Once Frederick Douglass rose to speak, Independence Day no longer seemed so free.

"Do they know about Martin Luther King?" Robert Kennedy asked as he stepped before the crowd.

It was 1969, rebellion in the air, when Native-Americans landed on Alcatraz, claiming it as Indian Land.

Swimming the Panama Canal, flying to Timbuktu, crossing the Alps on an elephant, Richard Halliburton enthralled a housebound America.

After centuries of smooth sailing, Columbus ran into the shoals of history. And Indigenous Peoples’ Day was born.

Broadway’s biggest hit celebrates the Founding Father, but without Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton, there would have been no “Hamilton.”

Slavery continued in Texas for months after the war. Then came the word — on Juneteenth.

When he crossed America by convoy in 1919, the future president saw the need for “broader ribbons across our land.” The seed of our interstate highways was planted.

Beloved dogs abound but none captured hearts like Rin-tin-tin. Not even Hollywood could make this up.

After Apollo 14, Edgar Mitchell kept soaring. ESP? Psychokinesis? UFOs? When you’ve been to the Moon, anything seems possible.

When the Massachusetts team went South, its star black player came face-to-face with Jim Crow. And guess what the whole team did for Bunny?

Few battles had been so mismatched. A billionaire tycoon vs. a woman with a pen. The winner?

When the D.A.R. turned Marian Anderson away, Eleanor Roosevelt and friends found a better venue.

Why are Americans so divided? Whole books have tried to answer. The Attic explains it in three minutes (and change.)

Radio news was dead on arrival until Edward R. Murrow went live from the rooftops of London.

A new novel, Lincoln in the Bardo, probes the president's deep sorrow. But how did his son's death change the president and the Civil War?