Fail-Safe Fears, Doctor Strangelove and Doctor Kahn, or How We All Learned To Live With the Bomb

In 1964, two movies depicted a future disaster: the failure of safety measures leading to a nuclear catastrophe. Both were based on earlier books. Red Alert, a 1958 novel that was based on the notion that a single person — a far-Right lunatic, for instance — could cause Armageddon. This book’s film rights were purchased by Stanley Kubrick, who turned it into Dr. Strangelove, or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bomb. A short story by Harvey Wheeler titled “Of Bombs And Men Abraham ’59-A Nuclear Fantasy”, was noticed by best-selling author Eugene Burdick, who teamed with Wheeler to write Fail-Safe, based on the notion that nuclear safety measures were not infallible. The 1962 novel was picked up by Sidney Lumet, who turned it into the movie Fail Safe. All this helped contribute to anti-nuclear feeling, but also to an acceptance of these weapons. Here’s the story:

Peter George was a serving RAF officer when he wrote Red Alert, so he used the pseudonym “Peter Bryant” for the UK edition (originally titled Two Hours to Doom) and “Bryan Peters” for the French edition: 120 minutes pour sauver le monde. The novel focuses on the crew of the Alabama Angel, a new model, very good, Strategic Air Command bomber. [NB: nuclear war was a bomber, rather than a missile problem before 1960 or so.] A general has decided to make war on the Soviet Union, because he judges that the US could win, if it acts immediately. So the general sends out the planes and makes it impossible to recall some of them, like Alabama Angel. The general’s logic is more or less accurate, but there are things he doesn’t know. Most important: the Soviet Union has buried a string of cobalt bombs deep in the Ural mountains. Facing nuclear defeat, the Soviets would set off this “doomsday” device that will destroy the planet. So Alabama Angel must be stopped. Action is divided between the mad general’s SAC base, which has to be taken by force, so that people may find the recall code; Washington, where the President and the Soviet ambassador worry the problem; and the Alabama Angel, where the crew is desperately trying to hit its target. This is where the book goes wrong (I think), because after this plane is damaged and some of the crew dead from Soviet defenses, we start to root for it. The crew are better known to the reader than, say, the President. And they are making a valiant effort; we’re cheering for ’em! Nuke the Sovs! [Spoilers follow.] When it looks as though the bomber may hit a small Soviet city that has a missile base, the President says that the US will suffer no less than the USSR. Atlantic City, New Jersey, is the offered trade. We destroy your missile base, then we’ll destroy the Boardwalk as penance. But the Alabama Angel finally succumbs to defensive fire and goes down. The crew’s corpses are strewn across a Soviet mountain side. And… the book ends.

The concept of destroying one of your own cities in exchange for destroying one of the enemies, was the core of Wheeler’s “Abraham ’59 Nuclear Fantasy”. He compared this destruction to the sacrifice by Abraham of his son, Isaac. Some ink has been spilled concerning Wheeler’s use of this idea. I’ll have some more to say on the topic but it’s interesting that two people who had no contact that I can discover came up with the same concept. Perhaps these two very different people are simply following the terrible logic of nuclear deterrence.

Wheeler had written his story under a pseudonym in Dissent, a more-or-less liberal, depending on your definition, publication. Eugene Burdick was very anti-Communist. His Ugly American depicts the commies as inhuman terrible creatures who want to do evil for its own sake. In 1962, Burdick was saying, “Better Dead Than Red”. His attitude was mirrored by Peter George, whose American generals insult the Soviet Ambassador when he comes to the White House. Even though a rabid anti-Communist, Burdick thought the world was on the brink of nuclear disaster and he promoted nuclear disarmament as the best way out. Failing that, it seems death was his preferred option. [Bio details on Burdick here, down the page. Look for the ad featuring the “Ale Man”.]

Fail-Safe begins in Washington. Something is going on, we won’t know exactly what for fifty pages or so, but there is a flurry of activity at the White House. Three men (and a useful female secretary) are at the center of the action: The President (no name given); his translator, Buck; and Air Force General Black. Also lurking around the edges is Groteschele, a planner and advocate of nuclear war. We’ll come back to them, but here’s what happens [Spoiler alert]: A strange blip has appeared on US radar screens. The US goes on nuclear alert — bombers take to the skies, a Titan missile is readied — then the blip is identified as a civilian airliner. The alert is called off. Bombers return to base; the Titan is unreadied. But one bomber group is not returning, instead it is headed toward Moscow. A hardware glitch has rendered the fail-safe callback useless. So, as the personalities in the White House clash and The President remains imperturbable, two bombers get through. The President bids his ambassador in Russia farewell and Moscow is nuked. Now what? The President is on the line to the Russian premier and says, “Sorry. How about I blow up New York as a sign of our good faith?” And he does. General Black flies the plane and commits suicide. The President’s wife is in New York, she’s blown up, too. (There are suicides and noble sacrifices all over the place. You got to wonder about Burdick’s fascination with this stuff.)

Now let me just pause here to note that I read Fail-Safe in October, 1962, when it was serialized in the Saturday Evening Post. I got to the end where The President calls for a New York City strike and thought, “Bullshit!” No American president would ever give that order. Never. Can you imagine Truman (who bombed Japan), Eisenhower (who viewed nukes as just another weapon), or Lyndon Johnson, Richard Nixon — any US Cold War president saying, “Okay, bomb New York.” The president in this case was Kennedy, who was dealing with the Cuban Missile Crisis at the exact same time Fail-Safe was appearing in the Post. So I was disgusted with the book for being such absolute nonsense. I have softened a bit over the years, allowing that this was a fable exposing the foolishness of nuclear stand-off, but it’s still BS.

Books and films published through the 1950s depicted the aftermath of nuclear war: science-fiction including Ward Moore’s 1953 short story, “Lot”, that depicted the scramble to leave the city after a warning is broadcast, and there was plenty of post-war survival in, for instance, Pat Frank’s novel Alas, Babylon, or the 1955 movie, The Day the World Ended. End-of-the-world scenarios were around long before nuclear weapons. Some, like M.P. Shiel’s 1901 novel, The Purple Cloud, were turned into nuclear fantasy. Shiel’s book became the 1959 movie, The World, The Flesh, and The Devil, one of two films that year whose plot concerned three survivors of a nuclear war: two men and a woman. The public was well-saturated with apocalyptic scenarios. But the big post-nuke book was Nevil Shute’s 1957 novel On The Beach, made into a very successful movie in 1959.

Shute’s book and movie have different reasons for the nuclear exchange. The book talks about small nations attacking one another with nukes and the big, powerful states being drawn in. This concept is still part of military thinking. The movie says, no one knows how it started, probably a technical glitch, thus laying the groundwork for Fail-Safe. People were used to post-apocalyptic tales, but this disaster was caused by a stupid machine. By 1962, many people owned stupid machines such as gas-guzzling vehicles that were “unsafe at any speed”, according to Ralph Nader; such as “instant-on” TVs that didn’t need to warm up but had a tendency to catch on fire; such as X-ray machines in shoe stores that gave kids cancer. People knew that machines were stupid and not to be trusted.

Meanwhile, the US military was experimenting with strategies based on math such as game theory. Because math cannot be questioned, right? Two plus two always equals four, unless you are sorting apples and oranges, or there is some other nuance to be reckoned with. Relentless either/or machine logic is not the proper tool for most human problems. (Here is a brief intro to Game Theory, There’s lots more all over the Net.)

Peter George and Eugene Burdick had military backgrounds and they discuss the professional military with understanding and sympathy. But Burdick had no use for the number-crunchers now making military plans out of game-playing strategies. At one point he names some of them: “Henry Kissinger, Herman Kahn, Herbert Simon, and Kari Deutsch.” Burdick combines the worst theorizing of each of these people and molds the nasty character, Groteschele. It is hard to exaggerate the venom Burdick directs at this character, who is conniving, without principles except as they further his ambition, and likes deathsex — or whatever his girlfriend calls it. There is stuff here about the great dark beast of death, but Groteschele has the ultimate answer: he will ward death off with his personal amulet, i.e., America’s nuclear arsenal. If he must die, then everyone else in the world will, too. This kind of talk is really exciting to his girl friend. [Others suggest Werhner von Braun and Edward Teller as additional models for Groteschele and Dr. Strangelove. No one mentions John Nash — later portrayed in A Beautiful Mind — whose Game Theory equilibrium strategies were the basis for MAD].

Herman Kahn was a major source for Groteschele. Groteschele says, “In a full-scale nuclear war between the US and Russia, a hundred million people, more-or-less, will be killed… Things will be shaken up. Our culture…would not be the same…” BUT Groteschele goes on, The United States “would be the victor in that it would be less damaged than its enemy… Every war, including thermonuclear war, must have a victor and a vanquished.” So the United States would lose its “culture” and millions would be dead but, hey! Victory is sweet. This is exactly Herman Kahn’s view: America wins by losing less.

Herman Kahn, 1965 [LoC]

Herman Kahn wrote The Book on nuclear warfare: On Thermonuclear War in 1960. Later, he wrote tracts on surviving such a war after the deaths of many millions of human beings. Kubrick put some of his words in Dr. Strangelove’s mouth where they fit perfectly. It was Kahn who came up with the Doomsday Machine, the cobalt bombs that would automatically blow up and destroy the planet if anyone attacked anyone else. Of course, said Kahn, this was a thought experiment, not a real plan. Okay. Then he says, “The fact that more than a few scientists and engineers do seem attracted to the device is disquieting…” Indeed. It is very, very disquieting.

MIT and the RAND Corporation were leaders in applied game theory. Kahn left RAND to form his own think tank, the Hudson Institute, where a young analyst named Donald Brennan began to look at the projected war plans which called for the US to hit back hard as it could after a nuclear strike, and proclaimed them “MAD” for “Mutual Assured Destruction”. He thought people would understand why this was a MAD venture. They didn’t understand; they thought Brennan had cleverly given them a product name, something they could use to sell the idea of mutual annihilation. After all, this is America and everything is marketable, even death.

The heyday of the game theory analysts faded by 1971. “In 1961 the promise was high…Yet in 1971 it is fair to say that their performance has not lived up to their promise. And that’s putting it mildly.” Human beings are not programmed; they are not always rational; everyone has their reasons. But the analysts talked about “rational men” making decisions that will decide the fate of the human species. They assumed that everyone would be as rational as they thought themselves to be. And they believed in technology. They believed in it with irrational fervor.

Fail-Safe attacked both faith in technology and the notion that MAD was rational. The number crunchers fought back, issuing their own propaganda. The Air Force produced a (never-shown) film, “SAC Command Post”, and Sidney Hook, professor of philosophy at NYU, was tasked with criticizing the book Fail-Safe. There are only about 25 pages in his critique, The Fail-Safe Fallacy, much of which is taken up with defending Kahn and attacking Khruschev. Hook’s argument is that technology can be trusted and that Burdick and Wheeler are telling a great lie when they say that nuclear war is “inevitable”. Here’s what the Fail-Safe authors actually said:

“…accidental war is possible and …its probability increases with the increasing complexity of the man-machine components which make up our defense system. …Men, machines, mathematics being what they are, this is, unfortunately, a “true” story. The accident may not occur in the way we describe but the laws of probability assure us that ultimately it will occur.” [from the preface to Fail-Safe]

Hook is all over this: “We cannot build a machine which, by means of logic, we can prove will never fail.” Quite true, but Hook goes on “…it is perfectly feasible to set up six machines so that a malfunction in any one of them will be registered and checked with the speed of an electric impulse by the other five.” Sidney Hook has clearly not thought through the problem of the “increasing complexity of the man-machine components” of defense strategy. And, Hook agrees, that if there is a malfunction, then yes, there could be a problem, BUT says Hook, “…the probability of a mechanical failure in the defense system…” is so small as to be immeasurable. No source is given for this factoid (though Hook does name drop Defense Secretary Robert McNamara in the next paragraph). Many officers and others with military connections knew this statement to be untrue, that there had been numerous mechanical mishaps in the nuclear defense system, which Burdick and Wheeler also mention in the preface to Fail-Safe.

And the big question, which Hook dodges, is that no matter how small the risk, the entire planet is what’s at stake. No matter how great the odds in your favor, you’re going all in forever. Best not to play. I think the game theorists at MIT might even agree with me here.

Hook then attacks Fail-Safe as defeatist, and winds up equating Burdick and Wheeler with Communist agents and suggesting that Fail-Safe might win the Order of Lenin Prize. Such was philosophical debate of the day; if all else fails, call ’em a Commie.

How to turn your flowerbox into a radiation stopper that still allows air to circulate. Do the bricks go outside or inside? [“Planning Guides for Dual Use Shelters”]

Hook claims that the hero of Fail-Safe is Nikita Khruschev, head of the USSR. He says that because, in Fail-Safe, Khruschev is depicted as a human being with a sense of the moral gravity of the decisions being made. This is too much for those who want to depict Communists as evil monsters. It was almost too much for Eugene Burdick, who hated Communism as much as any American and more than most. Harvey Wheeler talked him around, saying that the Soviets could only be reasoned with if they were human and not caricatured bogeymen. Burdick knew that the arms limitation he favored could only be realized through negotiation, so he agreed, and Fail-Safe has a human Khruschev.

Presidents Kennedy, Truman, and Eisenhower had been trying to calm nuclear fears since 1948. Eisenhower organized evacuations of cities identified as targets. After one exercise Ike announced that, had there actually been a nuclear exchange, only 8.5 million Americans would have died. No one was comforted. Then there were the Duck-and-Cover ads, featuring Bert the turtle, telling schoolchildren how to survive. There were fallout shelters; build one in your backyard or basement if you have the cash, otherwise a book-lined room can offer some protection. Amid all this the CIA reported that the political elite, the decision-makers, did not have enough bomb shelters. I wonder if they, like their constituents, thought this was all nonsense. A common set of instructions was often quoted by ordinary citizens:

“In case of nuclear attack
1) Sit down.
2) Put your head between your knees.
3) Kiss your ass goodbye.”

Official instructions from 1950s (left) and the people’s version (right)

Eisenhower’s official strategy was deterrence, but the Air Force visualized a first strike (when they had enough weapons) that would hit every Soviet town of 25000 or more population, and all of China’s cities, and some attacks on East Europe. Official estimates were that more than 600 million people would die, including many West European allies who would die from radiation and Soviet nukes. This 600 million did not include any US deaths; that was a separate calculation. At the time Earth’s total population was a little over 3 billion. The Soviet response was a “dead-hand” defense: a strike on Moscow would immediately launch all the missiles that were left after the first strike. Death estimates for the US varied wildly, depending on how many Soviet missiles and bombers might escape destruction. The US Joint Chiefs said only 10 million US deaths. This first-strike capability was important to military planners and many, like the General in Red Alert/Dr. Strangelove, were ready to attack.

When newly-elected Kennedy was informed of current US nuclear plans, he was horrified. He had read Barbara Tuchman’s The Guns of August, about the causes of World War I and how each move by a nation caused countermoves by others, each time bringing total war closer. Kennedy claimed that only one person could push the button. And that was the President. This was not true, as Daniel Ellsberg discovered. Every theater commander each had a button he could push; some had subordinate units empowered with nuclear decision-making. Kennedy maintained this, as did Johnson and Nixon. Eisenhower’s strategy faded, but never vanished. Either First Strike capability or Launch On Warning has been the cornerstone of US nuclear strategy since the late 1940s.

Meanwhile, in 1963 Stanley Kubrick had decided that he could not film the story as written and turned it into bitter black comedy. At some point he talked with Herman Kahn, who, I am told, was very personable and amusing. Kubrick said that Kahn told him about the Doomsday Machine that would destroy the entire planet if anyone bombed anyone else.

Now Kubrick was ready to release Dr. Strangelove, but the assassination of John Kennedy interrupted, and he was asked to hold off. He did. Then he learned that the movie Fail Safe was due for release in 1964. Kubrick sued, claiming that Fail Safe had stolen his idea. The lawsuit was settled with an agreement that Kubrick could release his movie first, which he did.

People watched Dr. Strangelove and laughed. This was a source of consternation to some movie critics who couldn’t quite fit the film into their categorized thinking. Then Fail Safe was released but did not do as well as expected. Moviegoers saw the Kubrick film as truth, the Sidney Lumet film as melodrama.

Experts, like Kahn, had lied to people for years, and people knew it. It wasn’t hard to read On Thermonuclear War and find instances of Kahn not being truthful. For instance, the claim that the US had a great defensive plan that could protect most of the population. There were plans, of a sort, but they were never implemented. The vast shelters that needed to be constructed were never built. The dosimeters and other radioactivity detection devices that were essential to Kahn’s plans, were never available in anything like the necessary quantities. Although Kahn produced lots of mathematical notions, most were based on numbers he pulled out of his ass. For example, Kahn had tables of data about radiation deaths and genetic malformation, even though very little was known about the effects of radiation at the time. There was no Chernobyl to study.

And Kahn shows a considerable lack of understanding of human beings. He suggested that food be sorted according to radioactive contamination — the least-contaminated food would go to infants and small children; the most contaminated to the older members of the population (40 – 50 years old) because, said Kahn, their bones are grown and thus not as susceptible to damage. “Bones” are mentioned because Kahn has some awareness (but little understanding) of strontium-90 which causes bone cancer.

Sometimes a bit of sense intrudes: an Army officer asks Kahn how much extra you would have to pay for the less radioactive food. Kahn says, “About five cents a quart.” “More like fifty dollars,” says the officer who has a clearer view of the world he lives in. Kahn says that it would be inefficient to make non-radiated food an economic focus. That would result in a lower standard of living, he says.

Then there are tables showing that, with only 2 Million dead, the US economy will recover in a year; 5 Million, two years; 20 Million, ten years; 80 Million, fifty years; 160 Million, 100 years. At the time, the US population was 180 Million. What does it mean to say that the “economy will recover”? Will the economy produce dosimeters? Or oncologists specializing in bone cancer? Or is this just more BS?

But Kahn had an answer for his critics. He claimed they were attacking him for pointing out the problem, not for pretending to have an answer. He claimed that, in Victorian England, “white slavery” was rampant and “One reason why this lasted as long as it did was that it could not be talked about openly in Victorian England…” So everyone who criticized Kahn was trying to stifle the truth, like in Victorian times. (Do I need to mention that the entire “white slavery”/Victorian attitude thing is bullshit?)

People knew they were being lied to, they knew they had no way to influence military planning, they were helpless pawns. If they were among those surviving a nuclear exchange, then they would probably be the ones doing the work, toiling to restore the economy. Unless they were privileged, they would be getting more contaminated food than their overlords. Kahn has little to say about the structure of post-nuclear society, but military governance seems to be the plan. (Kahn just refers to “government” without clarification.) People accepted that war would result in death, genetic mutation, economic destruction — all the things mentioned by Kahn. They were prepared by years of popular literature and movies on the topic. Kahn said, it’s not so bad, you can survive, and to survive is to win! Ordinary folks were not persuaded; they saw that nuclear war was a horror.

Some Cold Warriors claim that MAD was a great strategy that prevented nuclear war, but this does not stand up to examination. The warning machinery suffered many breakdowns and near disasters. For example, in 1960 the US was demonstrating the new BMEWS radar system that was designed to give fifteen minutes of warning of missiles coming over the North Pole. If a red numeral 1 appeared on the screen, it meant objects were approaching US air space. A red 3 meant a high threat level. Red 5 meant a 99.9% chance that the US was under attack. This had to be correct since it was a computer-generated number. Some important civilians were among the witnesses as the system passed from 1 to 2 to 3, each level meaning an attack was more likely. At level 5, the visitors were escorted into another room, They believed World War III had just begun. The military men knew that was unlikely (Khruschev was in New York at the time) so they chose to ignore the warning. Turns out, the technology was confused by its own radar signals bouncing off the moon. But it was people, not technology, that prevented a war. [This incident provided some of the background to a scene in Fail-Safe, I think, as Congressional leaders and others witness the technical failure of the warning system.]

There was nothing good about any of this; was there a Plan B? Arms limitation was the hope of Burdick and Wheeler. Complete disarmament was unlikely or unadvisable, said the military, but we might decommission a few warheads. The first real moves to disengage from nuclear disaster occurred in 1986, in Reykjavik.

Meanwhile, nuclear accidents and close-calls continued. In 1962, Vasily Arkhipov refused a launch order on a Soviet submarine during the Cuban Missile Crisis. This was probably the closest to nuclear war that the world has come, so far. But there were many other people, ordinary soldiers and civilians, who looked at their radar screens that indicted a nuclear attack and decided, like Arkhipov, that this must be an error. Of course, people knew that nuclear war was madness, so orders to engage in it must be a mistake. Meanwhile, the military began turning over final approval to committees of officers. Arkhipov had been one of three officers, all of whom had to agree in order to launch. US submarines had a similar process, one examined in the movie, Crimson Tide.

Vasili Arkhipov [Wikipedia]

There were many other close calls over the last five decades. Human beings always checked things out and refused a hair-trigger response. November, 1961: Several communications and radar stations quit operating at the same time. Possible attack? No, a single relay in the system had failed and taken out the system. And so on, a bear is mistaken for an intruder and sets off security procedures, someone sounds the wrong alarm, and the base is scrambling planes for a nuclear attack; solar flares set off warning devices at another base; and the failure of a 46 cent computer chip — twice! — causes NORAD alerts, which is close enough to Burdick and Wheeler to make them prophets. December, 1984: A Soviet missile gets away from a training mission in the Barents Sea and heads south toward Germany, perhaps. The missile passes through Norwegian air space, NATO territory. It explodes — shot down, perhaps?– over Lake Inari, Finland. If it was shot down, was it by a Soviet fighter, perhaps also passing through NATO airspace? Everyone laughed it off. “Cruise missile takes a cruise.” Ha, ha.

People had become used to the idea that the framework of nuclear war would be around forever, and they just had to live with it. After investigating the NORAD alerts, a State Department investigator remarked, “…false alerts of this kind are not a rare occurrence. There is a complacency about handling them that disturbs me.” People were complacent because they knew that machines don’t always work, but no sane human would push the button. And that is where nuclear deterrence is right now.

Russia has re-established the semi-Doomsday Machine around Moscow, the Perimeter system, a Dead Hand that would launch everything left in Russia’s arsenal. According to recent Russian news reports, that includes a super-missile capable of taking out the entire island of Britain and “sink it once and for all”. Herman Kahn died in 1983, shortly after a group of scientists published predictions of a Nuclear Winter that would follow an exchange of thermonuclear weapons. The sky would be blanketed with thick soot, no sunlight could get through, nothing would grow. It would be the death of most or all of our planet’s life, depending on how many warheads exploded. In other words, the Doomsday Machine exists in several forms.

During the late 50s, Khruschev was asked why so many air raid drills. He answered that it was to get people used to the idea of nuclear war. Now we are all used to it. Nuclear war would destroy the Earth, and we live with that possibility. We don’t think about it much. But somewhere, right now, some fool is probably designing a nuclear alert system operated by Artificial Intelligence.

NOTES:
Fail-Safe, Wheeler and Burdick.
Red Alert, Peter George
The Fail-Safe Fallacy, Sidney Hook This is an embarrassingly bad book for a professional philosopher to put his name on. The basic message is “trust authority”. Hook had been involved with Left politics before World War II. He spent the rest of his life desperately proving his loyalty to the US.
On Thermonuclear War, Herman Kahn Another bad book. The worst thing about it is that people believe that it’s an example of great thinking. It isn’t. You can buy a copy or borrow from the Internet Archive. There are many clips by or about Kahn on YouTube: 1, 2, 3
The Doomsday Machine: Confessions of a Nuclear War Planner, Daniel Ellsberg You might want to take some of this book — like the nuclear winter business — with a grain of salt. But it has an awful lot of good stuff in it. The Arkhipov story, plus other stuff about the Cuban Missile Crisis, are detailed, as is the Berlin crisis of 1961. Ellsberg is on YouTube.

Ugly Americans

In 1958, Eugene Burdick and William Lederer published The Ugly American, a collection of short pieces depicting American efforts in SE Asia. The book was fiction but the characters were based on real people active in the area at the time. The Ugly American is a pretty bad book, not so much for the quality of its writing, but for the mis-information and false arguments it contains; yet it is a book that influenced American policy. Perhaps more important, the book helped introduce Vietnam to America and persuade Americans that Communism in the region had to be stopped.

William Lederer [Find A Grave]

“Communism”, in the 1950s, referred to an evil pestilence spreading over the planet. In b/w television clips, horror buckets of Communist darkness flow over Europe and Asia like liquid plague. America was staunchly anti-Communist. Mao’s victory in China and North Korea’s invasion of the South intensified American fears of world domination by the Reds. The US Navy, Pacific Command, was particularly interested in Asia, where they were patrolling a long coastline. Taiwan — Formosa, then — had to be protected and there were offshore islands — known as Quemoy and Matsu then, Kinmen and Mazu, now — that complicated matters. During these years there was discussion of blockading China or even nuking it. Meanwhile, the Navy was assisting in various Nationalist Chinese raids back into the mainland. When the French were embattled at DienBienPhu in 1954, Admiral Radford wanted the Seventh Fleet to bombard the area.

Poster urging people to come South.  “Southern compatriots are welcoming Northern brothers and sisters with open arms.” [Wikipedia]

William Lederer was on the staff of Adm. Richard Stump, CINCPAC, during the early ’50s. He was an information officer, essentially a public relations position, and very anti-Communist. He was friends with Edward Lansdale, ex-advertising man, now an Air Force officer working for the CIA, which occasionally hired Lederer for the odd project. Lansdale was assigned to Vietnam in 1954, after a successful stint in the Philippines, where he was credited with ending the Huk Rebellion and molding Ramon Magsaysay into a credible leader.

After the loss of DienBienPhu, the French gave over to the Americans. The Geneva Accords split Vietnam at the 17th parallel and Edward Lansdale had an idea: if the world could see how horrible a Communist Vietnam would be, then they would resist it. So: Operation Passage to Freedom! First, Lansdale flooded the North with propaganda depicting atrocities (that had not happened) and dire predictions of future horrors (which were quite possible). Then, Lansdale worked to organize a “relief effort” for the thousands of people who fled South. Ships dropped off so many refugees that the Saigon government asked them to slow down. Lansdale’s project brought about 300,000 people to the South. The French added a half-million more and, altogether around a million people fled the North. This was a propaganda coup that brought more luster to Lansdale’s fame.

Navy vessel loading refugees to take south. [US Naval Institute]

Lederer had seen the propaganda value of Operation Passage to Freedom, and also noticed a personable young Navy doctor named Tom Dooley who he thought could help in the propaganda/publicity campaign. Dooley proved very good at speaking of the operation to journalists and politicians. Lederer suggested that he write a book, and when that proved difficult for Dooley, wrote it for him. Deliver Us From Evil was the book’s title and it was supposedly based on Dooley’s own experiences during the operation, though much of it — especially the gruesome atrocity stories — were complete fabrications. The book sold millions of copies, went through twelve printings, was condensed by Readers’ Digest, and Dooley went back to the US on a blockbuster campaign to publicize it and the Navy and the anti-Communist struggle in Southeast Asia. He did this well. Kennedy cited Dooley’s example when he proposed the Peace Corps during the 1960 Presidential campaign. At his death in 1961, a Gallup poll voted him the third most admired person by Americans in the world, right after the Pope and President Eisenhower.

The Geneva Accords called for elections in 1956, but the Eisenhower administration figured Ho Chi Minh would win any reasonably honest election. So, best not to have one. Dooley met with Eisenhower in 1956 and may have helped in the President’s decision not to allow a vote. But what was to happen instead? Well, Edward Lansdale had a plan.

The French had ruled through a puppet emperor, Bao Dai. It was he who originated the name “Vietnam” for the kingdoms of Tonkin and Annam. He ruled for the French Vichy Government, the Japanese, and the French once again. He was probably willing to fill the same role for the US, so long as he could rule from his yacht in Monaco. But he was favored by the French and unpopular among the people. Bao Dai had named a recently returned exile, Ngo Dinh Diem, as Prime Minister. Diem had fought the French, but was not a Communist. He was a devout Catholic and a scholar. He was considered a representative of a “Third Force” by some, and a cold bureaucratic authoritarian, incapable of running a country, by others.

Lansdale took Diem under his wing, much as he had done with Magsaysay in the Phillippines, and tried to instruct him in governing according to Lansdale’s own democratic ideals. There were several other powerful groups — Cao Dai, Hoa Hao — that opposed Diem, though, and they had their own armies. Bao Dai had sold the power to appoint the superintendent of police to a criminal organization called Bình Xuyên. In 1955, Lansdale advised Diem during the Battle of Saigon, when army units clashed with Bình Xuyên and destroyed it. The other groups were neutralized with bribes and Diem was in control of Saigon.

Lansdale with Diem. Diem would lecture visitors for hours; Lansdale would listen. [Historynet]

Diem then moved to hold a referendum pitting him against Bao Dai to determine the future shape of the country. Lansdale thought Diem would win with 60% or more of the vote, but Diem insisted on more. He wound up with 98.2% of the votes counted which included many more ballots than there were registered voters. Following his victory, Diem proclaimed the birth of the Republic of Vietnam. This was the nation that the US then had to defend. Neil Sheehan: “South Vietnam, it can truly be said, was [Edward Lansdale’s] creation.”

Before the “Most Interesting Man in the World”, there was the Ale Man. [Brookston Beer Bulletin] Full commercial with jingle here.

Eugene Burdick met William Lederer in 1948 at a Breadloaf Writers’ retreat shortly before he attended Oxford as a Rhodes scholar. Burdick was a Navy vet who taught political science at the Naval War College 1950-52. He brought out The Ninth Wave, a novel about US politics, in 1956. He didn’t shy from publicity and was called “an intellectual action hero“.

Burdick was named after Socialist Eugene Debs and he studied socialist movements, like Syndicalism. But he was very anti-Communist.  “I’d rather be dead than Red,” he said in 1962. “If the Russians did take us over…that life might not be livable.”

William Lederer had just published Ensign O’Toole and Me, a humorous novel with a very capable but unconventional hero that had spun out of Tom Dooley’s saga where O’Toole is a character. Now he got together with Burdick to write a book about the US in SouthEast Asia.

Lederer told Burdick about people he had met — especially Edward Lansdale — who were making a difference in the area. Then Burdick developed the characters’ stories. Lederer felt that he needed a slick writer like Burdick to tone down his own sometimes over-emotional words. Lederer wrote to Lansdale:

I feel so strongly on this subject that I have concluded it is impossible to accomplish what you have in mind… unless public indignation is aroused. There is nothing wrong with our foreign policy, the weak link is in its diluted implementation — particularly along the “Lansdale lines”. I am taking a stab at arousing this public indignation. Eugene Burdick and I are writing a book on it which will be published in the Spring…

[December, 1957. Quote from Boot, Road Not Taken, p.323]
Lansdale wailing on his harp while Magsaysay naps. [from here]

The Ugly American was originally supposed to be a factual account, but an editor suggested that Burdick and Lederer turn it into fiction, still along the “Lansdale lines” of course. A series of vignettes featured a particular person and type of problem. The first section features “Lucky” Lou Sears, Ambassador to Sarkhan, a fictional country standing in for Vietnam or Burma or Laos. Sears is not particularly interested in Sarkhan, he is waiting for a judgeship to open up and then he will be appointed the bench. This is the first point made by The Ugly American: American diplomats are often elite porkchoppers who know little of the countries where they are stationed. They spend too much time at cocktail parties and not enough out in the field learning about the place. Later, we are introduced to a State Department recruiter, hiring typists and stenographers to work at the embassies. They are promised great pay and living conditions and may never meet natives of the country where they work — except for their servants, of course. Several times we are told that none of the Americans actually speak the native language. The authors really grind this point in: “Americans… who cannot speak the language, can have no more than an academic understanding of a country’s customs, beliefs, religion, and humor. …they receive a limited and often misleading picture of the nation about them.” (p.259) Meanwhile “an estimated nine out of ten Russians speak, read, and write the language before they arrive on station. It is a prior requirement.” (p.257) (This was not true. Soviet diplomacy was often clumsy.) There is a Good ambassador in the book, or at least someone who wants to be, but he speaks unvarnished truths, runs afoul of agency politics, and is forced out.

So the diplomatic corps sucks. But the Communists have excellent agents. Several times in the book, well-meaning Americans are outfoxed by the cunning Reds. This is the second major point: the Communists are excellent at lying, Masters of Deceit, as J. Edgar Hoover called them. So the poor Sarkhanese believe the lies and don’t understand that America is not an enemy but only wants to help them.

Some Americans — the good ones — actually do leave the diplomatic compound and visit with ordinary folk. There they observe and listen to local problems. Sometimes people just need the proper tools. So Homer Atkins, the “Ugly American”, helps develop a useful pedal-powered pump to irrigate the rice fields. See, this is irony: Atkins is an ugly man, but he does this beautiful thing. Americans can do good stuff if they bother to understand local problems and meet people at the local level where they will be impressed by American goodness. There are other Americans with useful small projects, seeking The Sum of Tiny Things, as Lederer and Burdick have it. This is the third point: Americans, as individuals, are good, likable people who will win friends for the US as they disprove Communist lies.

Altogether, the Lansdale line was: get to know the country, create small projects that directly help people, and demonstrate that Democracy was superior to Communism.

Otto Hunerwadel at left, Helen, center. Army officer on right is Robert Clifford. Photo taken near Taunggyi, Shan State, 1949.[UMass Amherst Special Collections]

The characters in The Ugly American are based on real people. Lucky Lou Sears might have been suggested by Homer Ferguson, US Ambassador to the Philippines, 1955-56 [Boot, p.324]. Homer Atkins seems a composite based on Otto and Helen Hunerwadel and others. The Hunerwadels worked in Burma under a Fulbright grant. He was a former agricultural agent from Tennessee and knowledgeable about farming and all the tasks that went with it — “He showed a blacksmith how to make… a light-weight gooseneck hoe. He demonstrated rope-making, splicing, fence-building” and so forth. Otto was especially proud of designing brooms with long handles to make it easier to clean up without wrecking your back. (In the novel this is the invention of Ms. Atkins.) Helen knew how to perform all the chores necessary for a farmwife. Helen’s canning, in particular, was very successful. Other possible personalities in the Atkins mix were John Connors, a community development expert who worked in India, and Bill Dickinson, an Arkansas plantation owner. All of these, and many others, were sent by programs influenced by the Community Development movement. Later, the same ideas would be adapted to the War On Poverty and the Peace Corps.

There are other characters whose work is overtly political and/or military. For instance, Father Finian, a Catholic priest, who chats up some locals into a network spreading democratic ideals. Some sources believe Tom Dooley, a devout Catholic, was the model for Finian, but there are other possibilities. Fr. Emil Kapaun, who died in a Korean POW camp, was eulogized in a television special, “The Good Thief” in 1955. There were other tough, manly priests in the area. Fr. Augustine Nguyen Lac Hoa led his Chinese congregation into Cambodia, then Vietnam in 1959. He organized a private army, the Sea Swallows, that included many former Nationalist Chinese soldiers, to fight Communism in Vietnam’s South Delta. Hoa liked to wear a .45 strapped across his cassock. Lansdale praised him to President Kennedy.

But the most important character is Colonel Hillandale, a thinly-disguised Edward Lansdale — although Lederer sometimes claimed that he, himself, was also a model for the character. [Immerwahr, fn.13; Boot, p. 325]

Lansdale and Magsaysay. [undated photo from here]

Hillandale’s work in the Philippines is much like that of Lansdale’s, only he is better at it. He speaks the language (Lansdale only spoke English) and relies on his natural American charm to win hearts and minds. (Lansdale called for napalm strikes.) Both Lansdale and his fictional counterpart buddy up with Magsaysay and win over the locals by playing the harmonica. Hillandale is transferred to Sarkhan, where he immediately sets out to find “what makes this burg tick”. He notices fortune-tellers and astrologers and goes “Aha!” because this colonel just happens to have a degree from the Chungking School of Occult Science and can read palms and cast horoscopes. But in demonstrating this skill, Colonel Hillandale offends a diplomat. Eventually, he has to leave Sarkhan. So the State Department screws up again.

The State Department was, in fact, angered by The Ugly American. The book was a hot best-seller and had been sent to a number of people by fans like then-Senator John Kennedy, who also took out a full-page ad in the NY Times promoting the book. President Eisenhower had been struck by it, too, though he later changed his mind, referring to the book as “sickening” and smoothing ruffled feathers in every embassy that he could. The International Cooperation Administration, State’s non-military foreign assistance branch (later to become the Agency for International Development), published a response: “No basis in fact could be found for the disparaging fictions” in The Ugly American. Just about every anecdote in the book was a lie, according to the ICA. There were negative reviews, too, and accusations that book sales had been pumped. Burdick and Lederer responded angrily to them.

A couple examples of BS in the book: The US hears about famine victims and sends over tons of rice. The sneaky Russians relabel the rice sacks as “Gift of the Soviet Union” and, once again trump American diplomacy. In point of fact, imported rice was not welcome in SE Asia at that time. The US dumps its surplus agricultural output on foreign markets. Rice, in particular, had been dumped in the Philippines and other countries since the late 1940s. This cheap rice completely messed up markets and the economies of several nations, such as Burma, which were dependent on rice production and very unhappy with the US about this. The surplus rice was written off under programs like Kennedy’s Food for Peace, so it was a political twofer, making the farmers happy while increasing foreign aid. (This practice has continued for many years.) When asked about this, Lederer and Burdick later said that the original story had been about tractors in Pakistan, which they fictionalized as rice in SE Asia, but according to the ICA, either way, it never happened.

Then there’s this: Father Finian is out in the boonies talking to local folk. They agree that the most important thing is freedom to worship as they choose. On that basis they will battle the atheist Communists who force everyone to believe the same thing. This is pretty grating to read, since in the 1950s, Vietnam was a country with a Catholic elite and the Buddhist majority faced many discriminatory laws and practices. In 1963, the situation blew apart after some particularly stupid handling of matters by authoritarian Catholic Diem. People were shot for carrying Buddhist banners. Monks burned themselves in the streets. Eventually soldiers assaulted some of the Buddhist temples and hundreds were killed… Of course, these events did convince the US to overthrow Diem, so maybe Father Finian had it correct: your country will have religious freedom or else America will murder your leader in a coup d’etat. Maybe.

[photo/copyright: John Newman]

Father Finian at least asked the locals what was appealing about Communism, no one else in the book does. Nowhere in The Ugly American is there a mention of the anti-colonial revolutions going on in the region. Ho Chi Minh had been fighting the French, the Vichy French, the Japanese, and the French again, since the 1930s. The Communists promised an independent Vietnam; the Americans were supporting the French. Then, after the creation of South Vietnam, the Americans supported Diem. The Vietnamese can do the math: the US is the new imperial ruler wannabe. The real question for Lansdale:

…was no longer the pure question of what was good for the local people, but what was good for the United States of America and perhaps acceptable locally. The Asians could have nationalism, but nationalism on our terms. …without revolution.

David Halberstam, The Best and the Brightest, p.156

Lansdale, Lederer, Burdick. So, one day, an advertising man, a publicist, and a political scientist walk into a bar and the punch line is “Vietnam War”. No, not exactly. What these three did was invent something to fight for. But that was only the ad campaign; the main show was run by the military. Lansdale had been assigned to Saigon as part of the US Military Mission. He answered to ambassadors and mission chiefs that were mostly military men. One Presidential administration after another decided that they could not bear the political cost of “losing” Vietnam to a Communist government. These Presidents, each of them — Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson — understood that a Southeast Asian war might be unwinnable. Still, they grasped at any possibility of victory — “victory” defined as a non-Communist IndoChina. This grasping became more difficult and possibilities more remote. Options narrowed down.

In the Philippines, Lansdale had seen that small units operating in the countryside were more effective than large scale operations. He had theories about fighting guerrilla forces and began teaching them at the Pentagon. He drew some attention as a counter-insurgency guru. This was still an unusual topic for US armed forces to study, but it was becoming more common. Still, the generals in Vietnam were veterans of World War II and Korea; they were used to traditional battlefields and they would fight Vietnam in the manner that had been successful in those wars.

Philippine horror film Aswang, 1992. [More here]

Possibly Lansdale would have had more impact but for two things: First, Lansdale liked to tell entertaining stories about how he fooled the enemy. For example, there was the aswang story. Aswangs are Philippine jungle monsters; Lansdale compared them to vampires. So, he said, his unit captured an insurgent, punched holes in his neck, and hung him up to bleed out. Then, when the locals found the body, they would think there was an aswang around and somehow this would lead to not being a Communist. Lansdale told the story often, and he told of other gags, too. These often involved playing on some kind of superstition or religious fear that, to me, seems more like condescension toward the natives, rather than the individual human diplomacy Lansdale was also peddling. Examples: Lansdale got astrologers to cast phony horoscopes of doom for Vietnamese not on side with the US. For Cuba, Lansdale proposed that a submarine launch star shells on All Souls’ Day “to gain extra impact from Cuban superstitions” in convincing Cubans that God was opposed to the Castro regime. [Boot, pp.385 – 386]. “Elimination by illumination”, snickered Lansdale’s opponents who saw him as some kind of dirty trickster-warrior. He was becoming a joke, yet he just couldn’t quit telling outlandish stories about smartass schemes to win the Cold War. For a covert operative, Lansdale really enjoyed an audience.

The second issue with Lansdale was that he never fit in anywhere. At the close of World War II, he transferred from the Army to the brand new Air Force, because he thought it might be more receptive to fresh thinking. The Air Force was concerned with problems of nuclear war and couldn’t give a rat’s hindquarters about counter-insurgency. So Lansdale worked with OSS and its successor, the CIA, sometimes as a member of a military mission, sometimes as an advisor in the Pentagon reporting to the White House. He had no real connections within the armed forces hierarchy. Lansdale was able to get close to Diem and Magsaysay, but his personal charm was a matter of taste. He made enemies in the State Department through personality clashes as often than he made friends. Some of those who served under him — like Daniel Ellsberg — thought him a genius. Others, not so much.

Lansdale, left, with Daniel Ellsberg, in Saigon, 1965 [AP photo]

There was a basic contradiction in Lansdale’s thinking; he believed that Americanism, freedom and democracy, were so attractive that everyone in the world wanted to be American. But Lansdale’s actions betrayed those beliefs; he used anti-democratic tactics, such as bribery, deceit, and rigging elections. And he was not averse to a bit of casual murder to provide an aswang victim, if needed. Sterling Seagrave accused him of running assassins from the Philippines in Vietnam.

Yet Lansdale believed in America. He believed in Democracy. Communism was Evil by definition, so Democracy was Good. Lansdale, like Lederer, Burdick, and Tom Dooley, was fighting a Holy War and what he did was sanctified by faith. Sometimes the contradiction between goals and methods was difficult to overcome. Lansdale was working on a free election in Vietnam in 1966. Richard Nixon was passing through. Lansdale told him that he was working on having a free election, an honest election. Nixon literally gave him a nudge and a wink, “Oh, sure, honest… so long as you win.” [Boot, p. 498] Lansdale was mortified. But this was reality catching up with him. He was known to fix elections. The CIA had bought Magsaysay’s election, winning Lansdale the nickname of “Landslide”, and he had overseen Diem’s 98% referendum. Having an honest Vietnam election was more than a decade late. Still, Lansdale claimed to follow democratic American ideals. Henry Kissinger said he was “too much of a boy scout”.

General Trinh Minh The, leader of Cao Dai military forces. [Wikipedia]

In 1955, Hollywood decided to make a movie out of Graham Greene’s novel The Quiet American. The story: a young American CIA operative shows up in Saigon and, trying to do good, buddies up to the Cao Dai sect army, gives explosives to their leader General The, and gets a lot of people killed. “God save us always… from the innocent and the good.” So thinks a world-weary journalist — one of Greene’s burnt-out cases — who then sets the American up to be killed by Communists.

Lederer and Burdick deliberately gave their own book a similar title to Greene’s. They discussed various adjectives before going with “ugly”. Of course, their book featured a good CIA operative, Hillandale/Lansdale, not some fool. Even so, many thought Lansdale was the model for Greene’s character. Both Lansdale and Greene denied it. But Lansdale’s combination of wide-eyed belief in America and ruthless tactics to score a win for democracy are much like those of Greene’s American.

There is a story about Lansdale in a Saigon bar being jeered by Greene and a table of French soldiers. Lansdale thought it was because they believed he was friendly with General The, who was hated by the French. The French Army swore to kill The because they thought he assassinated one of their officers. Greene had been covering French troops and was sympathetic to them and to France. Lansdale was not in Vietnam when The was planting bombs, which The freely admitted he had done, taking credit in a radio broadcast, but Greene blamed the Americans for giving him the explosives. (Others say the explosives were stolen French ordnance). Lansdale bribed The not to cause problems for Diem. In 1955, The was shot and killed by an unidentified sniper. Lansdale said he was, “A good man. He was moderate, he was a pretty good general, he was on our side, and he cost twenty-five thousand dollars.”

Lansdale didn’t like The Quiet American. [Boot, p.290 ff.] He thought Graham Greene didn’t know anything about plastic explosives and also, the book was detrimental to the American cause. Lansdale contacted director Joseph Mankiewicz, who was a patriotic American. They met in Saigon in January, 1956, and the two of them worked up a new treatment: the doomed American (played by Audie Murphy) may or may not be an agent or something, but the deadly explosion was done by the Commies. Lansdale got Diem to allow the crew to film on location, including within the Cao Dai temple. The movie did very well. [Greene describes some of the facts behind the book. He hated the movie.]

In 1957, Lansdale returned to the US and, after suffering bureaucratic limbo for a while, worked at the Office of Special Operations — which could mean whatever you wanted it to mean — at the Pentagon. At different times the OSO advised or briefed senior military officers, State, and the Office of the President. When The Ugly American came out, Colonel Hillandale was easily recognizable as Lansdale. Some folks began calling him the Ugly American, which didn’t make the State Department love him any more.

Meanwhile, Tom Dooley was in the US on leave from the Navy to promote his book. When his leave ended and he reported back for duty, he was asked to resign his commission. Quietly. So the Navy wouldn’t have to discharge him for being gay. Even though Dooley was closeted, he frequented gay bars and sometimes picked up men for sex. The Navy had been investigating and had 700 pages of documentation. Dishonorable Discharge was coming… unless Dooley resigned and accepted a Less Than Honorable, which no one has to know, and then, there’ll be no nasty publicity, Well, that would be good for everyone, Wouldn’t it, Son? Dooley, who did not want his mother to learn that he was gay, accepted the terms. He resigned, said it was because he wanted to concentrate on something else. He made speeches to various anti-Communist groups, such as the American Friends of Vietnam, where spokesmen for the International Rescue Committee met him and offered him work.

Tom Dooley Statue at Notre Dame. [Subway Alumni]

Edward Lansdale heard of Dooley’s problem and had recommended him to the International Rescue Committee. Leo Cherne was President of the IRC and Angier Biddle-Duke was chairman. Cherne and Biddle-Duke were also connected to The American Friends of Vietnam, a group used by Lansdale to coordinate information and propaganda on the area — such as, for instance, the Mankiewicz Quiet American film. They, and Lansdale, knew about the Navy’s report and were concerned that Dooley was erratic and might cause a scandal. So the IRC organized a great dinner in his honor. At that dinner the Laotian Ambassador expressed his admiration for Dooley and begged him to set up a clinic in Laos, and everyone at the dinner thought that a grand idea. So Tom Dooley was shipped off to Laos.

Dooley’s clinic was in Vientiane, and he established hospitals further upcountry, close to China. Of course, it was all a sham run by the CIA. There were arms hidden in the hospitals, US Special Forces used the clinic as cover, and Dooley reported constantly to intelligence officers. During this period, Dooley published two more books. He had a notion of a foundation that would operate a chain of clinics in Asia and founded a group, MEDICO. Then Dooley developed cancer that he knew was malignant. He made a television documentary about his fine treatment by Navy doctors. On Dooley’s deathbed, in January, 1961, a Navy spokesman assured him that his discharge would be changed to Honorable, instead of Less Than Honorable. Dooley was 34 when he died. There were calls to have him canonized. President Kennedy awarded him a Medal of Freedom.

In 1960, CIA Chief Alan Dulles tabled a plan called Operation Zapata to invade Cuba and overthrow Castro. Lansdale was opposed to it, he said later. Kennedy adopted the plan and the Bay of Pigs debacle was the result. Lansdale’s new assignment was to get back at Castro somehow: Operation Mongoose. Lansdale’s defenders claim he had nothing to do with some of the more outlandish schemes — the exploding seashell, the poisoned cigar, the beard remover — but he did come up with the plan to launch star shells on All Souls’ Day to frighten Cubans, and he signed off on a memo that, if a space capsule with astronaut inside crash for whatever reason, evidence could be manufactured to show it was Cuban sabotage. But there were other things, scary beyond any joke, like hiring Mafia hitmen to assassinate Cubans. And there was Operation Northwoods, a plan to carry out crimes in the United States that would be blamed on Cuban terrorists. These crimes might include the sinking of ships, crashing of planes, or the murder of one or more individuals.

Meantime, things were coming apart in Vietnam. Many American diplomats and advisors disliked Diem. There was a coup attempt in 1960. Kennedy put together a fact-finding tour under General Maxwell Taylor and Walt Rostow to visit the country in 1961. Lansdale met with Diem. At issue was whether or not the US would send in more military force. Diem was worried that this meant a return to colonialism. Taylor recommended that the US send in 6-8000 or so troops in the guise of relief workers. Kennedy vetoed that notion but he did increase the number of military advisors and, on Lansdale’s advice, gave them permission to engage in combat. [Boot, p.373]

Rostow later claimed that, after the Taylor-Rostow mission, Lansdale should have been sent to Vietnam to shepherd Diem. This, he said, was the last opportunity to keep Diem’s government from going down the wrong path. Lansdale refused to return. He said that he wouldn’t be used to twist a friend’s arm into accepting American plans. [Boot, 374-75] By the end of 1963 there were 16000 US advisors in Vietnam, up from less than 700 in 1961.

Kukrit Pramoj, as the Sarkhan Prime Minister, and Marlon Brando as Ambassador MacWhite in The Ugly American, 1961. Pramoj later did become Prime Minister of Thailand where the movie was filmed. [Bob James]

The Ugly American was turned into a movie, released in early 1963, with Marlon Brando as a Good (I guess) Ambassador to Sarkhan who screws up and resigns as paratroopers land in rice paddies and the Seventh Fleet bombards the country. We see this on TV as an uninterested American turns off the set. The message is unclear except that: People should pay more attention to these things. The movie has little to do with the book but perhaps William Lederer helped with the story. William Lederer had become bitter about America and wrote A Nation of Sheep, which was kind of an Ugly American spin-off, but the villains are the ignorant American people, who are really dragging down America.

In 1962, the Buddhist Crisis began. Kennedy sent Henry Cabot Lodge back to Saigon as Ambassador. Lodge disliked Diem and wanted a coup. Maxwell Taylor was opposed, as were others, but it was decided to let the coup go forward. Lansdale was kept out of the loop as his old buddies engineered a plot to overthrow and murder his friend. In October President Diem and his brother were kidnapped and killed. General Khanh became the new President, but not for long. There was another coup. And another. The Vietnamese generals plotted against each other for several years until the US completely took over the War. A few weeks after the 1963 coup, Lansdale, now a general, retired from the Air Force.

In 1962, Eugene Burdick was worked up about the possibility of nuclear war, so he brought out Fail-Safe, another important bad book to talk about another time. He liked the movie version of The Ugly American and got together with Lederer to publish Sarkhan in 1965 (re-issued as The Deceptive American in 1977.). It’s a harsher book: In The Ugly American an elderly Chinese couple is beaten until they confess to being Communists; in Sarkhan a Commie is thrown out of a helicopter. But no one wanted to read this book. Every American now knew where Vietnam was, whether they wanted to or not. Burdick dodged the first big Teach-In at Berkeley in May 1965, where he was supposed to speak. He died a few months later from a heart attack.

Lansdale went back to Vietnam as part of another mission to try and make things work. He later wondered, “Why did I go to Viet Nam in 1965 to help the murderers of my friend..? I think that sentiment overcame judgement…” [Boot, p.456] No one wanted to hear what he had to say and his salvage mission was ignored. Michael Herr: “[his] time was over. The war passed into the hard hands of firepower freaks out to eat the country whole.” It was too late for all that politics and psywar stuff, it was time to show the Commies who’s Boss!

Lansdale made one last visit to Vietnam, in 1968. He spoke to General Creighton Abrams, who had replaced Westmoreland, and who was fighting “a better war”. But Lansdale knew it was over. He went home to write his memoirs.

Max Boot titles his biography of Lansdale, The Road Not Taken. The idea is, that if Lansdale’s ideas were implemented, Vietnam could have been won. Even as late as 1965, it might somehow have been possible to stave off a full-out war and still win. Seems to me that the real Road Not Taken was in 1954, when the US decided not to go along with the Geneva Accords. But maybe it was before that, at Yalta, when Roosevelt agreed to help France restore its empire. Or suppose, just suppose, that Edward Lansdale never met Ngo Dinh Diem, or that he failed to make friends with him, they hated each other on sight and, so, South Vietnam never came into existence.

All the US policy-makers of the Vietnam era excused or denied their part in creating the debacle. In 1968 William Lederer published Our Own Worst Enemy, which basically blamed the Vietnam disaster on Diem, (five years dead) and incompetent handling of US Aid similar to that in The Ugly American. Toward the end of his life, Lederer seemed to want to diminish the importance of The Ugly American and Tom Dooley in promoting the Vietnam War. He denied seeing the atrocity stories in Deliver Us From Evil, though the evidence is that he did, and remarked that “It was [Dooley’s] mammoth ego, his need for recognition, that helped get us into that mess over there.”

The Ugly American went out of print in 1980, but was revived and reprinted in 1991. Now it is on school reading lists and part of school curriculums. You can find sample lesson plans on-line or buy term papers and book reports. Why on earth? I can understand using it in a history class — Daniel Immerwahr says his students find it fascinating, but he is teaching at a university. The lesson plans are for grades 7-12. Is it possible that this book is being used to promote a certain kind of myth to young Americans, a myth about Americans and Goodness and the Evil government in Washington, DC, that won’t let America shine? Lederer might deny that his book encouraged the war in Vietnam, but I bet he would be proud that his propaganda is still winning hearts and minds.

NOTES:

Max Boot, The Road Not Taken. Bio of Lansdale that is the best so far.

Edward Lansdale, In the Midst of Wars. Lansdale’s memoirs, published in 1972, goes up to about 1956 and his leaving Vietnam.

David Halberstam, The Best and the Brightest. The pages on Lansdale are excellent and I think Halberstam’s analysis of Lansdale is accurate.

Edward Palm, An American Pie. Palm talks of Lansdale, Lederer, and Dooley as the Trinity, riffing on Don McLean’s “American Pie”. Palm interviewed Lederer in the ’80s about his work.

Another Lederer interview late in his life is part of James T. Fisher’s Dr. America: The Lives of Thomas A. Dooley

William Lederer and Eugene Burdick, The Ugly American. Still ugly, after all these years.

Diana Shaw, “The Temptation of Tom Dooley”, Los Angeles Times, Dec.15, 1991. This is a good summation of Dooley’s life after the Navy decided to use him as a propaganda tool. There are many books and articles about Dooley that have a variety of viewpoints on him.

Daniel Immerwahr, “The Ugly American: Peeling the Onion of an Iconic Cold War Text”, Journal of American-East Asian Relations, 26, 2019. Immerwahr ties Ugly American thinking to that of Community Development.

Graham Greene, The Quiet American. A very good book. Whether Greene’s American is based on Lansdale or not, he could have been.

The movies: Mankiewicz’s Quiet American (1958) pops up on TCM from time to time. The Philip Noyce version (2002), with Michael Caine and Brendan Fraser is much closer to the book.

John Kasper, The Intruder: Part 2, Kasper Goes to Tennessee

[See here for Part 1: Ezra Pound’s Kindergarten]

Why Tennessee? Possibly because of the widely-publicized integration of several schools there in 1955. The atomic city of Oak Ridge integrated under federal rules and there were no problems. Some small communities also moved to integrate early. These were rural districts that had a split schedule to allow students to work on their family farms during harvest. Generally, these districts would save money by integrating, rather than having to pay for separate black/white schooling. It is worth noting that Governor Frank Clement vetoed bills meant to stop de-segregation, and that Senators Kefauver and Gore both had refused to sign the Southern Manifesto.

Arkansas also integrated some rural districts in 1955. Everything went smoothly except in Hoxie, which was the subject of a Life Magazine photo essay. A local group, White America, Inc, formed to oppose integration. The courts upheld the school district in 1956, but the threat of violence remained. Governor Orval Faubus refused to help the local district — a critical point of difference between Arkansas and Tennessee. Many pupils, white and black, stayed out of school. The district won in court, but the school lost.

So school desegregation could be interrupted, perhaps stopped, with the proper tactics.

A model for Kasper’s Southern incursion was Bryant Bowles, founder of a National Association for the Advancement of White People. There was at least one other such organization — the concept was too obvious not to be used — but probably the groups did not know of one another in 1954. Bowles was a small-time contractor from Florida who had various petty crimes on his sheet. Some have accused him of starting the NAAWP as just another scam, but Bowles was also a true believer in segregation.

School segregation was written into the Delaware State Constitution but people weren’t too excited about it. One of the cases rolled into Brown vs. Board was that of a Delaware school that had integrated after a state order. The State Supreme Court had upheld the order, and of course, so did the Federal Supreme Court in the Brown decision. So Delaware started to desegregate in 1954, a year before the Supreme Court’s implementation order. This went fairly smoothly except in Milford, a town of five thousand. People were upset there for various reasons, but everyone thought things would settle down. Still, the Lakeview Avenue High School, where eleven black children were attending, had to cancel a dance for fear of race-mixing.

Comes now Bryant Bowles who had amassed six thousand dollars to fund his battle against race-mixing. He appears to have been aided by Conde McGinley, publisher of Common Sense, which printed articles by people like Eustace Mullins. Bowles hired airplanes with loudspeakers to fly over Milford announcing a public meeting at a nearby airfield. Three thousand people, including many from Virginia and Maryland, showed up.

Bowles made an impassioned speech defending segregation. He urged parents to boycott integrated schools, keep their children home and not to worry about truancy laws, the NAAWP would provide lawyers. He held his three-year-old daughter up to the crowd and said:

Do you think this little girl will go to school with Negroes? Not while there is breath in my body and gunpowder burns!

from Clive Webb, Rabble Rousers, p.19
Bryant Bowles and daughter, September, 1954 in Milford. Photo: Edward Clark, Life Magazine

The next day, less than a third of the Lakeview Avenue School students showed up. One of the eleven black students dropped out and registered at the William Henry School in Dover, nineteen miles away but the only black high school in Delaware. The boycott spread to other towns in the area that had “sympathy strikes”, while Bowles travelled the state, stirring things up. His speeches always contained references to violence, though Bowles was careful in his wording. Eventually all black students were removed from Lakeview Avenue School. This area of Delaware did not desegregate until after 1959.

So, Bowles won in Milford, but when he attempted similar tactics in Baltimore, he was shut down right away by local authorities. As he was also in Washington, D.C. The mayor of Philadelphia warned Bowles he would be arrested if he entered the city. Segregationists in other places froze Bowles out of the actions they were taking — he smelled like violence waiting to happen and people didn’t want him in their town. He was, after all, an outsider — an accusation Bowles had constantly to answer. And his past was catching up to him: reporters uncovered Bowles’ convictions for forgery, fraud, and stiffing his employees. He moved to Milford but there was nothing for him to do there because Lakeview School was now segregated. Florida authorities were after him for forgery and there were other crimes to answer for and the IRS was asking about taxes, so Bowles decamped to Texas. In 1957, he picketed the Harry Belafonte movie, Island in the Sun. A year later, he went to prison for murder.

But Bryant Bowles won — for a little while — and he created a model scenario that John Kasper was to imitate. Bowles created it, or perhaps somebody else did. Bowles’ lawyer was none other than Robert Furniss, sometime attorney for Ezra Pound and Cadmus Books, who had sent John Kasper to Alabama to campaign for Admiral Crommelin. [see Part 1]

Kasper in Clinton

Clinton, Tennessee, had a population of around four thousand in 1956. The high school also served the rural area around Clinton. The principal, D. J. Brittain, had begun preparing the school for integration during the previous Spring term. Papers on integration, the Constitution, and US history were assigned and discussed. The Mayor, the town Board, and the school board had worked out a plan. On August 20, eight hundred twenty students, including twelve African-Americans, were peacefully registered at the school. Classes were to begin a week later.

On August 25, Kasper burned a cross in Charlottesville, then drove all night in his battered white convertible to Clinton. There he went house-to-house, handing out leaflets. That evening, Kasper addressed a crowd of about fifty people. He said that the Supreme Court decision was not “the will of the people”, that parents should keep their children out of school, and that principal Brittain should be fired. Kasper slept in his car that night and the next day, Sunday the 26th, was arrested for vagrancy and inciting to riot.

Kasper posing in Clinton [Photo: Robert Kelley, Life Magazine Sept 10, 1956]

On Monday, Kasper was in jail when the high school opened. Some people did show up with signs to demonstrate, but everything went smoothly in the school.

On Tuesday, Kasper’s charges were dropped for lack of evidence. Immediately on his release, Kasper went to Clinton High and confronted Brittain, demanding that he re-segregate or resign. Brittain refused.

By the time school let out, a crowd had formed that booed the black students as they left for home. That night, Kasper addressed several hundred students and adults at the courthouse. Nora Devereaux, Seaboard White Citizens’ Council member and manager of Cadmus Books, excitedly wrote to Ezra Pound that five thousand people showed up to hear Kasper, that Asa Carter was on his way up from Alabama after the legislature there passed some anti-integration measures, and that Admiral Crommelin had offered to make bond if Kasper was arrested again. It was true that Carter was coming to Clinton.

On Wednesday, the 29th, a crowd of five hundred had formed and some black students were roughed up. An hour before school closing time, the sheriff of Anderson County removed all twelve black students for their own safety. That night, the sheriff attended a meeting held by black families and offered to personally drive students to school each day. The offer was declined. At any rate, he had not been re-elected and his term would end that weekend.

Meanwhile, Brittain petitioned a federal judge for an injunction against those hindering integration. That night, Kasper was haranguing a crowd of around a thousand people, when US Marshals served him with a restraining order that demanded his appearance in a Knoxville courthouse. Kasper told the crowd that the order was meaningless, just like that of the Supreme Court. The crowd yelled for the marshals to be killed and burned a black man in effigy.

The next day, black students were brought into the high school via a side door. A mob of around two hundred was circulating in the area, and when school let out, began screaming and throwing rocks at the black students walking home.

Kasper busted! Again. [Photo: Robert W. Kelley The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock]

Kasper appeared in court in Knoxville. He was immediately charged with violating the injunction by continuing to speak the night before and thrown in jail, awaiting a hearing in a week. Then a Federal judge found him in violation of a State court order and sentenced him to a year in prison. Kasper could not make the $10000 bond and stayed in jail during the events of the next few days.

The Clinton situation hit the news and people began converging on the community. Among them was Kasper’s old comrade-in-arms from Admiral Crommelin’s Senatorial campaign, Asa Carter. Carter whipped up the crowd, but did so with words that carefully skirted the terms of the injunction.

US Highway 25 was Clinton’s main street as well as the link to other places. The crowd began assaulting cars that contained blacks, some heading from other states, just driving through. Another group surrounded the mayor’s house, threating to dynamite it. Eventually, early Saturday morning, the crowds dispersed. A Clinton resident:

If you can imagine the courthouse, it was so thick with people that cars couldn’t move. Now, this was before any interstate, so the main route going south was coming through Clinton, right through Main Street. And, cars were being stopped, cars were being jostled. The people coming through were terrified. A gang of ruffians had taken over.

. . .

It was on a Friday night. Can you imagine driving through a little-bitty, sleepy town, and, all of a sudden, being surrounded by people stopping your car and shaking your car and threatening to turn it over? And, pulling the people out of it? Well, that was what was going on. That’s why they needed the extra policemen.

John G. Moore, Jim Crow History
Clinton, 1956 [Photo: Robert W. Kelley The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock]

Because of the recent election, the Anderson County sheriff’s office changed hands at midnight and was unable to mobilize what few officers it had. Clinton had a six-man police force. The Chief was in hospital, so only five were available. They made no arrests because they lacked the personnel even to take prisoners to jail. The acting police chief, Joe Wilson, called together those he could find willing to bolster his force. Forty-seven men, most of them veterans armed with their own weapons or with billy clubs, were sworn in. A few of the ex-sheriff’s force signed on. Saturday night, this small force was called to face a mob of more than two thousand.

Auxiliary police in Clinton [Photo: Robert Kelley, Life Magazine, Sept.17,1956]

One volunteer auxiliary recalled:

We didn’t want a lot of people from outside the town, even outside the State. We had cars with every tag in the South you can imagine there. We were prepared for integration, and we didn’t think these people should come in and stop what we had decided. This [integration] was going to happen. It woulda been completely smooth, completely smooth, if we had not had the outside interference. But, it was the most terrifying experience of my life. Never seen such hatred…. They would have kicked us, killed us, anything. It wouldn’t have mattered to them.

John G. Moore, Jim Crow History

Saturday the first, Mayor Buford Lewallen and the Clinton Board of Aldermen declared a state of emergency and begged Governor Frank Clement for help. A mob began forming that would build to over 2000. The auxiliary police force kept people moving but by 8 PM, the crowd began to storm the courthouse. The police used tear gas and repelled the attack. The mob formed for another assault and then the cavalry arrived in the form of a hundred State troopers dispatched by Clement. The State Police managed to secure the peace. The next day, six hundred Tennessee National Guardsmen with M-41 tanks arrived in Clinton. This was the first time that the National Guard was activated over school de-segregation in the South.

Although mob action was discouraged, there were still problems. On Sunday, a crowd was dispersed by Guardsmen wielding bayonets. During the week, things were quiet enough so that some of the troops were removed. Others had to be dispatched to Oliver Springs, twenty miles away, to put down a riot there. And more than half the Clinton students failed to attend school.

National Guard in Clinton. Photo: Robert W. Kelley The LIFE Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Across the border, in Sturgis, Kentucky, a mob halted the enrollment of a black child. Governor “Happy” Chandler, with the Clinton example before him, immediately sent the Guard into Sturgis. Soldiers escorted the child and her family to school to be registered. Then Sturgis and nearby Clay County segregationists adopted boycotts as a tactic. White parents kept their children out of school.

Kasper was in and out of jail, but between court appearances, he stirred up all the trouble he could. That was his stated purpose:

The people of Clinton needed a leader. I’m a rabble-rouser, a
trouble-maker. I’m not through up there. We want trouble. We want it now.
We need lots of rabble-rousers. Some of us may die and I may die too. It may
mean going back to jail, but I’m going back to fight. We went as far as we could
have gone legally. Now is the time to fight, even if it involves bloodshed.

from a speech in Birmingham, September 13, 1956, quoted in Marsh, Saving the Republic, p.171.

Kasper reminded his listeners that outsiders sneered at them, mocked them as incestuous hillbillies. One national story has this about them:

Poverty, isolation, inbreeding, ignorance, the cumulative effects of their traditional cornpone and fatback diet—all are reflected in their gaunt faces, their toothless gums, their gnarled and stunted bodies.

James Rorty, “Hate-Monger with Literary Trimmings: From Avant-Garde Poetry to Rear-Guard Politics”, Commentary, Dec.1956

Dehumanizing people is a racist mechanism, and doesn’t look any nicer when it is used to stigmatize poverty. (Do I need to point that out?) People in Clinton were aware of disdainful outside opinion and became defensive about living where they did. Kasper tried to mobilize these feelings but failed. He failed because he himself was an outsider, an Ivy-League educated Yankee with an agenda.

Kasper made incendiary speeches in Birmingham, Knoxville, and Battle, Alabama where he shared the stage with Asa Carter and one of the men who had attacked Nat King Cole. By late October, he was back in Washington, DC. He sent Pound birthday greetings (October 30):

Illustrious Prince:
Glorious, deathless of many names; Grampaw aye seeing all things, seer of
the inborn qualities of nature, of laws piloting all things.
Yr mighty Ldshp, please accept this bookshop on this 70th birthday and
please may the gods bless Grampaw always.
Also, Magnificent Capitan, our Treasured Lord, we ask the gods to help guide
us ever to you, O great light, brave Genral.
ARRIBA GRAMPAW, GOD BLESS GRAMPAW.

letter from JK to Pound, Marsh, Saving the Republic, p.173. Pound actually turned 71 in 1956.

The first dynamite bombing in Clinton took place September 26. It was meant to intimidate blacks from going to school. It was not the only method of intimidation used by the segregationists. Cars full of hooded Klansmen drove in cavalcade through black neighborhoods. Slowly. There were threats. Windows were smashed. Lights were shot out. Nasty phone calls. Petty vandalism. Businesses run by anti-segregationists were boycotted. The Mayor’s son was attacked. There were more bombings. Principal Brittain and his wife began going to hotels in other towns where they could get a night’s sleep. The Brittains were unable to have children and now Principal Brittain wondered, if he did have children, how could he protect them?

Meanwhile, the Clinton 12 continued to attend school and do their work as they were yelled at and spat on. Their leader was Bobby Cain, a Senior who would rather have traveled the seventeen miles to Knoxville each day and graduate with his friends. Every day now, he walked through crowds of jeering whites. At night, when he got home, he would sit and tremble. “I had to rush home, eat really fast and do my homework before it got dark. . .The lights were out in the neighborhood from being shot out or turned off and our lights were out too.” He wanted to quit, but his mother asked, “Where are your brothers and sisters going to school if you don’t stick?” So he stuck. But he told his parents, if I go, I won’t be the same Bobby Cain. He thought, if someone shoved him, he’d shove back. He says now, “I went to war.” One day a picketing woman called him a nigger and he turned away from her. She hit him across the back with a stick. Other members of the crowd moved in to attack Bobby and he pulled out a pocketknife. He was arrested right away. But that was the experience that changed him:

“After that day,” he says, “I found a little courage of my own. I won’t say I wasn’t afraid after that. But it came to me for the first time that I had a right to go to school. I realized that it was those other people who were breaking the law, not me. That night I determined to stick it out for Bobby Cain, and not for anybody else.”

George McMillan, “The Ordeal of Bobby Cain”, originally appeared in Collier’s, November 25, 1956
Bobby Cain leads black students through the gauntlet. [Photo: Thomas J. O’Halloran, Library of Congress]

Streetlights or no, the black community had its own warning system, should a mob swarm up the hill, and the community was armed.

Kasper organized a teen-age auxiliary to the Seaboard White Citizens’ Council, The Tennessee Youth Council. They were instructed to harass the black students and paid to beat them up. Things were not as bad in school as the walk there and back where attacks occurred. White citizens began to walk groups of black students to the school to protect them.

Kasper had been indicted on charges of sedition — essentially, for inciting the riot of August 31 — in September, a few days before the first bombing. In mid-November, he was found Not Guilty, since he had been in jail the night of the 31st and, so, it was reasoned, could not have been responsible. Pound wrote:

Kasper acquitted of sedition/public cheers. . .None of the kikecution witnesses stood up under Xexam. At least got a little publicity for the NAACP being run by kikes not by coons.

letter to Olivia Agresti, Anglo-Italian facist sympathizer, November 1956.

Through the last week of November and into early December, Kasper led crowds who yelled and catcalled at the black students as they went to school. Some black families had enough and decided to boycott the school. But the court order sending these students to Clinton High meant that they could not enroll somewhere else. Boycotts meant losing the opportunity for an education.

Reverend Paul Turner, a Baptist minister, talked to black families about ending the boycott. There seemed no options if their children were to be educated. On December 4, Turner and other white men escorted some black students to Clinton High. After seeing the students safely inside, they split up. Turner was walking to his church when he was seized by a crowd who began to beat him. But Turner fought back, charging into the mob, until he was thrown against a parked car. “His head was being bounced against the fender of the car,” said a witness. A white woman tried to help him and had her face clawed by a woman who was with the segregationists. The police finally intervened and Turner was taken to hospital. That Sunday, face battered, he was back in the pulpit, “There is no color line at the cross of Jesus,” he preached.

December 4, 1956. Turner is in the black overcoat in back. [Photo by Don Cravens/The LIFE Images Collection/Getty Images]

Arrests were made on December 4, and a man charged with assault. The SWCC paid his bail right away, then gave complimentary KKK stickers to the arresting officers. Also on the 4th: some of the crowd that beat Turner tried to invade the high school; the wife of Principal Brittain was threatened when she tried to stop them; the High School was closed down and students sent home; the Klan drove a slow cavalcade through black neighborhoods; a black-owned business was dynamited. And John Kasper was arrested — not in Clinton, but hundreds of miles away on the highway headed to Washington where he was charged with speeding. Possibly he wanted not to be in Clinton when trouble happened. Some noticed that Kasper was always somewhere else when there was a bombing.

The beating of Rev. Turner seemed a kind of turning point in Clinton. Fourteen people were arrested for the crime, six were convicted. The same day Turner was attacked, there was a local election. Several segregationists ran for office; none were elected. Whether for or against segregation, most people were opposed to violence. A massive dynamite bomb exploded on February 15, 1957, damaging thirty homes and injuring many people. This was the eighth bombing since September. Now even segregationists wanted Kasper to stay away.

Kasper Becomes Famous

On January 30, 1957, the New York Herald Tribune began a four-part series on Kasper by Robert Bird that focused on his time in New York:

Kasper, a carpetbagger from Camden, N. J., and the cold-water-flats of bohemia lower Greenwich Village, is executive secretary of the Seaboard White Citizens Council of Washington. Former social intimate and confidante of Negro literary aspirants in Greenwich Village, he became overnight in Clinton, Tenn., September one of the most reckless and dangerous segregationist rabble-rousers in the South.

His racist propaganda is shot through with Ezra Pound’s ideology of race hatred.

Robert S. Bird, “Segregationist Kasper Is Ezra Pound Disciple”, NY Herald-Tribune, Jan 30, 1957

In the second article of the series (“How John Kasper Fights Integration”), Bird quotes “Virginians On Guard”, the flyer Kasper printed for his Charlottesville campaign. Bird spots the Poundian prose and notes that “whole phrases come from the Cantos”. Pound is referred to as “the insane poet and indicted traitor”. All this was very troubling to those working for Pound’s release.

Also troubled were Kasper’s black friends. The third installment of Bird’s series “Kasper: High-Brow To Rabble Rouser”, has the sub-head “Former Negro Friends in Village Can’t Understand His Turnabout”. Quoted in the article was one black man who had shared a Greek dictionary with Kasper: “I was very shocked when I found out what he was. I can’t understand it.” Readers of the black New Amsterdam News and the Pittsburgh Courier read interviews with people who had known Kasper, who were all astonished and hurt by his revealed racism.

In several accounts of the beliefs of Ezra Pound and his followers, there is an attitude that might be summed up as, “He wasn’t racist. Anti-semitic, yes, but not racist.” That’s nonsense. This kind of hatred is not a single-target matter. It’s easy enough for an anti-Semite to add blacks, browns, gays, Masons, or any other human division you can name to the Hate List. The haters need targets for their own anger and disturbed feelings. There is nothing peculiar about Pound, Kasper, and their ilk adding blacks to their other hatreds.

Kasper had actually tried to get people to join the NAACP in September of 1955, according to Bird and the FBI Reports. He said that, if he were black, he would join. But he refused to do so as a white man because the organization was run by Jews. Two months later he opened his Washington bookstore. There he met Robert Furniss, who would send him to Alabama campaigning for Admiral Crommelin. That is when, Kasper said later, he became a segregationist, in the months between September 1955 and the summer of 1956. Marsh tries to understand this as an intellectual shift brought on by reading Pound’s standbys, Louis Agassiz and Leo Frobenius. I think this is misguided. Kasper was trying to develop his personal destiny.

When Kasper apologized to Babette Deutsch (see Part 1) he said that he had once been drawn to Nietzsche, Machiavelli, and the “political” Ezra Pound; that he had once believed “That the weak have no justification for living except service in the weak. What is a little cruelty to the innocuous when it is expedient for the strong ones who have the right to alter the laws of life and death before their natural limit?” But, Kasper said, he had become aware through the “living example of another that the myth of Fascism is ‘a clear and present danger'”. Deutsch politely said this was “insincere”. I say it’s open mockery.

Kasper wants to be a political force, a rabble-rouser. He wants to be Important. “[Kasper] declared that, as for himself, he was prepared to go to any extreme to make his name known to history, and was convinced that sooner or later his chance would come.” He is a “strong one” above the laws meant for the weak. Kasper is shaping a personal variant of the lone hero fulfilling an intense destiny beyond good and evil. Kasper stated how he meant to achieve that goal in a letter to Ezra Pound: “We are aiming for a people’s grass-roots, actionist, nationalist, ATTACK organization. . .” [quoted Marsh, p.144, caps in original] (“Action” was a common term used by fascists. In his writings, Kasper usually couples it with “Attack”.)

That’s my take and it was also that of Charles Beaumont, whose novel, The Intruder, is based on Kasper in Clinton.

Charles Beaumont and Roger Corman Tackle “The Intruder”

Charles Beaumont wrote fiction, and film and TV scripts. Some classic Twilight Zone episodes are probably his best known work. The Intruder was published 1958, but the manuscript was likely finished sometime in 1957. The title was probably suggested by Arthur Gordon’s article “Intruder in the South”, Look Magazine, Feb. 19, 1957. And I think the black student character is based on Bobby Cain from the article quoted above. Other characters are based on locals, white and black. Beaumont himself played a part in the movie.

D.J.Brittain, principal Clinton High School. [from See It Now: Clinton and the Law]; Charles Beaumont, high school principal in The Intruder.

The Intruder tells of Adam Cramer who visits a Southern town and stirs up racial antagonism there. Why? Because Cramer has a vision of himself as “the man on horseback”, the dictator who will clean up after messy democracy collapses (from Georges Boulanger, the original “man on horseback”). He is the decisive figure who brings order from chaos. In one scene, Cramer compares himself to Hannibal. He writes his old academic mentor and asks if he wants a role in the New Order he is creating. This is very much like the letters between Kasper and Ezra Pound. Pound even joked about being Kasper’s Aristotle — Aristotle having tutored Alexander the Great. [letter to Bo Setterlind, cited in Marsh, p.157; also see here]

Cramer’s mentor is Max Blake, a college professor who runs a “nursery for dictators”. Blake’s strategy: seize “upon an area of unrest” and “gain the support of the sheep who would not yet consciously understand the concept of single authority”. The masses are kept in a state of flux while the would-be dictator consolidates his power. “Play upon their ignorance; underline and reflect their prejudices; make them afraid.”

Cramer is presented as a man who desperately needs some kind of self-validating success, so he follows Blake’s plan. Pound was not so simple as Max Blake, and perhaps his concepts of political organizing were not as sharply defined, but Kasper’s desire for Pound’s approval is very much like that of Cramer’s for Blake.

In the novel, Max Blake visits Cramer and tells him that the theories he espoused were just conversation fodder, not to be taken seriously, only a bit of contrarian irony ha-ha. He tries to persuade Cramer to quit rabble-rousing and leave town, but Cramer realizes that his old mentor is just a second-rate professor who is frightened about losing his job and cuts himself loose from Blake.

There are elements of the relationship that hint at Blake being gay. Sublimated homosexuality is one of two common psychiatric tropes used in the 1950s. The other is: “It’s all the Mother’s fault.” Beaumont uses that one, too. Neither seem particularly useful in understanding Kasper, but the man did wish to live up to some kind of ideal that would please his father who died in 1954. Kasper wrote about him several times to Pound.

Max Blake does not appear at all in the movie version of The Intruder and viewers may find themselves wondering what motivates Cramer. Otherwise, Beaumont’s script follows the novel. Cramer, played by William Shatner, arrives in a small town and begins stirring up mischief. He makes incendiary speeches and creates an organization. But Cramer has a problem: he is somewhat confused about sex. He comes on to teen-aged girls, but never consummates the relationship — the novel suggests this is something he may not be able to do, even though he beds older, less chaste women. I’m not certain what Beaumont is after here; some kind of virgin/whore thing, I suppose.

There is a curious note in Kasper’s FBI files that he was fired from Household Finance for “peculiar” remarks he made around a fifteen-year-old girl. But it should be noted that this part of the FBI files includes a bunch of reports jammed together that are often questionable. (For instance, Kasper’s bookstore was hardly a hangout for “liberals” as one report has it.) Investigators tried very hard to discover some warped sexual motivation for Kasper, but came up with nothing substantial.

Anyway, in The Intruder, a sexual encounter eventually brings Cramer down in an unconvincing dramatic climax. Before that, a church is bombed and the black minister killed. The white editor of the local paper is attacked and hospitalized. And Cramer threatens a high-school girl into accusing a black student of rape.

Beaumont attempts to portray some of the pain that the Kasper/Cramer incident caused black people in 1956, and the centuries-long suffering that preceded these events. He also has white characters, decent white characters who have failed to change things:

It’s us, the nice people, the intelligent, sophisticated people — we’re the ones to blame for this, not the ignorant hillbillies and the cheap neurotics! They have no power to act; we have, and always have had. But we didn’t act. The guilt is ours. . .

Charles Beaumont, The Intruder, Ch. 18
William Shatner as Adam Cramer in The Intruder.

Maybe Adam Cramer is just into villainy for its own sake. Shatner plays him as a mysterious presence, a man battling inner demons as he seeks to create chaos. He wears shades and sweats a lot. Kasper was image-conscious. He wore a white stetson hat that added to his 6’4″ height. Both Kasper and Shatner wore white linen suits.

Kasper in his big white hat addressing a crowd in Nashville, September, 1957. [Nashville Public Library, reprinted Southern Cultures, Winter, 2014]

Roger Corman wanted to make a film that said something important. He and his brother, Gene, managed to produce the movie, then couldn’t get it distributed. It was the only movie Corman ever made that lost money.

The Intruder was filmed in Missouri and the movie people felt that they were outsiders who were in danger. Shatner pranked the crew once, by pretending that a mob was moving on the motel where they were staying. The last shots were taken while the crew was literally on the run, chased out of town.

Graduation

May 17, 1957, Bobby Cain became the first black graduate from Clinton High School. He went to the gym to turn in his cap and gown, when the lights suddenly went out and he was attacked by a group of white kids. In the dark, they hit each other as much as they did Cain. The light snapped on and off, the fighting went on until some adults walked in. Bobby Cain went home and grabbed a shotgun. He meant, he said, to walk down the hill and shoot everyone who “didn’t look like him”. His family stopped him. In the Fall, Cain went on to Tennessee Tech.

October 5, 1958, Clinton High School was destroyed by a dynamite blast. The town of Oak Ridge opened up some buildings that were used as Clinton’s high school for the next two years. Students were bussed in and greeted by the Oak Ridge High School band who played the Clinton Alma Mater. No one was ever charged with the bombing.

After the destruction of the high school, Billy Graham used Clinton as a site for his crusade. Kasper attacked him, but did not win any support doing so. Graham said it was time for white people to take the lead in integration. Perhaps he changed some minds.

At the beginning of 1957, Kasper was famous and as important as he ever would be in his life; by the Fall of 1958, he was a spent force. Part 3 is about Kasper’s end — and that of Pound’s kindergarten, as well.

Statues of the Clinton 12 outside the Green-McAdoo Cultural Center, Clinton, Tennessee. The Twelve: Maurice Soles, Anna Theresser Caswell, Alfred Williams, Regina Turner Smith, William R. Latham, Gail Ann Epps Upton, Ronald Gordon “Poochie” Hayden, JoAnn Crozier Allen Boyce, Robert Thacker, Bobby Cain, Minnie Ann Dickey Jones, Alvah McSwain [Photo: Jeaneane Payne, Knoxville Sun, February 1, 2022]

Notes:

Alec Marsh, Ezra Pound and John Kasper, Saving the Republic
Clive Webb, Rabble Rousers: the American Far Right in the Civil Rights Era has a chapter on Bryant Bowles as well as one on Kasper.
FBI reports on Kasper.
FBI reports on Asa Carter
Ernie Lazar FOIA Collection: Extreme Right Groups

David Moody, Ezra Pound: Poet. Volume III, The Tragic Years: 1939 – 1972.

The entire Clinton incident was covered one year later on Edward Murrow’s See It Now: Clinton and the Law. Well worth watching. Includes video of Kasper orating.
The Clinton 12 are the subject of a documentary
Jeaneane Payne, “Black History: The Clinton 12”
George McMillan, “The Ordeal of Bobby Cain”, also Cain in a 2022 interview.
Memoir of an auxiliary officer during the Clinton riot.
Margaret Anderson, The Children of the South. Anderson was a teacher and guidance counselor at Clinton HS.
Holden et al, Clinton, Tennessee: A Tentative Description and Analysis of the School Desegregation Crisis (Field Reports on Desegregation, published by Anti-Defamation League of B’nai B’rith)

Charles Beaumont, The Intruder

The Intruder is on both YouTube and the Internet Archive.
Roger Corman, How I Made A Hundred Movies In Hollywood And Never Lost A Dime
Documentary about Charles Beaumont and The Intruder.

Marie-Noëlle Little, The Knight and the Troubadour – Dag Hammarskjöld and Ezra Pound (free on-line)

Pictures I Like: John Decker

The other night I watched a 1940s crime movie, Scarlet Street, on TCM. Edward G. Robinson plays a hen-pecked husband who holds down a stultifying job as cashier/bookkeeper at some sort of company. His only joy is painting, which he does in the bathroom of his run-down apartment. His wife hates his painting — doesn’t like the smell. One day, Edward G. Robinson meets Joan Bennett and is enraptured. Dan Duryea plays the heel who Joan loves (she likes to be smacked around). He persuades her to seduce the old guy. Things lead to a murderous climax. Okay, pretty much standard noir fare, but…

The paintings that Edward G. Robinson’s character creates are derided by his wife and others, but the first one I glimpsed made me sit up. The subject matter is a nondescript white flower in a glass, the painting looks like the artist was using hallucinogenic drugs. This was something special! In the movie, critics and dealers agree. Leaving aside the movie plot, I had to know more about the flower, some street scenes, and an incredible portrait of Joan Bennett, with eyelashes spiky as a psychedelic flower!

Screengrabs from Scarlet Street: the flower, portrait of Joan Bennett, closeup of portrait. The movie is in black-and-white, of course. I don’t know if any color was used in these paintings or not. (At least one of the paintings — that features a snake wrapped around an elevated train support — was in color). Decker has deliberately aimed at a primitive, untrained style — look at the dead-on composition of the Bennett portrait, for instance.

It didn’t take much digging to discover that the paintings had been made by John Decker. I researched him and that’s where things got really interesting, because John Decker was an artist, art forger, and drinking companion of W.C. Fields, John Barrymore, and other famous boozers. He may or may not have been a spy. He may or may not have forged the Head of Christ attributed to Rembrandt that hangs in Harvard’s Fogg Museum. He certainly did a famous portrait of W.C. Fields as Queen Victoria. Any of these accomplishments are enough to make a man interesting.

John Decker probably about 1935. [Wikipedia]

John Decker was born Leopold von Decken in Berlin. Or possibly in London. Or Greenwich. One story had his aristocrat father eloping with an English opera singer and the young couple fleeing social scandal to England. An art gallery bio has him born in San Francisco before being abandoned in England. Wikipedia has the more conventional tale: that the child was two when his parents moved to London.

Graf Ernst August von der Decken, son of an artist, worked as a reporter and married Maria Anna Avenarius, an opera singer, in Greenwich in 1898. Their son was born in 1895. Hence the scandal. Maria abandoned the household at some point in what was, apparently, a stormy marriage. Ernst left his son alone in 1908. Decker despised his mother, “That red-headed whore!” “I like John Decker,” John Barrymore once said, “He hates sunsets and his mother.” Sunsets, possibly, because they reminded him of his mother’s red hair. At least that is the legend as recalled by one of Decker’s cronies. It does appear that Decker hated the natural auburn shade of his own hair. Maria died in 1918. Ernst in 1934.

Legend has it (meaning John Decker told a drunken story that was recalled later by someone who had heard it while drunk) that, at the age of thirteen, the young lad began to work for an art forger, whose specialty was conning tourists. During World War I, some of these paintings were shipped back to the continent and some had writing on the back of the canvas that may have been coded espionage messages. And that, according to legend, got the young man interned on the Isle of Man in 1917 or 1918. Later, Decker said that it was a terrible experience; that he had witnessed scenes of depravity too horrible now to relate. One that he did relate had to do with an internee who committed suicide by immolating himself on an electric fence. Since there is no record of electric fences at the Man internment camp, that seems unlikely. Decker also claimed that internees had to eat the corpses to keep from starving.

Internee art for one of the four newspapers published at the Isle of Man camp at Knockaloe. [via bbc.com, copyright Manx National Heritage, knockaloe.im]

Most likely Decker was interned because he had been born in Germany and was still a German citizen. His father may have left him in 1908, but someone seemed to support him, and it probably wasn’t an art forger. Decker was studying art at the Slade School of Art in London (where Barrymore also studied) before his internment, but that factoid was later embellished by naming his teacher as Walter Sickert, who, both legend and Patricia Cornwall claim, was Jack the Ripper.

Released at the War’s end, the young man may have travelled to Europe (or not) but did shift his name from von Decken to John Decker. Using phony papers, at some point he sailed to America, probably in 1921. He hung around New York for a while, working as a newspaper caricaturist and set decorator for stage productions. He tried acting, but, legend has it, he was already a heavy drinker and passed out on stage during a scene with Jeanette MacDonald. In 1928, or possibly 1930, Decker emigrated to Hollywood, where anybody can be anyone they want to be. He left his first wife, Helen, in New York, along with his baby daughter. When he arrived in California, Decker had a second wife, Judith. He never divorced Helen, not even after marrying a third time.

Decker had met John Barrymore in New York (in a bar, of course, where they discovered they had the same taste in beer, the legend says) and soon became part of a drunken crew known as the Bundy Drive Boys. Bundy Drive was the location of Decker’s studio and the boys included, besides Barrymore and W.C. Fields: Ben Hecht, who wrote the dramatic sketch that Decker performed in New York; Gene Fowler, journalist turned script-writer; Sadakichi Hartmann, art critic and poet; and actors Errol Flynn, John Carradine, Thomas Mitchell, Alan Mowbray, and others who drifted in and out. Toward the end of the group’s existence, a few younger men, such as Anthony Quinn and Vincent Price, tagged along. Members of the original group had achieved some success in New York, where several of them first met, and had trekked out to Hollywood where the money was. Most of them hated the place and the film industry. All wanted to be a different kind of artist than they were — the screenwriters wanted to be novelists, the actors wanted to be painters, and so on. Decker was very clear about his art and his motivation: he wanted to make money and he would paint anything, anytime for a fee.

Decker was very gifted and could draw well and paint quickly. Somehow, though, he could not become wealthy, or at least, not wealthy enough. Mind you, he was living the high life through the 1930s, but there was an air of dissatisfaction about him that was revealed in the coat-of-arms that he hung on the Bundy Drive door. It shows his initials on a shield flanked by unicorns and bears the motto: “Useless. Insignificant. Poetic.”

Decker portrait of Henry Hull as Jeeter Lester, 1935. [photo from eBay sale of painting. It went for $3250.]

For a time, Decker produced caricatures, the same kind of work he had done in New York. Occasionally, he did a portrait and, one auspicious day, someone — legend varies as to who — requested a portrait in old master style, or as a knight or royalty or something, and Decker obliged. Soon, many of Hollywood’s most recognizable stars had paintings that showed them as a lead character in some historical fantasy. Decker’s forte turned out to be satire and most of his clients understood his work. There were some dissatisfied customers, though — Clark Gable is said to have refused to pay for a portrait that made his ears look big — and there were lawsuits. When one client refused a portrait, Decker painted prison bars over his face and was sued for defamation. Decker counter-sued and the case was dropped.

Jimmy Durante and Buster Keaton admire paintings of Cyrano de Bergerac and Hamlet. Note the Army outfit on Durante who was probably on his way to or from a USO gig.

Sometimes Decker worked for himself and not a contracted customer. So he produced a portrait of W.C. Fields as Queen Victoria. Her Majesty, recognizable both as herself and as Fields, frowns at a picture of Johnny Walker. Fields pretended outrage: “Decker has kicked history in the groin.”  Dave Chasen, owner of the restaurant where the Bundy Drive Boys hung out, demanded a copy. Decker dashed one off for him. He claimed to have done many others in various sizes, small copies going for $50 a picture. One would think that there would be more examples on the Internet, but surprisingly few examples of this famous image can be found on line.

 

Fields/Victoria hanging. [via Movies from the 20’s – 60’s]

Decker continued to create other works besides the caricatures. A few items can be found by googling. A painting of the Normandie on fire in New York harbor is interesting, but a study of black singers is not. Recent auction prices have Decker’s portraits going for $10000 and up, depending on who is the subject, and his “serious” work selling for $2 – 5000.

Harpo Marx as Gainsborough’s “Blue Boy”. Dave Chasen liked this painting so much that he commissioned one with his face on it. The Chasen picture actually was blue and not green.

In 1941, Decker did a series of murals depicting the history of Hollywood for the Wilshire Bowl nightclub. The murals have disappeared, but Decker’s preliminary drawings are in the Smithsonian. Then, in 1942, Decker produced a great piece: a drawing of John Barrymore on his deathbed.

Barrymore on his deathbed. He had eczema and clawed at his skin as he died. Decker turns this into a theatrical gesture.

Barrymore was Decker’s closest friend. The actor’s self-destruction was mirrored in that of the painter. Both were very aware of the damage that they were doing to themselves. Later, Decker worked up some finished, sentimental, death-of-Barrymore pieces, but it is the drawing that strikes home. It may have hung over Barrymore’s coffin at his funeral, or that may have been one of the more sentimental pieces that Decker did at the time. Errol Flynn once claimed to have abducted Barrymore’s body and, with some other Bundy Boys, transported it from bar to bar, feeding it booze. Later, Flynn admitted that he made up the story (which has also been told of other dead drinkers).

Hartmann was the next of the group to die. He was also the oldest, 78 at the time of his death in 1944. In some ways. Sadakichi Hartmann was a model for the other Bundy Drive Boys. Born to a German father and Japanese mother in Japan, Hartmann was thrown out of the family (he said) at the age of fourteen and later adopted a Bohemian lifestyle in New York. He met Walt Whitman, quarreled with him, it is said, and eventually moved west to California. He is more known now for his criticism, which took photography seriously, than his other work, which included poetry, painting, and a brief turn as an actor (he appeared in Douglas Fairbanks’ Thief of Baghdad).  Alcohol and other drugs fueled his poetry. He had the habit of pissing himself while drunk. Decker’s daughter found Hartmann repellant and steered clear of him because he smelled so bad. Alcoholics may be fun to read about but aren’t so nice to live with. [pictures by or of Hartmann may be seen here. And here.]

Decker portrait of Sadakichi Hartmann, 1946 [via Laguna Art Museum ]

Born in Japan with two Axis parents meant that, during World War II, Hartmann was a person of interest to the FBI. He escaped internment because of age and infirmity, but was visited several times by federal agents, just to make certain he wasn’t passing information back to the Motherland. Gene Fowler was working on a biography of Hartmann that was never finished. In 1952 Fowler published a book of Bundy Drive tall tales about attempting to write the bio. Hartmann’s daughter was incensed by the fact that her father’s life had been reduced to a bunch of drunken anecdotes, but that was the fate of others of the Bundy Drive Gang as well, including Decker.

At the end of 1946, W.C. Fields died. Six months later, suffering from diabetes and cirrhosis, Decker passed away. His then-wife, Phyllis, had an open bar at his funeral. She also darkened his red moustache with mascara. The drawing of Barrymore on his deathbed was placed on Decker’s casket and a Decker portrait of Barrymore hung on the wall. Legend has it that, when the minister recited the words, “Let us pray”, the flower wreath fell from Barrymore’s portrait into the coffin. John Decker was 51 at the time of his death.

Van Gogh or Decker?

But that’s not the end of the story. In 1949, a Van Gogh self-portrait purchased by William Goetz, Louis B. Mayer’s son-in-law, was pronounced a fake by experts. Goetz angrily defended the work, which he had bought from a dealer in 1946. The dealer, said to be reputable, withheld the painting’s provenance for “business reasons”. The authenticity of the picture is still being debated and one name that keeps coming up is that of John Decker. According to a drinking buddy, Decker loved Van Gogh’s work and claimed that the Dutch artist sometimes used his penis to apply paint. No one has examined the disputed painting looking for traces of Decker’s organ, but legend has it…

The Fogg Museum says this is a Rembrandt study. Legend has it that the painting was done by Decker.

And in 2003, Stephen Jordan published a biography of Decker in which he claimed that Decker faked a Rembrandt study at the behest of Thomas Mitchell. Whether Mitchell was part of the con or its victim is unclear. According to the story related to Jordan, Mitchell, who was an art collector, bemoaned the fact that he could not afford a Rembrandt. Decker said that he could locate one that only cost $2000. Then Decker bought a piece of 17th Century furniture and pulled out a drawer bottom that he used as a surface. After painting the piece, Decker then cracked it along the back and sent it to Holland for repairs. When the piece returned to the US, it bore Dutch customs papers, which helped provide some provenance. Mitchell may or may not have paid $45000 for it, but it seems to have been part of his estate. That painting is now in Harvard’s Fogg Museum (which bought it for $35000). Harvard and the Fogg maintain that the work is genuine. Some testing was done a few years ago which showed that the wood panel was, indeed, Baltic oak from the 17th Century.

Finally, although not as valuable as Rembrandts or Van Goghs, Decker’s paintings have been a target for thieves.

Notes:

Bohemian Rogue: The Life of John Decker by Stephen C. Jordan, so far as I know the only full-length biography. The paperback now sells for $90

Hollywood’s Original Rat Pack: The Bards of Bundy Drive by Stephen C. Jordan. Out of print.

Hollywood’s Hellfire Club by Gregory William Mank. Was out of print, now seems to be back in stock.

The books above recycle all the legends and anecdotes that might better be read in:

Minutes of the Last Meeting by Gene Fowler. Fowler’s account of trying to write Sadakichi Hartmann’s biography. Mostly anecdotes about the Bundy Drive Crew.

Good Night, Sweet Prince by Gene Fowler. Bio of John Barrymore with lots of anecdota.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Good Books: Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson; Good Movies: Treasure Island, 1950

Sometime around 1951, I saw Treasure Island  and was delighted. What a great movie, I thought, and the hero was a kid! Like me! About a year ago I got a DVD that promised to be a copy of the original film. I am fully aware that memories tarnish over time and did not expect Treasure Island to hold up after more than sixty years. But it did! I read Treasure Island as a kid and several times since, it is a fine novel. And I have seen a number of illustrations for the book done by different artists, and read the Classics Illustrated comic. Anyway, I want to review the movie (as it exists on DVD) and take a look at the book with an eye to plot differences. Along the way, I’ll mention some of the illustrators who worked on this title. (This post is image-heavy and may take a while to load. Many of the illustrations will embiggen if you click on them.)

Stevenson claimed to have been inspired by a map, possibly of one of the Scottish isles re-imagined as a pirate treasure location, by his step-son. (The map is reproduced in many editions of the book.) He also says that he set out to write a book for boys. And although it is true there are no girls in the book — the only female character is Jim’s mother, who does not appear in the Disney film at all — many young women read this novel or watch this movie with enjoyment. (One woman who was enthralled by Treasure Island was J.M.Barrie’s mother, who tried to hide her enjoyment from her novelist son for fear she would be seen as disloyal.)

The map (from the Swanston Collected R.L.Stevenson, available at gutenburg.org)

The map (from the Swanston Collected R.L.Stevenson, available at gutenburg.org) The Disney film map shows only the islet in the bottom right corner, which is where the treasure is buried.

The book begins with Jim Hawkins saying that all these events occurred years before, which is taken by cranky critics to be a spoiler, because that means the reader knows that Jim will survive. That just shows how little these critics understand literature. Anyway, Jim’s recollections begin with the wasting away of his father who dies leaving Jim and his mom to look after the Admiral Benbow Inn, located in coastal Devon. A guest named Billy Bones takes up residence at the inn during the period of Mr. Hawkins’ decline, and he is a thoroughly disagreeable mean drunk. He promises various payments to Jim’s parents and Jim himself, and cheats all three. He threatens the guests, has nasty drunken fits, and is generally a blight on the landscape. Here we might note that Stevenson never romanticizes his pirate characters — they are all scum and you don’t want to turn your back on any of them. Bones enlists Jim as lookout: the boy is to watch for seamen inquiring about him and, in particular, he is to watch for a one-legged man, who is to be feared.

Finlay Currie as Billy Bones, getting ready to take his last drink.

Finlay Currie as Billy Bones, getting ready to take his last drink.

One day, a man with a nasty scar on his face does turn up at the Admiral Benbow, looking for Billy Bones. This is where the Disney movie begins. Jim lies and says he knows no such man but the scarred man notices a sea-trunk, marked “WB” and knows that this means “William Bones”. Jim reports to Bones (played by Finlay Currie, who I believe, never, ever played a thoroughly unlikeable character) who immediately identifies the scarred man as Black Dog, which is not a name associated with Goodness and Mercy. In the book, Bones and Black Dog clash and Billy Bones drives the other pirate away.

Billy Bones: catches his sword in the inn sign when he swings at Black Dog by John Cameron; gets the Black Spot by Derek Eyles; is found dead by Louis Rhead

Billy Bones: catches his sword in the inn sign when he swings at Black Dog by John Cameron; gets the Black Spot by Derek Eyles; is found dead by Louis Rhead

Soon enough, another visitor arrives at the Admiral Benbow: Blind Pew, an uncanny figure who latches onto Jim with a vulture grip and demands to be guided to Billy Bones. This scene is handled much the same way in both book and movie. Pew makes Jim guide his hand to that of Bones and drops something into it. “Now that’s done!” he cackles and scuttles away. Bones opens his hand to reveal the Black Spot! A piece of paper with a black circle on it and the words, “after dark”, in the movie. The book has it after ten o’clock. “We have time,” shouts Bones, “We’ll do them yet!” But he collapses and dies. In the book, Jim informs us that this is the second person he has seen die, the first being his father. Now, memory of the first being “fresh in his heart”, he bursts into tears, though he never liked Billy Bones. What he doesn’t say is that he will witness quite a few more deaths over the next year or so.

Pew grabs Jim,left to right: by Frank Godwin, a comics artist whose masterful pen and ink illustrations are some of the best for Treasure Island; Roberto Innocenti, for a 2012 Italian translation of the novel.; Mervyn Peake, from 1947m still in print.

Pew grabs Jim,left to right: by Frank Godwin, a comics artist whose masterful pen and ink illustrations are some of the best for Treasure Island; Roberto Innocenti, for a 2012 Italian translation of the novel.; Mervyn Peake, from 1947 still in print.

In the movie, the dying Bones gives Jim a packet. In the book, he finds it in Billy Bones’ sea-chest which he and his mother are pillaging for the money owed them. Jim’s mother refuses to take a nickel more than her debt but the coins are all manner of issues and denominations and it takes a while to calculate. Jim urges her to take the lot, but she won’t because that is not the Right thing to do. So they are almost caught when the pirates suddenly swarm around the Admiral Benbow, not waiting until the appointed hour at all, those scurvy swabs. Jim and his mother hide outside while he ponders that they might be killed because of his mother’s “greed”. But, of course, it was not just greed, but righteousness, that caused her to delay. Jim is not quite what moderns call an unreliable narrator, but Stevenson makes it clear that he does not always see things the way others — including the reader — might. Later, Jim demonstrates a rather cavalier attitude toward doing the Right Thing. Have I made it clear yet that I admire Stevenson’s writing?

Now the cavalry arrives in the form of a posse of revenue agents called by Jim through the local lord, Squire Trelawney. The details and differences between book and movie aren’t important. What is important is that, during the confusion when the armed guard arrives and the pirates scatter, Blind Pew falls under their horses and is killed. In the book, that is; on the DVD nary a trace of Pew amongst the pirates. I thought I remembered… but possibly that’s an illustration I recall. Maybe Disney couldn’t bear to kill a blind man, even if that same blind man is one of the nastiest villains ever imagined. “It’s that boy,” says Pew, when the pirates can’t find the map, “I wish I had put his eyes out.” There’s echoes of fairy tales and myth in that declaration.

Top: Classics Illustrated #84 by Alex Blum. The face in the chopped-off panel at right is that of Billy Bones. Bottom: Pew seeking the aid of his shipmates, who have fled, by N.C. Wyeth, possibly the most famous illustrator for this story; Pew is ridden down by Edmond Dulac. Dulac was a great illustrator, but chose to see everything in Treasure Island from a distance. There is little of characters in his illustrations.

Top: Classics Illustrated #84 by Alex Blum. The face in the chopped-off panel at right is that of Billy Bones. Bottom: Pew seeking the aid of his shipmates, who have fled, by N.C. Wyeth. Wyeth’s colors are often very similar to those of the Technicolor Disney film; Pew is ridden down, by Edmund Dulac. Dulac was a great illustrator, but chose to see everything in Treasure Island from a distance. There is little of characters in his illustrations.

Jim turns the map over to Squire Trelawney and Doctor Livesey. The doctor, who had ministered to Billy Bones and tried to get him to stop drinking, is very upright, courageous, and, for Disney, a sort of father figure to Jim. In fact, the movie turns on which dad Jim will choose: the upright Livesey or the scoundrel Silver — but that’s yet to come. The Squire is a bluff gentleman, thick as a post, who cannot keep from blathering every thought that winks into his head. The Doctor tries to rein him in, but Squire Trelawney is a fool. Not that Doctor Livesey would allow you to say that, because he is as loyal as he is upright. At any rate, these two and Jim decide to sail after the treasure on the map.

The Squire sets out to Bristol where he finds a ship, the Hispaniola, and Captain Smollett to command her. He also runs his mouth about a treasure map and all the wrong type of seaman are attracted to him. All this is much the same in book and movie, except that Disney leaves out Jim taking leave of his mother and his old home. The lad setting out on his life adventure with both joy and apprehension, and the leavetaking of home, is older than fairy tales and the beginning of many great stories. Stevenson glosses this device. When Jim sees the boy who has been apprenticed to take over his work, he has an attack of tears. Then:

I am afraid I led that boy a dog’s life; for as he was new to the work, I had a hundred opportunities of setting him right and putting him down, and I was not slow to profit from them.

Jim is, you see, not a stainless hero but a genuine human being with both good and bad traits.

Jim leaves home, by N.C.Wyeth. Wyeth’s illustrations are perhaps the best-known. The original paintings are three feet by four and cost Wyeth an enormous effort but one that he felt was worth it. He called the Treasure Island illustrations “far better in every quality than anything I ever did.” Wyeth’s version has remained in print since 1911. (See end notes for more details on this edition.)

In Bristol, Jim finally meets the Old Sea-Cook, as an alternate title of Stevenson’s novel calls him. Long John Silver is a charming fellow. Although Jim remembers Billy Bones’ warning and is alarmed to meet a one-legged man, Silver soon charms him. In the movie, Silver gives Jim a pistol, which will figure in the later action; in the book, he simply talks Jim around. At one point, Jim spots Black Dog and gives the alarm. Silver sets men after the pirate, but, of course, they don’t catch him.

A bit more about Long John Silver from the book: He is now fifty years old. The men call him Barbecue. They say he has education and could have been something more than an ordinary seaman. And he is powerfully strong. Even with only one leg, the other seamen fear him. Silver has a wife, partner in his Bristol inn. She is a woman of color, a “negress” in the novel. The Squire has some casually racist things to say about her that Stevenson later exposes as gas when Silver explains to the other pirates that, the instant the Hispaniola sailed, his wife had sold up the inn and all their belongings, and now awaits his return with Flint’s treasure at a certain secret place in England. Silver also explains compound interest to his pirate buddies and says if they have any sense (which he knows they don’t) they will invest their loot, a little here, a little there, so as not to arose suspicion.

Long John Silver by Frank Schoonover, as played by Robert Newton, by Edward A. Wilson

Long John Silver by Frank Schoonover, as played by Robert Newton, by Edward A. Wilson

Both book and movie describe Silver’s outer trappings, the one leg, his parrot named Captain Flint that squawks “Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!” Both present him as a charming, scheming rogue — but he is also a murderous villain, more so in book than movie.

Perhaps here is the place to talk about Robert Newton’s wonderful performance as Long John Silver. It is said that Newton, who had been a major star in English film, was a complete alcoholic. The director, Byron Haskin, kept him working by continually asking his advice on how to do scenes and treating him with the respect due a legendary actor. If so, we owe Haskin a debt of gratitude for eliciting this great performance. (Haskin says that he simply let Newton rip and chew all the scenery he wished.) And it is a performance that everyone remembers. Every time someone goes “Arrrr” on Talk Like A Pirate Day, he is quoting Robert Newton, who adapted his native West Country dialect to the role. But kids in 1951 were the people who really appreciated the Newton performance. Robert Crumb has written about his older brother, Charles, who tied up a leg and crutched around the neighborhood so much that he actually damaged his ability to walk for a while. Others may speak of Wallace Beery or Charlton Heston (haven’t seen that one myself) but Robert Newton’s is The Great Portrayal of Long John Silver for ever. So I say.

From Robert Crumb, Treasure Island Days and from an early comic scripted by Charles, drawn by Robert. (The Complete Crumb Comics vol. 13 and vol. 1, respectively.)

From Robert Crumb, Treasure Island Days and from an early comic scripted by Charles, drawn by Robert. (The Complete Crumb Comics vol. 13 and vol. 1, respectively.)

The Hispaniola sails and the voyage is uneventful except for the death of the first mate, Arrow. He is drunk when he goes on deck in a storm and is swept away. In the book, Jim learns later that Silver has been feeding rum to Arrow; in the movie, Jim is made accomplice to Arrow’s killing by bringing the rum to Silver. That’s pretty heavy and something Stevenson would have made more of. As it stands, Jim winds up his adventure with PTSD — but that’s yet to come.

“Here ye are, Mister Harrow. Sweeten the plum duff to yer taste.” Arrow chugs at the bottle before lurching on deck. Silver pushes him above with his crutch.

Jim goes to fetch an apple from the barrel that stands where every man can help himself. Doctor Livesey thinks this a good health measure, Captain Smollett (in the book) believes it will make the men soft. Smollett is a brave commander, set in his ways. Some time or other I expect some grad student has written a thesis or a dissertation on Stevenson’s approach to class — his characters simply accept it as part of the world they live in, often they are ruled by assholes and that’s the way of it — but someone else can look that paper up. Where was I? Oh, yes! The apple barrel.

The barrel is almost empty and Jim climbs inside to get an apple. Then several men group outside. One is John Silver, another is one of the non-pirate seamen, Dick. Silver (in the book) talks of days sailing with Flint, how he lost his leg and Pew his eyes in the same battle. It was an educated surgeon that amputated his leg, “knew Latin by the bucket”, but that didn’t save him: “He was hanged like a dog, and sun-dried like the rest, at Corso Castle.” Dick declares he will join the pirates — in the book, they call themselves “gentlemen of fortune”. Then both in book and movie, Silver speaks of his plans. Israel Hands wants to move now and take the ship, but Silver reminds him that, although they can steer a course, none of the seamen can set one. He bids them wait until all the treasure is aboard. In the book, he says that he would have them sail halfway back to England, to at least the trade winds region, but he knows that that the impatient pirates won’t hold out that long. He says that when they reach the island and the ship is loaded with treasure, then they will kill the others. One thing, says Silver, “I claim Trelawney. I’ll wring his calf’s head off his body with these hands.”

A pirate approaches the apple barrel and Jim fears he will be discovered — the movie does this well, with a pirate knife descending to pierce either an apple or Jim — when the cry is heard: “Land ho!” And everyone rushes to see.

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Jim calls a council in the Captain’s cabin. There, he tells Smollett, Squire Trelawney, and Doctor Livesey of what he has heard. Everyone recognizes that only Silver keeps the crew from open mutiny. Aside from the four in the cabin, only three brought from Trelawney’s estate can be counted on (says the book). So they are seven against nineteen, nine against twenty in the movie. Now comes a key moment.

In the book, Jim is told to keep his ears open. He is worried but agrees. In the movie, Doctor Livesey tells Jim to stay friends with Silver, something that causes him some dismay — “Stay friends with him?”. (Bobby Driscoll was a good actor.) One surrogate father tells Jim to spy on the other, who is not made out to be quite the villain that Stevenson created. Here is the setup for the drama of the movie’s final scene.

Robert Newton and Bobby Driscoll on the way to the island, before Jim gets away. Good old charming Long John Silver. Even the movie can't completely whitewash him.

Robert Newton and Bobby Driscoll on the way to the island, before Jim gets away. Good old charming Long John Silver. Even the movie can’t completely whitewash him.

Action in the book is compressed in the film, but the effect of both is that Jim is ashore on the island when the pirates aboard the Hispaniola try to take the ship, against Long John Silver’s orders. Then occurs perhaps the most horrifying event in the book, so chilling that Disney left it out of the movie.

Jim has scampered ashore and hides from the pirates. After a while he hears Silver arguing with Tom, who refuses to join the pirates. Their argument is interrupted by a scream from another part of the island. Someone else who refused to join the pirates has been murdered. Tom walks away from Silver who hoists himself on a tree branch and hurls his crutch so that it strikes Tom’s spine with bone-breaking force:

Silver, agile as a monkey, even without leg or crutch, was on top of him next moment, and had twice buried his knife up to the hilt in that defenceless body. From my place of ambush, I could hear him pant aloud as he struck the blows.

Death of Tom: by Frank Godwin, Louis Rhead -- Rhead worked in black and white, then colored a few pages for the publisher. Both B/w and color versions may be seen in the Gutenberg.org edition ; Mervyn Peake

Death of Tom: by Frank Godwin; Louis Rhead — Rhead worked in black and white, then colored a few pages for the publisher. Both b/w and color versions may be seen in the Gutenberg.org edition ; Mervyn Peake.

Jim falls into a swoon and lies senseless, overwhelmed by the sight. And, when I read this part, I lost any liking whatsoever for Long John Silver. But you may differ. After all, there were many folks who found Ted Bundy charming. And I do not intend this as an off-hand comparison. It seems to me that Stevenson has created a character who is a model sociopath — not that Stevenson knew the term — charming, manipulative, ruthless, and completely without remorse. I can visualize Silver ruling a gang or a prison block. Stevenson has described a particular kind of villain that now has a label.

Now the situation is: the pirates have taken the ship, Captain Smollett, Doctor Livesey, Squire Trelawney, and three loyal men are barricaded in an old stockade. Jim runs into Ben Gunn, marooned for three years and dreaming of cheese, toasted mostly, who guides him to the stockade and asks for a meeting later with someone of that party. Jim delivers his message to the stockade and the Doctor says he will speak with Ben Gunn. In the book, he mentions that he has a piece of Parmesan cheese in his snuffbox, “very nutritious”, and will give it to old Ben. But first the pirates attack the stockade with the ship’s cannon.

Ben Gunn by Ralph Steadman.

Ben Gunn by Ralph Steadman.

The cannonade failing, Long John Silver arrives under a flag of truce. Captain Smollett refuses to treat with him, offering instead to take back any pirate who surrenders to a fair trial in England. Their parley finished, no one offers a hand to help Silver up. In the movie, we can see Jim feeling sorry for Silver, but not in the book.

The pirates attack the stockade in earnest. There is fierce fighting and, when it is over, the Captain’s party has five men left (one wounded), the pirates, eight. So the odds have improved, but the situation is desperate. In the movie, Doctor Livesey gives Jim the map and tells him to buy his life with it if necessary. In the book, this comes later.

Attack on the Stockade. Top: N.C.Wyeth; Abraham Gray kills the big boatswain, by Bohuslav Mikes (Czech edition, 1967). Gray left the pirates to join Jim's party. He makes it back to England; Mervyn Peake. Bottom: Ralph Steadman

Attack on the Stockade. Top: N.C.Wyeth; Abraham Gray kills the big boatswain, by Bohuslav Mikes (Czech edition, 1967). Gray left the pirates to join Jim’s party. He makes it back to England; Mervyn Peake. Bottom: Ralph Steadman.

That night, the Doctor leaves to meet with Ben Gunn and Jim goes on his own excursion. Jim knows that if he can cut the Hispaniola free from her anchorage, she will drift into the beach. He determines to bring this about. He does not ask permission or advise anyone of his plan, he just leaves. At the end of the novel, Captain Smollett tells Jim that he won’t sail with him again. “You’re too much of the born favorite for me,” he says, which is an interesting observation. In the book, Jim grabs a brace of pistols from the common armory as he leaves; in the movie, he has the weapon given him by John Silver.

Jim boards the Hispaniola: Edmond Dulac;George Varian; Lyle Justis

Jim boards the Hispaniola: Edmond Dulac; George Varian; Lyle Justis

Jim locates Ben Gunn’s goat-skin coracle and paddles out to the Hispaniola. He cuts the hawser and climbs up a rope while the coracle is demolished by the larger vessel. Along the way, he witnesses a fight to the death between Israel Hands and another pirate. Hands, who is injured and drunk, staggers topside and collapses by the rail. Jim surveys the fallen pirate, then sets to steering the Hispaniola so that it grounds on the beach. Meanwhile, Israel Hands recovers and tries to get Jim to help him. But it is a ruse! Hands tries to grab Jim. In the book, Jim pulls out a pistol and pulls the trigger, but the powder is wet and Jim clambers aloft to recharge his pistols. In the movie, he simply climbs the rigging. Hands follows, knife in teeth, and here is a great scene in both book and movie. “One more step, Mister Hands, and I’ll blow your brains out!” Hands throws a knife that catches Jim in the shoulder as he fires his pistol(s). Hands falls to the deck. Now Jim can chalk up a killing to his credit.

“One more step, Mister Hands, and I’ll blow your brains out.” Left to Right: Frank Merril; Bobby Driscoll in the Disney version; Frank Godwin; Bohuslav Mikes.

Jim contemplates the two corpses in the water, by Zdenek Burian from a Polish edition of 1947. These deaths take a toll on Jim, in the book.

Jim contemplates the two corpses in the water, by Zdenek Burian from a Polish edition of 1947. These deaths take a toll on Jim, in the book.

The ship is beached and Jim makes his way ashore. He struggles through the jungle to the stockade where he collapses on the floor and discovers that the place has been taken over by pirates! In the book, Doctor Livesey wants to get away from the stockade, which is located in a malarial swamp, and he knows that the treasure has been moved to Ben Gunn’s cave, so he wants to go there to protect it. The Doctor later explains that it bothered him to leave Jim, but “I did what I thought best for those who had stood by their duty; and if you were not one of these, whose fault was it?” The movie is not so clear on why the stockade is given over to the pirates.

Long John Silver takes him in hand and says that the minute he spied the Hispaniola on the beach, he knew the game was up. Now he wants Jim to help keep him from hanging and, in return, he’ll keep the pirates from murdering Jim. Jim also discovers, in the book, that Doctor Livesey has given Silver the treasure map along with the stockade, something that neither Jim nor Silver understand. “There’s something under that,” says Silver, “Something, surely, under that, Jim — bad or good.” In the movie, Silver finds the map in Jim’s shirt when he tends to him.

Doctor Livesey comes to the stockade next day to tend the wounded. Jim gives his promise not to attempt escape and, when he has the opportunity to bolt, doesn’t take it. In the movie, Jim bites on a musket ball as the doctor does something unseen but painful to his knife wound. I can’t tell you how much that impressed me when I first saw the film. The doctor leaves and the pirates confer amongst themselves, finally giving Silver the Black Spot. There is a wonderful bit when Silver sees that the paper has been cut from a Bible.  He shakes his head; the pirates have brought disaster on their heads with that blasphemy.  Then he uses the treasure map to regain leadership of  the gang. This is where the treasure lies, he says, and the pirates examine the map and pronounce it genuine. The other thing is, Jim Hawkins is a hostage to prevent treachery from Smollett’s group. So, the Black Spot is rescinded and Jim will live yet a while.

“I had a line about my waist, and followed obediently after the sea-cook, who held the loose end of the rope, now in his free hand, now between his powerful teeth. For all the world, I was led like a dancing bear.” Jim complains about his indignity. A chapter later, he is afraid: “Now and again I stumbled; and it was then that Silver plucked so roughly at the rope and launched at me his murderous glances.” Left to Right: Frank Merrill, Louis Rhead, Mervyn Peake.

The pirates — only six left now — set out to get the treasure. Jim is tied up and dragged along by Silver. “It’s only for show,” Silver says in the movie, but in the book, as they get closer to the treasure, Jim senses that Silver is switching sides again and may knife him the instant he is of no value as a hostage.

They locate the spot where the treasure is supposed to be and it’s gone! Now, once again, George Merry tries to take leadership from Silver. Long John, meanwhile, has backed away from the pirates and is on the other side of the empty treasure pit when Merry threatens him. Then shots ring out from the trees! One pirate drops dead, George Merry is wounded and Silver takes the opportunity to kill him. “‘George’, said he, ‘I reckon I’ve settled you.'”

Finding the treasure: magazine illustration by Douglas Crockwell. Silver settles with George Merry, Michael Foreman, from an edition still in print

Finding the treasure: magazine illustration by Douglass Crockwell. Silver settles with George Merry: Michael Foreman

It transpires that Ben Gunn has removed all the treasure (except the bar silver) to his cave. Captain Smollett’s party, six men including Ben Gunn, seven counting the captive Long John Silver, use the only unwrecked boat to transfer wealth to the Hispaniola. There are still three pirates (besides Silver) on the island, but they seem unable to concoct a plan. Now, book and movie become very different.

In the film, Silver seizes an opportunity to grab Jim’s pistol — the one he had given the boy — forcing the others to leave him with the boat. He rows, and Jim is supposed to steer, but the boy purposely runs the boat aground. Silver jumps out to shove the craft free. He asks Jim for help, and, when that isn’t given, points a gun at his head. But Silver hasn’t the will to shoot Jim and he lowers the pistol. He tries desperately, on his one leg, to free the craft. The Doctor leads a party that is closing in. Earlier, Silver had made a little speech about giving Captain Flint to Jim as a trinket, because creatures don’t take well to prison. Now Jim jumps up and pushes the boat free. Silver waves good-bye, raises a sail, and is away. The Doctor lays a hand on Jim’s shoulder and admits to some liking for Long John Silver himself. End of movie.

In the book, the skeleton crew of the Doctor, the Squire, Jim, Abraham Gray (the only seaman to survive, he came over from the pirates), Ben Gunn, Silver, and Captain Smollett (who is wounded and unable to do anything heavy) maroon the three surviving pirates, then sail the Hispaniola to the nearest port in Spanish America and there pick up a crew. While in port, Ben Gunn helps Silver to escape so that he cannot disturb their homeward voyage, Silver has stolen a sack of gold worth perhaps £400. Everyone thinks that is a cheap price to pay for getting rid of the old pirate. Jim fills us in on what happens to some of the others: Ben Gunn runs through a thousand pounds in less than three weeks, but finds a place; Captain Smollett retires from the sea; Abraham Gray buys his own ship and becomes a master; nothing is said of the Squire or the Doctor. Nothing is known of Silver’s fate. (Nor the marooned pirates, one of whom has malaria.) As for Jim:

The bar silver and the arms still lie, for all that I know, where Flint buried them; and certainly they shall lie there for me. Oxen and wain-ropes would not bring me again to that accursed island; and the worst dreams that ever I have are when I hear the surf booming about its coasts, or start upright in bed, with the sharp voice of Captain Flint ringing in my ears: “Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!”

Stevenson was criticized for the violence in Treasure Island, but I think he is honest about its effects. Just as he is honest about every character in the book: the upright Doctor who would abandon Jim in favor of those who had done their duty; the gasbag Squire who happens to be the best shot of the party and does some damage to the pirates; the wicked Long John Silver who would only slit your throat if it meant profit to him; and Jim Hawkins, who would disobey any order if he took a notion, who saved the expedition, and who now finds his dreams haunted.

None of this is to disdain the movie. Disney, too, was criticized for too much violence and bowdlerized this film when it was released to television in the 1970s. (The DVD has been restored.) The Disney narrative is a bit different, what with the father/son overtones instead of the boy’s brush with psychopaths, but it is still a great movie.

And a great book. Stevenson was a straight-forward storyteller, but he always understood the ramifications of his narrative and the personalities of his characters. And look at the details! The map. The description of the island (it has rattlesnakes). The careful consideration of 18th Century sailing. The wonderful names: Israel Hands, Benjamin Gunn, George Merry — every one of them sings out England! An England of yeomen and sailors, a vanished vision perhaps, but still… Vladimir Nabokov was one critic who recognized Stevenson’s genius and wrote/lectured about Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde in his Lectures on Literature. Enough. You get it or you don’t.

More On The Movie:

Disney had money tied up in Britain, where post-WWII currency restrictions meant that he couldn’t remove it. So he decided to film this, his first movie not to include animation, in England, where the money he was owed could go into production. He had been thinking about an animated version of Stevenson’s book and had the rights so it seemed a natural project.

Young Bobby Driscoll had starred in Song Of The South and So Dear To My Heart, films that combined animation with live action. He received a special juvenile Oscar for his work in So Dear To My Heart. But, in England, legal problems arose with Disney using a foreign juvenile lead. Disney’s lawyers managed a one-month delay in court proceedings, which Disney used to film all of Driscoll’s parts, then shipped him back to America. The English courts were not amused and Disney paid a modest fine. But Driscoll could no longer work in England.

Some filming was done around England, some on a set with painted backdrops, and some on the ship. The Hispaniola was a re-fitted cargo ship (used to transport coal) that was a hundred years old. After the Disney movie, it was moored as a tourist attraction, then used again as a set for the 1956 production of Moby Dick.

Robert Newton returned in Long John Silver, directed by Byron Haskin in 1954. He had a few other movies but died from alcohol-related problems in 1956 at the age of 50.

Bobby Driscoll was slated to play in other Disney films, but there were problems. Disney could not clear the rights to Tom Sawyer, which was to star Driscoll, for instance, and a role in Robin Hood was axed because he could not work in England. He did the voice of Peter Pan for Disney and also served as reference model for Peter’s facial expressions in that movie. As puberty set in, Disney could not find a role for Driscoll. The young man had acne which was covered over with heavy makeup. The teen-ager turned to drugs, and did a stint in prison in 1961. In 1965, he cleaned up and went to New York where he became involved with an arty crowd that included Andy Warhol. He got back into heroin and OD’d in 1967 or ’68. His body was not identified for a year and a half until his parents, who had been searching for him, sent his fingerprints to the New York police. He was a fine actor who deserved better.

The DVD released in 2002 is serviceable, but do not try to load the player software on the disc. I could not play the DVD in DVI or Microsoft Media Player, but James River Media Player did okay. Technicolor is saturated and rich. Particularly in the opening sections at the Admiral Benbow Inn, everything has a sheen, as though some kind of weird dew was falling everywhere. If it doesn’t look that way on your TV, then adjust that machine!

The Book:

The 1911 Scribner’s edition of Treasure Island illustrated by N.C. Wyeth is the one to get if you are looking to buy a copy. Scribner’s re-photographed the Wyeth paintings and the illustrations are first rate. I cannot tell if Scribner’s is still reprinting this book or not, but copies of this edition are available. You can also read the Scribner’s edition with thumbnail versions of Wyeth’s paintings on the Net.

A better internet version is that of 1915 illustrated by Louis Rhead. (The credits state Rhead and Frank Schoonover, but Schoonover only did the 1922 dust jacket/frontispiece.) Or you can read the one illustrated by John Cameron. An edition made for Spanish-speaking people with troublesome English terms linked to their definition includes illustrations by George Roux (the original illustrator), Milo Winter, Wyeth, and Rhead, as well as  pictures of other 18th Century maritime objects.  The 1924 edition illustrated by Frank Godwin is available on-line if you are a Questia or Playster member.

Although nineteen illustrators (plus Robert Crumb) have been referenced in this post, that only scratches the surface. Early illustrations by George Roux and Frank Merrill may be seen here. The University of Minnesota has 450 illustrated editions collected by Lionel Johnson as of the year 2000. And there is a partial list at the Robert Louis Stevenson Archive. Possibly no book except Alice In Wonderland has had more good illustrators work on it, and this is still happening. In 2015 the V & A Award for book illustration went to Sterling Hundley for the Folio Society edition of Treasure Island. (None of those illos are reproduced here.) Most of the illustrated editions mentioned in the post are out of print. I have avoided more recent English illustrated editions — Michael Foreman’s 2009 version is, I think, the only exception. In-print editions besides the Hundley and Michael Foreman’s include those of Mervyn Peake, John Lawrence, Matthew Cruikshank, Robert Ingpen, and many others. Condensed or edited editions abound and are to be avoided.

Non-illustrated editions of interest include the 1905 “Biographical” edition with essays by Stevenson and his wife, and a 1909 annotated edition.

Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring

When I was fourteen, I got a stereo record player for Christmas. It was portable, so-called because it had a handle and wasn’t a piece of furniture. The lid came off and served as one speaker, the other was in the phonograph itself. It was cool. A little while after, I got a special record from Columbia that included samples of a bunch of Columbia stereo recordings and a set of noises that you could use to balance your speakers — there was a booklet explaining how to do this. So I balanced my speakers, cranked up the volume, and listened to the sampled music which was pretty humdrum until, suddenly, I was assaulted with a barrage of orchestral music, intensely rhythmic, heavy on percussion. I listened to the piece again. And again. Up to this point in my life, Little Richard had made the most exciting music I had heard but now I was listening to an excerpt from Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring by Leonard Bernstein conducting the N.Y. Philharmonic and it blew everything else I had ever listened to out of the water. Years after, I still find it exciting music, but that’s partly because now I know the story behind it.

In the early 20th Century, ballet had fallen into disuse in Europe, except in Russia, where a few composers and a state-supported performance system kept turning out interesting work. But a new group of composers had come on the scene after Tchaikovsky — Mussorgsky, Borodin, Rimsky-Korsakoff, and his pupil, Stravinsky. These composers were very self-consciously Russian and they played up an aspect of Russia stereotyped by outsiders that is now called Orientalism.

Diaghilev, Nijinsky, Stravinsky. Photo by Nijinsky's sister, circa 1911

Diaghilev, Nijinsky, Stravinsky. Photo by Nijinsky’s sister, circa 1911

Serge Diaghilev, showman and impresario, bundled together a number of Russian dancers, musicians, and artists and took them to Paris as the Ballets Russes in 1909. The dancers included Vaslav Nijinsky and, for a time, Anna Pavlova. The chief designer was Leon Bakst, who often worked with local artists, including Picasso. The Ballets Russes were a huge hit but Diaghilev soon became faced with the problem of topping his last performance.

Igor Stravinsky composed The Firebird and Petrushka for the Ballets Russes but, in 1912, began work on a very new, very iconoclastic piece about the birth of music itself. Stravinsky’s vision was informed by a Ballets Russes designer, Nicolai Roerich, a mystic artist who was inspired by the findings of archaeologists that were very recent. Roerich had worked out a notion of prehistoric ritual that he explained to Stravinsky.

Roerich, "The Great Sacrifice", 1912

Roerich, “The Great Sacrifice”, 1912

The idea was that, in the Spring, the Earth had to be served so that it would allow the generation of new life; the service was one of human sacrifice. Stravinsky was taken with this notion and began to compose the score for a ballet that would feature dancers conducting the ritual that would culminate in the sacrifice of the Chosen One, a girl who would — this being ballet — dance herself to death.

Nijinsky photographed by Stravinsky in 1911

Nijinsky photographed by Stravinsky in 1911

Meanwhile, in Paris, Diaghilev was in a sexual relationship with Nijinsky, but the affair seemed to be reaching a crisis point — possibly because Nijinsky was tired of being Diaghilev’s possession, possibly because of Diaghilev’s desire for variety. This was not a long-term relationship.

Nijinsky was the star of the Ballets Russes, the first male dancer to achieve the kind of fame later accorded Nureyev and Baryshnikov. He had begun to choreograph some of the Ballets Russes numbers, not always successfully. Meanwhile, he performed in costumes that were either over-the-top Oriental or hardly there at all. His Afternoon of A Faun shocked some people with its sexuality — but, then, the Parisian taste-making class wanted to be shocked and Diaghilev wanted them to buy tickets, so Nijinsky kept pushing at the boundaries of acceptability.

Things were mounting toward a crisis point. Nijinsky’s version of a new work by Debussy, Jeux, received a few catcalls and boos at its premiere, but there was no great scandal yet, just the sense of one waiting to happen.

Stravinsky at the piano, drawing by Jean Cocteau

Stravinsky at the piano, drawing by Jean Cocteau

When Stravinsky first played some of the Rite for Diaghilev he chose a part where the same chord is pounded over and over. According to Stravinsky’s recollection (and, let it be said now, Stravinsky is a most unreliable rememberer), Diaghilev asked, “When does it end?” He was trying to be polite, Stravinsky said later, but he snapped a reply, “When it’s over!” According to Stravinsky, the chastened Diaghilev sat quietly through the repetition of the piece.

Costume study by Roerich.

Costume study by Roerich.

It is difficult to imagine Diaghilev being chastened by anything and, soon as he could, he began talking up the new work that the Ballets Russes was going to perform: composed by Stravinsky, conducted by Pierre Monteux, choreographed by Nijinsky, set and costume designs by Nicolai Roerich. So it was that, May 29, 1913, The Rite of Spring was first performed at Gabriel Astruc’s brand-new Théâtre des Champs-Élysées.

There are many eye-witness accounts of what happened that evening and not one of them can be trusted. It is not simply that they contradict each other, it’s that the witnesses contradict themselves in the telling and re-telling of the tale. Many more people claim to have been there than the theatre could hold — was Picasso there? Probably not. Were Gertrude Stein and Alice Toklas? Or did they, perhaps, see a later performance? No one now can say: this was a pre-video event.

Costumes from  The Rite of Spring  on display at the Victoria and Albert Museum.

Costumes from The Rite of Spring on display at the Victoria and Albert Museum.

According to some accounts, there was a disturbance when the first notes of the piece played in the darkened theatre — a bassoon, playing in its upper register. (“Wouldn’t a saxophone be better, Mr. Stravinsky?” “I know the difference between a saxophone and a bassoon, and I want a bassoon!”) Other accounts say that the uproar began when the curtain rose on the dancers, clad in flannel dresses with long pigtails. The dancing was pigeon-toed stamping to the insistent rhythms of the orchestra. And those rhythms played off one another and against each other in groupings of notes that did not harmonize. There was no melody.

"Get a Dentist!"

“Get a Dentist!”

The women dancers struck poses discovered by Roerich’s archaeological research. When they cocked their heads against their hands, someone yelled, “Get a dentist!” and someone else yelled back, “Get two dentists!”

Lauren Stringer from her children's book,  When Stravinsky Met Nijinsky

Lauren Stringer from her children’s book, When Stravinsky Met Nijinsky

So it went. The cacophony from the audience grew and grew. Conductor Pierre Monteux had been told, “Keep on, no matter what!” And he did. When the dancers could not hear the music over the audience noise, Nijinsky stood on a chair in the wings shouting out the count in Russian. Stravinsky abandoned his seat and said something to the people around him, perhaps “Go to Hell!”. He remembered it in different ways. He went backstage where he may have held Nijinsky’s coattails as the choreographer leaned out over the stage shouting his directions. Someone, perhaps Diaghilev, perhaps Astruc, the theatre owner, flicked the houselights on, then off, several times to try to quiet things down. Some say that objects were hurled at the dancers, at the orchestra, at spectators. Others say that fistfights broke out. Some accounts have mass arrests of forty or more people, though this does not show up in the official police records. In other words, as my great aunt used to say, “A good time was had by all.”

Allan Moore (words) and Melinda Gebbie (art) from their pornographic work,  Lost Girls

Allan Moore (words) and Melinda Gebbie (art) from their pornographic work, Lost Girls

Afterwards, Nijinsky, Diaghilev, Stravinsky, and Jean Cocteau went out on the town. They wound up in the Bois de Boulogne, in the early hours, with Diaghilev weeping and reciting Pushkin at the top of his lungs. Or so Cocteau said. Stravinsky denied the story. He claimed that he, Diaghilev, and Nijinsky went to a restaurant where Diaghilev claimed that the evening was “exactly what he wanted”. There are a lot of stories about the events of that evening that I doubt. Did Saint-Saens really say, when he heard the opening notes, “If that’s a bassoon, then I’m a baboon.” I suppose he spoke in French, “basson” and “babouine” just don’t have that rhyme that the story requires. But I could be wrong. Stravinsky says that neither Saint-Saens nor Cocteau attended the premiere, but he could be misremembering.

Diaghilev and Stravinsky

Diaghilev and Stravinsky

Diaghilev may have been the genius behind the great scandal. He gave away tickets to young modernists, those who disdained the upper classes (who paid double price for their tickets) and, some say, he hired certain provocateurs to create a riot. Whether or not that is true, he was certainly pleased with the night’s events which guaranteed sellouts of the next five French performances and the four English ones that followed. This was not enough to make the event solvent — there were fifty or so dancers, ninety-nine or a hundred orchestra members (there was scarcely enough room to squeeze them into the pit) — and Astruc was paying double fee to the Ballets Russes. He went bankrupt. Ah well, c’est dommage!

The Ballets Russes now embarked on a voyage to South America to astonish the citizenry there — all except Diaghilev who claimed he was afraid of ocean voyages, though others say that he wanted an Italian vacation to check out the pretty boys. Anyway, on the trans-Atlantic voyage, Nijinsky proposed marriage to Romola de Pulzsky, a Hungarian woman who had been stalking him for more than a year. They did not share a language, so an intermediary was called in to translate. Romola, who had been warned by Marie Rambert, Nijinsky’s under-choreographer, that the man was gay, went ahead with the marriage. It was some time before it was consummated, but when that event was accomplished, Romola became pregnant. Back in Europe, Diaghilev was furious and fired Nijinsky from the Ballets Russes.

Romola and Nijinsky wedding, Buenos Aires, 1913.

Romola and Nijinsky wedding, Buenos Aires, 1913.

Nijinsky tried working with his own company, headed by himself, his sister, and her husband — the last two very accomplished dancers. But Nijinsky had no head for business or organization and things were not working out when, in August, 1914, the First World War put an end to all that. Nijinsky was in Vienna at the time and, as a Russian citizen, he was incarcerated as an enemy alien. But what goes around, comes around, and Diaghilev managed to spring him free. For a couple of years they tried to work together, but somehow the world was not so interested in ballet at that particular moment.

In 1919, in Switzerland, Nijinsky gave his last performance to a group of upper-crust types who attended him at his hotel. Nijinsky sat for a half hour staring unblinking into the eyes of his audience who dared not respond. Then he unrolled two great strips of cloth, overlaid them in a cross, and said, “Now I will dance you the war…. The war which you did not prevent.” He danced. They left. That morning, Nijinsky had begun a journal full of odd writings and his own drawings. The drawings are mainly of eyes, single staring eyes. Some have been gone over and over again so that the paper has worn away under his pen strokes. Over the previous two years, his behavior had become more and more erratic — he tried to drive his carriage into others, for instance, and he pushed or threw Romola down a flight of stairs. Finally, in 1919, he was committed to an asylum, diagnosed with dementia praecox, or as his doctor, Eugen Bleuler, later termed it, schizophrenia.

Nijinsky painting of an eye, 1920

Nijinsky painting of an eye, 1920

The war was not kind to anyone and the Russian Revolution wrecked any hopes that members of the Ballets Russes might have of going home: they were now bourgeois entertainment and not to be tolerated. Still, ballet lived on in Russia and, eventually, Stravinsky’s music was rehabilitated by Khruschev.

Diaghilev died from diabetic complications in Italy in 1929 and was buried on the island of San Michele near Venice. Nicolas Roerich continued to sail on into the mystic and settled in India where he died in 1947. The Roerich Pact of 1935 resulted from his work in trying to protect the world’s cultural heritage.

Roerich toward the end of his life. [Wikimedia Commons]

Roerich toward the end of his life. [Wikimedia Commons]

In 1920, The Rite of Spring was re-choreographed by Diaghilev’s new lover, Leonid Massine, and performed several times. In 1930, it came to America. The Pittsburgh performance was preceded by a work by Schoenberg, who requires a whole ‘nother level of appreciation. The lead dancer in the US performance was Martha Graham.

Roerich backdrop used in the American production.

Roerich backdrop used in the American production.

Stravinsky emigrated to the US in 1940. He drifted to Hollywood where he made contact with the vast group of European refugees already there.  Walt Disney, under the influence of Leopold Stokowski, was trying to put together a film of animated classical music. He had a notion of a prehistoric earth, dinosaurs battling, volcanoes raging, that sort of thing, but he could not find the proper music. Someone suggested The Rite of Spring. Disney got into it. He and Stravinsky talked for a while — both parties have given very different renditions of the discussion — and Stravinsky’s work got the nod.

Later, Stravinsky said that Disney had threatened him (or implied the threat) that he could do what he wanted since The Rite of Spring was not  protected any longer by copyright, the Bolsheviks having given up all that bourgeois claptrap. So, take it or leave it. Stravinsky took it — the amount of cash involved differs from one account to another. Those present at the actual events say that Stravinsky was pleased, but who knows.

Disney and Stravinsky studying drawings of dinosaurs in 1940. Does Igor look happy?

Disney and Stravinsky studying drawings of dinosaurs in 1940. Does Igor look happy?

Fantasia did not do well at the box office and Disney decided never to go highbrow again. Years later, when Disney re-issued the film they ran into a problem: an outfit named Boosey & Hawkes had obtained the copyright to The Rite of Spring in 1947.  In 1993 when Fantasia was scheduled for release as a video, Boosey sued, saying that Disney had only purchased theatrical rights from Stravinsky, not video rights. Disney settled for $3 Million. Of course, this is amusing to anyone who knows about the history of copyright and the manner in which Disney has extended it. For a little while, the Rite was in public domain but in 2012, a century after it was written, the piece went back under copyright. Right now, under the current rules, The Rite of Spring will not be copyright free until 2041.

In 1939, Nijinsky had improved somewhat, possibly as a result of insulin shock treatment (which, to me, sounds so barbaric that I can’t credit it), and went home, or to Romola’s home, in Hungary. He almost never spoke and hardly related to anyone — his daughter recollected him taking a bouquet that she offered him and clutching it silently to his bosom. In 1945, he heard Russian soldiers playing folk music near his house and went out to them and began to dance for the first time in a quarter-century. He died in 1950 in London.

Nijinsky and Romola post-War. [independent.co.uk]

Nijinsky and Romola post-War. [independent.co.uk]

Stravinsky kept on in the US. I recall seeing his Noah and the Flood on television in the ’60s. All that I remember was the depiction of the Heavenly Host, angels eternally singing to God, who were (I thought) made up to look like mechanistic puppets. He died in 1971 and, like Diaghilev, was buried on San Michele.

Marie Rambert was fired from the Ballets Russes at the same time as Nijinsky. Diaghilev suspected her of loving Nijinsky — which, perhaps, she did. She went on to become a major force in ballet, particularly in England. She died in 1982.

Joffrey reconstruction in 1987.

Joffrey reconstruction in 1987.

In 1979, Rambert assisted Millicent Hodson in an attempt to restore Nijinsky’s choreography for The Rite of Spring. After close examination of Nijinsky’s notes and other documentation, Hodson was able to reconstruct the original ballet, which the Joffrey Ballet performed in 1987. You can see a version here.

Many orchestral performances of The Rite can be accessed on line. There is a version by Pierre Monteux (who scoffed at the piece whenever anyone asked about it), Pierre Boulez, Stravinsky himself, and several versions by Leonard Bernstein as well as many national orchestras. There are also: an electronic version, an 8-bit version, several jazz versions, a couple by high school marching bands, mashups, and versions by groups such as Birdsongs of the Mesozoic. There are also several performances of the work for four hands and two pianos, though the original performance by Stravinsky and Debussy of that arrangement was not recorded, so far as I know.

A very good documentary on the music and listening to it is from Michael Tilson-Thomas’ Keeping Score. There are also videos available on the bassoon part (and how to play it), master classes in conducting the piece, and so on.

Joffrey Ballet in Los Angeles, June, 2013. [photo: Herbert Migdoll for The Joffrey Ballet]

Joffrey Ballet in Los Angeles, June, 2013. [photo: Herbert Migdoll for The Joffrey Ballet]

I am reliably told on the internet (so it must be true) that more than two hundred ballet versions have been staged. Boosey & Hawkes say that they have authorized a hundred and fifty.  Some follow, as best they know how, the original; some have very odd costumes; some have no costumes, completely or partially nude; some have a young man as the sacrificial victim; one Russian version has the victim’s lover exacting revenge on the tribal elders after the fact, an atheistic Communist political corrective; there is a native American version, an Australian aboriginal version, a Punk version (what?); a Japanese butoh version; and one where there are no dancers at all, just clouds of bone dust floating over the stage. Just do a search for “Rite of Spring” on YouTube and you will find versions to both thrill and appall you.

All of this would make Diaghilev smile, especially if he could get a cut of the box office. Nijinsky would be horrified; he believed in his version. Stravinsky, who became an American citizen in 1945 and lived in the States until his death, would just shrug it off, or make up a story about it all.

The BBC’s Riot at the Rite is a movie that retells the story of May 29. It has a somewhat hetero Nijinsky who sacrifices himself to Art, just as the Rite‘s dancer sacrifices herself to the Earth. There are other movies about the Rite and Nijinsky and even a play about Stravinsky and Disney.

Still, after all these years, The Rite of Spring is powerful music. Leonard Bernstein said that it was the most important orchestral work of the 20th Century. Stravinsky was one of the artists who created Modernism , the 2oth Century’s new take on Art. After World War I, younger artists imbued their work with a cynical, disillusioned edge, but for a long while, it was still the same Modernist patch being plowed. Now, of course, we are all Post-Modern and this stuff doesn’t mean so much: we can be all ironic about it. But, I want to say, The Rite of Spring still hammers my consciousness the same way that it did a half-century ago.

Celebrity Plonk

Looking for a hobby? Got a few millions to spend? Why not buy a vineyard and bottle your own wine. You might make a profit, even better, you might turn out something good. Now I’m not talking about just licensing your name to somebody so they can put your image on a jug of swill and triple the price. I’m talking celebrities who actually like wine and have a bit of taste and, maybe, some business acumen.

The worst kind of celebrity plonk. Malcolm Young doesn't drink any more and Angus never did. Bon Scott of course... Still, I might try that Highway to Hell Cabernet someday.

The worst kind of celebrity plonk. Malcolm Young doesn’t drink any more and Angus never did. Bon Scott of course… Still, I might try that Highway to Hell Cabernet someday.

Surprisingly few celebrity chefs dabble in wine production. Mario Batali works with his business partner, Joe Bastianich (son of celebrity chef Lidia), who is a recognized authority on Italian wines, but that’s about it. Perhaps the chefs are concerned that a poor vintage might cause people to doubt their culinary skills or the restaurants they own. Or maybe it’s because these chefs already have sweetheart deals with wineries. Possibly I should mention Martha Stewart here who has partnered with Gallo to lend her name to wines sold through K-Mart. Or possibly not. Oh, and maybe there’s Guy Fieri, if he survives the awful reviews of his restaurant.

One of the few wines in this post that I've actually tasted. It was very good. Thanks, Jason Priestly. [more on Black Hills]

One of the few wines in this post that I’ve actually tasted. It was very good. Thanks, Jason Priestly. [more on Black Hills]

There are plenty of actors who have taken up vinting — Lorraine Bracco, Kyle McLachlan, Jason Priestly, Emilio Estevez , Sam Neill, Gérard Depardieu, all own some or all of a vineyard and and a label. Raymond Burr bought a vineyard but died before its first vintages were ready — the label is still run by his partner, Robert Benevides. Fess Parker started the winery and resort that bears his name, which was featured in Sideways.

Sideways wine-tasting at Fess Parker's place.

Sideways wine-tasting at Fess Parker’s place.

Some actors are concerned that their personae may affect the reception of their wine:

Originally the winery was called Smothers Brothers, but I changed the name to Remick Ridge because when people heard Smothers Brothers wine, they thought something like Milton Berle Fine Wine or Larry, Curly and Mo Vineyards,” Tom explains.

On the other hand, Francis Ford Coppola has turned his estate into a movie museum where you can suck down some Black Label Claret while you look at Godfather mementoes.

Drew Barrymore's Pinot Grigio which is supposed to be pretty good.

Drew Barrymore’s Pinot Grigio which is supposed to be pretty good.

Dan Aykroyd isn’t afraid to market his own products and put his name on the label. “They asked me if I’d like to have my own wines…how good is that?” Aykroyd got heavilly involved in the selling of Crystal Head vodka (distilled in Newfoundland) and was dismayed when the Liquor Control Board of Ontario refused to carry it because the bottle was too pretty or something. Aykroyd finally won that fight and his vodka is on sale beside the Pátron tequila that he imports into Canada and his own line of Niagara wines. Aykroyd also has a surprising factoid about wine and celebrities:

Every hockey player I know has an excellent nose and an excellent tongue. Kirk Muller, for instance, has excellent taste. Dave Ellett – he called his dog Caymus [after the famous Napa Valley cabernet] Dougie Gilmour loves to have the big, full red wines. Wendel Clark and John Erskine, too. I’ve had some good wine parties with those guys.

Wow! Wait’ll Don Cherry hears about hockey wine snobs! And I really, really want to try some Wendel Clark In-Your-Face red — but it has to be made from Saskatchewan grapes. Or saskatoons or something. Meanwhile, maybe I’ll sample some of The Great Ones’ No.99 wines, especially since it’s now legal to transport wine across the border into B.C.

Cellar of Valeri Bure's Bure Family cellars. Note the hockey stick in the eagle's talons. Bure says he learned about wine in Montreal.

Cellar of Valeri Bure’s family winery. Note the hockey stick in the eagle’s talons. Bure says he learned about wine in Montreal.

There are a whole lot of athletes that have gone into the wine business — Tom Seaver, Mike Weir, Mario Andretti, Charles Woodson (who is not allowed to promote his product so long as he is active in the NFL) — just to name check four major sports besides hockey. Peggy Fleming had a winery but it seems to have closed.  And let’s not forget David Beckham who gave his wife a vinyard for her birthday. (I so hope they produce a wine called Posh Spice.) Hmm, no basketball wine. Well, Larry Bird has put his name on a few bottles (“surprisingly good for a white”) but he’s not really involved so far as I can see.

wine_PinkFloyd

But aside from a few rockers like Vince Neil, the best celebrity wines are produced by actors. Richard Gere has teamed with a major Italian producer to put out what I hear are outstanding wines. And, of course, there’s Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt who are the latest celebrities to buy Miraval, a French château that has seen more than its share of celebrities. Sting (yes, he makes wine, too) recorded there as did Pink Floyd, who recorded much of The Wall at a studio constructed in the basement by jazz pianist Jacques Loussier. In fact, a reportedly excellent rosé from Miraval was named Pink Floyd by Pitt. Pitt and Jolie are to be married at Miraval and then will market their co-produced wines as Jolie-Pitt. They should be very very good.

Good Movies: The Sunshine Makers (1935)

The Sunshine Makers is a seven-and-a-half minute animated feature produced by the famous Van Beuren Studios and distributed by RKO in 1935. You can watch it all on YouTube. I’m going to do a synopsis so you can watch first, read after, or vice-versa or whatever. I’m not telling you what to do. That’s one of the lessons here. More on that later.

sun1

The cartoon opens on a dwarf village at dawn. The smiling dwarves (and they are always smiling) rise and greet the sun. In fact, they hail the sun and sing: “Hail your majesty, Hail your majesty, Hail your majesty the Sun!” (I will not parse the facisto-monarchism here.)

sun_hail

So these are sun-worshippers? Not exactly. They never get naked and sun-bathe, for instance, (though that would have been a Real Classic Cartoon). These dwarves are sun-product manufacturers. They suck the sunlight out of the sky, bottle it, and then consume the resulting concoction. This, it seems, makes them happy and installs a permanent grin on their faces.

sun3

So, one of the sunshine delivery dwarves is going along his merry way singing: “Sunshine! Sunshine! How I like the dear old golden…” when Zing! a top-hatted creature shoots an arrow at him. The quick witted dwarf hurls a bottle of sunshine at the dark creature who runs away, trailing light from a sunny flesh wound to his coat.

sun4

Now we see a village of top-hatted, blue clad beings. They are singing: “We’re happy when we’re sad. We’re always feeling bad.” Right away we get the dichotomy here. Now you get to choose sides.

sun5

The guy who has been hit by light runs into the village where everyone runs from him in terror as he flashes sunlight from his coat. They lock themselves away and shun him. Finally, the lit-up guy sheds his stained/sunned coat and buries it to hide the sunlight. Then he sounds the tocsin! The Sad guys mobilize!

sun6

The Sad guys come running out of their houses. They load insecticide sprayers from a nasty dark swamp and charge out against the Happy dwarves. They spray bleak gases before them that darken the earth and shrivel plants.

sun7

But the Happy dwarves fight back! They launch sunshine artillery and drop sunlight bombs on their foe, smiling all the while. When the Sad guys are hit they revert to infancy, giggling and babbling — but they are now Happy!

sun8

Finally, the dwarf assault reaches the Sad guys’ village. Now they grab the Sad guys and dunk them in sunshine. (I will not parse the baptismal element here.)  “I don’t want to be happy!” says one heroic Blue guy, “I want to be sad!” No way, say the dwarves, and they force-feed him sunshine which lights up his gloomy innards.

sun9

At the end of the cartoon, the Happy dwarves dance with the Blue, formerly Sad, guys who are now glowing with inner Sun. “The End. This entertainment brought to you by Borden’s” says the final credit. Borden’s? Yes, a dairy company commissioned this cartoon which shows sunlight being stored in milk bottles and delivered door-to-door like milk used to be (ask your grandmother).

sun10

The Sunshine Makers was made by Ted Eshbaugh, an animation pioneer and the guy who first put color in cartoons. Eshbaugh had his own company, based in New York, which was apparently hired by the Van Beuren organization, the executive producers of the cartoon, to handle the Borden’s contract — at least, that’s the way I piece it together.

Ted Eshbaugh, 1932, from aModern Mechanix article

Ted Eshbaugh, 1932, from a Modern Mechanix article.

Interpretations of this film differ even among people who like it. In the IMDB reviews I see someone cheering, “Yes! Because nobody wants to be sad.” This is a Happy person response. And there is a review that says, “This is all corporate brain-washing meant to get kids to drink milk!” That is a Sad person. Then there are folks who wonder just what was in those milk bottles. Ambien, perhaps? So, ’60s fans of this film might go “Sunshine, eh?” Nudge nudge, wink wink. And other folks might think of Soma in Huxley’s Brave New World or the Mood Organ in P.K.Dick’s Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? (no, not BladefuckingRunner, I’ll rant about that another day). In other words, does society have the right to demand correct emotional responses from its members, or is that a soul-crushing concept? Of course, right now, children as young as three years of age are being given drugs to make them more agreeable.

from Aaron Quinn's The Sunshine Makers

from Aaron Quinn’s The Sunshine Makers. Talk about your Prozac Nation!

There’s a cartoon homage by Aaron Quinn to Ted Eshbaugh’s work, also called The Sunshine Makers that inadvertantly (I think) makes this point with smiling robotic workers going to their shift in the Sunshine Factory, emblazoned with a big smiley face logo.

But, of course,  by saying “Let people be sad if they want”, I’ve put myself into the Sad camp. People are going to say things like, “I bet you think Roberto Benigni’s Life Is Beautiful is a big crock of steaming kitsch!” And I respond, “Well, it’s not as bad as Jerry Lewis’ The Day the Clown Cried, but it comes out of the same crock, yes.” Sometimes being Happy is just Wrong. But, hey! Take whatever message you want from this marvelous cartoon.

Here’s a final word on Happy as what psychiatrists call Inappropriate Affect:

Click to make much much bigger. [ "Let's Be Happy" by Steve Stiles from Snarf #5, © Denis Kitchen, 1974]

Click to make much much bigger. [ “Let’s Be Happy” by Steve Stiles from Snarf #5, © Denis Kitchen, 1974]

Murat Palta and Persian Miniatures

A little while ago, I posted on Andrey Kuznetsov and his using the Lubok form to show contemporary stories. Now here’s Murat Palta who has used Ottoman miniatures in the same way. Here’s Alien for instance:

And, so you can compare, here is a scene from Terminator 2 that was also done by Kuznetsov in Lubok form:

Why is this stuff interesting? Because it uses ancient techniques to show modern stories. We are able to get a glimpse of our ancestors telling these Hollywood tales. Story is eternal, and all humans tell stories. Neither Alien nor Terminator are narratives beyond the imagination of our ancestors, barring a few technology shifts. Here’s Star Wars:

The Godfather. “Baba”, I love it!

 Murat Palta’s site is here where you can see more, including details from the paintings. 

[via Metafilter]

Andrey Kuznetsov and the Lubok

Andrey Kuznetsov is a Russian artist best known for his animated films but he also does other work, often in traditional lubok style.

“The Mice Bury the Cat”, c. 1730. Possibly a commentary on the funeral of Peter the Great (d.1725).

The lubok (pl. lubki) first appeared in Russia in the 17th Century as hand-colored woodblock prints that often had a satiric message. The word “lubok” google translates as “splint”. Lubki do have something to do with pieces of wood but there is no real agreement on where the term originates.

“Live to Ride”

The traditional lubok is cheery in form and oblique in message, something to be expected in a time and place where you could be hanged for insulting the wrong person. Lubki circulated amongst the poor and the peasantry and commented on items of popular interest. Kuznetsov has done lubok-style illustrations for magazine articles, children’s books, and CD covers but also uses the internet to publish lubki based on popular movies.

“War of the Worlds”

Harry Potter

 

“Spiderman”

“Lord of the Rings”

 

“The Matrix”

“The Terminator”

 

“Star Wars”

“Avatar”

Other Russian artists have played with the lubok form, but Kuznetsov is generally considered the best. [More of his work here.] [Kuznetsov’s LiveJournal] [Article in Spanish citing a story that ran in Gentlemen’s Quarterly about King Juan Carlos killing a tame bear, illustrated lubok-style by Vladimir Zmaev.]