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The Last Act

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I had an idea for a Dahl-type story last week. Two protagonists; one an up-and-coming aide to a congressman, the other a Cambridge book-store owner. The aide has a criminal record because he damaged the book store during a protest in college, so in order to get a security clearance, he needs to ask the owner to make a statement on his behalf. The damage happened ten years ago and the aftermath was bitter, but, if he wants the promotion he has no option but to appeal to the store-owner’s better nature, etc. Things don’t work out as the aide plans.

I felt that this was good material to flex some Dahl-type muscles on, so after several months’ hiatus, I started reading my Dahl omnibus again. There are three stories that might help me: Taste, The Landlady and The Last Act.

You may not have heard of The Last Act, it’s one of the few really mean-spirited stories that Dahl wrote, but I think that it is also as close as you’re going to get to the real Dahl– that is, Dahl not hiding his nature while entertaining. The Last Act was one of his Playboy stories, which surprised me, because although sex is a central theme, there’s nothing sexy about this short story. It’s morbid and supremely sad. I think that a man could only find it sexy if he hated women– or at least was very, very angry at a woman– but even then the story’s not really a turn-on, but maybe some sort of emotional release, like a snuff-film.

So although I first read The Last Act- wow- a year ago now, I wasn’t in any hurry to analyze it because it’s complicated. I feel slightly more able to dissect it now, so here goes.

First, it’s written like third-hand gossip, delivered from a polished, attractive (there you go!) speaker. You can almost hear Bill Stephenson’s scandal-machine cranking. Dahl is delivering the goods on a juicy suicide.

The story is cinematic- we are given brief, evocative place descriptions every time the scene changes, and as this is a short story, the scene only changes twice.

There are two characters. Mrs. Anna Cooper and Conrad Kreuger. Conrad comes in half-way through; the first half of the story tells us about Anna’s emotional state. At first, I thought that it was daring to bring Conrad in so late, but on reflection, it’s necessary to keep the twist twisty. You see, up until the end, you’ll think that The Last Act is a story about how a co-dependent widow finds herself through working and psychotherapy.

Of course, these elements aren’t enough to explain this story’s momentum. The momentum comes from emotional manipulation; Dahl, even better than Arthur Machen, was a sublime manipulator. (It’s worth bearing in mind that he was also a nasty person in real life.)

Dahl keeps the first half of the story going by dropping one bomb after another. It’s devastating:

1) Anna suddenly looses a husband who she is not only very happy with, but also needs. A year later she’s not ready to move on when everyone else thinks she should be. She’s suicidal.

2) Her children leave the nest. She manages to hide her loneliness from them, but feels increasingly isolated.

3) In order to distract herself from her problems, she gets a job at an orphanage, working with single mothers who are giving up their babies under stressed circumstances. (Could it ever be any other way?) Her job involves dealing with coarse lawyers and adoptive mothers who decide they don’t want the children anymore.

Now, if I was 20, these things might roll off my back pretty easily, at least I wouldn’t understand them as I do now. So for anybody reading this post who didn’t get a knot in their stomach over that list, believe me, these aren’t just ‘unpleasant’, they’re monstrous, twisted things. Things that no sane person would wish on their worst enemy. So by page fourteen, I was very ready for something good to happen. BTW, Dahl was 50 when he wrote this story, ten years older than both protagonists.

His genius is in the way Dahl delivers these bombs:

The policeman who was speaking produced the crocodile wallet she had given Ed on their twentieth wedding anniversary, two years back, and as she reached out to take it, she found herself wondering whether it might not still be warm from having been close to her husband’s chest only a short while ago.

And…

It is an awful feeling, after twenty-three years of boisterous, busy, magical family life, to come down alone to breakfast in the mornings, to sit there in silence with a cup of coffee and a piece of toast, and to wonder what you are going to do with the day ahead.

And there were girls in the waiting room, young girls with ashen stony faces, and it became part of her duty to type their answers on an official form.

“The father’s name?”

“Don’t know.”

“You’ve no idea?”

“What’s the father’s name got to do with it?”

“My dear, if the father is known, then his consent has to be obtained as well as yours before the child can be offered for adoption.”

“The father isn’t known, don’t worry.”

Now, five months after the move, the wife had written to say that she no longer wanted to keep the child. Her husband, she announced, had died of a heart attach soon after they’d arrived in Texas. She herself had remarried almost at once, and her new husband “found it impossible to adjust to an adopted baby…”

All these bombs work because good gossip is the type that takes us out of our own worries for a little while, right? Dahl was able to portray these so well because a) he was paid to run a rumor mill in DC and obviously, he was good at knowing what to sell and b) these tragedies closely reflect things that actually happened to Dahl or his wife Patricia. The descriptions are quality, not quantity.

Now, enter Conrad Kreuger from Dallas. The name should give you a hint; Dahl’s crude anti-German prejudice landed him in trouble with British military authorities well before he ever joined Stephenson’s crew. The Texas angle is more interesting: Dahl’s mentor and idol, Charles Marsh, was from Texas, but so were many of Marsh’s and FDR’s more powerful political opponents. That was in the days before Northeastern politicians like the Bush family, who are from Connecticut, colonized the Lone Star State.

Spoiler alert: Kreuger, a gynecologist, meets up with his old flame Anna while she’s on a business trip to Dallas. Kreuger secretly hates Anna for dumping him in high school,  and therefore causing every unhappy event in his life: his failed ‘rebound’ marriage, his ex-wife gaining custody of their child, and his subsequent loneliness. He reads her fragile mental state and deftly manipulates her into committing suicide. End of story.

What’s really creepy about Kreuger is his deep understanding of Anna’s psychology- maybe it’s better to say: Kreuger’s understanding of female psychology in general is creepy. He knows just what to say to get her to do what he wants, he knows just what to do to knock her off balance: compliments followed by subtle put-downs; repeatedly turning away from her when she is most vulnerable, etc. Dr. Kreuger uses sex to break Anna, and that’s what The Final Act is about. (Is that what Playboy readers are really interested in?) Kreuger is armed like a soldier whose job is to cultivate and milk women. Do we know anybody else with that job description?

It doesn’t take a lot of insight to see that Kreuger is actually Dahl. Dahl was a notorious womanizer– even after the war– who viewed sex as both work and something dirty. He used it as a tool to get what he wanted at various times in his life, and like a hardened prostitute, he grew to hate his punters.

Where did all this anger come from? It’s tempting to look at mama, and in the case of Sofie Magdalene Dahl, there is probably good reason to look at her. Sofie Magdalene was Dahl’s father’s second wife, the first being a more glamorous French aristocrat who had died. Sofie felt somewhat insecure in the first wife’s shadow; insecure enough to be cruel to her stepchildren and make up a rumor that the first wife died of a botched abortion because she didn’t want any more of Dahl’s kids. (Shades of what’s to come?)

When Elder Dahl died, Roald was the only boy of Sofie’s in a household of girls. He was doted on, endlessly, and probably stifled by his mother’s neediness. When his best friend at school was expelled for sodomizing younger boys, Roald didn’t tell Sofie, because he wanted to protect her AND because he assumed that she would think he was in on the sodomy. Not a great relationship, but one he would never really pull himself away from– a situation that led one family member to characterize Great Missenden as “Valley of the Dahls”.

Where did this leave Roald? Comfortable with indirection, shaming and lying, or in other words, the more ‘feminine’ tools for getting people to do what you want. Where Roald was friends with men stronger than himself, say Marsh or Roosevelt or even some of the con-artists he befriended later, he adopted a girlish fawning attitude, something like adoration, and would resist any suggestion that his idols were less than ideal– up to a point. If that point was reached, the two men would part bitterly. Maybe the way Dahl related to other people is why he fit in with the Philby crowd.

Love is close to hate, especially when the love is an unhealthy love, and Roald used his skills dealing with women and flattering men to his best possible advantage. In The Last Act,  he draws back the veil for us a little, and we can see part of how a very gifted and very troubled author viewed his world. There’s something ugly about putting on a mask, and it’s possible that being a good entertainer is just the sunny side of being a deceitful, calculating person.



Misdirection

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kiss kiss

Any story with a surprise ending uses misdirection to lead the reader towards one conclusion, then throws another at them. This switch is annoying if it’s not done well.

I’ve written a bit about what poor twists look like, and what good ones look like. Good twists work because that surprise conclusion is a natural one that shows a deeper understanding of the characters than the reader cottoned on to. The ‘red herring’ conclusion must be natural, the twist conclusion must be natural and smart.

Just goes to show, good stories are rarely written in a night.

I left an important part out of my post on The Last Act. The ‘red herring’ conclusion to this story is that Mrs. Cooper finds fulfillment at work, peace through Dr. Jacobs’ treatment and another love with Conrad. That’s not what happens. How did Dahl get me to assume the ‘red herring’ ending would happen?

When you read The Last Act twice, you’ll see that Dahl drops hints about what’s really to come (I’ve written about that before too). These hints are the loci of Dahl’s most clever misdirections: the reader is encouraged to interpret these hints in expectation of the ‘red herring’ ending, when in fact, the hints signal something else. When the twist comes, I’m left thinking: “Oh, yeah, because… she knew sex wasn’t the answer.”

Dahl’s favorite tool for misdirection is this: he uses  interesting bits of knowledge delivered through the conversation of the lead characters. He employs this tool very simply in The Last Act. Conrad talks to Anna about the dangers of gin, menthol and saltpeter– all things Anna consumes through martinis and cigarettes. Not good for your lady-parts, Anna!

These little lectures COULD BE interpreted as loving concern. But they are really booby-traps. Juniper oil, menthol and saltpeter are anti-aphrodesiacs; things that will lessen sexual experience. Conrad plants these little mines in Anna’s head, and when they come to the act, wow, is she lacking.

I was expecting that their union would be something loving; that Anna would find somebody to live for and to look after her again– maybe with the bonus of less ‘dependency’ in the relationship. Nope!

Reading Conrad’s little lectures on menthol, saltpeter and gin was enlightening for me. Dahl has an astounding breadth of interests and knows what a layman will find intriguing. Dahl had a passion for medicine. He also liked gardening and bees, which brings me on to the next story.

Royal Jelly is about a father, Albert Taylor, who saves his starving baby daughter– a daughter which took him nine years to conceive– by putting royal jelly in her formula. Nice story, right?

Superficially, Royal Jelly seems to misdirect in a heavy-handed way. There’s not much secret about what magic substance will save the little spud. The red-herring conclusion is this: the Baby Girl will be saved by royal jelly, but there will be some road-block along the way.

The salvation does happen, but it’s an uncomfortable salvation. The results of the treatment are not very clever, IMHO, but they are definitely unexpected, and are reasonably natural, given the fact that papa is described as bee-like half way through the story. The cleverness is in how Dahl misdirects with the suggestion of  ‘road-blocks’.

Dahl’s art– and the reason that his misdirection is not heavy-handed– comes from the ‘road-blocks’ and where they lead your expectations. For 13 pages, Roald Dahl talks of nothing but bees, their sexual habits, the price of Royal Jelly in New York City, strange Mexican medical experiments with Royal Jelly… a laundry list of interesting tidbits that the author has read about these insects. Tidbits that suggest Royal Jelly will save the daughter by reversing her weight loss with various consequences. A few of the tidbits suggest that the jelly may make the girl super-fertile as well, but these come after the wonderful stories of weight-gain.

Dahl then drops a hint about the Taylor’s last honey-crop being poor.

As the story progresses Baby Girl does gain weight, but strangely.

“… it means in five days a baby weighing seven and a half pounds to start off with would increase in weight to five tons!”

The child’s body swells but her legs stay spindly. Her eyes don’t loose that milky, far-away look.

“Now isn’t that marvelous!” he cried, beaming. “I’ll bet she must be almost back to normal already!”

“It frightens me, Albert. It’s too quick.”

The child’s belly develops a layer of fuzz. Clearly, Albert is turning his kid into a bug. Case closed, right?

“The reason we had only half the usual crop last summer,” he said slowly, lowering his voice, “was because I turned one hundred of my hives over to the production of royal jelly.”

Albert, the living Royal Jelly experiment, the human-drone, has sired a queen. For a year, he’s been eating the jelly himself.

I didn’t expect the problem to be with Albert, I expected the problem to be a weak baby. I didn’t expect Conrad to be a monster, I expected him to be a blessing.

Half way through Royal Jelly we learn that Albert looks like a human bee, but we’re encouraged to interpret that fact as a consequence of his love of bees, not because he’s been feeding himself jelly. Half-way through The Last Act we learn about Conrad, the concerned student of women– a gynecologist, not a misogynist. For each story, ‘half-way through’ is 10 minutes after we’ve made our decision about the ending we’re expecting.

To a large extent Dahl was self-educated. He had that peculiar breadth of knowledge and wide interests that many self-educated people have. He used this wide knowledge as a tool to manage readers’ expectations in all of his writing-- even in his children’s books.

Let’s recap with examples: There are the facts of the story; the information you need to know so that you don’t feel cheated. And then there are the little tidbits like ‘saltpeter is in gunpowder and cigarettes’ or ‘Royal Jelly sells for $480/lbs in NYC’, which are actually shinning baubles designed to distract you from the pertinent information, baubles that keep you guessing what will happen. Dahl throws these baubles to the ground like Melanion dropping apples for Atlanta. That’s why he’s an entertainer.

Finally, it’s worth looking at the morals suggested by the two stories. Mrs. Anna Cooper’s self-actualization through working backfires. Dr. Jacobs’ sex advice doesn’t work. Anna’s foray into promiscuity is her undoing. Albert Taylor cheats nature and creates (two) monsters.

The Last Act (1966) was written when Roald was 50; Royal Jelly (1960) when he was 44. The morals suggested in these stories are very different to the ideas of Dahl’s mentors in the 1940s (Charles Marsh and FDR).

In these stories, are we hearing the voice of a young man stamping his foot and saying: “It’s your fault I used you!” ? Or are these stories how an aging man chose to run from his conscience? Or are they simply evidence Dahl’s changing opinions?

I can’t answer those questions, except to say that the last half of Dahl’s life was not tranquil.


A Gift

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I was reading a story from Bulgakov’s A Country Doctor’s Notebook last night, titled The Embroidered Towel. The stories in this collection are all somewhat autobiographical. Bulgakov was sent to a remote, yet well-provisioned, hospital immediately after graduating from medical school.

The Embroidered Towel is about a farmer’s daughter who is maimed in a threshing machine. The doctor (Bulgakov) is new, inexperienced and very unsure of himself. When the farmer brings his daughter to the hospital, she has bled out over six miles of nearly impassible roads. Nobody in the hospital thinks she’ll make it.  The doctor only hopes that she dies in the ward, not on the operating table. The father is distraught in the adjacent room.

The being lying before the medics is now closer now to meat than a person. She doesn’t even bleed anymore. The doctor stops worrying about himself. He just does what seems right, relying on common sense more than anything. To the amazement of everyone, the daughter doesn’t die. When they lift her to the ward, one third of her body stays on the operating table. Yet, she makes it.

The young girl embroiders a hand-towel, “artlessly”, with a red cockerel as a thank-you gift for the doctor, who is too young to have the humility to accept it immediately. Bulgakov/The Doctor finally does accept it, nervously, at the insistence of her father. He uses the towel until it falls apart.

This is not a story about how a young man develops a doctor’s god-like self confidence. This is a story about how an educated man learns what is really important; how he gets over himself and learns humility. He drops his cosmopolitan pretensions and sees beauty where he doesn’t expect to: in the flock he’s been sent to shepherd.

I guess that this post is about being a good shepherd.

Bulgakov uses the same ‘misdirection’ tricks that Roald Dahl uses, I’ve written about those tricks here. For most of The Embroidered Towel, you’ll think the story is about how metro-man deals with the unsympathetic hicks around him. Instead, the doctor grows himself. (Natural ending, twisted to natural, smart ending.) Bulgakov throws a ‘golden apple’ in front of the reader: his dread of being presented with a hernia, which is something he feel singularly unable to cope with.

The character of The Doctor/Bulgakov is initially adversarial to every other character: his driver, the head nurse, his first patient. He has no patience, just an overriding fear of failure and a lot of pride. By the end of the story, it’s clear that the locals, for all their provincialism, have more wisdom and grace than the young doctor. However, The Embroidered Towel does not have a soul-deadening ending because the doctor begins to learn that grace himself.

Dahl wrote satire. Bulgakov wrote satire. They were both angry men. But Dahl’s writing has an impish wickedness. It revels in a kind of cosmopolitan darkness. There’s very little hope in Dahl’s writing (at least for adults), there’s just dark, sinister laughter. I imagine Dahl crawling out of his writing-shack after work and making a bee-line to the booze cabinet. Now that we’ve written it down, let us wash it away.

Bulgakov’s writing, on the other hand, is filled with sad laughter rather than spiteful laughter. His satire could be absolutely eviscerating, but it is delivered in a spirit of ‘tough love’ rather than mockery or despair. That’s why it’s invigorating, rather than perpetuating a feeling of hopelessness.

Dahl wrote for the applause; Bulgakov wrote because he couldn’t stand by and not say anything. That doesn’t mean that Bulgakov was a saint– in fact, Bulgakov sounds like he was a very difficult man– but it does mean that deep down he had love for the people around him.

Bulgakov was not a Dahl, nor a Boothe-Luce, nor a Stephenson. A good shepherd doesn’t have contempt for his sheep. He can recognize their weaknesses, he can get exasperated, but he never has contempt for them, because he knows that his fate is inexorably tied to theirs. At the end of the day, a good shepherd lives for his sheep, and doesn’t want to waste the sacrifices his sheep make.

Dahl, on the other hand, just wanted to shear people for the next goodie– then hide.

God help us all if a spirit like Dahl’s becomes a prerequisite for government service. And I hope that I never want to drink after I write.


The Soldier

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poppy

I grew up calling November 11th “Armistice Day” and buying little paper poppies from elderly ladies. These poppies were in remembrance of WWI, and the proceeds went to wounded vets and war memorials. Therefore, I always associate today with the wounded.

There was a stand-off a few weeks ago in my town. That never happens. The entire block where my mother-in-law lives was on lock-down for about thirteen hours.

Why? A man had a fight with his girlfriend, had barricaded himself inside his home and threatened suicide. That was the immediate cause. This man had also recently got divorced, had a spate of tragic family events and served two tours overseas with a unit where three of his comrades had already committed suicide.

This vet is well-liked in town.  Throughout the stand-off cops escorted his neighbors to and from their homes, which nobody felt they needed, because even in his frantic state his neighbors knew the vet would never shoot them. Three cop units, the K-9 unit, a TV-News crew and (I’m told) one percussion grenade later, the vet is in therapy and no one was shot.

We’re great at clean-up; not so good at prevention. All this reminds me of a short story, a Dahl story, and a rather unusual one because it isn’t mirthful and it carries a direct message.

The Soldier was published in 1953 as part of Someone Like You. ‘The Soldier’ is a man with a nerve disorder, something like shell-shock, who has episodes of confusion. During one of these episodes he nearly kills his wife.

The story is about the subtle, persistent damage of war. The quiet, sordid suffering of a couple who will never really be healthy again. There’s nothing teary-eyed or dulce et decorum about this story, like Dahl’s war-time propaganda. It’s just ugliness, senility and being ‘used up’ before one’s time. It’s tragic.

It’s interesting that Dahl would write a story like this because he put on a very different face during the war: one of bravado, mindless hate for the enemy and a general contempt for the law.

After the war, when the glamorous life in D.C. and N.Y.C. had spat him out into Britain’s malnourished hinterland, he had time to reflect on the morbid reality of a war that he had, largely, missed. He felt self-conscious about the ease of his wartime for the rest of his life.

Naturally, The Soldier is a technically excellent story. Dahl starts with his favorite “sympathetic dog owner” character, who is a veteran. The story is mostly direct speech between the veteran, his doctor and a woman. This woman is demanding and strange. As the story progresses, it becomes clear that the veteran is not living in the same world as the rest of us. Familiar things are threatening; he has difficultly remembering.  The ‘twist’ at the end of the story is that the woman he complains about, and is about to knife in ‘self-defense’, is his wife. Suddenly she is a more sympathetic character and the extent of the veteran’s illness is revealed. The large man is dealt with like a child by a small, tired woman with a lisp.

So, I’ve reviewed an excellent, but ugly and awkward story on November 11th.

I don’t much like this holiday because it seems that whatever you do to ‘remember’ is somewhat lacking. Trumpets and cheering seem inappropriate, mournfulness seems inappropriate, anger seems inappropriate and just quiet reflection doesn’t seem quite right either. “Never again” won’t happen, we will go to unnecessary wars again, so there’s something about the whole holiday that seems insufficient and insincere. And in the meantime more broken men will fall through the cracks. Happy Armistice Day?


The Strange Story of Mrs Pankhurst

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Who owns the copyright?

Who owns the copyright?

Popular movements so often loose their way. Look at ‘Occupy Wall Street': its original goal was to end government subsidies to corrupt banks ‘too big to fail’. Now, it’s fractured into a thousand little movements with different causes. The Tea Party was supposed to make government small– frightening  enough to the well-heeled– but thanks to pundits like Glenn Beck, the Tea Party became conflated with other social issues, shrinking its potential supporter base and creating a convenient boogeyman for America’s establishment.

Two things strike me. Occupy and Tea Party, ‘left’ and ‘right’ movements with a lot of cross-over appeal, both began by pushing for ‘less government money for special interests’. They are both popular movements; but their clear aims are undermined with a plethora of tag-along, divisive issues. Their political potential is being dissipated.

The same thing is happening with the Snowden revelations. It began when the media focused on international-state-spying instead of the NSA’s, and other countries’ intelligence services’,  domestic spying operations. I had to laugh when Greenwald tweeted this:

Yes, true that. Shame you came to the realization so late, Glenn.

The political charge from Snowden’s revelations is being dissipated by confusing the issue at hand. Take, for instance, the ‘Stop Watching Us’ marches. Part of the meme: angry protestors in Guy-Fawkes-masks from the Hollywood movie V for Vendetta. These masks are also symbolic of hacker groups comprising ‘Anonymous’.

Why those masks? Because Edward Snowden leaked documents through Anonymous? Because Snowden’s girlfriend wore a mask in her blog-photo? Or because Anonymous organizers want some of Snowden’s stardust to rub off on them, to merge his heroic act into the hacker groups’ general confusion? Anonymous itself has slipped into anarchy, getting involved in everything from high school rape, to squabbling with Wikileaks, to stealing Stratfor data. Oh yeah, and the FBI managed to penetrate and use Anonymous along the way.

Movements that command wide support are frightening to people in power. That’s why ladies like Dianne Feinstein get bitchy when the public threatens to take away their security blanket  domestic surveillance powers.

The only people who benefit from frustrated popular movements are those in power and their lap-dogs. Do these movements frustrate themselves through the inherent incompetence of the general public? Or do folks like Glenn Beck, or Jacob Appelbaum, or Glenn Greenwald, do what they do with purpose? Is it possible that government agents penetrate domestic political movements with an eye to castrating them, or does that sort of thing only happen under Tsars, dictators and one-party-states?

It seems, readers, such political tinkering can and has happened in civilized democracies. You may be surprised by my example of one such manipulation: the charmed life of Mrs. Emmeline Pankhurst, feminist extraordinaire and champion of woman’s rights.

Mrs. Pankhurst built a small, but very visible, political movement around limited suffrage for rich women like herself. To that end, she condoned arson and other violence. Her tactics earned her attention well beyond what her popularity supported and she became a ‘face’ of the wider women’s suffrage movement.

On the eve of World War I, however, Pankhurst told her followers to change their focus. Instead of women’s rights, they would promote the war at all costs.

Why this sudden change of stance? According to historian John Simkin, Mrs. Pankhurst began negotiations with the British government at the start of WWI. The British leadership provided her with GBP 2000 to stop fighting for privileged women’s suffrage and to support the war effort instead. The British Government released all criminal suffragettes from prison too.

Recap: ‘the man’ threw a lot of money at Pankhurst so that she would use her people in service of his war effort.

Pankhurst’s suffragettes stopped breaking windows and burning buildings. Instead, they bullied young men into fighting a stupid war. These were the ladies handing out ‘white feathers’. They charged people who opposed them with being ‘ethnically German’ (!); labor leaders who didn’t support Pankhurst were ‘bolshevik'; dovish politicians were ‘traitors’.

“Mrs. Pankhurst toured the country, making recruiting speeches. Her supporters handed the white feather to every young man they encountered wearing civilian dress, and bobbed up at Hyde Park meetings with placards: “Intern Them All.”

None of this behavior has much to do with rich women’s right to vote, does it? Mrs. Pankhurst’s dogs were turned on the government’s enemies. Now, Emmeline has a memorial statue outside the Houses of Parliament. Who said cheaters never prosper?

We can look back on Pankhurst’s legacy with the benefit of 20/20 hindsight. We know that the British government had some clever tricks in their political play-book, and not just in the colonies. We know that for GBP 2000, Mrs. Pankhurst was willing to undermine suffragettes’ work, with no guarantee that their sacrifices would ever be rewarded. We know that Mrs. Pankhurst was a paid political agitator.

Mrs. Pankhurst acted with a definite purpose, and I propose that the guys on our screens– the Appelbaums, Greenwalds and Becks of the world– do too. They’re our very own foundation-caked Okhrana.

—-

It may interest readers to know that Alva  Belmont, mother to Consuelo Duchess of Marlborough, was an ardent supporter of Emmeline Pankhurst and paid to bring Pankhurst’s militant ways Stateside. (It was Consuelo’s fortune that paid for Chruchill’s political career.)

As part of her feminist efforts, Alva Belmont hired a young step-and-fetch called Clare Boothe. Clare would eventually become a congresswoman, famous for her affair with British spy Roald Dahl, her support of America’s involvement in WWII and her penchant for black ops. It’s a small, small world.


Neck

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Henry Moore, Reclining Figure, 1951

Henry Moore, Reclining Figure, 1951

It’s been a while since I’ve written about Roald Dahl. My posts on him have been largely critical and I may, just may, have given the impression that I don’t like him.

I don’t like the guy, but I do like the author. I couldn’t have written so much about him if I didn’t, which is probably what wise people mean when they say ‘love is close to hate’.

So this post is about what drew me to Dahl; it’s an analysis of his short story Neck. What makes this particular story interesting is, like Grammatisator and ultimately The Witches, it shows that Dahl was able to see beyond the shallow-minded propaganda which he drank in gulps most of the time.

If you wonder what I mean by that, please read my posts on Dahl’s knee-jerk anti-German prejudices, his patronage by Charles Marsh and FDR, his willingness to subvert democracy to save democracy… all the usual elitist double-think.

Sometimes, in the dead of night, when nobody important was looking, Roald Dahl crept down to his writing shed and toyed with the forbidden knowledge of conspiracy, ethnicity, the supernatural… all things that an enlightened man of the 20th century knows don’t exist. Roald Dahl is the archetypical storm-trooper who yearns to join the resistance; a slave stealing peeks at freedom.

So, on to Neck!

Sir Basil Turton, a rich publishers’ heir on the verge of middle-age, comes into his fortune. He’s a reluctant newspaperman (yes, that’s right!) with the power to topple the British government. Still single, this malleable bachelor is suddenly the most eligible man in London, and every young lady has their claws out. Basil is totally helpless, having spent most of his life in quiet country living and bookish pursuits.

Then, out of the blue a foreigner snares him; he’s married in a trice. His foreign wife ‘cheats’ with this hasty marriage, because she snags him in August, when every well-bred contender is on vacation.

You can imagine that the London ladies were indignant, and naturally they started disseminating a vast amount of fruity gossip about the new Lady Turton (“That dirty poacher,” they called her).

I side with the English Roses. Dahl does too. When I first read this story, I wasn’t expecting Dahl to agree with me: I’ve gotten used to ‘right-think’ in everything and, clearly, the marriage market should be global. Roald’s breaking step was refreshing and suddenly the story got interesting– for me anyway.

So, the new Lady Turton is a foreigner, but what type of foreigner? No one really knows, and in that at least, Dahl seems to have taken a page out of Bulgakov’s book. You’ll remember that in Bulgakov’s writing,  spies and the devil Woland are often of nebulous, ‘foreign’ origins. This is how Dahl puts it:

… what made her [Lady Turton's] case unusual was the fact that she was a foreigner and that nobody seemed to know precisely what country she came from, Yugoslavia, Bulgaria or Russia?

Could Dahl be drawing on his wartime espionage experience through the character of Lady Turton? Is he commenting on the spook-talent-pool? Could he and Bulgakov have noticed something similar? Neck was first published in 1953 by– you guessed it– Alfred Knopf, the famous New York publishing magnate who Dahl lampooned in Grammatisator. It’s possible that an English version of The Fatal Eggs made it into Dahl’s hands, though Master and Margarita wasn’t published in Russian until 1967. It’s likely, therefore, that these men drew their own conclusions separately.

Dahl liked to focus on noses and mouths to convey aspects of character. His description of the new Lady Turton is masterful and typical in this respect:

The nostrils for example were very odd, somehow more open, more flaring than any I had seen before, and excessively arched. This gave the whole nose a kind of open, snorting look that had something of the wild animal about it- the mustang.

Art is the running theme through this story; art describes Basil’s life and the the woman he married is artful. It’s fitting that glamorous Lady Turton be compared to a painting:

The hair was black, and to go with it she had one of those pale, oval, innocent fifteenth-century Flemish faces, almost exactly a Madonna by Memling or Van Eyck. At least that was the first impression. Later, when my turn came to shake hands, I got a closer look and saw that except for the outline and colouring it wasn’t really a Madonna at all– far, far from it.

Continuing…

And the eyes, when I saw them close, were not wide and round the way the Madonna painters used to make them, but long and half closed, half smiling, half sullen, and slightly vulgar, so that in one way or another they gave her a most delicately dissipated air. What’s more, they didn’t look at you directly. They came to you slowly from over on one side with a curious sliding motion that made me nervous. I tried to see their colour, thought it was pale grey, but couldn’t be sure.

And her deportment…

She was clearly conscious of her success and of the way these Londoners were deferring to her. “Here I am, ” she seemed to be saying, “and I only came over a few years ago, but already I am richer and more powerful than any of you.” There was a little prance of triumph in her walk.

The new Lady Turton is a thoroughly nasty character, and she makes Sir Basil’s life equally nasty by treating him with contempt and parading lovers in front of him. She takes over the publishing business, naturally.

How do we, the readers, know all of this? The narrator, a thinly veiled version of Dahl himself, is a gossip columnist who wheedles an invitation to Sir Basil’s home from the Lady. This set-up is a variation on the ‘dinner guest’ theme that Dahl used for Taste, and many of the same observations apply.

The narrator knows as soon as he steps inside Sir Basil’s home that something is off. The butler likes to gamble and sell information about his mistress. Sir Basil’s modern art looks out of place in the English Renaissance stone mansion. Sir Basil himself is surrounded by his wife, her lover and her stocky, lesbian friend Carmen La Rosa. The Lady greets the narrator with a threat, and ‘Dahl’ feels instant comradery with the long-suffering Sir Basil.

I’ll cut to the chase. Sir Basil gets back at his wife, in a fashion. He achieves this through his art collection, so more on that now.

There are three modern artists who get the spotlight in this story: Jacob Epstein, Henry Moore and Henri Gaudier-Brzeska. It’s Epstein’s work in particular that looks out of place in Sir Basil’s country pile. The narrator mentions Gaudier-Brzeska just as Sir Basil notices his Lady making love to somebody else in the garden (she reveals her true nature). The lady gets her head stuck in a Henry Moore while kissing her lover. Sir Basil fetches an axe– to break the statue or to chop off her head?

I see interesting symbolism here. Gaudier Brzeska was a hugely influential sculptor and part of the Vorticist movement, made famous by Ezra Pound in his treatise on the artist.  Gaudier Brzeska’s death in WWI is what Pound says lead him to ask the political questions which eventually got the poet accused of treason after WWII. That aside, Gaudier Brzeska’s art sought to strip away the artful and expose true form. It’s beautiful work; it unmasks the unfaithful lady.

Jacob Epstein was an Jewish-American transplant to the U.K., who was also associated with the Vorticist movement, but who found some  success and patronage amongst the class of people ‘Sir Basil’ belonged to. He is particularly famous for his bust of controversial figure Paul Robeson. Epstein’s artwork is out-of-place on an English country estate, yet Sir Basil is surrounded by it.

Henry Moore is the most famous of the three and held socialist views. ‘Socialism’ is a term almost as abused as ‘fascism'; but for Moore that meant selling his art at a discount so that the less fortunate could enjoy it. (He could easily afford to!) Moore’s generous acts have not always elicited a generous response from those he would enlighten, however, he was the son of a coal-miner and I believe that he probably did have genuine love for the lower classes. Lady Tuton gets herself stuck playing with his work, which is easy for any rich socialist to do!

Sadly, Sir Basil destroys the Moore rather than his wife, but he does win a small victory in doing so. I’m left thinking that his wife will be slightly tamer in the future, now that she’s been named.

Neck uses the same tricks that I’ve come to expect from a Dahl adult-short: lots of direct conversation, gossipy tone, all the go-to imagery. However, Neck was the first time I saw dissension by Dahl in a grown-up story. FDR, Intrepid and Charles Marsh would not be amused.


Roald Dahl and Current Events Updated

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But you knew that already... Thanks Domestic Anarchy.

But you knew that already… Thanks Domestic Anarchy.

Greetings Readers!

For your browsing convenience, I’ve updated the Roald Dahl and Current Events pages (see the bottom of the blog).

Links now include the wildly popular Control, Baby!, about Jacob Appelbaum’s work for American intelligence, as well as Apple Pie and Snuff Vids?, about BuzzFeed moonlighting as Craig’s List for Wet Work– when it comes to Edward Snowden, that is. ;)

Here’s a list of updates. Happy reading!

Snowden and the NSA

Here’s the Interview Transcript

Snowden’s ARD interview link to English transcript.

Apple Pie and Snuff Vids?

US Intelligence and BuzzFeed (BusinessInsider?) Chimera. Ugly.

The Snowden Effect

Cognitive Dissonance meets Moral Bankruptcy in US Tech industry.

Fool Me Twice

Tor’s funny relationship with the Pentagon and US Law enforcement.

That Reddit Dude

Alexis Ohanian is an awful lot like Jacob Appelbaum.

Indexing Panopticon

NSA tracks you through your cell number.

Those Funky Rays

Jacob Appelbaum’s 30-year-old breaking news.

Our First Pickup!

a.nolen’s uncomfortable Appelbaum analysis goes viral

I’m So Rhonree…

How not to run a PR campaign, by Keith Alexander

Control, Baby!

Jacob Appelbaum fulfills his intelligence mission at 30C3.

Snowden’s Christmas Message

QE2 has nothing on him.

The Long March

Sucks to be a NSA apologist. Really sucks.

My Friend from WOW

Those terrorist online gamers…

Please stand up, Mr. Omidyar

Pierre Omidyar is part of the problem.

Culture

We’ve Still Got This One, Dammit

Nothing changes in Revolutionary Ukraine.

Grand Theft Autonomy

What you always suspected about American-funded color revolutions…

The Strange Story of Mrs. Pankhurst

How popular movements are undermined by guys like Glenn Greenwald.

Jihad Al-What?

How twisted Washington politics are changing Islam.

Barbarians at the Gate

Gen Petraeus gets into Finance.

The Chinese Century (October 27th, 2013)

Terrible things happen when you bury history.

Roald Dahl: Good Writer, Bad Man

Neck

Analysis of the short story and why I like Dahl, despite his myriad failings.

 


Throwing Good After Bad

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dentures

My favorite cooking show is Two Fat Ladies: a pair of elderly British spinsters cook the old-school way, with a sprinkling of history and literature thrown in. In one episode Jennifer Paterson, the ‘color commentator’, said something like the following:

“Do you know, Clarissa, that Scottish women used to have all their teeth pulled as a coming-of-age present. They thought dentures were more elegant.”

“Impossible, Jennifer! That’s too ridiculous. It must be anti-Scotch propaganda.”

“Oh no, Clarissa. It isn’t!”

I asked myself: could people really be so foolish as to throw away a set of good teeth for dentures? Just for convenience or vanity?!?

About a week after watching that episode, my copy of Storyteller: The Authorized Biography of Roald Dahl came in the mail.

Roald Dahl also had most his teeth pulled– for vanity and convenience. As the author Donald Sturrock explains it:

Dahl made sure that all his literary royalties went to charity, but out of the sales and syndication of Shot Down Over Libya he allowed himself one important luxury– a splendid new set of false teeth, crafted by Lord Halifax’s dentist himself, with a plate made out of a “mixture of gold and platinum,” and a price tag of $380. This “new set of clackers,” as Dahl joyously described them, still left a “tidy hunk” for the RAF, but they were a source of great pleasure to their owner, who believed that in most cases real teeth were more trouble than they were worth. Removing them, in his view, was a radical but undoubtedly prophylactic measure– preferable to years of infections, toothache and expensive dental treatment.

Curiously, this was not an opinion he had formed as a result of his head injuries, but one arrived at while a trainee at Shell. Thus, at the age of twenty-one, just before he went to Tanganyika, he had paid a visit to Leslie Wright,  a top Harley Street dentist, to have most of his teeth extracted and artificial replacements fitted.

Now bear in mind readers, Roald Dahl was an educated man (at least as well educated as any college graduate now, though he didn’t go to university), and he made the choice to have his perfectly healthy teeth pulled sometime in 1937. So, we’re not talking about healthcare in the 1870s or some such.

Roald Dahl, the womanizer, the British Secret Agent, the literary genius, chose to swap his teeth for dentures. Imagine being one of his conquests, like Rep. Clare Boothe Luce, rolling in the hay with a young man then- SLURP!- his teeth fall out. Vote for Britain!

I shouldn’t laugh too much. There was a war on and men were scarce.

My point: Roald didn’t just make one stupid decision about his teeth. After having lived with dentures for some time, he tried to get other more impressionable people to make the same bad choice he did. Again, Sturrock’s words:

He [Roald Dahl] browbeat his mother into having her teeth removed as well, before turning his evangelical zeal on his siblings. They put up more resistance. But Roald continued to try and persuade them, getting increasingly impatient , foul-mouthed and irrational when Alfhild in particular refused to go. He was delighted when, in the mid-1950s, he persuaded his brother-in-law, Leslie Hansen, to go to an American dentist and have all his teeth extracted. Hansen’s subsequent decision not to have any new teeth fitted at all and to live the rest of his life chewing on his gums surprised him. But only momentarily. It soon became yet another eccentricity to savor.

Unsurprisingly, Leslie Hansen was plagued by mental instability. He had something like a nervous brake-down instigated by Roald’s American patron, Charles Marsh, who liked to play with weak people. But back to those vanity-dentures…

In my neck of the woods we have two sayings: “throwing good money after bad” and “misery loves company”. These idioms both apply to Roald Dahl’s dentures, because they describe an unwillingness to admit that one has been wrong despite ample evidence to the contrary. These idioms can also describe someone’s selfish desire to pull other people into the same bad choice, as part of the first screw-up’s ‘flight’ from the reality of their original  mistake. “See, I wasn’t wrong!” the Roald-Dahls say, “Here are more victims to prove it!”

This frame of mind, what the Germans call, Realitätsflucht, or ‘flight from reality,’ neatly describes NATO and the US’s involvement in the Ukraine, a situation that is devolving into a needless civil war.

I’m not quite into middle age yet, but even I can remember being ‘here’ before: on the eve of the destruction of the Former Yugoslavia; the invasion of Iraq; the destabilization of Libya.  I’ve seen enough American ‘humanitarian’ intervention to know that our armed services have been co-opted for private interests, they no longer serve ‘American’ interests in any way,  shape or form.

I have sympathy and compassion for young enlisted people who join the military thinking that they’re protecting the homeland. Everybody has the right to a learning curve. What disgusts me are those servicepeople who are old enough to remember Yugoslavia,  etc. and who repeatedly recommit to US adventurism overseas.

To The ‘Roald Dahls’ of the Military Industrial Complex: This isn’t about “duty”, an “oath” or “professionalism”. You’re old enough to know better. This is about taking personal responsibility for your actions. This is about growing up. What you have embarked on in the Ukraine is evil; you are fermenting unrest so that Western oligarchs can grab more resources. You’ve seen this movie before and you know how it ends. Conscientiously object. It’s the right thing to do. There is life after a dishonorable discharge; you’ll probably find it to be a better life, because you’ll have regained your self respect. Don’t pull a bunch of naive kids down with you.

I have a great deal of respect for Ukrainians: my favorite professors, coworkers, and my favorite writer have all come from this country. I was even engaged to a Ukrainian for a while. (Long story!)  I have some understanding of their culture and world-view and I respect them for it; they deserve better than an American-inspired kleptocracy.

The Ukrainians have suffered immensely in the past when Americans stirred the pot in Eastern Europe. Something like 8 million of them were starved by our ally Stalin in the aftermath of the American-funded regime change in Moscow, which put the Bolsheviks in power. It’s shameful that any Americans are involved in rolling those dice again. Shameful.

Out of (misplaced) pity for those seasoned US servicepeople who don’t opt out of fighting for Maidan, I hope that the Atheists are right, because I wouldn’t want to answer for igniting the next Holodomor.

You’ve been here before. Make the right choice.

 

(My apologies to readers who clicked on Rep. Clare Boothe Luce earlier, and were taken to an article on Solzhenitsyn! The link now takes you to a short post on Rep. Clare and her lover Roald.)

 

 

 



Tick Season

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Charles E Marsh, easily mistaken for Jesus.

Charles E Marsh, easily mistaken for Jesus.

If you live near deer, or chipmunks, you’ll be painfully aware that it is now tick season. If you’ve no experience with these insects, I’ll give you a hand: imagine a disgusting little parasite that looks like a dried scab when it’s hungry, and when it’s full, looks like a coffee bean but feels like a wilting grape. That squishiness comes from your cat’s blood (if not yours) and hundreds of little scab-babies.

Tick Season is the perfect time for a post on Charles Marsh. Charles Marsh was a Texas-based newspaperman. He owned several papers, and a host of other investments besides– Marsh was a millionaire in the 1930s and one of the richest men in the USA.

However, you won’t hear much about Marsh. Even amongst the circles of people interested in ‘deep politics’. Charles Marsh’s driving passion was to be a behind-the-scenes power-broker. He sought ways to get closer to power: he made sure his fleet of papers always supported FDR and even moved to Washington D.C. hoping to be accepted into Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s inner circle. (Franklin was sponsored by New York interests.) Marsh’s attempts to break into FDR’s confidence are what put me onto him, because they lead to his championing a young Brit named Roald Dahl.

The Roosevelts were a funny bunch of people. Both Franklin and Eleanor were born into money and the sheltered environs of wealthy New England, which meant they knew that 1) everybody else was a sinner and 2) God was with them.

However, Franklin’s political support was not aristocratic; it was Wall Street.  Elenor’s life was filled with similar contradictions: she was neither attractive nor well liked amongst her own set of people. She felt towards her ‘class’ much like Julia Child felt towards her set back in Pasadena– the bitterness of a woman who feels under-appreciated.  So this odd couple were an odd mix of money, bitterness, adventurism, socialism and greed, all tied together under the pink bow of humanitarianism.

I’m telling you this because the castles we build in our minds dictate how attackers will lay siege. Charles Marsh was one such attacker; he lay siege to the Roosevelts by attaching himself to a handsome young man who flirted with an old cripple and his neglected wife.

Roald Dahl and another spook.

Roald Dahl and another spook.

Roald Dahl, a British airman who’d been grounded for health reasons, was stationed in Washington D.C. in 1942 under the guise of a diplomatic attaché, but with a secret mission to undermine American political resistance to fighting closely alongside Britain. Dahl was personally selected for this mission by Harold Balfour, representative of the RAF in Churchill’s War Cabinet.

PAscal Shaw

Gabriel Pascal and his sugar-daddy George Bernhard Shaw are in the middle. (1942– long past skinny-dipping days!)

Dahl got his introduction to the President and his wife through a Hollywood movie man named Gabriel Pascal, who broke into film by swimming nude for George Bernhard Shaw. (Dahl had met Pascal through an old family friend, Alfred Chenhalls– the guy against whom Dahl’s sisters locked their bedroom doors every night. Chenhalls got a job for Pascal through Leslie Howard.)

Howard-and-Chenhalls

Leslie Howard and Alfred Chenhalls (the fat one).

The Roosevelts liked Pascal’s little friend so much that they ended up inviting Roald to their weekend retreats, where he satisfied the emotional needs of the aging couple and reported back to Churchill. The Roosevelts probably knew this snitching was going on, as they partnered so closely with William Stephenson, the British spy, to undermine their fellow Americans political opponents. That type of behavior used to be called treason, but I digress…

Pascal introduced Dahl to Charles Marsh also; Dahl’s connection to the Roosevelts is what drew Marsh to the young man. Marsh took Dahl under his wing in an intense mentor-protégé relationship: the older man would dole advice down to Roald, who would eagerly lap it up and entertain his host with bawdy jokes. In return, Marsh got a foot into exclusive salons courtesy of His Majesty’s Government. Marsh would provide intelligence to the British through Dahl. (Not always wittingly!)

So you can think of the FDR government as a wound on a deer, and men like Charles Marsh as the ticks who followed the smell of blood to likely feeding spots. But what’s it like inside a tick’s head?

Alice Glass, like Pascal, got her start swimming naked for her patron.

Alice Glass, like Pascal, got her start swimming naked for her patron.

Marsh was a collector of people. He had a wife, but spent most of his time with his exquisite young mistress, Alice Glass. (Alice, a woman just as vicious as her sponsor, made it her mission to sleep with every man Marsh brought back to their Virginia estate.)  Marsh would charm young male proteges like Dahl or Lyndon B Johnson. He used his money and media empire to collect people too, such as Indira Ghandi and Mother Theresa, who were both Marsh’s paid  “agents”  in India. Marsh was also a patron of artists, like sculptor Jacob Epstein.

How does one collect people? By sniffing out what they want and then promising to provide it (but never fulling delivering). Charles Marsh was an expert manipulator. I’ve written elsewhere about Roald Dahl’s emotional damage; Marsh filled Dahl’s need for powerful friends and a father figure. Roald hung on every word Marsh said, to the wonder of his British friends and family who, according to Donald Sturrock, found Marsh “pushy and patronizing” or “a terrible bully”.

Perhaps the most telling insight into Marsh’ character comes from this extract from Dahl’s authorized biography:

But there was a good reason for their [the Dahl family's] animosity. When he [Charles Marsh] came to England in 1950, Marsh had almost driven Alfhild’s husband insane.

Leslie Hansen, Roald’s brother in law, was highly intelligent and unconventional. He drew cartoons and caricatures, but he was also mentally unstable… Despite, or perhaps because of his idiosyncrasies, Leslie had been completely absorbed into the Dahl family and they all felt protective of him. But he was quite unable to deal either with Charles Marsh’s quasi-religious philosophy  or his overt generosity. As Roald put it, Charles “toppled an already wobbly brain clean over the precipice.” Hansen started to believe that Marsh was Jesus Christ returned to earth, and that he was his disciple. Roald was forced into the role of carer:

[Dahl quotation] “Every day he collapsed and jabbered and search the bible and saw portents and coincidences and said he was dying… Well it would have been OK for Charles to be JC and for Leslie to be St. Paul if the idea hadn’t driven him stark raving mad… It was as much as one could do to handle him and stop ourselves from being forced to send him to a lunatic asyulum… I spent hours and hours with him forcing him to realize that Marsh was not Jesus Christ , that he was an ordinary man, rather a good ordinary man nevertheless, who fornicated and joked and made merry just like everyone else… I then encouraged him to draw cartoons of Charles (a thing that would previously have been sacrilegious) and he became more cheerful… Truly, Claudia, it was a near thing and all pretty awful. The most awful thing of all being to hear the small child Astrid saying repeatedly, don’t cry daddy, we won’t leave you. Most pathetic thing I’ve every heard in my life. No-one of course cares very much about Leslie. But the terrors it reflected upon Alf and Astrid are very great.”

Roald eventually told the same Claudia, another Marsh mistress, that he blamed himself for encouraging Charles to visit the Dahls in England; he begged Charles not to return to their home in Amersham and to drop the “mystic bullshit”.

Part of Marsh’s act were extravagant displays of generosity to people that were useful to him: for instance, conspicuous investment in the Third World; sending vitamins to the malnourished constituents of rival European politicians; or supporting propaganda projects that powerful people aligned themselves with, such as Dahl’s RAF/Walt Disney effort with The Gremlins. All of these investments were under the guise of charity, of course.

Part of Disney's Gremlins movie was to be shot at Alice Glass' Virgina estate. Patriots, all!

Part of Disney’s Gremlins movie was to be shot at Alice Glass’ Virgina estate. Patriots, all!

Take a step back and admire Charles Marsh’s character: giving to the poor, starving people of war-torn Europe with irreproachable magnanimity, but then playing with weakest of his beneficiaries for his own amusement– to the point of driving Leslie mad. Marsh was not motivated by benevolence. Much like the Roosevelts, whose power he coveted, Marsh was God’s voice on earth, teaching the rest of us ‘goodness’, but with no real inner goodness himself.

Marsh’s hypocrisy is typical of the Yankee religious fanaticism that is broadcast over the megaphones at USAID, CNN, MSNBC… telling the rest of the world what’s right to think; a way of thinking that just happens to be highly profitable to those ‘Yankees’. This hypocrisy screams– yet it is endemic amongst our ‘intellectual’ class even now.

People like Marsh are so completely hypocritical that I wonder if there isn’t something wrong with them, some sort of cognitive deficiency of the type Joanna Ashmun described in her essay on narcissistic traits. Whatever their motivation, the ‘Charles Marsh’-style political manipulator has become so much a part of the Washington scene that they are now as American as the ticks on my cat’s back.

Political Consultant, Washington Metro Area.

Keeps a home in the Washington Metro Area.

PS. Most of this information can be found in Jennet Conant’s The Irregulars or Sturrock’s book on Dahl.

 

 


The People Vs. Bob Guccione

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In the final chapter of Prof. Alfred McCoy’s The Politics of Heroin, he gives a brief description of the Nugan Hand Bank Scandal. Nugan Hand was an Cayman Islands bank that was intimately involved in the heroin trade during the 1970s; Nugan Hand appears to have taken over as ‘the CIA’s banker’ after Castle Bank & Trust of Nassau was compromised in 1973 by an IRS investigation. (The CIA quashed the investigation for ‘national security’ reasons!! But, the damage had been done…)

Castle Bank’s successor, Nugan Hand,  was headed by ex-military types, including a smattering of men from the CIA, like retired director William Colby, who served as the bank’s legal counsel for a time and whose “calling card” was found with the body of Frank Nugan in 1980.

I’m talking about Castle Bank and Nugan Hand today because during the 1973 IRS investigation, an ‘informant’ was able to photograph Castle Bank’s client list. Along with the usual suspects, like mafia figures Morris Dalitz, Morris Kleinman and Samuel Tucker, were two notable pornographers: Hugh Hefner of Playboy, and Robert Guccione of Penthouse.

The CIA's Soft Porn King.

The CIA’s Soft Porn King.

The CIA's Hard Porn King.

The CIA’s Hard Porn King.

Why were these two famous pornographers piggy-backing on banking interests vital to US ‘national security’? Why were they pooling their money with cash used by the CIA for “clandestine operations against Cuba and for other covert intelligence operations”?

What are the national security implications of porn?

Before readers laugh at this question, I will remind them that in most parts of the world pornography is outlawed– or at least frowned upon– as being a social evil. Beijing banned pornography in 1949. The Soviet Union banned it also; people born in the USSR will tell you what a shock it was to see smut pour in along with the American dollars.  Sharia law prohibits porn; Christian teaching does the same. So what’s up? Are all these governments/ religious leaders just anti-free-speech? Is everybody else stupid?

To answer that, I’m going to give you a quote from the Marquis de Sade, who was not just a pornographer and psychopath, but a leading political thinker of the French Revolution who was given a judgeship after 1789.

De Sade liked to throw political philosophy in with his porn. In Philosophy in the Bedroom, de Sade explains how pornography is useful in a republic:

The transgressions we are considering in this second class of man’s duties toward his fellows include actions for whose undertaking libertinage may be the cause; among those which are pointed to as particularly incompatible with approved behavior are prostitution, incest, rape and sodomy. We surely must not for one moment doubt that all those known as moral crimes, that is to say, all acts of the sort to which those we have just cited belong, are of total inconsequence under a government whose sole duty consists in preserving, by whatever may be the means, the form essential to its continuance: there you have a republican government’s unique morality. Well, the republic being permanently menaced from the outside by the despots surrounding it, the means to its preservation cannot be imagined as moral means, for the republic will preserve itself only by war, and nothing is less moral than war. I ask how one will be able to demonstrate that in a state rendered immoral by its obligations, it is essential that the individual be moral? I will go further: it is a very good thing he is not. The Greek lawgivers perfectly appreciated the capital necessity of corrupting the member citizens in order that, their moral dissolution coming into conflict with the establishment and its values, there would result the insurrection that is always indispensable to a political system of perfect happiness which, like republican government, must necessarily excite the hatred and envy of all its foreign neighbors.

Porn is indispensable to our ‘freedoms’, which despots ‘hate’. Sound familiar? De Sade explains further:

Lycurgus and Solon, fully convinced that immodesty’s results are to keep the citizen in the immoral state indispensable to the mechanics of republican government, obliged girls to exhibit themselves naked at the theater. [Footnote: It has been said the intention of these legislators was, by dulling the passion men experienced for a naked girl, to render more active the one men sometimes experience for their own sex. These sages caused to be shown that for which they wanted there to be disgust, and to be hidden what they thought inclined to inspire sweeter desires; in either case, did they not strive after the objective we have just mentioned? One sees that they sensed the need of immorality in republican matters.] Rome imitated the example: at the games of Flora they danced naked; the greater par of pagan mysteries were celebrated thus; among some peoples, nudity even passed for a virtue.

De Sade was a bit confused with his sources, the lawgiving he’s talking about comes from Philemon, who is quoted in Athenaeus, Deipnosophists XIII: Concerning Women, 25, which you can read here. Philemon does not say the same thing de Sade says; Philemon does say that women displayed naked and prostituted help the state by burning off young men’s excess energy. In other words, omnipresent sex keeps men passive.

Perhaps the CIA does feel pornography is a matter of national security: after all, we don’t want all those under- and unemployed young men thinking about government corruption…

The CIA's Soft Porn King today.

The CIA’s Soft Porn King today.

The CIA's Hard Porn King today.

The CIA’s Hard Porn King today. He’s dead. Freak liposuction accident?

Bearing in mind the centuries-old understanding of the political effects of pornography, let’s turn our attention to Castle Bank’s porn kings:

Hugh Hefner, whose magazine published stories by British spy Roald Dahl*, is an Army veteran; homosexual rights advocate; and a self-professed champion of  free speech. Hefner could be credited with bringing porn ‘mainstream’ in the Anglo-American world.

Hefner’s image has recently been tarnished by allegations that he is a drug-pushing control freak; that the fabled Playboy mansion is like a grubby, ‘no-tell’ motel; and that, according to former playmates Jill Ann Spaulding and Victoria Zdrok, Hefner needs to watch gay male porn to maintain his chemically-assisted erection.  In fact, the Playboy Mansion sounds a lot like Bryan Singer’s Hollywood (gay) pedophile ring.

Does the CIA feel Hefner’s enterprise is money well spent? Clearly, what Hugh sells isn’t very close to his heart; perhaps de Sade was on to something.

Robert Guccione set up Penthouse in direct ‘competition’ with Playboy; Penthouse took a more explicit ‘hard-core’ angle, going as far as to feature fetish stuff like urination and ‘facials’. The magazine has a knack for getting nude photos of women ‘before they’re famous’, such as Madonna and Vanessa Williams, and has even exploited underage girls, like Traci Lords.

Penthouse was first published in England, not America, and gave CIA asset Seymour Hersh a platform to ‘leak’ a handful of government scandals. (Presumably clearing them with William Colby first!) Guccione has been lauded by such venerable institutions as Brandeis University for his reporting through Penthouse.

Guccione also gave American Vogue editor, Anna Wintour, her start in publishing– because of her innate ability? Probably not: Anna’s father was the editor of London’s Evening Standard, so Guccione’s help was likely a business favor to her old man. Never the less, Anna has given unflinching support to America’s current Commander-In-Chief. Also money well spent?

In conclusion, before anyone gets too teary-eyed about freedom of speech champions like Hugh Hefner and Bob Guccione, let’s stop and think about where the money comes from.

 "And you shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free."

“And you shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free.”

 

*For readers interested in weird espionage ‘coincidences’, Hugh Hefner published Roald Dahl’s twisted story, The Last Act, which is about a vicious, misogynist womanizer who gets his high school flame to commit suicide after her husband’s untimely death. The disturbing thing about The Last Act is how much Dahl– an ‘illegal’ spy and womanizer himself– identifies with the psychopath.

One of MI5’s successes against the Soviets was the apprehension of ‘illegal’ agent Gordon Arnold Lonsdale, whose real name was Konon Trofimovich Molody. Molody had a wife and children in Russia, but he was a profligate womanizer who cultivated the image of a wealthy bon vivant. The MI5 codename for Molody was ‘Last Act’. Aren’t these guys cool?!


Walt and El Grupo

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Walt Disney

Was Walt Disney the first American victim of FDR’s illegal spy network?

Last night I watched an old Disney cartoon called “The Golden Touch,” which is a retelling of the famous Greek myth about King Midas. This cartoon has a message: if you hoard gold, you’re not only stupid, but also immoral.

“The Golden Touch” makes a special effort to ridicule the idea that ‘Gold is Money’ by conspicuously showing ‘In Gold I Trust’ signs plastered all over the foolish King Midas’s palace.  The phrase ‘In God We Trust’ has been used on American coins and dollar bills since 1864.

I’m telling you this, because Walt Disney released “The Golden Touch” at an interesting time: the cartoon came out in March 1935, about a year after Franklin Delano Roosevelt passed his 1934 Gold Reserve Act, which was proving wildly unpopular amongst the public. The act was the last in a series of unpopular gold laws:

1) In 1933, Executive Order 6102  prohibited the “hoarding” of gold by any individual, partnership, association or corporation. Everyone, with small exceptions for tradesmen like jewelers and dentists, had to sell their gold to the Treasury before May 1st, 1933 when the price of gold was something like $23/ounce. This order was tweeked a few times in subsequent months.

2) One year later, in 1934, The Gold Reserve Act outlawed the private possession of gold. The Act also ordered the Treasury to buy gold  for $35/ounce– $12 higher than the market price before the Act became law!

Understandably, American gold owners felt cheated. The Treasury’s artificially high gold price also caused gold from all over the world to flow into the USA, where the Treasury was legally required to buy it. Some historians view FDR’s gold policy as economic warfare and part of the lead up to WWII.

So many people were outraged by FDR’s gold policy that by 1934 FDR had an epic PR battle on his hands. Franklin would need to use everything at his disposal to bend public will.

The point of this post, readers, is to suggest that Walt Disney began his collaboration with FDR well before the official date of 1941: Disney started his collaboration in 1934 when “The Golden Touch” began production and FDR desperately needed help. I argue Disney’s ‘help’ backfired on him and the Studios.

The production process for “The Golden Touch” had many unusual characteristics. Disney himself hadn’t directed a cartoon in some time, but decided to ‘get back in the game’ and oversea “The Golden Touch” personally.

According to Dave Hand, who ran one of Disney Studio’s production units:

“Well, it seems Walt got itchy fingers and decided HE would direct a picture. The fact that he had never directed any picture never occurred to him. So Walt took what I supposed to be a very good story, ‘King Midas and the Golden Touch’ from the story department. It was all pretty much ‘hush-hush’. He worked on it in his business office set-up. The thing that galled me was that he assigned every one of the ten animators to his ‘Midas’ picture. And I had to do with the beginner guys. The other two directors had to get along with second raters, also. We directors were not invited to see any preliminary animation—nothing was shown until preview time. The cost of the picture was way over budget it was rumored. So what—they were Walt’s costs. I mean to be fair minded, but to be honest, I’ve just got to say—it was a dismal flop. That was the first and last of Walt’s directorial attempts.”

Disney historian Jim Korkis disputes Hand’s version of events:

Of course, you have to be careful trusting even first-person accounts of events. Obviously, Walt had directed shorts before, just not while Hand was there at the studio. While the budget was high, the other Silly Symphonies for the year ranged from the $20,000-$35,000 so it wasn’t wildly over the cost of some of the other Silly Symphonies that year.

The Golden Touch was made at a cost of $35,458.19. Music Land that same year came in at $35,054.55 and The Tortoise and the Hare at $32,671.76. Of course, it could be argued that The Golden Touch with basically only two characters and no major special effects should have come in at a lower cost.

Walt did not steal away ten top animators. He only took two animators: the two top animators at the studio at the time.

Those two special animators were Norm Ferguson and Fred Moore, while storyboarding was done by Albert Hurter. Jack Kinney (who directed Disney propaganda cartoon “Der Fuehrer’s Face”) wrote this about “The Golden Touch” in his 1989 book Walt Disney and Other Assorted Characters :

“Burt [Gillett)]s exodus really griped Walt who said, ‘Who needs him? I’ll direct in his place.’ And so he did, using his top animators from The Three Little Pigs—Norm Ferguson and Freddie Moore. Walt moved into his own music room and started making The Golden Touch, the King Midas story.

“This was a very hush-hush operation, with just two animators, who were sworn to secrecy. The entire studio awaited this epic, and finally it was finished and previewed at the Alex Theater in Glendale. All personnel turned out to see what Walt had wrought. He had wrought a bomb! The Golden Touch laid a great big golden egg. That picture was the last Walt ever directed. We knew better than to discuss it, ever. It was forgotten and the studio went on to other things.

“Years later, Walt roared into Jaxon’s [Wilfred Jackson] office and started chewing him out about something or other. Jaxon was usually a very calm guy, but he was a redhead and this time he blew his cool. ‘Walt,’ he said, “I recollect that you once directed a picture called The Golden Touch.’ There was instant silence. Walt stared at Jaxon, then stomped out, slamming the door.

“As Jaxon described it, after a few beats, the door opened and Walt’s head popped back in. Wearing a heavy frown and very slowly punctuating his words with his finger, he said, ‘Never, ever mention that picture again.’ Then he slammed the door and clumped down the hall.

“Needless to say, it was never mentioned again.”

What I think we can take home is that “The Golden Touch” was a very secretive project that Disney was sensitive about and wanted to oversee himself. The cartoon was also a flop and I ask readers to remember that “The Golden Touch” was unprofitable for Disney.

“The Golden Touch”  itself was part of a larger propaganda campaign supporting FDR’s gold policy, which involved Good Housekeeping magazine, as well as other prominent media outlets. According to Jim Korkis:

The story [The Golden Touch] appeared in a full- page color adaptation in the November 1934 issue of Good Housekeeping magazine to publicize the upcoming release of the short. Six illustrated panels told the tale in rhyme: “A wiser, better, happier king. He’s learned that gold’s not everything.”

Nearly a decade later, in the comic book Walt Disney’s and Comics and Stories No. 20 (May 1942) there was a three-page illustrated text story of the short, using the illustrations from the Good Housekeeping magazine.

More intriguingly was that, in 1937, publisher David McKay’s Whitman Publishing Company released an entire hardcover book devoted to the story from the film. In close to a 150 pages (with a black and white illustration on each page and many full-page illustrations facing text pages, as well as six full-color pictures), an uncredited writer effectively expands on the story with some interesting additions including Midas sharing his hamburger with his cat at the end of the story: “His dining hall was no use to him now, for he could not eat gold. His bathroom was equally useless, as the water would become a liquid golden mass at his touch. His bedroom would be even more useless since who could sleep between golden sheets and wighed down by a golden eiderdown?”

“The Golden Touch” was clearly useful to FDR and his friends, but Walt Disney was not amused at being left to pay for the commercial flop. It could be that Disney was reluctant to dabble in propaganda again after getting his fingers burned on Midas…

Fast forward five years to 1940. Disney had just released to the public his personal masterpiece, Fantasia, which I wrote about here. Most critics loved it, except one in particular, Dorothy Thompson, who had switched her political allegiance to FDR one month before her review of Fantasia. (TIME called her the most influential women in the USA after Eleanor Roosevelt, FDR’s wife.) Dorothy Thompson tried to destroy Fantasia in her Herald Tribune review by claiming the film was ‘Nazi’! She painted Disney in colors which signaled to FDR’s well-monied supporters that Disney Studios should be shunned and shamed.

In 1940 Thompson’s readership was huge– in the millions– and she was one of the most widely-talked about female journalists. Just how bad was Thompson’s review of Fantasia? From Steven Watts’ The Magic Kingdom:

On November 25th 1940, Dorothy Thompson published a long review of Fantasia entitled “Minority Report”” in the New York Herald Tribune, and it set off a major imbroglio. Given the essay’s extreme sentiments, it was little wonder. “I left the theater in a condition bordering on nervous breakdown. I felt as though I had been subjected to an assault,” Thompson wrote. Disney’s film, she asserted, was “a performance of Satanic defilement,” “a remarkable nightmare, ” “brutal and brutalizing.” As she went on , she ratcheted her anger several notches higher: “All I could think to say of the ‘experience’ as I staggered out was that it was ‘Nazi.’ The word did not arise out of an obsession. Nazism is the abuse of power, the perverted betrayal of the best instincts, the genius of a race turned into black magical destruction and so is ‘Fantasia.'” Disney and his concert film, Thompson accused, had launched an attack on “the civilized world” by providing a sick caricature of the “Decline of the West.” Warming to her theme, she made two specific complaints. First the film reflected a “sadistic, gloomy, fatalistic, pantheistic,” anti-humanist philosophy where “Nature is titanic; man is a moving lichen on the stone of time.” Second, she insisted, Disney and Stokowski had concocted an assault on civilized culture that made a  mockery of great classical composers. The degradation of the Beethoven segment alone should have been “sufficient to raise and army, if there is enough blood left in culture to defend itself,” Thompson wrote angrily, before noting that she stormed out of the theater unwilling to witness the film’s concluding degradation of Mussorgsky and Schubert.

Ms. Thompson’s wild accusations of Nazism and ‘misuse’ of classical music, as well as her preoccupation with culture wars, remind me of Herbert Marcuse’s work and the ‘Frankfurt School’ political theorists. In two years’ time FDR would employ Marcuse as part of his personal propaganda and intelligence apparatus, the OSS:

Marcuse worked for the Office of Strategic Services (OSS) formed in 1942 to conduct psychological warfare against the Axis Powers. After the end of World War II, the pivotal section of the OSS, the Research and Analysis Branch, was assigned to the Department of State.

Were Walt Disney and his masterwork Fantasia the first victims of FDR’s WWII propaganda machine? Did Walt Disney, who was possibly reluctant to cooperate with FDR after “The Golden Touch”, find himself on the receiving end of Franklin’s media bitch-bulldog?

William Boyd of The Guardian says that William Stephenson, the British spy and FDR’s co-conspirator in forming the OSS, used his position as head of the British Security Coordination (BSC) in New York to influence reporting at Thompson’s employer, the Herald Tribune–  influence that was well entrenched by late 1940 when Thompson wrote her take-down of Fantasia.

Dorothy Thompson, whose employer The Herald Tribune, was manipulated by British Spy and FDR crony William Stephenson.

Dorothy Thompson, whose employer The Herald Tribune, was manipulated by British spy and FDR crony William Stephenson.

But Dorothy Thompson’s attacks were not the only FDR-aligned catastrophe to hit Disney before he agreed to become Franklin’s ambassador to South America.

Fantasia was not a financial success and after 1940 Disney Studios was in need of money. On top of that, they were hit by a strike on May 29th 1941, which was lead by secret Communist Party member and Soviet spy Herbert Sorrell. (Bear in mind that FDR and Stalin were allies at this time, and secret FDR collaboration with the Soviet NKGB had started at around the time of the Disney strikes. ‘Wild Bill’ Donovan would ‘legitimize’ this informal relationship between the NKGB and the OSS in 1944.) Perhaps all FDR had to do in 1941 was make a phone call?

Disney’s daughter, Diane Disney Miller, says that this strike hit Disney completely out of the blue: he couldn’t understand where it came from and why it had such “virulence”. The strike was one of two events that Disney couldn’t recover from, she says in Walt and El Grupo.

One week after the start of the strike on June 5th, FDR ‘asked’ Walt to take part in a US propaganda mission to South America, which is the subject of the Disney Corporation’s 2008 documentary Walt and El Grupo. (In the documentary Walt Disney described the 1941 period in his life as “the toughest for me” and filled with ” a lot of disappointments”. At 08:31 you can see a brief glimpse of a memo marked “WALT” and “Bob Carr” which outlines the propaganda plans for Disney’s South American trip. Bob Carr was a mayor of Orlando, Florida who oversaw the opening of the Disney theme park there. Carr’s politics seem to align with FDR’s.)

The Disney Studios strike wasn’t resolved until the end of Walt Disney’s South American tour of duty. Disney’s father had died in the meantime. But what does that matter? FDR got what he wanted.

Walt Disney Studios would limp through WWII making propaganda cartoons for FDR and his Brit-spy buddies. Remember BSC asset Roald Dahl and his gremlins?

Hey, Airforce! Merchandise!

Hey, Air Force! Merchandise!

Walt may have been forced to participate in 1941 propaganda drives, but whether he was or not, he made sure that Disney Studios wouldn’t loose money on disastrous government propaganda films. Consider this clip from Walt and El Grupo, where J B Kaufmann describes how Walt painstakingly negotiated with the US government to make sure Disney Studios wouldn’t be stuck with the bill for a propaganda flop… like what happened with “The Golden Touch”?

Once Disney worked out the kinks in his government contracts, he cooperated fully with US Armed Forces and the Executive Branch to make many different forms of propaganda, as described here by Lisa Briner of the Army Heritage and Education Center:

An important factor ensuring America’s ultimate victory over the Axis Powers in World War II was the overwhelming and unwavering support of the Home Front. Contributing much to creating and maintaining that Home Front support were Walt Disney films. Meanwhile, morale-boosting Disney-designed insignia that soon appeared on planes, trucks, flight jackets, and other military equipment accomplished the same for American and Allied forces.

During the war Disney made films for every branch of the U.S. government. Typical of the films was the 1943 “The Spirit of ’43” produced at the request of the Secretary of the Treasury, Henry Morgenthau, Jr. The film depicted Donald Duck dealing with federal income taxes and pointing out the benefit of paying his taxes in support of the American war effort.

At the Navy’s request, the Disney Studios also produced, in just three months, some 90,000 feet of training film to educate sailors on navigation tactics. Disney animators also worked closely with Hollywood producer Frank Capra and created what many consider to be the most brilliant animated maps to appear in a series of seven highly successful “Why We Fight” films.

During the war, over 90 percent of Disney employees were devoted to the production of training and propaganda films. In all, the Disney Studios produced some 400,000 feet of film representing some 68 hours of continuous film. Included among the films produced was “Der Fuehrer’s Face” again featuring Donald Duck. It won the Oscar as the best animated film for 1943.

Perhaps the importance of the Disney Studios to the war effort is best demonstrated by the fact that the U.S. Army deployed troops to protect the facilities, the only Hollywood studio accorded such treatment.

(Emphasis is my own- a.nolen)

I think it’s more than likely that FDR called on Disney for political support in 1934; I think it’s also very likely that Disney ended up feeling cheated by FDR. When FDR’s war effort got rolling, the president had to use his British illegal spy friends and their ‘dirty tricks’ to coerce his fellow American into jumping on board.

FDR’s propaganda machine cost Disney more than just his integrity. In 1941– the year Disney became an ‘official spokesperson’ for the US government in South America– Disney Studios lost its brilliant special effects guru, Herman Schultheis, who was responsible for many of the revolutionary artistic effects in Fantasia. Herman Schultheis was German-born and probably didn’t pass the US government’s ‘security clearance’ requirements. Schultheis left Disney to work in the research library at Librascope: a huge loss for Disney Studios and American cultural heritage.

How did Walt Disney feel about his wartime propaganda efforts? He was probably too scared to ever talk about it, but I suspect the 1961 creation of kind, loveable Prof. Ludwig Von Drake with Ward Kimball (who animated Education for Death: The Making of the Nazi) was a type of personal penance.

disney and ludwig von drake

P.S. Writing this post on Disney turned up so many interesting tidbits on Dorothy Thompson that I just have to list some here.

First of all, Dorothy made her name as a suffragette in the New York political milieu that was so heavily financed by Alva Vanderbilt Belmont, who also financed the British agent provocateur and war-monger Emmeline Pankhurst, and whose family money made Winston Churchill’s career possible. Working for Alva as a suffragette also launched the career of Roald Dahl’s political bedfellow Clare Boothe Luce.

Curiously, both Dorothy Thompson and Clare Boothe Luce were given journalistic roles after their ‘suffragette’ ones: Dorothy covered Hitler for Cosmopolitan magazine (you know– it’s now a sex rag like the type George Orwell hated); while Clare Boothe Luce became an editor at both Vogue and Vanity Fair, and then covered WWII for TIME. You could say these fabulous women paved the way for journalistic mega-millionaires like Gawker.com’s Nick Denton.

Dorothy Thompson and Clare Boothe Luce both did a lot of ‘agenda flip-flopping’ throughout their careers– Dorothy was so bad that TIME magazine called her “iron-whimmed“, though you could argue Luce wasn’t much better. For most of her career Dorothy Thompson could be counted on to be a venomous ‘shrieker’ in support of whatever cause gained her strokes from the powerful. Dorothy paved the way for modern agenda prostitutes like Little Green Football’s Charles Johnson.

Finally, Dorothy and Clare had a famous falling out over Dorothy’s mid-campaign  switch from supporting Wendell Wilkie’s presidential bid to supporting FDR’s. Since these two women are credited with shaping many American women’s political opinions at the time, you could say that Dorothy’s switch had more than a touch of the Hegelian Dialectic about it. Dorothy Thompson and Clare Boothe Luce paved the way for modern democracy managers like the staff at BuzzFeed and their ex-editor Benny Johnson.

Mrs. Luce got into a scrap with Democrat Dorothy Thompson during the Roosevelt-Wilkie campaign, and witnessed the “almost physical pleasure” men got out of watching that fight. From this she learned that “men will turn what two women say into a hair-pulling battle, and the issue the women are fighting over will be forgotten.” (From The Christian Science Monitor, Dec. 9th 1980).


Wormwood Star

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Original cover of Wormwood Star, 2011.

Original 2011 cover of Wormwood Star, by Spencer Kansa.

Greetings, a.nolen readers! Spencer Kansa contacted me today demanding that this post be removed and threatening me with legal action– I’ve pasted a copy of his email in the ‘comments’ section of this post. Guess I hit a nerve…

 

In May of this year a revised edition of Wormwood Star: The Magickal Life of Marjorie Cameron was released. This is a fascinating book because Marjorie Cameron was the wife, and probably the ‘handler’, of Jack Parsons. Parsons was Aleister Crowley’s chief L.A.- based acolyte; the L.A. Thelema lodge was the last to keep sending money to Crowley, according to biographer Lawrence Sutin. Jack Parsons had high-level military clearances and access to valuable jet-propulsion research: he was an intelligence prize.

Spencer Kansa’s book is the only biography of Marjorie Cameron I could find, though– on the surface– it’s unclear why Kansa should have any expertise on Cameron. Kansa’s research style is not professional, he’s sloppy about sourcing information. Kansa’s only qualifications appear to be extensive publishing contacts in the music industry (an industry with more than its fair share of Crowley promoters); and his interviews with “William Burroughs, Allen Ginsberg, Paul Bowles and Herbert Huncke”. (Readers will remember that Allen Ginsberg gave Politics of Heroin writer Alfred McCoy a box of CIA TIME-Life notes on Vietnam’s heroin trade which became the basis for McCoy’s book, a book that protected CIA chief William Colby.)

Kansa’s ‘spookage’ doesn’t stop with Ginsberg.Wormwood Star is published by an outfit named ‘Mandrake Press’ in Oxford, which sounds like a homage to the ‘Mandrake Press’ Crowley set up with the mysterious British military figures Major Robert Thynne and Major J. C.S. Mac Allen.

Kansa’s connections are a two-edged sword for Crowley/Cameron fans: on the surface he should have no credibility as a biographer, but to my way of seeing the world, Kansa is likely to have an inside track because of his extraordinary access to ‘spooky’ characters. So if you’re willing to give Kansa’s information sources the benefit of the doubt, as I am, the next question is “Does Kansa write honestly?”

No, I don’t believe that Kansa writes honestly. Everything about this book is sympathetic to Crowley, Parsons, Cameron and Cameron’s promoter Kenneth Anger; everything about Wormwood Star preserves the cult of personality surrounding these people. Kansa doesn’t even try to incorporate Richard Spence’s research on Crowley’s intelligence connections, research that has been widely available for almost 15 years. Neither does Kansa examine Kenneth Anger’s ‘Congress for Cultural Freedom’ connections,  even though the congress has been a known CIA front for over a decade. Kansa’s neglect is easily explained by his resume, particularly because of the people Kansa was given access to interview.

Having said that, Wormwood Star provides a startling array of facts which, when they are extracted from Kansa’s sugar-coating, suggest that Cameron was an intelligence operative in American service, and possibly in the service of the U.K. and Israel too. Jack Parsons’ trouble with security clearances and espionage investigations– trouble which eventually cost him his job– has its roots in actions taken by Cameron, his wife. Ultimately it was Cameron who organized the attempted release of sensitive jet propulsion information to the Israelis; it was Cameron’s weird trip to Switzerland which garnered spook attention; it was Cameron’s strange lefty friends and domineering personality which worried the FBI.

So who was Marjorie Cameron? She came from a small town in Iowa; she had a stable, if somewhat puritanical, family; and she was liked and respected by her classmates despite her ‘artistic’ nature. However, Marjorie was not well-adjusted and from as young as 14 years old she would sneak out at night for casual sexual encounters. Throughout her life Marjorie seemed unemotional about sex; something which would come in handy when WWII broke out and she became a spook for the Joint Chiefs of Staff (JCS).

The JCS consists of military leaders who the US president appoints to advise him; in Cameron’s case that president was Franklin Delano Roosevelt, who cooperated with William Stephenson’s ‘irregular’ spy network, the British Security Coordination (BSC) to get rid of his critics.

According to Kansa, Cameron was the only woman working in a team of cartographers for the JCS. She was also given a posting at St. Elizabeth’s psychiatric hospital, where William Alanson White’s successor, Winfred Overholser, was now in charge. Overholser was a collaborator with the CIA’s MK ULTRA project, and prior to that he worked with mind-control drugs for Roosevelt’s OSS during WWII.

At some point, the JCS realized that Cameron could be useful entrapping men with “pro-German” sympathies in Washington D.C.; it’s unclear if any of her missions produced useful intelligence. I’ll remind readers that the BSC was busy organizing ‘dirty tricks’ like honey-traps in D.C. at the same time, one such honey-trap was author Roald Dahl .

After prostituting herself for the JCS, Cameron was given a job with Hollywood filmmakers creating war propaganda films in cooperation with the “Hollywood Navy”. If you want to know more about war-film propaganda and what would become the CIA’s MK ULTRA project, see my post on Carl Hovland and race riots.

According to Kansa, while making movies Cameron made friends with “strong union people who began to educate Marjorie about the military and the wider political ramifications of what was going on during the war”. I’ll remind readers that Roald Dahl got his introduction to the Roosevelts through Hollywood director Gabriel Pascal; Tinseltown in the 1940s seems to have well-established, and very elite, espionage connections. Perhaps this shouldn’t be surprising given William Stephenson’s investments in the movie business.

Not all of Cameron’s movie work was glamorous: she was given the job of washing GI uniforms that had been stripped from dead soldiers so that they could be used as costumes. At this time Cameron heard her brother had been injured in combat and she went AWOL to visit him, for which she was court martialed.

One might think that an AWOL/court martial would end Cameron’s association with the military. Quite the contrary, it opened up a new vista in her life. Suddenly, her father and brother both got jobs in California with the Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL), a highly sensitive military contractor, and Cameron was given an honorable discharge. Kansa states that Cameron never understood why she was given this discharge after the court martial.

I believe I do understand, readers, because not long after moving with her family to California, she shacked up with the JPL’s founder Jack Parsons. Parsons was a Thelema devotee and, according to Parsons, he had been corresponding with Crowley about a ‘magickal’ working with a new friend named L. Ron Hubbard. This working would invoke a special ‘sex-magick’ partner for Parsons. (Parsons’ first marriage was ‘untraditional’ and headed for divorce.) Perhaps Crowley made a phone call to colleagues in Washington after hearing about Parsons new Naval Intelligence friend?

Cameron says she was introduced to Jack Parsons by a friend from the Navy. Either way, Cameron, the Roosevelt honey-trap spook, appeared in the life of her dad’s new boss as miraculously as her dad’s new job appeared at JPL. Could a paramour with a dishonorable discharge have caused problems for Parsons’ high-level security clearances? I suspect so: an honorable discharge paved the way for Cameron’s placement.

Parsons met L. Ron Hubbard, a Naval Intelligence veteran a few months before Cameron came into Parsons’ life. As I’ve stated before, Parsons befriended Hubbard and took Hubbard into his magickal workings.Who was L. Ron Hubbard?

In the 1930s, prior to an obscure career for the Office of Naval Intelligence, L. Ron Hubbard was a student at George Washington University, where the Church of Scientology tells us his mentors were Dr. Fred August Moss and my old buddy, William Alanson White. White’s political beliefs inspired  the Sullivanian cult. According to information provided by Hubbard’s critic Caroline Letkeman, here’s a 1952 transcript of Hubbard explaining his relationship to White in the 1930s, when White was still superintendent of St. Elizabeth’s hospital (where Cameron had been posted in the early 1940s).

Parsons introduced Hubbard to Crowley via a letter, but Crowley seems to have taken an immediate dislike to Hubbard. (Competition?) Crowley’s disapproval didn’t stop Parsons from going into business with L. Ron. In retrospect Parsons and Hubbard’s company, Allied Enterprises, seems to have been a way for Hubbard to fleece Parsons, who’d grown rich on military contracts.

L. Ron Hubbard would go on to found what is now called Scientology, an organization with uneasy links to US intelligence. (I suspect, readers, that Scientology is the psy-op ‘that got away’.)

According to Kansa, Cameron didn’t take Parsons’ ‘magick’ seriously until after his death, however, she did take on an important communication role between Parsons and Crowley. In 1947 it was Cameron who left for Paris on a GI Bill scholarship, with the dual mission of contacting Crowley on behalf of Parsons to explain his involvement with L. Ron Hubbard. (Crowley died before she could see him.) During this trip Cameron thought she was being spied on by NYT correspondent Arthur Krock: “Cameron began to wonder if the Pulitzer Prize winning bureau chief was tailing her for the government, suspicious of why the wife of an important rocket scientist was journeying alone to Europe.”

Cameron did not use the GI Bill money to study art, but instead “seemingly on a whim” went to Switzerland, land of spooks. Her time in Bern was not pleasant, as she saw secret service agents around every corner. Guilty conscience? When Cameron got home, she found her husband under investigation by the House Un-American Activities Commission, ostensibly because of his Communist friends back in the 1930s. (The ghost of James Angleton walks again.) Parsons was eventually cleared, got his security clearances back, and took a new job with Hughes Aircraft Company. But all was not well…

Cameron’s and Parsons’ marriage was ‘untraditional’ like Parsons’ first one; but now Parsons began to get jealous– he often didn’t know where Cameron was or who she was with. Cameron decided to travel to an artists’ commune in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, which Kansa says was favored by US veterans of WWII. (I suspect that a large contingent of these “veterans” were OSSers– what other veterans didn’t have to work after the war?!) Cameron was bitter over the HUAC investigation into her husband; she had been vocal in her criticism of American hypocrisy since WWII, but now she began to make noises about emigrating to places where there was less injustice… like Mexico, or Israel.

Back home, Parsons fretted that his new boss, Hughes, was also spying on him. Parsons nervously began looking for a job in Israel, Cameron’s chosen land. Herbert T. Rosenfeld seems to have strung Parsons along with this: first asking for a proposal for a Chemical factory which went nowhere for Parsons, then asking the American to knock out a rough-draft for a jet propulsion development program. Cameron, now back in the US, did the leg-work putting together this second proposal; it was Cameron who gave the typist classified documents to prepare for the Israelis in late 1950. The typist alerted the FBI, who investigated Parsons again. This is what one FBI agent had to say about Parsons and Cameron:

Subject [Jack Parsons] seems very much in love with his wife but she is not at all affectionate and does not seem to return his affection. She is the dominating personality of the two and controls the activities and thinking of subject to a very considerable degree. It is the opinion if subject were to have been in any way willfully involved in any activities of an international espionage nature, it would probably have to be at the instigation of his wife.

The fallout from the Israeli job search (which never came through) made it impossible for Parsons to get a job Stateside and for a while he pumped gas to support himself and his wife. Needless to say, he’d come a long way from the jet-setting playboy.

 While Cameron was pushing her husband to emigrate to the Holy Land, things were developing at the CIA. In 1951, a few months after Parson’s Israeli FUBAR was discovered, the CIA created ‘the Israeli desk’ for James Angleton, which meant Angleton, a counterintelligence man, got first access to Shin Bet’s information on the Soviets– this would be an important tool for dealing with the CIA’s Soviet Division, which Angleton suspected had been captured by the Russians. I think it’s interesting that in the months following Cameron’s/Parsons’ near-leak, one of the nation’s top rocket scientists was shut down and our ally Israel’s hopes were dashed.

Why might US allies have been treated so harshly? In Richard Bennett’s 2013 book Espionage: Spies and Secrets, Bennett writes this about Angleton:

Angleton began his career in espionage in the wartime OSS. During his time in Italy both before and after the end of the war, Angleton developed a deep relationship with the leaders of the Jewish underground, who later became senior officers in Israel’s secret service, the Mossad. Because of these ties, he entered the CIA with the clear understanding that he would head the Israeli desk.

I had heard that Angleton got into bed with the Mafia in Italy, but I had no idea that Mossad had roots in the post-war Italian mess– and a bloody mess it was, with communist partisans taking revenge on anyone they didn’t like while the Americans looked on. How does Richard Bennett know this about the Israeli desk? It’s hard to say because he doesn’t source that particular information, but Bennett’s work is ‘respected’ enough to be referenced in the CIA’s “The Intelligence Officer’s Bookshelf“, so we can speculate.

Things never got better for Jack Parsons: by 1952 the case against him was dropped due to lack of evidence, but the struggle had ruined his career and his security clearances were never restored. He eked out a living making explosives for Hollywood movies. Cameron never gave up her dream of living in Israel, and convinced Parsons to move to Mexico before taking another crack at the Middle East. Before any of this could come to pass, Parsons died in a freak accident at his home laboratory. When Cameron heard of his death, she exclaimed: “Who will take care of me now? I don’t know how to make a living.”

The apparent insensitivity of that remark might be excused on grounds of something like shock; but her next move shows what a cold fish Cameron really was. Parsons’ mother committed suicide immediately on hearing of her son’s death (they were unusually dependent on each other), and when Cameron found out, her first concern was to remove three lbs of pot she’d stashed at her mother-in-law’s house to avoid it being confiscated by police. Don’t worry, Cameron got the pot out.

Right after Parsons’ funeral Cameron left for Mexico where she had a rendezvous with a mysterious British couple, Nancie and Bill Patterson, who were representatives of another U.K.-based cult called the ‘White Eagle Lodge’. ‘White Eagle Lodge’ had been founded by a spiritualist duo, a medium and her husband much like ‘Hellish Nell’s’ team, which cashed in on channeling the ghost of famous spiritualist Arthur Conan Doyle. The Pattersons helped Cameron conduct one of Crowley’s ‘blood rituals’ and after two months Cameron returned to the USA, a fervent believer in Thelema and amongst the first Americans to experience UFO phenomenon, says Kansa.

Embracing Thelema did little to curb Cameron’s drug addiction or alleviate her money worries. In the face of shrinking options, she professed that she really was the incarnate spirit of Babylon that her late husband and Crowley had dreamed about. She began trying to beget a “moonchild” through liaisons between herself, her small band of white witch-followers and willing black musician “wands”. Cameron was desperately trying to prove her place as a high priestess of Thelema and drum up a living in the process; Crowley’s heir Karl Germer would have none of it. (I’m reminded of Peter Wright’s observation that the intelligence business is a great user of people.) Cameron sunk into penury.

Instead of letting Cameron in on the Thelema business proper, Cameron was made an initiate of the Silver Star, which was a way of putting her under Crowley’s faithful Cefalù desciple Jane Wolfe’s control– the idea being to keep Cameron’s madness from sinking the Thelema ship. It sort of worked, but Cameron continued to court the media with stunts like sending her ‘witches’ over to service Bob Hope sexually (which they did, according to Kansa). For my international readers, Bob Hope was an American entertainer famous for his ‘USO Shows’, or entertaining active-duty soldiers.

Out of money and out of friends, in 1953 Cameron drifted into the orbit of a Hollywood ‘maker’, eccentric and homosexual named Samson de Brier, whose home was like a dingy, art nouveau museum, stuffed with wannabe starlets of both sexes. One of these starlets was Kenneth Anger, who would later reinvent Crowley’s system of control for the 1960s audience, using Cameron as the face of his endeavour.

During the early 1950s, at the beginning of the CIA’s ‘Congress For Cultural Freedom’, Anger was busy making a name for himself in Europe by plying CIA-funded artists such as Jean Cocteau with homoerotic films. But by 1953, Anger was back in the States, flush with his dead mama’s money, flush with a ‘belief’ in Thelema, and looking for a muse like Cameron. Anger would cast Cameron and her witches in the campy film he made with de Brier, Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome, a sort of culturally confused homage to Crowley. Anger would spent the following years promoting Cameron as the new face of Thelema throughout the US and Europe, which didn’t sit well with what remained of Crowley’s European followers like Karl Germer.

Anger’s Thelema take-over bid included high-profile media escapades using his contacts in the film scene, art world and especially the commercial music industry– the industry from which Spencer Kansa draws his connections.

Cameron’s, and Thelema’s, usefulness to the Western 1960s cultural revolutions deserve their own post, as does Cameron’s relation to the founding of Scientology and then her struggle against it. (Scientology is far more profitable than Thelema ever was.) I’ll conclude this summary of Kansa’s book by pointing out that Scientology’s stronghold is in Hollywood and that the BBC takes special interest in Scientology. Thelema’s most modern incarnation first prospered through the British music industry, and is still promoted by high-profile musicians today. Any comment, Langley, MI6?

Rap artist 'Jay-Z' promoting Aleister Crowley's system of control.

Rap artist ‘Jay-Z’ promoting Aleister Crowley’s system of control.

P.S. Long-time readers may notice several shocking similaries between Marjorie Cameron’s life and that of William Donovan’s secretary and T.V. chef Julia Child. I encourage interested readers to check out my double-review of Julia’s autobiography and The Haunted Wood.


Steal the Mona Lisa?

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ML MISSING POSTER-FINAL

A few weeks ago, my husband alerted me to an interesting documentary about the 1911 theft of the ‘Mona Lisa’ from Paris’s Louvre Museum by Italian immigrant Pietro ‘Vincenzo’ Peruggia. This 2012 documentary is titled The Missing Piece: The Truth About the Man Who Stole the Mona Lisa.

At first, I loved this documentary. The director, Joe Medeiros, had done his homework: Medeiros travelled to Italy to interview the daughter of the thief, Celestina Peruggia, and actually employed a team of researchers and translators to scour Italian and French archives for information on the case.

What impressed me even more was that Medeiros showed sensitivity to Celestina’s feelings about her father: he seemed genuinely concerned that his research may prove her dad’s motivation was not patriotism, as the 80-year-old Celestina passionately claimed. Was Medeiros a documentary maker who went out of his way not to be exploitative?

However, as the documentary progressed, I noticed that Medeiros brushed over two important details which ran contrary to his argument that ‘Vincenzo’ Peruggia, a simple-minded house painter with a criminal record, was a lone thief. First of all, Medeiros seems remarkably naive about the art world circa 1911; he brushes over the very serious criminality of theft-suspect Guillaume Apollinaire and his shady business partner, art dealer Paul Guillaume. Medeiros also downplays the significance of Peruggia being given an audience with another preeminent art dealer of that time, Sir Joseph Duveen (First Baron Duveen). Peruggia tried to sell the Mona Lisa to Duveen during this meeting in London which happened shortly before Peruggia turned in the painting in Florence, Italy. Were these ‘downplays’ the innocent mistakes of a documentarian who doesn’t understand the art market?

I wanted to give Medeiros the benefit of the doubt, but on watching the documentary for a second time, my conclusion is that Medeiros is not the folksy, nice-guy he initially comes across as. He presents his viewers with a false choice: either accept his thesis that Peruggia was a lone villain, or you’re a fool who believes sensationalist, poorly-researched stories like the ones William Randolph Hearst published in his newspapers. Whoa.

It’s remarkable that a work-a-day Italian guy from Philly would start throwing stones at William Randolph Hearst, because by doing so Medeiros involved himself in a fight that is both before his time and out of his league. Here’s the nut: William Randolph Hearst was an art collector in competition with men like J. P. Morgan and Alfred Barnes. (Remember the name Alfred Barnes, readers.) Hearst was also in political opposition to these men, as Jennet Conant remarks in her book The Irregulars, only Hearst publications declined to join the FDR/British Security Coordination propaganda campaign designed to smear Americans who opposed British or Roosevelt interests.

William Randolph Hearst, J.P. Morgan, Alfred Barnes and a small group of other American mega-millionaires all bought their art from a small band of European dealers, preeminent among this band were Joseph Duveen and Paul Guillaume. Alfred Barnes and Paul Guillaume were particularly close, to the consternation of other European art dealers. This is how Christine Biederman describes Duveen and Guillaume for the Dallas Observer:

“The honors started rolling in [for Paul Guillaume]: Thus the former tire dealer and man who helped remove much of France’s cultural heritage to America received the Legion d’Honneur and was appointed to prestigious posts, including the Conseil Superieur des Beaux-Arts. But for the French Revolution, he would, like his crooked British contemporary Joseph Duveen, undoubtedly have been knighted by the King.”

(Biederman’s article on Paul Guillaume, his creepy wife and her legal battle with the Louvre is exceptional and is the best I’ve found on this topic.)

Paul Guillaume’s business associate was Guillaume Apollinaire who, when the Mona Lisa was stolen, had already established a history of selling art stolen from the Louvre, not all of which he had returned when the famous portrait was stolen. Medeiros’ strident claim that one lone Italian guy stole the Mona Lisa smells off to anyone familiar with the art market during this period. Why would a film-maker take such an incredible stance?

Researching the theft of the Mona Lisa is a dangerous hobby, readers, because in doing so you’re liable to blow the lid off shady dealings which built a famous art collection that is now controlled by The Philadelphia Museum of Art’s benefactors. You’re liable to put the provenance of this collection into question, which may expose the Philly museum and its partners to massive lawsuits, lawsuits which may even impact the ongoing lawsuit between the French government and the heirs to Paul Guillaume’s estate.

You guessed it, readers. Medeiros’ documentary was funded, indirectly, by the ‘education wing’ of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, who along with other Philly cultural leaders and their partners in Philadelphia’s local government, were shamed in 2009 by another documentary, The Art of the Steal, because they collaborated to dishonestly wrest control of Alfred Barnes’ art collection. Barnes had purchased much of his collection from Apollinaire’s business partner Paul Guillaume.

A real art-lover would never be so arrogant as to say “It’s my way or you’re an idiot” about a crime like the theft of ‘La Gioconda’. I propose that a ‘third way’ is possible, a ‘third way’ which Medeiros is desperate to distract his viewers from. Peruggia may have been hired to steal the poorly-guarded painting because of his temporary access to the Louvre’s collections. Peruggia may have been hired to steal the painting for a rich collector who never intended to exhibit the painting again– or at least not show it to anyone who would recognize the painting/ dare to tell authorities!

Rich American art collectors often did illegal things to grow their collections; even the Boston benefactress Isabella Stewart Gardner boasted of duping Italian export officials to outfit her museum. (This unsavory, but widespread, practice was criticized in Henry James’ The Golden Bowl.) Ironically, Gardner’s museum was brazenly looted in 1990– a crime which was never solved and is a sore spot for the FBI, considering their cooperation with Whitey Bulger and suspected organized crime ties to the theft. So if, in the future, scholars recognize that Paul Guillaume was a fencer of stolen goods as well as a preeminent art dealer, no one ought to be surprised.

Such a revelation could put the provenance of works Guillaume sold to Americans into question. Given recent international legal precedents established by the return of art stolen during Nazi occupation, you can see why the Philadelphia Museum of Art might want to put any rumors like ‘Vincenzo Peruggia didn’t act alone’ neatly to bed. If Guillaume’s name is associated with a high-profile theft, what other ghosts may rise? What stars of Philly’s newly acquired Barnes Collection might face legal action from Europe?

There’s also an ‘intelligence community’ angle to this story. Guillaume Apollinaire was not just any old art promoter and journalist. He was given special access to France’s National Library to catalogue its restricted pornography collection ‘L’Enfer'; the catalogue was completed before his death in 1918. This is huge, readers, because Apollinaire’s research opened up the writing of the Marquis de Sade to social control researchers like Aleister Crowley and his handlers at British Intelligence. Apollinaire is how U.K. spooks learned of Revolutionary France’s methods for social control.

Apollinaire’s spookiness doesn’t end there. Apollinaire’s wingman, Pablo Picasso, an outspoken Communist, was useful to Soviet agitprop campaigns yet became a multi-millionaire thanks to the Western art market. The CIA would latch on to another Apollinaire-friend named Jean Cocteau during their anti-Stalin leftist ‘culture war’ in the 1950s and 60s: The Congress for Cultural Freedom. (You can read about Cocteau and Kenneth Anger’s connection with the Congress in my post Ken Anger in Context.) In 1953, just as the Congress and MK ULTRA got going, the first English translation of de Sade was made by American literary golden-boy Austryn Wainhouse. Wainhouse worked in Paris in the early 1950s just like Kenneth Anger, and also like Kenneth Anger at that time, Wainhouse was interested in bringing pornographic novel The Story of O to English-speaking audiences. Amy S. Wyngaard, Syracuse University professor of French, says this about Wainhouse:

“Mr. Wainhouse’s work in fiction and translation was at the cutting edge at a pivotal moment in American literary history.  The archive is of particular importance in illuminating the processes behind Mr. Wainhouse’s translations of de Sade’s works, which transformed the face of publishing and literary studies in the 1960s.”

So you see, Apollinaire was ahead of the curve on topics which were useful to social controllers.

What I’m trying to express is that while Joe Medeiros appears to do his homework, he’s very selective in what he chooses to share. For instance, Medeiros tries to dismiss French investigators’ interest in Picasso and Apollinaire as xenophobia and classism by including this snippet from art historian Pierre Paix, who talks about Apollinaire’s arrest after the Mona Lisa heist:

“We see a poet, but the police see a foreigner and they are convinced that Apollinaire is part of an international gang that stole the Mona Lisa. And Picasso is defending himself saying that he has nothing to do with the case. In order to settle it they had to give the stolen sculptures back to the Louvre, which they did.”

Stupid French cops, right? Not so fast–what “stolen sculptures”?!

Here’s the context that Medeiros left out. Picasso was in possession of two Roman statues stolen from the Louvre in 1907, he used them as models for his 1907 painting ”Les Desmoiselles d’Avignon”– was the great artist thumbing his nose at French authorities? Picasso didn’t return the stolen figures to the Louvre until 1911, four years later, to secure the release of Apollinaire who the police were questioning about the Mona Lisa.

Les_Demoiselles_d'Avignon

‘Les Desmoiselles d’Avignon’– originally titled ‘The Brothel of Avignon’.  The Roman figures inspired the faces on the right. What message was Picasso sending?

This is how art historian Robert Shattuck describes Picasso and Apollinaire’s criminality:

In August of 1911, however, disaster struck Apollinaire’s flourishing career… One of Apollinaire’s acquaintances from poorer days, who had worked briefly as his secretary, an itinerant Belgian named Géry Pieret, had twice stolen small statuettes from the Louvre out of pure bravado. He sold the first lot to Picasso and left some with Apollinaire.

Shortly after Pieret’s second escapade, the theft of the Mona Lisa, on August 21, made sensational headlines all over the world. Pieret proceeded to sell one of the stolen statuettes to the Paris-Journal, which used it for publicity purposes to taunt Louvre officials about the laxness of precautions against theft. Apollinaire and Picasso, both of them suddenly terrified of arrest and deportation as undesirable foreigners, packed Pieret out of Paris, debated throwing the remaining statuettes into the Seine, and finally turned all the goods over to the Paris-Journal for anonymous restitution. In reality, Pieret was innocent of the Mona Lisa theft. Nevertheless, the Sûreté uncovered Apollinaire’s name, searched his apartment, cluttered with all kinds of statues and paintings, and arrested him on September 7th…

But imprisonment was by no means the worst blow. During the hearings Apollinaire listened in astonishment while Picasso, under questioning, denied having any part in the affair and finally even denied knowing his friend. [ From The Banquet Years, Robert Shattuck 1955)

TIME magazine (the CIA front) has an even less flattering account of Apollinaire’s/Picasso’s role in the Louvre thefts, according to this 2009 article by

“Soon the man showed up at the newspaper’s offices with a small statue, one of several that he claimed to have stolen four years earlier from the Louvre. The anonymous thief turned out to be a bisexual con man named Honoré Joseph Géry Pieret. He had once served as “secretary,” and perhaps other roles, for Guillaume Apollinaire, the poet and art-world polemicist who was Picasso’s constant supporter in the public skirmishes over modern art in the French press. Before long, Pieret had implicated Apollinaire in the thefts. When police arrested Apollinaire, he admitted under pressure that Pieret had sold the pilfered works to none other than Picasso. Thinking they had found their way into a crime ring that might be behind the Mona Lisa case, the cops then dragged Picasso before a magistrate for questioning.

Picasso, who at 29 had just begun the transition from bohemia to the haute bourgeoisie, was terrified. He was a foreigner in France; any serious trouble with the law could get him deported. And this could have gotten serious, because the accusation was true. Four years earlier, he had bought from Pieret two of the pilfered sculptures, Roman-era Iberian heads whose thick features and wide eyes he would introduce into the great painting he was then just about to embark upon, Les Demoiselles d’Avignon. Though he would deny it in court, he almost certainly knew at the time that both heads were lifted from the Louvre. He may even have pushed Pieret to take them in the first place. But prosecutors couldn’t build a case that either Picasso or Apollinaire had stolen the heads, much less the Mona Lisa, and both of them went free.”

(Richard Lacayo also appears in Medeiros’ documentary; in his interview he seems to support Medeiros’ thesis about Peruggia being a ‘lone thief’.)

So much for poor immigrant victims of law enforcement bigotry. But what about Medeiros’ other big ‘downplay': Peruggia’s meeting with art-world-Goliath Joe Duveen?

Medeiros interviews one art crime expert from the FBI, Robert Wittam. (The FBI doesn’t have a great track record with finding stolen art, as the Isabella Stewart Gardner museum knows well.) You’d think that FBI Agent Wittam would have explained to Medeiros that the hardest part about stealing famous artwork is selling it later, but if the agent did explain this, Medeiros edited it out of the film. As it stands, Medeiros fails to recognize the importance of Peruggia’s meeting with Duveen, especially as the meeting was confirmed by a third party, Duveen’s nephew.

Peruggia tried to sell the Mona Lisa to Duveen by making a trip to London and engaging an audience with the lofty art-dealer. Peruggia, on his own, would have about as much chance of getting an audience with Duveen as I would have of getting one with the late Jean Paul Getty.

Art historian Peter Wraight credits Duveen with setting up the modern art market: manipulating scarcity to raise and sustain prices, mostly as a hedge against inflation and currency manipulation for very wealthy people. (See Wraight’s fantastic 1974 book The Art Game Again!.) Duveen is supposed to have opined that “Europe has a great deal of art, and America has a great deal of money.” Whether he said this or not, the quip aptly describes Duveen’s business practices.

The art market caters to the very rich, and attracts the very unscrupulous– it’s no coincidence that items looted from Iraq’s national museum turn up in London. Fans of Roald Dahl will know that after he became disillusioned with spy-work, the 25-year-old writer made money in the murky world of art dealing:

He [Roald Dahl] still had some of his inheritance invested in the stock market and art was in his blood. It had fascinated him since childhood, while his wartime relationship with Millicent Rogers had begun to open his eyes to the way the art market worked… At twenty-five, Roald had been able to access the GBP 5,000 in his trust fund… he purchased two other Matthew Smiths, some watercolors by Smiths’s great friend Jacob Epstein and a small portfolio of Impressionists and Post-Impressionists… He gave one Epstein to Millicent Rogers and sold another at a good profit… “Each time I sold a short story,” he later wrote, “I would buy a picture… In those days, fine pictures were inexpensive. Many paintings that today could be acquired only by millionaires decorated my walls for brief periods in the late forties– Matisses, enormous Fauve Rouaults, Soutines, Cezanne watercolours, Bonnards, Boudins, a Renoir, a Sisley, a Degas seascape  and God knows what else.” [From Storyteller by Donald Sturrock]

Dahl, the BSC boy, was in the right place at the right time to cash in on the post-war art boom, which Robert Wraight put at the feet of Joe Duveen and viewed with such disdain. (Quite rightly, imho.)

My point is, Duveen– who died in 1939– was a connected player. Peruggia was a no-name house painter from an Italian backwater; Duveen’s nephew describes Peruggia as a “seedy-looking foreigner”– not the typical Duveen fare. As anybody with an ounce of street-smarts knows, the audience with Duveen was arranged for Peruggia when the initial buyer for ‘La Gioconda’ fell through.

Who was that initial buyer? We’ll probably never know because both Paul Guillaume and Guillaume Apollinaire are dead– but the French police suspected that it was a rich American, and the behavior of rich American art collectors supports such suspicions. Duveen doesn’t appear to have alerted the British police to the fact that a “seedy foreigner” tried to sell him the Mona Lisa.

sir-joseph-duveen-1869-1939-everett

Sir Joe Duveen with lady friends. Duveen was also involved in selling Vermeers which turned out not to be Vermeers…

There are other clues that Peruggia was acting as part of a team– he used a false name during the period in which he stole the Mona Lisa- ‘Vincenzo’ Peruggia. After serving a brief jail time for the theft, Peruggia returned with his wife to Paris under his real name Pietro, got a job doing something and spent the rest of his life in Paris, where he was buried in a high-demand cemetery.

While his fellow Italians back home in Dumenza are ashamed of Peruggia, Peruggia himself showed no self-consciousness. Pietro made a point of taking his wife to the Louvre on his return to France and bragged: “The shingles on this building will rot, but my name will remain famous.” Narcissism, anyone?!

Why would Joe Medeiros make this dishonest film? To answer that, I look to who funded the project:

1) The Greater Philadelphia Film Office was the fiscal sponsor for Medeiros’ film. This is how the Film Office describes itself:

GPFO, first established in 1985 as a part of Philadelphia city government, continues to reside within city offices. In 1992, we became a regional economic development agency, incorporating as the Greater Philadelphia Film Office, a Pennsylvania non profit corporation, in July, 2000.

The GPFO are part of the same cabal who benefited from moving the Barnes Collection to Philly’s ‘museum mile’ against the wishes of Alfred Barnes.

2) Medeiros’ relatives Angelo and Jessie Mestichelli provided funding, as did Tom and Anne Caramancio, who I couldn’t find anything about.

3) The Pacific Pioneer Fund, which is an organization that funds ‘independent’ documentaries gave Medeiros $5,000; the PPF gets its money from the estate of San Fransisco lawyer Peter Sloss. The Independent magazine describes the board of the PPF:

“Who makes up the staff of the Pacific Pioneer Fund?

Peter Sloss, president; Nancy Sloss, vice president; Hillary Sloss, Dan Geller and Ellen Bruno, board members. Half of us are filmmakers. Ellen and Dan are past grantees whom we’ve had as filmmaker consultants for individual panels and really liked their sound judgment so we invited them to the Board.

What does the Sloss family’s philanthropic footprint look like? According to Peter Sloss’s obituary in ‘JWeekly.com’:

“Sloss devoted himself to the local Jewish community in multiple ways, serving with the S.F.-based Jewish Community Federation, the Jewish Community Endowment Fund, the Osher Marin JCC, Mount Zion Hospital and the JCL, among others.”

Apart from his Jewish causes, Sloss also served on the board of the Berkeley Repertory Theatre.

4) The film’s largest (and first) funder has a philanthropic footprint which is very similar to the Sloss Family’s, but is based out of the Philadelphia area. The Daniel B and Florence E Green Family Foundation gave Medeiros $26,000.

The Green Family Foundation has given some money to the Philadelphia Theater Company, but most of their charitable work seems to be for specifically Jewish projects through the Jewish Federation of Greater Philadelphia.

The Jewish Federation of Greater Philadelphia is associated with The Honickman Foundation, which overseas a large part of the Philadelphia Museum of Art’s public education program:

The Education Committee of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, co-chaired by Lynne Honickman and Marta Adelson, was convened to advance education within the Museum and the Greater Philadelphia region.

Of course, Lynne Honickman and Marta Adelson are trustees of the Philadelphia Museum of Art as well as leading employees of the Honickman Foundation. The Honickman family money seems to come, at least in part, from Pepsi Cola & National Brand Beverages, LTD and Canada Dry Delaware Valley Bottling Company.

(L-R)Harold Honickman, Jon Bon Jovi, Lynne Honickman and Leigh Middleton attend the "Coming HOME" 20th anniversary gala for Project H.O.M.E. at the Philadelphia Marriott Downtown on September 23, 2009 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. HOME was the Green Family Foundation's big charitable endevour. Thank you, zimbio.com.

(L-R)Harold Honickman, Jon Bon Jovi, Lynne Honickman and Leigh Middleton attend the “Coming HOME” 20th anniversary gala for Project H.O.M.E. at the Philadelphia Marriott Downtown on September 23, 2009 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The Green Family Foundation’s big charitable endeavour was for Federation Housing Inc– you need a password to read who sits on their board. Thank you, zimbio.com.

I dare say that getting the Greens to fund Medeiros was a nice way for the Philly Art Museum to get their message out while hiding their involvement in the documentary. (The Greens don’t seem to have funded any documentaries before Medeiros’.)

So you see, a certain group of people who benefit from burying the unsavory history of the Barnes Collection have *likely* teamed up to spare the reputation of Paul Guillaume, the art dealer who made the Barnes Collection possible, by blaming one of the most high-profile art thefts ever solely on a simple Italian peasant.


A. C. Spectorsky and CCF 2.0

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Greetings first-time a.nolen readers! If you are unaware of the IRS evidence suggesting that Hugh Hefner and his Playboy Empire are CIA assets, please see my post Do You Have A Key to the Playboy Mansion? Enjoy!

I started writing this post expecting to find that the literary brain behind Playboy magazine, Auguste Comte Spectorsky, had a few intelligence ties to William Stephenson’s publishing network in New York City during WWII. Instead, I stumbled onto ‘Congress for Cultural Freedom 2.0′.

The operation which Spectorsky ran for Hugh Hefner was/is a more sophisticated version of the ‘non-communist left’ crusade that CIA agents Melvin Lasky and Michael Josselson ran across the globe during the Cold War. Why was a more sophisticated strategy necessary?

The Congress for Cultural Freedom (CCF) was fatally flawed in that it was obviously not organic to any of the regions where it metastasized: after WWII loud Americans suddenly appeared with gobs of money for any ‘intellectual’ who would present anti-Russian, leftist views. The game was obvious and anyone worthy of the appellation ‘intellectual’ would have known that US intelligence was behind it– after all, the US and Russia were the only countries left standing.

The CCF was never very successful and I suspect that the CIA realized well before Ernst Henry exposed the CCF in 1962 that appealing to intellect would not sell their message; the CIA’s best chance would be to wrap their politics in sex. Hence the weird, Orwellian hybrid of ‘sexual liberation’ and sexual exploitation that is The Playboy Empire.

Hefner’s magazine mimicked part of the CCF’s political message in as far as it promoted non-communist left ideas, however, Playboy dropped the Christian and more conservative political elements which the CCF included. Hefner never tried to be anything but American, so the message wasn’t burdened with the inherent fakeness of Americans posing as Spaniards, Indians or French, etc. Instead of selling the CIA through testimonials from already-famous intellectuals, Hefner sold the CIA through T&A, consumerism, and a mirage called ‘the Playboy lifestyle’.

Here’s where things really get interesting, because Playboy had to take up the core CCF message without allying itself with the CCF. Many authors who were promoted by the CCF also appeared on Playboy covers, but so did many Western intellectuals who made names for themselves by bashing the CCF. In fact, the first authors and politicians featured on Playboy covers were those championed by CCF critics like Allen Ginsberg and John Kenneth Galbraith. Playboy was self-conscious in its promotion of these ‘dissident’ intellectuals, as if to scream “We’re not CCF!” while promoting the core of the CCF message.

As I researched who Playboy promoted month by month from 1959-1976, I consistently recognized names from Frances Stonor Saunders’ book The Cultural Cold War; names she celebrated as critics of the ugly Americans’ CIA operation. Saunders’ prejudices matter, because her work is considered the gold standard CCF exposé. The men Saunders plugged as ‘intellectually honest critics of the CIA’s agenda’ were the same ones that CIA-backed Playboy chose to promote in the face of the CCF’s implosion. Saunder’s heroes promoted the CIA’s leftist agenda in Playboy, but stripped it of the more moderate, conservative elements– elements that the older CCF had included.

This forced me to reevaluate Saunders’ book The Cultural Cold War: in writing it she cut off an arm to save the CIA’s body. She protected CIA assets like Allen Ginsberg at the expense of CIA assets like T.S. Eliot. That’s why she’s still breathing, folks. The only question I have left about Saunders is why her book had to come out in 2000– I’m not going to dig into that question now, though I suspect the answer has something to do with Bill Colby floating face down in the Wicomico River circa 1996. (Colby told us in his autobiography that the CIA’s ‘non-communist’ left putsch was largely staffed by his old OSS friends.)

I’ve thrown my theory at you, so now I’m going to explain how I’ve come to this conclusion. First, I’ll provide what little background I have on A. C. Spectorsky, because his personality is interesting with respect to The Cult of Intelligence. Then I will present the results of my statistical analysis of Playboy covers between 1959-76, highlighting the mind-boggling number of known intelligence operatives who wrote for the publication. Next week I’m going to drill out Playboy’s ‘culture war’ politics– politics which mesh ominously with MK ULTRA operations that I’ve written about in the past.

Who was A. C. Spectorsky?

When I read in Warren Hinckle’s autobiography that he’d been given an introduction to Hugh Hefner by A. C. Spectorsky in a bid to fund Ramparts, I knew that I would have to learn more about the Playboy gatekeeper.

Auguste Comte Spectorsky is not an easy man to track down. Most of what I could find comes from Playboy contributor Steven Watts’ book Mr. Playboy: Hugh Hefner and the American Dream. In July 1956, Watts says Hefner hired Spectorsky to be his “second in command” at the magazine, though Hinckle’s recollections show that Spectorsky had control of more than just the publication. Prior to July ’56 Playboy had already published one of Spectorsky’s stories under a pseudonym. This is how Watts says Hefner decided to hire ‘Spec':

The publisher [Hefner] had decided that someone carrying credentials with the East Coast Establishment would help Playboy to gain increased respectability… Equally important, he [Spectorsky] was content to remain in the background and support Hefner as a public symbol of the magazine. “I think Hef, the young sparkplug and head of the whole operation, is the guy who should be kept in the foreground,” he [Spectorsky] wrote in a staff memo.

How magnanimous of new-hire Spectorsky to affirm Hefner as the front man! Besides deciding what would go into Playboy– like how and where products would be placed– Spectorsky’s job included introducing Hefner to “important authors, publishers and agents”.

Spectorsky was born in Paris in 1910 to Russian émigré parents– that’s prior to the Bolshevik Revolution, but during the time when the Czar’s enemies (political undesirables) were sometimes driven to Western Europe for succor. For example, Trotsky was in Vienna at this time and Lenin was in Switzerland; from these places the future dictators drummed up support for what would become the Bolshevik Revolution.

I don’t know that Spectorsky’s parents were ‘political undesirables’, but when WWI began they fled Paris for New York City, where they were quickly absorbed into the more comfortable echelons of society. (Just like Trotsky had been.) After graduating in Physics and Math from NYU, A. C. Spectorsky’s first job was with the editorial staff of The New Yorker magazine.

Improbable doors never stopped opening for the young Auguste Comte: Spectorsky worked as Literary Editor for the Chicago Sun for six years “during the 1940s” before returning to NYC as “a writer and editor in movies, television and journalism”.

The literary world Spectorsky swam in was stuffed with ‘pinko millionaires’ and their henchmen. I’ll remind readers that every publishing concern except Hearst’s got behind FDR’s campaign to drag the USA into WWII to fight for the British, and that British master-spy William Stephenson’s media power-base was in NYC. (See Jennet Conant’s The Irregulars.)

To work in television, however, Spectorsky would have needed additional patronage; patronage that likely came from the circle around David Sarnoff, the military-media-mogul and ‘father of American television’. Sarnoff was versed in intelligence matters thanks to his war-time propaganda work and was an admirer of Sigmund Freud’s nephew, Edward Bernays, who championed the use of propaganda to subvert democracy. David Sarnoff is also credited with devising the American foreign policy tactic of ‘gang rioting’ to facilitate regime change. (By the mid Sixties the CIA was exploring how to incite rioting in American ‘inner cities’ via the MK ULTRA subproject 102 and the work of Muzafer Sherif.)

In short, A. C. Spectorsky had friends in all the right places and was close to those ‘pinko millionaires’ who have done so much to undermine civil society. Spectorsky’s literary career was built on flattering those millionaires: his most famous book, The Exurbanites, is a cloying homage to NYC’s intelligentsia:

The exurbanite is a displaced New Yorker. He has moved from the city to the country. So indeed have hundreds of thousands of Americans, especially since the second World War; but for the exurbanite the case is different; for him the change is an exile. He will never quite completely permit himself to be absorbed into his new surroundings; he will never acclimate… spiritually he will always been urban, an irreconcilable whose step… is still the steadiest when it returns to the familiar crowded cross-walks  of Madison Avenue.

Of course, literature is how you look at it and Spectorsky may be mocking the ‘East Coast Establishment’ in his book, but having lived that life myself, I believe it’s more likely that Spectorsky is regurgitating the provincial attitudes (and fears) which were lampooned on this New Yorker cover in 1976: 1976 New Yorker cover We don’t know how Spectorsky was chosen to be the brains behind Playboy, but it happened, and he soon transferred his unfettered desire for approval away from the New York Literary Establishment to his new power-figure, Hugh Hefner. This is how Watts describes the relationship between these two men, it may remind readers of how cult followers identify with authority figures:

Nevertheless, he [Spectorsky] yearned for his boss’ [Hefner’s] approval. “He had a very strange relationship with Hefner,” Spectorsky’s wife reported. “Almost father-son, but the wrong way round. I don’t know why he had this tremendous need to please Hefner but he did.”

Spectorsky describes his own relationship with his boss this way: “To hate him as much as I’ve hated him, you really have to love him.”

Hefner, on the other hand, didn’t even bother to express condolences to Spectorsky when A.C.’s daughter died. Spectorsky put up with his narcissistic ‘boss’ because of a deep-seated insecurity about his worth as a writer, says Watts. Spectorsky’s opinion of his own talents was higher than anything literary he achieved in life; he tried to compensate for this with a flashy yacht and a luxurious lifestyle.

What Politics did Spectorsky Promote in Playboy?

Having given you a picture of Playboy’s literary gatekeeper Spectorsky, I’ll now go on to what type of ideas he chose to promote in Hefner’s mag. I’ve spent the last few days tabulating who and what was featured on every Playboy cover between 1959-1976. That’s 216 covers and about 140 authors total.

As I stated at the beginning of this post, there was a lot of cross-pollination between Playboy and the Congress for Cultural Freedom during the 1959-76 period, (the number in [brackets] is how many times the author was featured on a Playboy cover): Tennessee Williams [4], Bertrand Russell [3] (see University of Chicago CCF archives), as well as Alberto Moravia [5], Leslie Fielder [3], Norman Thomas [1], Vladimir Nabokov [14], Arthur Koestler [1], William Benton [2], William F. Buckley Jr. [6] and William Saroyan [6] (see Frances Stonor Saunders’ The Cultural Cold War). Vladimir Nabokov was the cousin of CCF General Secretary Nicholas Nabokov.

Typically, if Spectorsky decided to feature an author on Playboy’s cover, they were featured twice, so a number of the CCF writers listed above were given extra-special promotion. However, intellectuals who made a name for themselves by criticizing the CCF were also promoted heavily: Allen Ginsberg [2], Gore Vidal [2], Graham Greene [4], Jean Paul Satre [2], John Kenneth Galbraith [3], Kenneth Tynan [5], Murray Kempton [2], Norman Mailer [7] and John La Carre [1]. The director Stanley Kubrick [2], another of Saunders’ beloved ‘Cold War ethos’ critics, was also promoted.

In The Cultural Cold War Saunders makes a particular effort to emphasize how the writers listed above, particularly Ginsberg [2], Tynan [5] and Mailer [7], ‘stood up’ to the CIA’s perversion of the intellectual sphere. For instance, here’s a quote from Saunders’ book, p. 216:

It [Quest, the CCF publication in India] probably didn’t deserve J. K. Galbraith’s sneer that ‘it broke new ground in ponderous, unfocused illiteracy’. Certainly Prime Minister Nehru didn’t like it, as he always distrusted the Congress as an ‘American front’. (The Cultural Cold War, p 216)

J. K. Galbraith was promoted by Hefner and Jawaharlal Nehru was the first head of state to be featured on a Playboy cover; Nehru’s issue was October 1962. (The outspokenly anti-CCF Prime Minister appeared eight months after Ernst Henri outed the Congress for Cultural Freedom!) Regular readers will remember that Frances Stonor Saunders makes no mention of Henri’s article in her book, but she almost certainly knew about it. 1963 10 PlayboyThe only other foreign heads of state to make a Playboy cover during this period were Fidel Castro (Exclusive Interview!) and Mao Tse Tung (His Poetry!)– Playboy played an influential role in introducing these communist leaders’ ideas to the American public. (Castro was promoted by Allen Ginsberg and fellow Playboy contributor Leroi Jones [1].)

The CIA agent's hymn to Castro.

The CIA agent’s hymn to Castro. Thank you, GinsbergBlog.

Saunders never gets tired of plugging Ginsberg and the ‘Beat’ poets as antidotes to the CIA’s cultural meddling:

With the rise of the New Left [think Ramparts magazine –a.nolen] and the Beats, the cultural outlaws who had existed on the margins of American society now entered the mainstream, bringing with them a contempt for what William Burroughs called a ‘sniveling, mealy-mouthed tyranny of bureaucrats, social workers, psychiatrists and union officials… Alan Ginsberg, who in his 1956 lament Howl had mourned the wasted years– ‘I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness’– now advocated the joys of open homosexuality and hallucinogenic ‘Peyote solitudes’. Munching LSD, singing the body electric, reading poetry in the nude, navigating the world through a mist of benzedrine and dope, the Beats reclaimed Walt Whitman from stiffs like Norman Pearson Holmes [Literary scholar, J. J. Angleton’s sponsor with British intelligence –a.nolen], and sanctified him as the original hippy. They were scruffy rebels who sought to return chaos to order, in contrast to the obsession with formulae which characterized magazines like Encounter [CIA funded non-communist left magazine –a.nolen]. (p. 361)

The ‘Beat Generation’ writers were the second non-pornography cover feature for Playboy (June 1959); the first was Jazz, which the CIA had been using as a culture war tool since the early 50s. Playboy was a consistent proponent of Jazz throughout the Cold War; it later championed ‘pop’ music too. 1959 06 Playboy Playboy’s ‘dissident’ stance against traditional morality was the same stance that ‘Saunders-approved’ authors like Norman Mailer [7] took against the Congress for Cultural Freedom:

With equal conviction, Norman Mailer argued that America’s war in Vietnam was ‘the culmination to a long sequence of events which had begun in some unrecorded fashion toward the end of World War II. A consensus of the most powerful middle-aged and elderly WASPs in America– statesmen, corporation executives, generals, admirals, newspaper editors, and legislators– had pledged an intellectual troth: they had sworn with a faith worthy of medieval knights that Communism was the deadly foe of Christian culture. (p.371)

The typical Playboy contributor looks a lot more like Norman Mailer than a middle-aged, American WASP. So who were the typical Playboy contributors?

Authors were first promoted on Playboy’s cover regularly in Jan 1959: the first fifteen included three British intelligence agents P. G. Wodehouse, Roald Dahl, Robert Graves, plus one more likely British intel agent John Collier. (Collier’s career so closely resembles Dahl’s that it would be extraordinary if Stephenson hadn’t recruited him.) Let’s be conservative and say 20% of the first authors were British intel.

Open American intelligence operatives are the next most numerous: Richard Gehman and Marion Hargove both wrote allied propaganda for the military during WWII. Alberto Moravia’s journalistic career in Italy flourished under James Angleton’s propaganda regime; Moravia also participated in the CIA’s Congress for Cultural Freedom. 20% of these Playboy cover writers come from US intelligence.

Recap: 40% of A. C. Spectorsky’s first 15 authors who were promoted on Playboy’s cover were British or American intelligence agents/assets.

The next largest group are the probable American intelligence assets; I say probable because of their association with US agent Allen Ginsberg, who gave CIA notes on the heroin trade in Vietnam to Alfred McCoy so that McCoy could write The Politics of Heroin; and introduced Mick Jagger to his political handler, Tom Driberg, a British intelligence agent. These ‘friends of Ginsberg’ are 1) Jack Kerouac; who was discharged from the Marines after ten days’ service and mysteriously avoided prosecution for his role in the murder of David Kammerer and 2) Herbert Gold who would eventually occupy CIA asset Vladimir Nabokov’s chair at Cornell. That’s another 13% who had probable intel ties.

Finally, Ben Hecht had intelligence connections of a different type. In the US, he was a big proponent of racial integration, but in Israel he supported Irgun, the Zionist paramilitary group which ethnically cleansed chunks of Palestine for the Jewish state. (According to Judith Rice of the Jewish American Society for Historic Preservation, the ‘American League for a Free Palestine’, a cover for Irgun stateside, cooperated with the NAACP to end segregation. Did the NAACP know what their Jewish partners were doing to Palestinians?) Charles Beaumont, another ‘first’ Playboy contributor, was one of Hecht’s working colleagues. Conservatively, Let’s tag on another 7%.

At the very least, between 47%-60% of contributors who were among the first 15 writers featured on Playboy’s cover had intelligence connections. I wonder why Spectorsky’s talent pool contained so many spooks? This sampling of writers is quite representative of Playboy contributors over the 1959-66 period, who were drawn from the intelligence community in shocking numbers.

Things really get interesting when we look at all-time contributors. I’ve broken the list up into pre-1966 contributors and 1967-76 contributors because 1966 was the year the New York Times was told to out the Congress for Cultural Freedom.

Top 20 Playboy Contributors 1959-66.

Top 20 Playboy Contributors 1959-66.

Ian Fleming, the British master spy, is easily Playboy’s most promoted author ever– covers in 1965 were rarely without him and his literary achievement, the spook-fairy-princess ‘James Bond’, originally debuted on Playboy pages. (Why would a CIA organ want to promote Bond’s lifestyle in a magazine that encourages the objectification of sexual partners? See John Gittinger’s Personality Assessment System, The Cult of Intelligence and Great Users of People.)

I’ve mentioned most of the names on that list before; we all know that Ernest Hemingway was a CIA/OSS/KGB spy. J. P. Getty, a running contributor on money matters, ultimately funded CIA agent Kenneth Anger’s career. Robert Raurk was a poor man’s version of Hemingway, who covered the Mau Mau Rebellion (which Rolling Stones groupie Robert Fraser helped suppress via propaganda) for the CIA front TIME magazine (Feb. 16th 1953). Nat Hentoff is a pro-Israel ‘social justice’ activist who covered Jazz for major East Coast media outlets during the period in which the CIA used Jazz as a Culture War tool. (Hentoff now fights anti-semitism from the CATO Institute.)

Shepherd Mead was a vice president of the advertising firm Benton & Bowles. Benton & Bowles rose to fame on the coat-tails of the Radio industry in the USA, an industry that has always had deep ties to the intelligence community. Benton, the company’s founder, shared David Sarnoff and Edward Bernays’ vision that communications should be used to reeducate the public. Jean Shepherd was also a radio personality, making a smooth transition into media from serving in the US Army Signal Corps during WWII.

Gerald Kersh was a British-born WWII propagandist; Budd Schulberg was in the OSS (he arrested photographer Leni Riefenstahl so that US heavies could interrogate her).

The ‘science fiction’ faction of Playboy contributors is fascinating: Ray Bradbury was a regular at the Los Angeles Science Fantasy Society (LASFS), whose leading lights included Jack Parsons, the top-secret Jet propulsion scientist and Aleister Crowley (UK Intel) devotee; as well as Karl Germer’s successor to the intelligence-heavy O.T.O. Grady McMurty; and L. Ron Hubbard. (See Sex and Rockets: The Occult World of Jack Parsons by John Carter). The LASFS had a weird military bent too, as lasfsinc.info describes:

At the same time, with World War II in progress and most SF [science fiction] fans over 18 in the Armed Services, the LASFS took on the atmosphere of a fannish USO. Los Angeles was a major embarkation center for soldiers and sailors shipping out into the Pacific, and LASFS members were always ready to stop fighting long enough to greet and play host to fans in uniform passing through L.A. to the front.

Other science fiction/horror contributors include Ray Russell (a contributor to the CIA’s Paris Review), and the previously mentioned Charles Beaumont. Roald Dahl, besides being a UK intel operative, was also gifted in writing the macabre which he infused with his anger toward women and his anti-German prejudices. (See Storyteller, by Donald Sturrock.)

Ken Purdy was a personal friend of Spectorsky’s who shot himself in the early Seventies; I couldn’t find anything about “William Iversen”, who doesn’t seem to have written beyond Playboy, but he did take on a strong anti-marriage stance in Hefner’s rag.

Let’s consider the next ‘era’ 1967 to 1976, the year William Colby’s tenure at the CIA ended.

Top 20 Playboy Contributors 1967-76.

Top 20 Playboy Contributors 1967-76.

Both Len Deighton (famous for spy fiction) and Arthur C. Clarke were in the RAF during WWII, Deighton was an RAF Special Investigations Unit photographer and Clarke worked on sensitive, cutting edge radar technology. Clarke became a well-known a science fiction author and championed LGBT issues from his adopted Sri Lanka, where he was given a type of knighthood. Dan Greenberg worked with Kenneth Tynan on Oh! Calcutta! and was famous for writing How To Be A Jewish Mother; Kenneth Tynan was a favorite CCF ‘dissenter’. According to Saunders, Tynan lampooned the CCF on the BBC TV Show That Was The Week That Was several months after Ernst Henri outed the CIA operation in 1962, i.e. Tynan and the BBC slammed the CCF around the same time Playboy featured anti-CCF Nehru.

Evan Hunter is interesting because he was an executive editor for the Scott Meredith Literary Agency which was founded in NYC in 1946. Scott Meredith’s first client was British intel agent P.G. Wodehouse, who had to run to the USA after making suspect radio broadcasts from Berlin during WWII; MI5 quickly cleared Wodehouse of any wrongdoing, but the general public was not so forgiving and considered him a traitor. Scott Meredith also represented Playboy mega-contributors Norman Mailer and Arthur C. Clarke.

Kurt Vonnegut Jr. supported Frank Platt, a CIA agent and Farfield Foundation director, for president of the PEN organization even after the CIA’s congress (and Frank Platt!) had been thoroughly outed (See Saunder’s Cultural Cold War).  William F Buckley Jr was a CIA agent who worked under E. Howard Hunt. Irwin Shaw was the type of writer who the CIA’s Paris Review likes to promote. (Salon did a piece on the PR’s CIA connection in 2012– a.nolen is now taking bets on when Glenn Greenwald’s Salon will be outed as an Agency front.)

Woody Allen is the famous director and darling of Hollywood, who has recently been accused by the daughter of his one-time wife Mia Farrow of molesting her as a child. Isaac Bashevis Singer, another Paris Review (CIA) favorite, wrote about counter-culture and politics from an Orthodox Jewish perspective. John Cheever is the archetypical ‘WASP hypocrite’ writer and poster-child for Narcissistic Personality Disorder. Alan Watts, whose book I quoted from earlier about Spectorsky, was a defrocked minister and an LSD proponent.

That’s a lot of names. Probably enough for one post. I’ve put up a list of Playboy contributors 1959-76 and how many cover promos they had, so you can see for yourself how the CIA ranked your favorite Mid-Century author! (This list is only comprehensive for writers who were featured more than once, a handful of remaining single-shot promos are coming soon.) Next week there will be something for everyone:

  • I’ll tie Playboy politics into the larger CIA agenda during the 1950s, 60s and 70s– the agenda we know in part because of William Colby’s leaks.
  • We’ll also see how Frances Stonor Saunders ties into the Angleton/Colby squabble that did so much to shape American intelligence.
  • More on Ramparts and what got Gawker contributor Adrian Chen fired!

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