I was born in Brooklyn on June 28, 1926, the 12th anniversary of the blowing up of archduke Ferdinand of Austria.
They knew the Bosnians had targeted the Austrian archduke Ferdinand.
A century ago today, archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria-Hungary embarked on his fatal journey to Sarajevo.
So the bullet that Gavrilo Princip fired at old archduke Ferdinand in Sarajevo (a redolent place-name) goes on echoing.
I gathered together a goodly number of friends to assist the archduke Albert in Flanders: bought horses, and laid in powder.
The gipsy was a soldier, and on his being admitted, the archduke asked him what he had to say.
The public never knew the splendid qualities of the archduke, and misjudged him accordingly.
The archduke had left the Holy Land and returned home some time before.
Princes and pages formed a line, the archduke Rudolph took off his hat, and the Empress made the first salutation.
He immediately sent to Leopold, the archduke, and claimed the prisoner as his.