Long story short(er)… my health’s been iffy for a while, and nearly two weeks ago my Doctor finally convinced me to try an insulin pump. I didn’t think it was necessary—but between his persistence and my wife (whom I love dearly and who was also quite persuasive), I agreed. The monitor portion has been helpful, but the delivery system itself either overshoots the mark or my body simply hasn’t adjusted yet. The result? Multiple blood sugar crashes—one of which led to me passing out at the gym yesterday. Even after that little episode, my glucose levels have continued to swing wildly—from just below the upper limit straight down into the “Danger! Danger! Low Glucose!” zone. It’s happened at least six times in the last 24 hours, including several overnight.
By the time I was supposed to be up and on the radio, I was running on empty. The immediate response protocol is juice—my wife also insists on applesauce. I like both, in moderation, but after that many crashes, even the sugar starts to feel like too much. Add in the side effects, and, well… it’s been a rough ride.
Bottom line: I just couldn’t make it onto The Bill Mick Live Show this morning. I’m okay, but clearly some adjustments are needed. I’ll be working with my doctor today to figure out what’s causing these ridiculous swings and, hopefully, to smooth things out. And hey—maybe we just ditch the pump altogether?
In any case, here’s what I would have talked about today on Bill Mick’s show…
Good morning, my friends. Welcome back to Dave Does History, here in Hour 3 of Bill Mick Live on this Tuesday, April 15th, 2025.
April 15th is one of those date that I refer to as a “Nexus Date.” For whatever reason, the universe decided that April 15th was a day of action, and we see it throughout history. from the defeat of the English in France in the 1400s, to Samuel Johnson’s publishing of the Dictionary of the English Language (one of the best episodes of Black Adder III, btw), to the call by Lincoln for 75,000 volunteers to fight the Civil War to four years later his tragic death. It was April 15th that saw General Electric founded, the beginning of the Tea Pot Dome investigation, the liberation of Bergen-Belsen, and the founding of McDonalds. It marked the major league debut of Jackie Robinson and the inaugural flight of the B-52.
But there were also two other events that seem applicable today. Insulin became generally available for the first time. As a Type II diabetic today, I can relate to that.
It was also the day that Major Archibald Butt, the personal military aide to Presidents Theodore Roosevelt and William Howard Taft died.
Today, we mark the anniversary of the loss of a remarkable life—one steeped in service, touched by greatness, and ultimately… well, we’ll get to that.
He was born in Georgia in 1865, just as the Civil War’s smoke was clearing and the South was licking its wounds. His full name? Archibald Willingham DeGraffenreid Clarendon Butt. You heard that right. The only thing more Southern than that name is an iced tea at a Baptist fish fry.
Archie Butt came from a proud but struggling family. His father died when he was just 14, and young Archie went to work to help support his mother, siblings, and dreams. His mother wanted him to be a clergyman. Archie? He chose the pen.
He attended the University of the South in Sewanee, Tennessee, supported by the kindness of an Episcopal bishop and his mother’s library job. And when he graduated in 1888, he set off on a journalistic path—writing for the Louisville Courier-Journal and Macon Telegraph, before heading to Washington, D.C., to cover politics for a string of Southern newspapers.
He was sharp, charming, and social—a dinner guest in every circle from journalists to ambassadors. And that’s where destiny tapped him on the shoulder.
When Confederate veteran Matt Ransom became the U.S. ambassador to Mexico, he invited Archie to join him as First Secretary. That launched a diplomatic career… which he promptly traded in for a uniform.
In 1898, with the Spanish-American War boiling, Archie joined the Army. No draft. No press pass. He volunteered. Not because he had to—but because he felt a legacy of duty in his blood.
Major Butt was assigned as a quartermaster—Army-speak for the man who moves the food, the horses, and the gear. He made headlines transporting 500 mules to the Philippines during the conflict there—and did it without losing a single one. No small feat considering the army was losing more men to disease than to combat.
His success caught the attention of no less than President Theodore Roosevelt. And in 1908, Roosevelt summoned him to the White House—not for a ceremony, but for a job.
Archie Butt became the President’s military aide, organizing receptions, logistics, and at times, political damage control. He brought order to Roosevelt’s famously chaotic receptions and joined the president on horseback, hiking, tennis, and even a few wrestling matches.
When Roosevelt left office in 1909, his hand-picked successor, William Howard Taft, asked Archie to stay. That’s where things get complicated…
[Segment Ends – Go to Commercial Break]
🎧 Segment 2: Torn Between Titans
We’re back, and the year is now 1912.
Major Archibald Butt is perhaps the most trusted aide in Washington. He’s serving his second president—William Howard Taft—and doing more than scheduling events. He’s a confidant. A negotiator. Taft’s quiet bulldog in the budget fights.
But Archie has a problem—his old boss, Roosevelt, is unhappy. Very unhappy.
Teddy Roosevelt doesn’t like how Taft is running the show. He thinks his legacy is being undone. So what does he do? He comes back to challenge Taft for the Republican nomination.
Now imagine you’re Archie Butt. You’ve served both men loyally. You love them both. And they are about to go to war… with you in the middle.
Friends say the pressure was crushing him. His health was declining. His energy was gone. Taft, seeing this, gave Archie something unusual: a presidentially approved vacation. “Take a slow boat,” he told him, “and breathe that European air.”
So in March of 1912, Archie Butt left Washington for Europe.
He had just one official duty: deliver a thank-you letter to Pope Pius X on behalf of the President. That’s it. The rest of the trip was rest and recovery—alongside his longtime housemate and close friend, the artist Francis Millet.
In private letters, Butt sounded like a man reflecting on his life. He joked about travel agents and train ticket refunds—told them to mail things to him “care of the White House.”
But there was a weight underneath those words.
In early April, with his business done in Rome, Archie made his way to the port of Southampton.
There he boarded a gleaming new ship on its maiden voyage. A floating palace of modernity and indulgence. Eleven stories high. Four city blocks long. More comfortable than most hotels, and — the brochures claimed — unsinkable.
Its name? Well… I’ll save that for just a bit longer.
Let’s just say this: Archie dined with aristocrats. Played cards with political elites. He was last seen smiling in a first-class lounge. The weight of Washington seemed to have lifted, if only for a while.
🎧 Segment 3: From Duty to Destiny – And Your Calls
Welcome back. Let’s finish the story of Major Archibald Butt.
It’s now April 14th, 1912. That evening, passengers aboard the world’s most magnificent vessel are dressed to the nines. Champagne flows. A string quartet plays.
Archie Butt, ever the social statesman, joins a group of political thinkers and dignitaries in the smoking room. Cards are played. Conversations meander.
But just before midnight, there’s a jolt. The ship shudders. Something’s wrong.
In the two hours and forty minutes that follow, the ship’s fate is sealed. And Archie? That’s where the stories multiply.
Some say he helped load lifeboats, commanding order with military precision. Others say he returned to the smoking room and resumed his card game, calm to the end.
One newspaper claimed he was seen standing near John Jacob Astor as the ship went down. Another said he was armed, defending women and children from panicked crowds.
We’ll never know the exact truth. But we do know this:
On April 15th, 1912, Major Archibald Butt died aboard the RMS Titanic.
The ship struck an iceberg at 11:40 p.m. and sank just over two hours later. Butt’s body was never recovered.
President Taft broke down at his memorial. Called him “a son or brother.” And if Archie had to choose a moment to go, Taft said, “he would have chosen the one God gave him.” For the first time since he began the tradition a few years earlier, Taft declined to throw out the first pitch for the MLB season.
There are fountains, plaques, and bridges that bear his name—but none more lasting than the story of a man torn between two presidents, and faithful to both.
📞 Do we still make men like Archibald Butt?
📞 What does loyalty mean in a world full of factions, feuds, and forgotten friends?
DAVE DOES HISTORY 
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