outer space, it’s safe to say that Mother Earth has become our bitch.
“The unscarred beauty of the mountain is worth more than it’s mineral wealth,” a National Park Service superintendent once said. In the case of Bingham Canyon, an open pit copper mine near Salt Lake City, nobody listened—and a wonder resulted.
One of the only man-made objects visible from space, the mine is more than two miles across and nearly a mile deep. Two Sears Towers could stand atop each other inside the pit—and still wouldn’t reach the rim.
What the ghosts know: 20,000 people once lived in Bingham Canyon’s communities. The mine slowly ate away at the towns’ edges, swallowing the last buildings in 1972.
Message to future generations: “Sorry we destroyed this beautiful mountain, but if you wanna make an omelet…”
