Another astrologer with an interest in Fort and the Fortean Society.
Carl Payne Tobey was born 27 April 1902 in Lynnbrook, New York, on Long Island. His father, William, a construction worker from Maine, and his mother, Della Payne, from Massachusetts, had been married since 1887, when they were 20 and 18, respectively. Carl had two older sisters, Alice (b. ca. 1890) and Marion (b. ca. 1895). In 1910, the family also lived with his maternal grandmother, Alice. By 1920, he was out of the house, living with Marian and her husband Harold T. Oakley. He was too young to have served in the war, and was working as a bookkeeper for an insurance company.
The next years of Tobey’s life are poorly documented, recreated from his memories in the 1950s. Supposedly, he published a newspaper, The Long Island Sun. (There was a paper by that name which ran from 1911 to 1922.) Some time in the twenties, he moved to Florida, where, for a time, he became a political cartoonist for the Orlando Sentinel. (The Sentinel’s on-line archives do not go back far enough to substantiate this claim.) Tobey would later say that became involved with the Florida land boom, making a lot of money, and then losing a lot of money. At least art of his investments seem to have been around Hollywood, Florida, and, it seems, here he came into contact with film producers David O. and Myron Selznick, and Myron’s wife, the actress Marjorie Daw. In the 1930s, he moved bad north, finding himself in Nutley, New Jersey, in 1935 and New York City in 1940. Some time between 1935 and 1940, he married the much younger Starr Devore. She was sixteen years his junior.
In Florida, Marjorie Daw had become fascinated by astrology, and Tobey caught some of that fascination. Starr was the daughter of Nicholas Devore, who would become famous in astrological circles forty years later for his Encyclopedia of Astrology. Tobey became associated with American Astrology Magazine, and also contributed to Astrology Magazine and The New York Astrologer. Sometime during the late 1930s or early 1940s, he made the acquaintance of Grant Lewi, another astronomer, and they became great friends.
Tobey is remembered today as one of the modernizers of astrology and joined the American Federation of Astrologers in 1946. More than a decade later, he continued to hew to its principle to make astrology more scientific, more respected. He innovated by applying statistical techniques to astrology. As Toeby came to see it, astrology was the mathematics of human behavior—but for all of his updating, there was something old-fashioned about his astrology, too. He believed there was a correlation between the geometry of the stars and life on earth—as above, so below—which, admittedly, is central to astrological thought—but also made public announcements about upcoming events: his astrology was not about adapting human character to the world, but seeing mathematical tendencies unfold across time.
Carl Payne Tobey was born 27 April 1902 in Lynnbrook, New York, on Long Island. His father, William, a construction worker from Maine, and his mother, Della Payne, from Massachusetts, had been married since 1887, when they were 20 and 18, respectively. Carl had two older sisters, Alice (b. ca. 1890) and Marion (b. ca. 1895). In 1910, the family also lived with his maternal grandmother, Alice. By 1920, he was out of the house, living with Marian and her husband Harold T. Oakley. He was too young to have served in the war, and was working as a bookkeeper for an insurance company.
The next years of Tobey’s life are poorly documented, recreated from his memories in the 1950s. Supposedly, he published a newspaper, The Long Island Sun. (There was a paper by that name which ran from 1911 to 1922.) Some time in the twenties, he moved to Florida, where, for a time, he became a political cartoonist for the Orlando Sentinel. (The Sentinel’s on-line archives do not go back far enough to substantiate this claim.) Tobey would later say that became involved with the Florida land boom, making a lot of money, and then losing a lot of money. At least art of his investments seem to have been around Hollywood, Florida, and, it seems, here he came into contact with film producers David O. and Myron Selznick, and Myron’s wife, the actress Marjorie Daw. In the 1930s, he moved bad north, finding himself in Nutley, New Jersey, in 1935 and New York City in 1940. Some time between 1935 and 1940, he married the much younger Starr Devore. She was sixteen years his junior.
In Florida, Marjorie Daw had become fascinated by astrology, and Tobey caught some of that fascination. Starr was the daughter of Nicholas Devore, who would become famous in astrological circles forty years later for his Encyclopedia of Astrology. Tobey became associated with American Astrology Magazine, and also contributed to Astrology Magazine and The New York Astrologer. Sometime during the late 1930s or early 1940s, he made the acquaintance of Grant Lewi, another astronomer, and they became great friends.
Tobey is remembered today as one of the modernizers of astrology and joined the American Federation of Astrologers in 1946. More than a decade later, he continued to hew to its principle to make astrology more scientific, more respected. He innovated by applying statistical techniques to astrology. As Toeby came to see it, astrology was the mathematics of human behavior—but for all of his updating, there was something old-fashioned about his astrology, too. He believed there was a correlation between the geometry of the stars and life on earth—as above, so below—which, admittedly, is central to astrological thought—but also made public announcements about upcoming events: his astrology was not about adapting human character to the world, but seeing mathematical tendencies unfold across time.
Starr gave birth to the family’s only child, Carl Payne Tobey, Jr., on 16 July 1943. He was known as Chip. Some time between then and 1951, Starr and Carl divorced; Starr would marry Harry E. Coales, of Kingston, N.Y., in 1956, himself divorced with two children, while she was working as an advertiser for Kingston Ullster Press. Chip stayed with his father, eventually becoming a prominent attorney. In 1950, Grant Lewi moved to Tucson, Arizona. He died the following year, and Tobey and Chip went to the Southwest to settle the estate. Tobey had planned to stay a couple of weeks. Instead, he never left the Southwest.
In Arizona, Tobey published a number of small books, continued his researches, raised his son, made public predictions, became vice president and research director of Llewelyn Publications, published a cartoon-illustrated astrology column, and stared in the television program “The Future is Yours.” He ran a correspondence course, founded the Institute of Abstract Science and in 1972 wrote a summation of his astrological thinking, The Astrology of Inner Space. (His correspondence classes can still be found on the web.) In the late 1970s he moved to San Antonio, where his son lived. He died there in 1980.
Tobey really made a name for himself, at least publicly, in 1953. A February issue of The Tucson Daily Citizen had him predicting something revolutionary would occur in the Soviet Union on 10 July. The paper ran a reminder of the prediction on 9 July. And the next day, the paper reported that the head of the Secret Police had been killed: there was a power shift in the Kremlin. Life magazine made note of that prediction-filled. Tobey had other successes, too, predicting, for example, that whomever became President in 1960 would die in office. (He relied on the then-relevant Rule of 20.) There were other hits, too. He warned, for example, that Martin Luther King, Jr., might be shot.
But in addition to the hits being fairly vague--something would happen on 10 July, and something did, but nothing particularly revolutionary—he had some outright misses. February 4 1962 would bring world tensions to a head. He said that Reagan would win the 1968 Republican nomination and all signs pointed against Nixon. He predicted the Vietnam War would end in 1968, too. But it continued on for another five, bloody years. He said that there was a planet beyond Pluto—which today is no longer even considered a planet itself. Probably a more rigorous evaluation of his predictions could be made, but based on what was easily publicly available, his predictions were not notably good—especially if he had divined the mathematics of human behavior, the foundations of an exact science.
Tobey turned to the Fortean Society in 1944, after Thayer and DaCosta Williams’s correspondence about astrology and the common cold. In issue 9 (Spring 1944), Thayer announced,
The article on the Common Cold by Horoscoper DaCosta Williams, in our issue No. 7, brought a big response from ‘nature healers’ and star-wallopers from Maine to California. Two of these new correspondents stand out excitingly. . . . . CARL PAYNE TOBEY and MARC EDMUND JONES.
Tobey is the publisher of Astro-Statistics, a paper which essays to keep tabs on astrology and, by ‘scientific’ methods, to establish the study on as firm a footing (academically, economically and legally) as that enjoyed by astronomy. This is a job worth doing, and a better man for the work could not be found. The Society is cordial to the effort (up to the point of its accomplishment, when—of course—we would dissent on principle) and recommends your investigation of Astro-Statistics. Address: 1259 California Road, Tuckahoe, N.Y.”
Tobey sent in material through the mid-1940s: an article on a witchcraft trial in Mexico. (Thayer could never find a follow-up on the story, though.) He told from memory the story of Peter Vesey, an astrologist who wrote fiction for American Astrology, when Tobey was working there. One day, the expected manuscript didn’t appear in the mail, and the magazine replaced it with something else. Time passed, and there was still no word from Vesey. Finally, after a long interval, Tobey heard from a trusted source that Vesey, sent his wife and child away for an hour—an odd request, but by accounts Vesey was an odd man, so no one thought too much of it—and when they returned, Vesey was only a charred mass. But there was no sign of fire anywhere near him. He had spontaneously combusted—likely through his own willpower. Tobey offered to provide supporting documentation to anyone who requested it.
This tale of suicide touched up on some of Tobey’s Forteanism. He accepted the existence of psychic powers—what Fort had called wild talents. Indeed, he suspected that many astrologers were actually psychics, their weird talents compensating for their ignorance of mathematical methods. He was making astrology something that could be done by anyone, using mathematical methods.
Thayer seemed appreciative of Tobe’s work, and directed readers to it a number of times, even when Tobey had not sent anything in—even after Tobey seemed to drift from the Society:
“How Long, O Lord!”
“Some mighty important observations by Carl Payne Tobey occur in his article TIME—the Missing Factor in the Calculus of //162//Probabilities, in American Astrology for May, 1944, old style. Send 25c to American Astrology, 1472 Broadway, N.Y.C.
Everybody knows that red can turn up 40 times running, even on an honest roulette wheel, but Tobey’s effort is to learn when such runs are likely to occur. Mathematicians and statisticians will be interested as well as gamblers. Read it!” [Doubt 11, 161-62.]
“FORT PRESS”
“The May Horoscope contained ‘If the Time Has Come’—a grand piece, by MFS Carl Payne Tobey.” [Doubt 15, 223.]
And in 1958, Thayer recommended buying the Thought Dial—a kind of numerological Ouija Board—that came with an introduction by Tobey.
Although Tobey was drifting from the Society through the 1940s and 1950s, he did continue to send material at least until 1956. The connection was not as strong, though—the early meaty reports became just credits. That may not have been entirely Tobey’s fault, but may have reflected Thayer’s turn, too. Of the four credits he gets between 1947 and 1956, three of them relate to flying saucers. (The fourth just listed him as providing clippings Thayer did not have time or space to consider, so it may have been flying saucer material, too.) Thayer really did not like the flying saucer material, but felt that he had to address the subject. (He told Eric Frank Russell, “Nothing very exciting going on here. The entire disk issue seemed a waste of time to me, but the membership expected it.")
Flying saucers were one of the subjects—maybe the subject—which most closely tied Tobey to Fort and the Forteans, though. In 1952, The Tucscon Daily Citizen interviewed the new astrologer in town. Tobey’s main concern was that astrology get respect as a true science. But the interviewer felt compelled to ask him about flying saucers: here was somebody he studied outer space from an unusual—and largely disrespected—perspective, what did he have to say about unusual—and largely disrespected—objects reportedly coming from outer space, objects which had caused a national furor over the last half-decade. Tobey messed up his history in the response, but otherwise showed his appreciation for Fort:
“Charles Fort, back in 1917, published a book called ‘Lo.’ In it he told of flying discs that were seen as far back as 1880. He also predicted everything that is being sen and said today about the saucers.”
It takes a little speculation to see what drew Tobey to Fort—but only a little. What he seems to have liked best was that Fort found out real, scientific facts—he was unafraid to describe wild talents—spontaneous combustion as an act of will, witchcraft—or objects others might dismiss as hallucinations—flying saucers. It wasn’t Fort’s wholesale skepticism of science, then, but his salvation of knowledge that scientists had dismissed. Like astrology—a discipline that Tobey thought was a real science but had been deemed fake by scientists. Science wasn’t the enemy: the goal wasn’t to use damned facts to bring down the whole enterprise—as Thayer, in his more grandiose moments hoped to do—but to get that parade of pallid data accepted by scientists, explained, and used to enlarge human knowledge.
In Arizona, Tobey published a number of small books, continued his researches, raised his son, made public predictions, became vice president and research director of Llewelyn Publications, published a cartoon-illustrated astrology column, and stared in the television program “The Future is Yours.” He ran a correspondence course, founded the Institute of Abstract Science and in 1972 wrote a summation of his astrological thinking, The Astrology of Inner Space. (His correspondence classes can still be found on the web.) In the late 1970s he moved to San Antonio, where his son lived. He died there in 1980.
Tobey really made a name for himself, at least publicly, in 1953. A February issue of The Tucson Daily Citizen had him predicting something revolutionary would occur in the Soviet Union on 10 July. The paper ran a reminder of the prediction on 9 July. And the next day, the paper reported that the head of the Secret Police had been killed: there was a power shift in the Kremlin. Life magazine made note of that prediction-filled. Tobey had other successes, too, predicting, for example, that whomever became President in 1960 would die in office. (He relied on the then-relevant Rule of 20.) There were other hits, too. He warned, for example, that Martin Luther King, Jr., might be shot.
But in addition to the hits being fairly vague--something would happen on 10 July, and something did, but nothing particularly revolutionary—he had some outright misses. February 4 1962 would bring world tensions to a head. He said that Reagan would win the 1968 Republican nomination and all signs pointed against Nixon. He predicted the Vietnam War would end in 1968, too. But it continued on for another five, bloody years. He said that there was a planet beyond Pluto—which today is no longer even considered a planet itself. Probably a more rigorous evaluation of his predictions could be made, but based on what was easily publicly available, his predictions were not notably good—especially if he had divined the mathematics of human behavior, the foundations of an exact science.
Tobey turned to the Fortean Society in 1944, after Thayer and DaCosta Williams’s correspondence about astrology and the common cold. In issue 9 (Spring 1944), Thayer announced,
The article on the Common Cold by Horoscoper DaCosta Williams, in our issue No. 7, brought a big response from ‘nature healers’ and star-wallopers from Maine to California. Two of these new correspondents stand out excitingly. . . . . CARL PAYNE TOBEY and MARC EDMUND JONES.
Tobey is the publisher of Astro-Statistics, a paper which essays to keep tabs on astrology and, by ‘scientific’ methods, to establish the study on as firm a footing (academically, economically and legally) as that enjoyed by astronomy. This is a job worth doing, and a better man for the work could not be found. The Society is cordial to the effort (up to the point of its accomplishment, when—of course—we would dissent on principle) and recommends your investigation of Astro-Statistics. Address: 1259 California Road, Tuckahoe, N.Y.”
Tobey sent in material through the mid-1940s: an article on a witchcraft trial in Mexico. (Thayer could never find a follow-up on the story, though.) He told from memory the story of Peter Vesey, an astrologist who wrote fiction for American Astrology, when Tobey was working there. One day, the expected manuscript didn’t appear in the mail, and the magazine replaced it with something else. Time passed, and there was still no word from Vesey. Finally, after a long interval, Tobey heard from a trusted source that Vesey, sent his wife and child away for an hour—an odd request, but by accounts Vesey was an odd man, so no one thought too much of it—and when they returned, Vesey was only a charred mass. But there was no sign of fire anywhere near him. He had spontaneously combusted—likely through his own willpower. Tobey offered to provide supporting documentation to anyone who requested it.
This tale of suicide touched up on some of Tobey’s Forteanism. He accepted the existence of psychic powers—what Fort had called wild talents. Indeed, he suspected that many astrologers were actually psychics, their weird talents compensating for their ignorance of mathematical methods. He was making astrology something that could be done by anyone, using mathematical methods.
Thayer seemed appreciative of Tobe’s work, and directed readers to it a number of times, even when Tobey had not sent anything in—even after Tobey seemed to drift from the Society:
“How Long, O Lord!”
“Some mighty important observations by Carl Payne Tobey occur in his article TIME—the Missing Factor in the Calculus of //162//Probabilities, in American Astrology for May, 1944, old style. Send 25c to American Astrology, 1472 Broadway, N.Y.C.
Everybody knows that red can turn up 40 times running, even on an honest roulette wheel, but Tobey’s effort is to learn when such runs are likely to occur. Mathematicians and statisticians will be interested as well as gamblers. Read it!” [Doubt 11, 161-62.]
“FORT PRESS”
“The May Horoscope contained ‘If the Time Has Come’—a grand piece, by MFS Carl Payne Tobey.” [Doubt 15, 223.]
And in 1958, Thayer recommended buying the Thought Dial—a kind of numerological Ouija Board—that came with an introduction by Tobey.
Although Tobey was drifting from the Society through the 1940s and 1950s, he did continue to send material at least until 1956. The connection was not as strong, though—the early meaty reports became just credits. That may not have been entirely Tobey’s fault, but may have reflected Thayer’s turn, too. Of the four credits he gets between 1947 and 1956, three of them relate to flying saucers. (The fourth just listed him as providing clippings Thayer did not have time or space to consider, so it may have been flying saucer material, too.) Thayer really did not like the flying saucer material, but felt that he had to address the subject. (He told Eric Frank Russell, “Nothing very exciting going on here. The entire disk issue seemed a waste of time to me, but the membership expected it.")
Flying saucers were one of the subjects—maybe the subject—which most closely tied Tobey to Fort and the Forteans, though. In 1952, The Tucscon Daily Citizen interviewed the new astrologer in town. Tobey’s main concern was that astrology get respect as a true science. But the interviewer felt compelled to ask him about flying saucers: here was somebody he studied outer space from an unusual—and largely disrespected—perspective, what did he have to say about unusual—and largely disrespected—objects reportedly coming from outer space, objects which had caused a national furor over the last half-decade. Tobey messed up his history in the response, but otherwise showed his appreciation for Fort:
“Charles Fort, back in 1917, published a book called ‘Lo.’ In it he told of flying discs that were seen as far back as 1880. He also predicted everything that is being sen and said today about the saucers.”
It takes a little speculation to see what drew Tobey to Fort—but only a little. What he seems to have liked best was that Fort found out real, scientific facts—he was unafraid to describe wild talents—spontaneous combustion as an act of will, witchcraft—or objects others might dismiss as hallucinations—flying saucers. It wasn’t Fort’s wholesale skepticism of science, then, but his salvation of knowledge that scientists had dismissed. Like astrology—a discipline that Tobey thought was a real science but had been deemed fake by scientists. Science wasn’t the enemy: the goal wasn’t to use damned facts to bring down the whole enterprise—as Thayer, in his more grandiose moments hoped to do—but to get that parade of pallid data accepted by scientists, explained, and used to enlarge human knowledge.
