In Honolulu — especially along Hotel Street, which was the city’s bustling entertainment district for sailors and soldiers — crowds poured into the streets. Thousands of servicemen from Pearl Harbor, Hickam Field, and other nearby bases joined civilians in a whirlwind of parades, dancing, drinking, and shouting. Church bells rang, sirens wailed, and ships in the harbor blasted their horns.

Many accounts describe sailors tossing their caps into the air, embracing strangers, and even commandeering vehicles for joyrides. The scene was chaotic but mostly good-natured — a cathartic release after years of tension, rationing, and the heavy losses of the Pacific War. Honolulu police and military shore patrols were out in force to keep order, but they often just let the exuberance run its course.

Hawaii’s reaction carried a special emotional weight. Pearl Harbor had been the site of the December 7, 1941, attack that brought the U.S. into the war, and for many in the islands, the surrender announcement felt like a full-circle moment. Newspapers the next morning were filled with bold headlines like “JAPS QUIT!” and “PEACE!,” capturing both the relief and the raw, wartime language of the era.

Joseph E. Levine first purchased the film rights to H. G. Wells’ novella The Food of the Gods and How It Came to Earth (1904) in 1965 and hired Bert I. Gordon to direct and produce a partial adaptation of it as Village of the Giants (1965) at his studio Embassy Pictures. Nine years later, American International Pictures announced another partial adaptation of the novella directed and co-produced again by Gordon.

Production of the film began with special effects shots in Montreal in November 1974. Gordon created a special effects process that would create the illusion of humans interacting with massive animals by splicing together footage of animals shot by second-unit crews. Special effects designer Thomas R. Burman created rat costumes that allowed for the giant rats in the film to be played by child actors, including his own son. The rest of the film was shot on location in Bowen Island, British Columbia. Shooting was delayed by two minor earthquake and a blizzard. The film had a $900,000 budget.

The plot of the movie differs from Wells’ novella in that the “food” is a man-made substance in the novella and the action takes place in England, not British Columbia. It was Pamela Franklin’s last film, although she made television appearances for another five years, before retiring from acting altogether in 1981.

The Food of the Gods was nominated for the Best Horror Film by the Academy of Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror Films in the 4th Saturn Awards in 1976. The German movie satire show Die schlechtesten Filme aller Zeiten (“The Worst Movies of All Time”) showed the movie on TV in 2018. Michael Medved’s book The Golden Turkey Awards named the film Worst Rodent Movie of All Time.

On the morning of September 13, 1948, Free raised the American motorcycle speed record by riding the very first Vincent HRD, owned by the California sportsman John Edgar and sponsored by Mobil Oil, to a speed of 150.313 mph (241.905 km/h). Special features included the first-ever Vincent use of a rear shock absorber, the first Mk II racing cams, and horizontally mounted racing carburetors. Free adopted a style used by other racers, such as Norman Teleford, of lying flat on the machine’s seat, thereby minimizing wind resistance and moving its center of gravity rearward.

To protect himself and allow comfort when in such a position, Free had developed special protective clothing. However, when his leathers tore from early runs at 147 mph (237 km/h), he discarded them and made a final attempt without a jacket, pants, gloves, boots, or helmet. Free lay flat on the motorcycle wearing only a bathing suit, a shower cap, and a pair of borrowed sneakers – inspired by his friend Ed Kretz. This resulted not only in the record, but also produced one of the most famous photographs in motorcycling history, the “bathing suit bike.” The photo was taken from a car driven parallel to his run on the Bonneville Salt Flats.

The Vincent used is sometimes mistaken for a Series B machine, having the stamp BB on its engine casing, but is actually a works-modified machine, and has been recognized as the first, or prototype of 30 Lightnings. The bike remained racing in the United States until the mid-1960s, and then resided virtually intact in the private collection of Herb Harris of Austin, Texas. The bike was sold from the Harris collection in November 2010 for a rumored $1.1 million, which would be one of the highest prices ever paid privately for a motorcycle.

Free later moved to California and, after his racing career faded, worked in the auto servicing industry. He died in 1984 and was posthumously inducted into the Motorcycle Hall of Fame in 1998.

Soon after, Martin landed a more exciting role at Merlin’s Magic Shop in Fantasyland, where his love for magic truly found a home. Performing sleight-of-hand tricks for guests helped him hone both his magical skills and comedic timing. Daily interaction with visitors allowed him to develop the showmanship and sense of humor that would later become essential to his entertainment career.

Martin also expanded his talents by learning to juggle and make balloon animals, refining his abilities as a performer. Disneyland provided him with a constant audience to practice in front of, shaping the entertainer he would become. He credited his time there as critical to developing the performance skills and comic timing that defined his career.

He learned juggling from Disneyland’s court jester, Christopher Fair, and was heavily influenced by Wally Boag, the headliner at the Golden Horseshoe. “Wally was the first live performer I ever saw. His style—fresh, sassy, and very clean—had a huge influence on my own comic timing,” Martin said.

Steve also worked with a woman from the South whose favorite saying was “Well, excuse me for living.” Martin later shortened it to the famous, “Well, excuuuuuuse me!” which became a cultural catchphrase.

For Steve Martin, Disneyland wasn’t just a job—it was where his journey as an entertainer truly began.

In 1968, a New York City bar and restaurant on 86th St called Barney Google’s became briefly famous — and notorious — for serving customers in a way that was literally “eye-catching.”

Instead of handing out printed menus, the waitresses at Barney Google’s had the day’s offerings written directly on their bodies in black marker, usually while wearing only bikinis or underwear. This “human menu” gimmick listed food and drink prices right across the torso, so customers had to read the waitresses themselves to decide what to order.