Christopher Magra, University of Tennessee

This Presidents Day, I’ve been thinking about George Washington − not at his finest hour, but possibly at his worst.

In 1754, a 22-year-old Washington marched into the wilderness surrounding Pittsburgh with more ambition than sense. He volunteered to travel to the Ohio Valley on a mission to deliver a letter from Robert Dinwiddie, governor of Virginia, to the commander of French troops in the Ohio territory. This military mission sparked an international war, cost him his first command and taught him lessons that would shape the American Revolution.

As a professor of early American history who has written two books on the American Revolution, I’ve learned that Washington’s time spent in the Fort Duquesne area taught him valuable lessons about frontier warfare, international diplomacy and personal resilience.

The mission to expel the French

In 1753, Dinwiddie decided to expel French fur trappers and military forces from the strategic confluence of three mighty waterways that crisscrossed the interior of the continent: the Allegheny, Monongahela and Ohio rivers. This confluence is where downtown Pittsburgh now stands, but at the time it was wilderness.

King George II authorized Dinwiddie to use force, if necessary, to secure lands that Virginia was claiming as its own.

As a major in the Virginia provincial militia, Washington wanted the assignment to deliver Dinwiddie’s demand that the French retreat. He believe the assignment would secure him a British army commission.

Washington received his marching orders on Oct. 31, 1753. He traveled to Fort Le Boeuf in northwestern Pennsylvania and returned a month later with a polite but firm “no” from the French.

Dinwiddie promoted Washington from major to lieutenant colonel and ordered him to return to the Ohio River Valley in April 1754 with 160 men. Washington quickly learned that French forces of about 500 men had already constructed the formidable Fort Duquesne at the forks of the Ohio. It was at this point that he faced his first major test as a military leader. Instead of falling back to gather more substantial reinforcements, he pushed forward. This decision reflected an aggressive, perhaps naive, brand of leadership characterized by a desire for action over caution.

Washington’s initial confidence was high. He famously wrote to his brother that there was “something charming” in the sound of whistling bullets.

The Jumonville affair and an international crisis

Perhaps the most controversial moment of Washington’s early leadership occurred on May 28, 1754, about 40 miles south of Fort Duquesne. Guided by the Seneca leader Tanacharison – known as the “Half King” – and 12 Seneca warriors, Washington and his detachment of 40 militiamen ambushed a party of 35 French Canadian militiamen led by Ensign Joseph Coulon de Jumonville. The Jumonville affair lasted only 15 minutes, but its repercussions were global.

Ten of the French, including Jumonville, were killed. Washington’s inability to control his Native American allies – the Seneca warriors executed Jumonville – exposed a critical gap in his early leadership. He lacked the ability to manage the volatile intercultural alliances necessary for frontier warfare.

Washington also allowed one enemy soldier to escape to warn Fort Duquesne. This skirmish effectively ignited the French and Indian War, and Washington found himself at the center of a burgeoning international crisis.

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Defeat at Fort Necessity

Washington then made the fateful decision to dig in and call for reinforcements instead of retreating in the face of inevitable French retaliation. Reinforcements arrived: 200 Virginia militiamen and 100 British regulars. They brought news from Dinwiddie: congratulations on Washington’s victory and his promotion to colonel.

His inexperience showed in his design of Fort Necessity. He positioned the small, circular palisade in a meadow depression, where surrounding wooded high ground allowed enemy marksmen to fire down with impunity. Worse still, Tanacharison, disillusioned with Washington’s leadership and the British failure to follow through with promised support, had already departed with his warriors weeks earlier. When the French and their Native American allies finally attacked on July 3, heavy rains flooded the shallow trenches, soaking gunpowder and leaving Washington’s men vulnerable inside their poorly designed fortification.

The battle of Fort Necessity was a grueling, daylong engagement in the mud and rain. Approximately 700 French and Native American allies surrounded the combined force of 460 Virginian militiamen and British regulars. Despite being outnumbered and outmaneuvered, Washington maintained order among his demoralized troops. When French commander Louis Coulon de Villiers – Jumonville’s brother – offered a truce, Washington faced the most humbling moment of his young life: the necessity of surrender. His decision to capitulate was a pragmatic act of leadership that prioritized the survival of his men over personal honor.

The surrender also included a stinging lesson in the nuances of diplomacy. Because Washington could not read French, he signed a document that used the word “l’assassinat,” which translates to “assassination,” to describe Jumonville’s death. This inadvertent admission that he had ordered the assassination of a French diplomat became propaganda for the French, teaching Washington the vital importance of optics in international relations.

Lessons that forged a leader

The 1754 campaign ended in a full retreat to Virginia, and Washington resigned his commission shortly thereafter. Yet, this period was essential in transforming Washington from a man seeking personal glory into one who understood the weight of responsibility.

He learned that leadership required more than courage – it demanded understanding of terrain, cultural awareness of allies and enemies, and political acumen. The strategic importance of the Ohio River Valley, a gateway to the continental interior and vast fur-trading networks, made these lessons all the more significant.

Ultimately, the hard lessons Washington learned at the threshold of Fort Duquesne in 1754 provided the foundational experience for his later role as commander in chief of the Continental Army. The decisions he made in Pennsylvania and the Ohio wilderness, including the impulsive attack, the poor choice of defensive ground and the diplomatic oversight, were the very errors he would spend the rest of his military career correcting.

Though he did not capture Fort Duquesne in 1754, the young George Washington left the woods of Pennsylvania with a far more valuable prize: the tempered, resilient spirit of a leader who had learned from his mistakes.

Christopher Magra, Professor of American History, University of Tennessee

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

 
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How City Hall Quietly Undermined LA’s Own Height Limits

The Knowledge Series | STM Daily News

For more than half a century, Los Angeles enforced one of the strictest building height limits in the United States. Beginning in 1905, most buildings were capped at 150 feet, shaping a city that grew outward rather than upward.

The goal was clear: avoid the congestion, shadows, and fire dangers associated with dense Eastern cities. Los Angeles sold itself as open, sunlit, and horizontal — a place where growth spread across land, not into the sky.

And yet, in 1928, Los Angeles City Hall rose to 454 feet, towering over the city like a contradiction in concrete.

It wasn’t built to spark a commercial skyscraper boom.
But it ended up proving that Los Angeles could safely build one.

A Rule Designed to Prevent a Manhattan-Style City

The original height restriction was rooted in early 20th-century fears:

• Limited firefighting capabilities
• Concerns over blocked sunlight and airflow
• Anxiety about congestion and overcrowding
• A strong desire not to resemble New York or Chicago

Los Angeles wanted prosperity — just not vertical density.

The height cap reinforced a development model where:

• Office districts stayed low-rise
• Growth moved outward
• Automobiles became essential
• Downtown never consolidated into a dense core

This philosophy held firm even as other American cities raced upward.

Why City Hall Was Never Meant to Change the Rules

City Hall was intentionally exempt from the height limit because the law applied primarily to private commercial buildings, not civic monuments.

But city leaders were explicit about one thing:
City Hall was not a precedent.

It was designed to:

• Serve as a symbolic seat of government
• Stand alone as a civic landmark
• Represent stability, authority, and modern governance
• Avoid competing with private office buildings

In effect, Los Angeles wanted a skyline icon — without a skyline.

Innovation Hidden in Plain Sight

What made City Hall truly significant wasn’t just its height — it was how it was built.

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At a time when seismic science was still developing, City Hall incorporated advanced structural ideas for its era:

• A steel-frame skeleton designed for flexibility
• Reinforced concrete shear walls for lateral strength
• A tapered tower to reduce wind and seismic stress
• Thick structural cores that distributed force instead of resisting it rigidly

These choices weren’t about aesthetics — they were about survival.

The Earthquake That Changed the Conversation

In 1933, the Long Beach earthquake struck Southern California, causing widespread damage and reshaping building codes statewide.

Los Angeles City Hall survived with minimal structural damage.

This moment quietly reshaped the debate:

• A tall building had endured a major earthquake
• Structural engineering had proven effective
• Height alone was no longer the enemy — poor design was

City Hall didn’t just survive — it validated a new approach to vertical construction in seismic regions.

Proof Without Permission

Despite this success, Los Angeles did not rush to repeal its height limits.

Cultural resistance to density remained strong, and developers continued to build outward rather than upward. But the technical argument had already been settled.

City Hall stood as living proof that:

• High-rise buildings could be engineered safely in Los Angeles
• Earthquakes were a challenge, not a barrier
• Fire, structural, and seismic risks could be managed

The height restriction was no longer about safety — it was about philosophy.

The Ironic Legacy

When Los Angeles finally lifted its height limit in 1957, the city did not suddenly erupt into skyscrapers. The habit of building outward was already deeply entrenched.

The result:

• A skyline that arrived decades late
• Uneven density across the region
• Multiple business centers instead of one core
• Housing and transit challenges baked into the city’s growth pattern

City Hall never triggered a skyscraper boom — but it quietly made one possible.

Why This Still Matters

Today, Los Angeles continues to wrestle with:

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• Housing shortages
• Transit-oriented development debates
• Height and zoning battles near rail corridors
• Resistance to density in a growing city

These debates didn’t begin recently.

They trace back to a single contradiction: a city that banned tall buildings — while proving they could be built safely all along.

Los Angeles City Hall wasn’t just a monument.
It was a test case — and it passed.

Further Reading & Sources

• Los Angeles Department of City Planning – History of Urban Planning in LA
• Los Angeles Conservancy – History & Architecture of LA City Hall
• Water and Power Associates – Early Los Angeles Buildings & Height Limits
• USGS – How Buildings Are Designed to Withstand Earthquakes
• Los Angeles Department of Building and Safety – Building Code History

More from The Knowledge Series on STM Daily News

Peter McGraw, University of Colorado Boulder

Doing things alone is on the rise, and businesses should pay more attention to that – even on Valentine’s Day

Every February, Valentine’s Day amplifies what single people already know – that public life is built for two. Restaurants roll out prix fixe menus for couples. Hotels promote “romantic getaway” packages designed for double occupancy. A table for one still invites the question, “Just you?”

Yet there’s irony that’s hard to miss. While Valentine’s Day doubles down on togetherness, more adults are living – and moving through the world – alone.

As a behavioral economist, I study what I call the “solo economy.” A growing share of economic life today is organized around people who live, spend and make decisions on their own.

1-person households aren’t outliers

Half of U.S. adults are unmarried, and one-person households are now the nation’s most common living arrangement. This isn’t a temporary phase confined to young adults waiting to settle down. It includes never-married professionals, divorced empty nesters, widows and widowers, and people who simply prefer to live independently.

Lifelong singlehood is also rising: 25% of millennials and 33% of Gen Z are projected to never marry.

It’s a slow-moving demographic shift away from long-term partnership as the dominant adult life path, but a consequential one – reshaping everything from housing and travel to social policy and commerce. One of its clearest expressions is the number of people doing things alone in public.

The rise of public solo life

It would be one thing if the economy were built for two and solos stayed home. But they are going to museums, traveling and, of course, dining alone in restaurants. To assess this behavior, I surveyed single and married Americans about their participation in 25 activities that occur in public – from shopping and dining to attending movies and concerts.

The pattern was striking. Overall, singles were much more likely to do things alone in public than their married counterparts – 56% versus 39%. The difference held across every activity I measured.

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The biggest gaps weren’t for practical tasks like grocery shopping. They were for leisure experiences like going to the movies, dining out and attending concerts. In fact, seven of the 10 largest differences involved retail or entertainment settings – the very places most designed and marketed with couples in mind.

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Bias that keeps people from having fun alone

Why hasn’t the business world paid more attention to the singles market?

The answer lies in psychology. Some reluctance stems from the belief that other customers will perceive solo diners or moviegoers as sad or lonely. These fears are amplified by what psychologists call the spotlight effect – our tendency to overestimate how much other people notice and judge us.

Findings by consumer researchers Rebecca Hamilton and Rebecca Ratner can help explain why this bias is so persistent. Across studies conducted in the U.S., China and India, people consistently predicted they would enjoy activities less if they did them alone – even though they’d be seeing the same movie or visiting the same museum.

But when people actually went alone, they enjoyed the experience just as much as those who went with others. The fear, it turns out, is largely imagined.

Another problem is that solo consumers don’t always feel welcome.

While behavior is changing, markets have been slower to adapt. Most businesses still design experiences around pairs, families or groups. Consider restaurants that seat solo diners at the bar or near the kitchen or bathrooms, or ticketing systems that require purchasing in pairs. The result is friction for solo consumers – and missed opportunities for companies.

Valentine’s Day promotions make that mismatch especially visible. In 2024, IKEA Canada offered a Valentine’s Day dining experience in its showroom priced and designed for two – and only two – people.

After backlash, the company revised the promotion the following year to be more inclusive: “Bring a loved one, a good friend, or the whole family.” It was a small change, but a revealing one.

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Why solo shoppers have outsized influence

Solo consumers represent a large, growing and profitable market segment, yet they’re navigating a marketplace that still treats them as edge cases.

Another study that Ratner conducted with business school professor Yuechen Wu adds an important twist.

Analyses of more than 14,000 Tripadvisor reviews of restaurants and museums show that reviews written by solo diners and solo museumgoers are rated as more helpful – and receive more positive feedback – than reviews written by people who went with others.

Follow-up experiments showed that when otherwise identical recommendations differed only in whether the reviewer experienced the activity alone or with others, respondents were more likely to rely on the solo reviewer when deciding what to do.

Why? Observers infer that people who go alone are more genuinely interested in the experience and more focused on its quality, rather than simply going along with someone else’s preferences.

Being alone, it turns out, functions as a credibility cue. For businesses, that means solo customers aren’t just customers − they can be very influential customers.

Designing for 1 in Asia

Asian businesses are far ahead of the West in recognizing the buying power of people doing things alone.

In South Korea, for example, “honjok,” which translates as “alone tribe,” culture has fueled products and services designed explicitly for solo living. Think single-serve meals at convenience stores, one-person karaoke booths, and restaurants that promise judgment-free service.

Similarly, in Japan, the ramen chain Ichiran built its brand around the idea of “flavor concentration,” which encourages diners to eat alone in private booths.

Officially, the design is meant to eliminate distractions and heighten the dining experience. In practice, it does something more important: It legitimizes solo dining.

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Progress in the US

In the U.S., Disney theme parks and some of the company’s competitors have long used single-rider lines that reward solo visitors with shorter waits, turning independence into operational efficiency – a logic ski resorts adopted decades ago to fill empty seats on chairlifts.

And solo tourism has become a major trend. Demand is growing, and tour operators are adapting offerings to meet it, including specialized tours for singles and adjustments to historically prohibitive pricing practices.

Industry analysis also shows the global solo travel market expanding rapidly, with tailored products and experiences emerging worldwide. Some companies now offer dedicated solo travel collections with no single supplement − the extra fee traditionally charged to travelers who occupy a room alone − and tours designed specifically for independent travelers.

Doing things alone is an opportunity

Valentine’s Day offers a chance to see how outdated many widespread assumptions still are.

It treats solitude as a problem to be solved, even as people’s behavior tells a different story. Yet businesses, policymakers and U.S. culture more broadly have not designed a world that fully acknowledges that about 42% of American adults are single.

In the meantime, singles aren’t waiting at home. They’re out there – at the movies, on planes, in museums and restaurants – moving through public life on their own terms.

Valentine’s Day may always be built for two. But the economy won’t be.

Peter McGraw, Professor of Marketing and Psychology, University of Colorado Boulder

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

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