Jesse E. Douglass at the University of Minnesota. This one is kind of a guess—but a good guess.
And, it turns out: a correct one. I recently received a cache of letters from a family member of this MFS that confirms my (earlier) speculation about his identity, and gives some insight into how he read and thought about Fort, Forteanism, and the Fortean Society.
“Douglas” gets a few mentions in Doubt. The first was in June 1943’s story on ‘Scientifiction,’ in which he is listed as associated with science fiction. That same issue notes he had sent in material, although Thayer did not have the space to consider it. Douglas—or someone with the last name Douglas—received credit five more times. The last also gave a better clue to the identity of the Fortean, as the surname was spelled with two esses, Douglass. (Thayer mis-spelled names a lot.)
But the biggest clues come from the last mention, in April 1955 (issue #48). Thayer notes that the cover of the winter issue—featuring a grimacing face captioned “Joy to the World”—received much praise, so much that some suggested it be made into a Christmas card.Thayer noted that it was a Christmas card, from Jesse Douglas—one S, again—who had joined the Fortean Society as a undergraduate at the University of Minnesota and sent in the card—drawn by a fellow Fortean and Gopher, last name Swisher—from Panama.
And, it turns out: a correct one. I recently received a cache of letters from a family member of this MFS that confirms my (earlier) speculation about his identity, and gives some insight into how he read and thought about Fort, Forteanism, and the Fortean Society.
“Douglas” gets a few mentions in Doubt. The first was in June 1943’s story on ‘Scientifiction,’ in which he is listed as associated with science fiction. That same issue notes he had sent in material, although Thayer did not have the space to consider it. Douglas—or someone with the last name Douglas—received credit five more times. The last also gave a better clue to the identity of the Fortean, as the surname was spelled with two esses, Douglass. (Thayer mis-spelled names a lot.)
But the biggest clues come from the last mention, in April 1955 (issue #48). Thayer notes that the cover of the winter issue—featuring a grimacing face captioned “Joy to the World”—received much praise, so much that some suggested it be made into a Christmas card.Thayer noted that it was a Christmas card, from Jesse Douglas—one S, again—who had joined the Fortean Society as a undergraduate at the University of Minnesota and sent in the card—drawn by a fellow Fortean and Gopher, last name Swisher—from Panama.
Well, it just so happens I can find a Jesse Douglass who attended the University of Minnesota in the 1940s and later went to the Canal Zone in Panama. And his middle name was the same as Thayer’s: Ellsworth. He was a Midwesterner, too.
Here’s a brief biography.
Douglass was born 11 July 1918 in Minnesota to Jesse E. Douglass (a doctor) and Dagney Douglass. In 1920, they were living at the Minnesota State Sanitarium. In 1930, they were living in a county TB hospital in Wisconsin, the family now expanded by the a second son, David. The 1940 census saw him and the rest of the family at the Jasper County TB hospital in Missouri. Jesse the younger was 22, working 52 hours per week as an assistant at a university.
His mother, Dagney, was interested in astrology, at least later in life, and even became locally known as something of a fortune teller herself, according to Douglass. He told Thayer, “The ‘poor in spirit’ beat a steady path to the door. Such a bunch of soonish, frustrated, menopausing women! One was alright, however.” It was in high school, in the academic year 1932-1933, that Douglass claims to have first heard that astrology was “quackery”: “My history teacher, a Miss Herrod, and a hard-bitten looking old hen she was, said quite dogmatically that the idea was quite preposterous.”
Douglass was a science fiction fan, although I am not sure that he ever belonged to organized fandom. He also had an interest in Russian writers of naturalism, Mikhail Artsybashev and his school. The 1939 yearbook for the University of Minnesota has him graduating with a BA in the arts, and gives his home as Missouri. That same year, the school newspaper—Minnesota Chats—noted he contributed to his dorm’s paper, “The Pioneer Piper.”
He served in the Navy from 1942 to 1945.
Douglass became a doctor, and travelled to the Panama Canal Zone in the mid-1950s, presumably for professional reasons. From 1943 to 1958, he was married to Florence Marjorie Sargent. He remarried in 1963, Marjorie Jean Mikkelsen.
Douglass died 14 September 1996 in Tyler, Texas. He was 78.
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Originally, I had no idea what to make of Douglass’ membership in the Society—why he’d bothered, why he continued. But the letters he wrote to Thayer give some insight. His first letter was written to Thayer on 1 April 1942—April Fool’s Day, then—and came before he had really started reading Fort and was just making his way through various issues of “Doubt.” Douglass started out blasting: “Dear Tiff: Damn you and your goddamned Society and its January publication!” It was an abrupt salutation—the first correspondence between the two men, Douglass then 24 and feeling his oats, clearly, Thayer 40 and a famous, if not well-regarded, author.
The rest of the letter is mostly spent on one item, Thayer’s admitted ignorance of “seche" in a news story, and Douglass raking him over the coals for doubting the existence of oscillating waves in a lake, which was properly spelled “seiche” and then chiding him for not “exhibiting true Fortean Spirit”: Thayer spent too little time on the matter of the seiche and should have done much more research.
But the letter, forceful as it seemed, was clearly meant in some manner of fun—later correspondence showed that, as did some bits of the letter itself. After quoting a long passage from a book, Douglass added parenthetically: “Go to hell if you find the typing atrocious. I can rationalize my hunt and peck system too.” And, toward then end, he wrote that he wanted to be enumerated among the Forteans—if it meant going to jail, then it would be a draft exemption anyway. It’s worth noting that the January issue that prompted Douglass to write was the one that carried “Circus Day Is Over,” which got the FBI looking into the Society for sedition and prompted a number of the Founders to leave or threaten to leave the Society. Douglass admitted, though, he didn’t have enough money for dues, and hoped Thayer would carry him.
Seemingly in exchange, Douglass offered—facetiously—a large investment down the road, when he’d made his millions, and then, more seriously, said he was writing to the subject of another story, one about a sea monster that had washed ashore in Vancouver, and would pass on the details to Thayer when they came. He also asked another favor: “Also, I am having a hell of a time reading Fort. Any suggestions?”
It was a nubbly start to a long, though neither intense nor frequent, correspondence.
That Douglass was intrigued by the Society and excited is shown by his next letter, which was written five days later, before Thayer had a chance to respond to the first. He sent some Fortean data—about twins who died within five minutes of one another. (Thayer didn’t run it; probably it was lost in the blowback from his January issue.) Douglass himself was skeptical of finding any meaning in the coincidence—astrology was an obvious connection, but he could not credit it. To this extended bit of Forteana, he appended a couple of other half-remembered stories, another article reference, some defenses—“I’m not going to apologize for this typing—I’m going to be bellicose about it”—and a few more consequential bits.
One is a solution to a mystery: Swisher is Donald E. Swisher, another student at the University, whom Douglass thought would make a good member. The second is a report from the professor on the sea monster, dismissing it as the skeleton of a shark. And the third makes clear Douglass knew exactly what he was doing when he praised the January issue. He was largely in agreement with Thayer’s politics, his anti-war sentiment and dislike of the press: “P.S. I liked the editorial in the January issue of the society magazine.”
Thayer did respond a little more than a week later, 11 April, which was fast for him. He was appreciative of Douglass’s efforts, having read the brusque language correctly, and sent along the membership forms, as well as asking after a couple of other Minnesota students who had expressed interest in the Society but not yet paid.
That seems to have been encouragement enough—though at this point perhaps Douglass did not need encouragement. Even as he continued to plead poverty, he “cough[ed] up” the dues, justifying the expense because he liked Thayer’s unorthodox views: “I guess it is worth it to know there is sone one in the goddamned oblate spheroid (?) who doesn’t consider everything in terms of 2 plus 2 equals 4.” He then revealed he’d been digging into the Society, and found that Thayer used to go by the name Elmer Ellsworth, which he found hilarious. He’d also been running down some references in Fort—he was diligent—and found a few errors, of citation and interpretation. He recommended another member, too, the science fiction writer Anson MacDonald—not realizing that this was the pseudonym of Robert Heinlein. He’d been impressed by the story “Waldo” in “Astounding,” which he found Fortean.
There was a four-month gap until the next bit of correspondence, as Douglass transitioned out of the Public Health Service and into the Navy. (He thought Swisher might join him.) Douglass was a little miffed at Thayer not having written back—he’d paid his dues, after all, literally—but sent in his new address, clippings, and the work he’d done running down Fort’s references anyway. He’d also continued his own (literary) Fortean investigations—and hoped to do more. He’d been looking for old copies of Fort’s books in second-hand stores (only finding “Lo!”) and had read some of Thayer’s works: “‘Thirteen Men’ is worth reading for the last chapter, Rare indeed. ‘Little Dog Lost’ is by far the best. The only reason I monkey with you at all is because you are trying to express in words an undercurrent of American thought and action.” (I wonder what this means?) He asked Thayer to pass along back issues of Doubt when he had time.
Thayer did respond this time, though not until the middle of September: thanking him for the work he’d done on the Vancouver monster, saying he’d follow up on Fort’s references, sending his membership card (#12196—which seems high, but my guess is that Thayer’s numbering system was purposefully confusing), telling the story of his name change, saying if he gets drafted, he’ll be a conscientious objector, pointing Douglass to a sales list for back issues, and recommending he write a book. He also wondered why Swisher hadn’t paid yet.
The correspondence then fragments, presumably because of Douglass’s service, and a tension developed between the two, as Douglass pushed to further his Fortean education, and Thayer jealousy guard what he had. Some time in November, presumably, Douglass was on leave in New York and wrote Thayer asking to visit his Fortean archives. Thayer replied that the archives were only available by correspondence—ask him, and, when he had time, he’d dig through it. (He also reiterated that the other Minnesota students were not paying their dues.) Douglass apparently was not happy with this request, and pushed again to get into he archives, but Thayer resisted, this time pleading he was too busy (but would be getting out another issue of Doubt soon enough).
It was a year before there was any correspondence again: perhaps this was bad blood, but more likely it was just their lives were busy. In the June 1943 issue of The Fortean Science magazine, Thayer name-checked Douglass as among those Forteans who were also science fiction fans, and mentioned that he’d received clippings from Douglass, but just hadn’t run them yet. There’s also a postcard from Thayer to Douglass dated 1 August 1943 inviting him to lunch; I don’t know that the date was ever made, or held, though.
Douglass wrote again in December 1943, after Thayer had dunned him for his dues. He sent them in—not without protest—and asked for extra issues of Doubt to pass around, as well as trying to enroll a new member. Douglass wasn’t sure how much it would all cost, so sent in some money and told Thayer to keep any remainder. He met have liked the Society’s politics, since he was passing around Doubt, and supported Thayer’s plan to be a C.O. “If I had known what I know now I would have done the same thing. And I thought I could be utilized to the nest advantage! Egad!” He had another half-remembered bit of Fortean data, and praised Spengler.
There seems to be at least one letter missing, in which Douglass had gone into a bit more depth about his views on Spengler. Thayer sent a post-card agreeing with him, and asking him to write something up for Doubt. At any rate, Thayer responded in January, and reiterated the offer to run an essay on Spengler by Douglass. He noted, as well, that Swisher, who was hanging around Catholics, told him the Fortean Society was approved by them because they attacked science. “Strange bedfellows,” Thayer said.
Douglass got the message this time, and wrote a letter, dated 2 February 1944, that included a longer discussion of Spengler, though one that never ran in “Doubt.” He said that he approved of Spengler because no authorities ever spoke approvingly of him and because he thought that science’s influence was on the wane. to be fair , he admitted, Spengler thought tat everything was on the wane. Forteans, he thought, would appreciate the spirit of the book, which was written as though Spengler “didn’t give a damn whether any one ever read or understood his ideas. From what I can learn of him he was snooty with everybody. To me that is an admirable trait nowadays, especially since everybody is such a collective damned fool.”
Thayer never ran the review; it may be that Douglass’s write-up was too shallow, but probably it was just a matter of space, and that “Doubt” came out on no particular schedule at this time. Certainly Thayer published other essays, reviews, and letters that were at least as superficial, and may that were hard to parse entirely. At any rate, Douglass had not yet broken into Doubt, and the connection between him and the Society continued to be episodic: though he was intrigued by Fort, the Society, and Thayer, other matters were simply more important.
It was another nine months before Douglass made contact again, writing from Long Island. He was still jousting with Thayer, playfully, calling the Society “your phoney [sic] organization” and wondering if he’d been put in the “klink yet”—probably not, he guessed, since he was “small potatoes; still, as an “owl collector,” he thought Thayer would do. But he also sent along notice of Forteana, commenting on membership, asking for new publications, and giving new addresses for people he had recruited into the Society. He acknowledged his own aloofness from the Society: “Have fallen considerably behind in knowledge and attitude, accepted or no. Am becoming a good jellyfish.” His own interest had drifted from Forteana somewhat and fixated on the “pornograph” [sic!].
Thayer wrote back a bit later, hoping Douglass was still in town and inviting him to lunch—there were no hard feelings—but Douglass had already left, to Portland, Maine, and was unsure where he was headed to next. Douglass had the same irreverence for his work as he did for Thayer’s Fortean Society: “La Guerre goes on and on. My important part of the war effort confines itself to acting as high paid messenger boy and occasional janitor. Keeps me puffed up with my own importance.” The Society was a relief amid the mundanities: “Keep me posted as to all the latest Forteana. Esoterica for its own sake.” Six months passed.
When Douglass wrote to Thayer again, from Virginia, at the end of April 1945, he showed no more reverence for politics than he had for much of anything else. “By the way, Joe [Stalin] is taking us for a Merry Ride, isn’t he? He had The Great White Father by his atrophied testicles.” But there was some earnestness underneath it all, as he plumped for John L. Lewis, head of the United Mine Workers union, as secretary of labor, suggesting a left-leaning sensibility: “He is one of the few who seems sincere about Labor anyway.”; Thayer mostly agreed: “Think you must be right about John L.—if only because he has so many enemies with access to newsprint."
Forteana continued to be a relief. He asked for more new materials, sent in a clipping, and discussed an article in “Life” magazine about mysterious eggs in China that could stand on end. (Swisher had supposedly pointed the story out to Thayer as well.) “Wrote to LIFE warning them that Forteans would be eagerly awaiting the frenzied explanations,” he told Thayer. “Their reply was cool.” Thayer thanked Douglass for the data, and quipped—although I’m not sure I understand the joke—“Here, we stand *fried* eggs on end.” Was it a joke about the Japanese, fried egg a slang for their flag? Or insane people? Not sure.
The correspondence seems to have picked up its pace in 1945, at least on Douglass’s side, reflecting the end of the war and the close of his service. He sent in some material about rains of strange things in July 1945—indeed, he sent two separate laters dated the 16th. And more came in November, including a long list of marine disasters from the 1944 World Almanac. Thayer could not respond as often as Douglass would have liked though—this was a frequent them in Thayer’s correspondence with different people. He was working a lot, and trying to finish his historical novel about the Mona Lisa. In November, he wrote, “Aw, Doug, I love your letters but I just can’t punch the bag with you and get out the book too. Write oftener!”
Douglass, though, did not write oftener—there’s a big lag after 1945. Douglass’s name did appear in Doubt #14 (Spring 1946), regarding radioactive straw, but this seems to be Thayer finally getting around to a clipping—not included in the correspondence—that Douglass sent in July 1945. Otherwise, the connection dropped for the better part of three years, with Douglass writing something—not preserved—around May 1948 telling Thayer he was headed for medical school. (“Yaaaaa—medical school,” Thayer replied. “You apostate!”) In August, Douglass sent in updates on the semi-Forteans—the Minnesota students and others he had recruited, but who never got around to paying his dues. Douglass did pay his, though, and offered support for Thayer’s Fortean University—moral, not monetary, the donation being too much. He also wanted issues of Doubt that had gotten missed—probably because he had been moving so often. (As well, he and Thayer talked stamp collecting a bit.)
Douglass seemed renewed in his Forteanism with 1948. He sent in more dues in November, and also sent money to have issues of Doubt sent to the University of Minnesota library (where Douglas himself had been depositing his extras). Thayer wrote quickly to say that the magazine had already been going to the University of Minnesota Library, and wanted to make sure it had actually been filed. (He sent a follow-up letter, too, one that also asked about other University of Minnesota almost-Forteans.) Douglas did look into it, and found that Doubt was indeed at the library, but under a special category head and without any cross references, making it near impossible to find: “So even the One Ray of —- is dimmed in a darkling card file.” He thought a more regular schedule of publication would probably help.
Meanwhile, he again broke into Doubt—#23 (December 1948) with a mysterious fire—a fire covered by lots of Forteans and caused Thayer to formulate a Fortean law: Cherhcez la Wonet. And there were more letters. He sent one dated 30 December—about the library and other stuff. He’d clearly either had the Society on his mind or went through his file of letters, because he noted Thayer used the same salutation (“dear boy”) five years before. There was more gossip (one of the almost-Forteans had become a priest!), and talk over what to do with the money Douglass had sent to pay for the library’s Doubts. Some should be applied to his dues, he thought, and the rest could be used to buy seasonal cards or make a new (Fortean-style 13-month perpetual) calendar, but this one not with Iktomi’s drawings—he “preferred scrumptious pornography.”
There was either no response from Thayer, or none preserved. Indeed, there were only two more pieces of correspondence about which I know. In the meantime, Douglass’s name appeared once more in Doubt, issue #24, from April 1949, a report—again, sent in by many—on Ivan Sanderson’s investigation of strange tracks on a Florida beach—he thought them from a lost penguin, but they turned out to be a hoax. His last two acknowledged contributions in Doubt appeared in issues 29 and 30 (July and October 1950): the first concerned a supposed rain of bullfrogs in West Memphis, Arkansas; the last had to do with a flying saucer sighting, but Thayer was not more explicit than that.
It would be easy, then, to lump Douglass in with those Forteans—and there were a number—who joined up during the looser, more experimental era of the 1940s, and lost interest during the 1950s, when anti-Red scares forced a higher degree of conformity. That doesn’t seem to be the case, though. Douglass received a membership card as late as 1958, which was the penultimate year of the Society’s existence. He remained connected to the Society, but was likely busy as he finished medical school, started a career, and moved to Panama. Exactly how tightly he held Fortean skepticism during this period, I don’t know, but he remained interested in Thayer’s operations.
Some time around May 1950, Douglass sent in a larger-than-the-dues donation. Thayer acknowledged it flippantly, at first (“All Jessies are alike: James, Livermore, Douglass,” comparing Douglass to others who made and lost fortunes, albeit not on the up-and-up.) Then he wrote again in June, thanking him again for the “moola.” Thayer had just grown out of an organizing mood. In the late 1940s, he had suggested a Fortean University; there were the various chapters forming; the magazine was starting to come out on a regular basis; and he was tidying up the various categories of membership. And there seems to have been a residue of that officious feeling. He thought the money might go to seasonal cards—as Douglass had recommended two years earlier—with credit to all the Minnesota boys, and a quote by Fort inside
Thayer also suggested some kind of plaque to Douglass and his friend’s Forteanism in their old frat house. It’d been a long time since a University of Minnesota student had joined the Society, and Thayer thought a memorial would goose them into action. I’m not sure that either of these suggestions were ever more than talk—just as the Fortean University was dropped and the chapters went nowhere, it may be that there was never a Christmas card and almost certainly there was no plaque. Douglass either did not respond, or did not keep a copy of the letter. But it’s clear that he thought the idea of a seasonal card was a good one.
The evidence strongly suggests that Douglass was not inclined toward religion, at least not mainstream Christianity. And so it seemed obvious that Forteans should have some kind of alternative way of sending greeting cards around Christmas time that did not reflect any Christian sentiment. Douglass’s last mention in Doubt—not a clipping, but a mention—was in relation to plans for a seasonal card. Again, I’m not sure that anything ever came of these, but the pattern for it was used on covers of Doubt: so all was not for nothing.
And here we are, back where this entry began: one measures a circle, beginning anywhere.
Here’s a brief biography.
Douglass was born 11 July 1918 in Minnesota to Jesse E. Douglass (a doctor) and Dagney Douglass. In 1920, they were living at the Minnesota State Sanitarium. In 1930, they were living in a county TB hospital in Wisconsin, the family now expanded by the a second son, David. The 1940 census saw him and the rest of the family at the Jasper County TB hospital in Missouri. Jesse the younger was 22, working 52 hours per week as an assistant at a university.
His mother, Dagney, was interested in astrology, at least later in life, and even became locally known as something of a fortune teller herself, according to Douglass. He told Thayer, “The ‘poor in spirit’ beat a steady path to the door. Such a bunch of soonish, frustrated, menopausing women! One was alright, however.” It was in high school, in the academic year 1932-1933, that Douglass claims to have first heard that astrology was “quackery”: “My history teacher, a Miss Herrod, and a hard-bitten looking old hen she was, said quite dogmatically that the idea was quite preposterous.”
Douglass was a science fiction fan, although I am not sure that he ever belonged to organized fandom. He also had an interest in Russian writers of naturalism, Mikhail Artsybashev and his school. The 1939 yearbook for the University of Minnesota has him graduating with a BA in the arts, and gives his home as Missouri. That same year, the school newspaper—Minnesota Chats—noted he contributed to his dorm’s paper, “The Pioneer Piper.”
He served in the Navy from 1942 to 1945.
Douglass became a doctor, and travelled to the Panama Canal Zone in the mid-1950s, presumably for professional reasons. From 1943 to 1958, he was married to Florence Marjorie Sargent. He remarried in 1963, Marjorie Jean Mikkelsen.
Douglass died 14 September 1996 in Tyler, Texas. He was 78.
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Originally, I had no idea what to make of Douglass’ membership in the Society—why he’d bothered, why he continued. But the letters he wrote to Thayer give some insight. His first letter was written to Thayer on 1 April 1942—April Fool’s Day, then—and came before he had really started reading Fort and was just making his way through various issues of “Doubt.” Douglass started out blasting: “Dear Tiff: Damn you and your goddamned Society and its January publication!” It was an abrupt salutation—the first correspondence between the two men, Douglass then 24 and feeling his oats, clearly, Thayer 40 and a famous, if not well-regarded, author.
The rest of the letter is mostly spent on one item, Thayer’s admitted ignorance of “seche" in a news story, and Douglass raking him over the coals for doubting the existence of oscillating waves in a lake, which was properly spelled “seiche” and then chiding him for not “exhibiting true Fortean Spirit”: Thayer spent too little time on the matter of the seiche and should have done much more research.
But the letter, forceful as it seemed, was clearly meant in some manner of fun—later correspondence showed that, as did some bits of the letter itself. After quoting a long passage from a book, Douglass added parenthetically: “Go to hell if you find the typing atrocious. I can rationalize my hunt and peck system too.” And, toward then end, he wrote that he wanted to be enumerated among the Forteans—if it meant going to jail, then it would be a draft exemption anyway. It’s worth noting that the January issue that prompted Douglass to write was the one that carried “Circus Day Is Over,” which got the FBI looking into the Society for sedition and prompted a number of the Founders to leave or threaten to leave the Society. Douglass admitted, though, he didn’t have enough money for dues, and hoped Thayer would carry him.
Seemingly in exchange, Douglass offered—facetiously—a large investment down the road, when he’d made his millions, and then, more seriously, said he was writing to the subject of another story, one about a sea monster that had washed ashore in Vancouver, and would pass on the details to Thayer when they came. He also asked another favor: “Also, I am having a hell of a time reading Fort. Any suggestions?”
It was a nubbly start to a long, though neither intense nor frequent, correspondence.
That Douglass was intrigued by the Society and excited is shown by his next letter, which was written five days later, before Thayer had a chance to respond to the first. He sent some Fortean data—about twins who died within five minutes of one another. (Thayer didn’t run it; probably it was lost in the blowback from his January issue.) Douglass himself was skeptical of finding any meaning in the coincidence—astrology was an obvious connection, but he could not credit it. To this extended bit of Forteana, he appended a couple of other half-remembered stories, another article reference, some defenses—“I’m not going to apologize for this typing—I’m going to be bellicose about it”—and a few more consequential bits.
One is a solution to a mystery: Swisher is Donald E. Swisher, another student at the University, whom Douglass thought would make a good member. The second is a report from the professor on the sea monster, dismissing it as the skeleton of a shark. And the third makes clear Douglass knew exactly what he was doing when he praised the January issue. He was largely in agreement with Thayer’s politics, his anti-war sentiment and dislike of the press: “P.S. I liked the editorial in the January issue of the society magazine.”
Thayer did respond a little more than a week later, 11 April, which was fast for him. He was appreciative of Douglass’s efforts, having read the brusque language correctly, and sent along the membership forms, as well as asking after a couple of other Minnesota students who had expressed interest in the Society but not yet paid.
That seems to have been encouragement enough—though at this point perhaps Douglass did not need encouragement. Even as he continued to plead poverty, he “cough[ed] up” the dues, justifying the expense because he liked Thayer’s unorthodox views: “I guess it is worth it to know there is sone one in the goddamned oblate spheroid (?) who doesn’t consider everything in terms of 2 plus 2 equals 4.” He then revealed he’d been digging into the Society, and found that Thayer used to go by the name Elmer Ellsworth, which he found hilarious. He’d also been running down some references in Fort—he was diligent—and found a few errors, of citation and interpretation. He recommended another member, too, the science fiction writer Anson MacDonald—not realizing that this was the pseudonym of Robert Heinlein. He’d been impressed by the story “Waldo” in “Astounding,” which he found Fortean.
There was a four-month gap until the next bit of correspondence, as Douglass transitioned out of the Public Health Service and into the Navy. (He thought Swisher might join him.) Douglass was a little miffed at Thayer not having written back—he’d paid his dues, after all, literally—but sent in his new address, clippings, and the work he’d done running down Fort’s references anyway. He’d also continued his own (literary) Fortean investigations—and hoped to do more. He’d been looking for old copies of Fort’s books in second-hand stores (only finding “Lo!”) and had read some of Thayer’s works: “‘Thirteen Men’ is worth reading for the last chapter, Rare indeed. ‘Little Dog Lost’ is by far the best. The only reason I monkey with you at all is because you are trying to express in words an undercurrent of American thought and action.” (I wonder what this means?) He asked Thayer to pass along back issues of Doubt when he had time.
Thayer did respond this time, though not until the middle of September: thanking him for the work he’d done on the Vancouver monster, saying he’d follow up on Fort’s references, sending his membership card (#12196—which seems high, but my guess is that Thayer’s numbering system was purposefully confusing), telling the story of his name change, saying if he gets drafted, he’ll be a conscientious objector, pointing Douglass to a sales list for back issues, and recommending he write a book. He also wondered why Swisher hadn’t paid yet.
The correspondence then fragments, presumably because of Douglass’s service, and a tension developed between the two, as Douglass pushed to further his Fortean education, and Thayer jealousy guard what he had. Some time in November, presumably, Douglass was on leave in New York and wrote Thayer asking to visit his Fortean archives. Thayer replied that the archives were only available by correspondence—ask him, and, when he had time, he’d dig through it. (He also reiterated that the other Minnesota students were not paying their dues.) Douglass apparently was not happy with this request, and pushed again to get into he archives, but Thayer resisted, this time pleading he was too busy (but would be getting out another issue of Doubt soon enough).
It was a year before there was any correspondence again: perhaps this was bad blood, but more likely it was just their lives were busy. In the June 1943 issue of The Fortean Science magazine, Thayer name-checked Douglass as among those Forteans who were also science fiction fans, and mentioned that he’d received clippings from Douglass, but just hadn’t run them yet. There’s also a postcard from Thayer to Douglass dated 1 August 1943 inviting him to lunch; I don’t know that the date was ever made, or held, though.
Douglass wrote again in December 1943, after Thayer had dunned him for his dues. He sent them in—not without protest—and asked for extra issues of Doubt to pass around, as well as trying to enroll a new member. Douglass wasn’t sure how much it would all cost, so sent in some money and told Thayer to keep any remainder. He met have liked the Society’s politics, since he was passing around Doubt, and supported Thayer’s plan to be a C.O. “If I had known what I know now I would have done the same thing. And I thought I could be utilized to the nest advantage! Egad!” He had another half-remembered bit of Fortean data, and praised Spengler.
There seems to be at least one letter missing, in which Douglass had gone into a bit more depth about his views on Spengler. Thayer sent a post-card agreeing with him, and asking him to write something up for Doubt. At any rate, Thayer responded in January, and reiterated the offer to run an essay on Spengler by Douglass. He noted, as well, that Swisher, who was hanging around Catholics, told him the Fortean Society was approved by them because they attacked science. “Strange bedfellows,” Thayer said.
Douglass got the message this time, and wrote a letter, dated 2 February 1944, that included a longer discussion of Spengler, though one that never ran in “Doubt.” He said that he approved of Spengler because no authorities ever spoke approvingly of him and because he thought that science’s influence was on the wane. to be fair , he admitted, Spengler thought tat everything was on the wane. Forteans, he thought, would appreciate the spirit of the book, which was written as though Spengler “didn’t give a damn whether any one ever read or understood his ideas. From what I can learn of him he was snooty with everybody. To me that is an admirable trait nowadays, especially since everybody is such a collective damned fool.”
Thayer never ran the review; it may be that Douglass’s write-up was too shallow, but probably it was just a matter of space, and that “Doubt” came out on no particular schedule at this time. Certainly Thayer published other essays, reviews, and letters that were at least as superficial, and may that were hard to parse entirely. At any rate, Douglass had not yet broken into Doubt, and the connection between him and the Society continued to be episodic: though he was intrigued by Fort, the Society, and Thayer, other matters were simply more important.
It was another nine months before Douglass made contact again, writing from Long Island. He was still jousting with Thayer, playfully, calling the Society “your phoney [sic] organization” and wondering if he’d been put in the “klink yet”—probably not, he guessed, since he was “small potatoes; still, as an “owl collector,” he thought Thayer would do. But he also sent along notice of Forteana, commenting on membership, asking for new publications, and giving new addresses for people he had recruited into the Society. He acknowledged his own aloofness from the Society: “Have fallen considerably behind in knowledge and attitude, accepted or no. Am becoming a good jellyfish.” His own interest had drifted from Forteana somewhat and fixated on the “pornograph” [sic!].
Thayer wrote back a bit later, hoping Douglass was still in town and inviting him to lunch—there were no hard feelings—but Douglass had already left, to Portland, Maine, and was unsure where he was headed to next. Douglass had the same irreverence for his work as he did for Thayer’s Fortean Society: “La Guerre goes on and on. My important part of the war effort confines itself to acting as high paid messenger boy and occasional janitor. Keeps me puffed up with my own importance.” The Society was a relief amid the mundanities: “Keep me posted as to all the latest Forteana. Esoterica for its own sake.” Six months passed.
When Douglass wrote to Thayer again, from Virginia, at the end of April 1945, he showed no more reverence for politics than he had for much of anything else. “By the way, Joe [Stalin] is taking us for a Merry Ride, isn’t he? He had The Great White Father by his atrophied testicles.” But there was some earnestness underneath it all, as he plumped for John L. Lewis, head of the United Mine Workers union, as secretary of labor, suggesting a left-leaning sensibility: “He is one of the few who seems sincere about Labor anyway.”; Thayer mostly agreed: “Think you must be right about John L.—if only because he has so many enemies with access to newsprint."
Forteana continued to be a relief. He asked for more new materials, sent in a clipping, and discussed an article in “Life” magazine about mysterious eggs in China that could stand on end. (Swisher had supposedly pointed the story out to Thayer as well.) “Wrote to LIFE warning them that Forteans would be eagerly awaiting the frenzied explanations,” he told Thayer. “Their reply was cool.” Thayer thanked Douglass for the data, and quipped—although I’m not sure I understand the joke—“Here, we stand *fried* eggs on end.” Was it a joke about the Japanese, fried egg a slang for their flag? Or insane people? Not sure.
The correspondence seems to have picked up its pace in 1945, at least on Douglass’s side, reflecting the end of the war and the close of his service. He sent in some material about rains of strange things in July 1945—indeed, he sent two separate laters dated the 16th. And more came in November, including a long list of marine disasters from the 1944 World Almanac. Thayer could not respond as often as Douglass would have liked though—this was a frequent them in Thayer’s correspondence with different people. He was working a lot, and trying to finish his historical novel about the Mona Lisa. In November, he wrote, “Aw, Doug, I love your letters but I just can’t punch the bag with you and get out the book too. Write oftener!”
Douglass, though, did not write oftener—there’s a big lag after 1945. Douglass’s name did appear in Doubt #14 (Spring 1946), regarding radioactive straw, but this seems to be Thayer finally getting around to a clipping—not included in the correspondence—that Douglass sent in July 1945. Otherwise, the connection dropped for the better part of three years, with Douglass writing something—not preserved—around May 1948 telling Thayer he was headed for medical school. (“Yaaaaa—medical school,” Thayer replied. “You apostate!”) In August, Douglass sent in updates on the semi-Forteans—the Minnesota students and others he had recruited, but who never got around to paying his dues. Douglass did pay his, though, and offered support for Thayer’s Fortean University—moral, not monetary, the donation being too much. He also wanted issues of Doubt that had gotten missed—probably because he had been moving so often. (As well, he and Thayer talked stamp collecting a bit.)
Douglass seemed renewed in his Forteanism with 1948. He sent in more dues in November, and also sent money to have issues of Doubt sent to the University of Minnesota library (where Douglas himself had been depositing his extras). Thayer wrote quickly to say that the magazine had already been going to the University of Minnesota Library, and wanted to make sure it had actually been filed. (He sent a follow-up letter, too, one that also asked about other University of Minnesota almost-Forteans.) Douglas did look into it, and found that Doubt was indeed at the library, but under a special category head and without any cross references, making it near impossible to find: “So even the One Ray of —- is dimmed in a darkling card file.” He thought a more regular schedule of publication would probably help.
Meanwhile, he again broke into Doubt—#23 (December 1948) with a mysterious fire—a fire covered by lots of Forteans and caused Thayer to formulate a Fortean law: Cherhcez la Wonet. And there were more letters. He sent one dated 30 December—about the library and other stuff. He’d clearly either had the Society on his mind or went through his file of letters, because he noted Thayer used the same salutation (“dear boy”) five years before. There was more gossip (one of the almost-Forteans had become a priest!), and talk over what to do with the money Douglass had sent to pay for the library’s Doubts. Some should be applied to his dues, he thought, and the rest could be used to buy seasonal cards or make a new (Fortean-style 13-month perpetual) calendar, but this one not with Iktomi’s drawings—he “preferred scrumptious pornography.”
There was either no response from Thayer, or none preserved. Indeed, there were only two more pieces of correspondence about which I know. In the meantime, Douglass’s name appeared once more in Doubt, issue #24, from April 1949, a report—again, sent in by many—on Ivan Sanderson’s investigation of strange tracks on a Florida beach—he thought them from a lost penguin, but they turned out to be a hoax. His last two acknowledged contributions in Doubt appeared in issues 29 and 30 (July and October 1950): the first concerned a supposed rain of bullfrogs in West Memphis, Arkansas; the last had to do with a flying saucer sighting, but Thayer was not more explicit than that.
It would be easy, then, to lump Douglass in with those Forteans—and there were a number—who joined up during the looser, more experimental era of the 1940s, and lost interest during the 1950s, when anti-Red scares forced a higher degree of conformity. That doesn’t seem to be the case, though. Douglass received a membership card as late as 1958, which was the penultimate year of the Society’s existence. He remained connected to the Society, but was likely busy as he finished medical school, started a career, and moved to Panama. Exactly how tightly he held Fortean skepticism during this period, I don’t know, but he remained interested in Thayer’s operations.
Some time around May 1950, Douglass sent in a larger-than-the-dues donation. Thayer acknowledged it flippantly, at first (“All Jessies are alike: James, Livermore, Douglass,” comparing Douglass to others who made and lost fortunes, albeit not on the up-and-up.) Then he wrote again in June, thanking him again for the “moola.” Thayer had just grown out of an organizing mood. In the late 1940s, he had suggested a Fortean University; there were the various chapters forming; the magazine was starting to come out on a regular basis; and he was tidying up the various categories of membership. And there seems to have been a residue of that officious feeling. He thought the money might go to seasonal cards—as Douglass had recommended two years earlier—with credit to all the Minnesota boys, and a quote by Fort inside
Thayer also suggested some kind of plaque to Douglass and his friend’s Forteanism in their old frat house. It’d been a long time since a University of Minnesota student had joined the Society, and Thayer thought a memorial would goose them into action. I’m not sure that either of these suggestions were ever more than talk—just as the Fortean University was dropped and the chapters went nowhere, it may be that there was never a Christmas card and almost certainly there was no plaque. Douglass either did not respond, or did not keep a copy of the letter. But it’s clear that he thought the idea of a seasonal card was a good one.
The evidence strongly suggests that Douglass was not inclined toward religion, at least not mainstream Christianity. And so it seemed obvious that Forteans should have some kind of alternative way of sending greeting cards around Christmas time that did not reflect any Christian sentiment. Douglass’s last mention in Doubt—not a clipping, but a mention—was in relation to plans for a seasonal card. Again, I’m not sure that anything ever came of these, but the pattern for it was used on covers of Doubt: so all was not for nothing.
And here we are, back where this entry began: one measures a circle, beginning anywhere.
