Third in a series: Three Forteans in name only.
Tiffany Thayer was, among other things, a collector. He collected first issues of small magazines. He collected pamphlets. And, as the Canadian Theosophist said in a perfect capsule epitome of Thayer’s whole Fortean project: “The Fortean Society bids fair to become the greatest aggregation of Academic Cranks the world has known.” Three of those named by the Canadian Theosophist as evidence of Thayer’s plan are the subject of this posting: George Seldes, Norman Thomas, and Manly P. Hall. They all appeared in The Fortean Society Magazine or Doubt, with an MFS attached to their name—Member of the Fortean Society—but seemed inactive, unconcerned with Thayer or his aggregation of academic cranks. Indeed, they seem to have been more-or-less appointed to the Society because they were themselves academic cranks, and they continued their own work without much regard for the Society. They were Forteans in name only.
Unlike the other two Forteans, though, Hall had at least heard of Charles Fort, and had opportunity to mention him a few times in his voluminous writings.
Manly Palmer Hall was born 18 March 1901 in Ontario, Canada, his father a dentist, his mother a chiropractor and a Rosicrucian. In 1919, he moved to Southern California and joined the mystical groups there—a subculture that would overlap with Forteanism through the work of N. Meade Layne, R. DeWitt Miller, and A. L. Joquel, among others. In 1928, he published The Secret Teachings of All Ages, which made his name in metaphysical communities. He would continue publishing books on Theosophy, Rosicrucianism, Masonry, and allied subjects, as well as journals and magazines, throughout his life. In 1934, he founded the Philosophical Research Society, a Los Angeles-based organization which studied religion, mythology, metaphysics and the occult. The Society has a vast library, and is still in existence today. Like other Forteans, Hall belonged to the Institute of General Semantics.
Hall died 29 August 1990.
Tiffany Thayer was, among other things, a collector. He collected first issues of small magazines. He collected pamphlets. And, as the Canadian Theosophist said in a perfect capsule epitome of Thayer’s whole Fortean project: “The Fortean Society bids fair to become the greatest aggregation of Academic Cranks the world has known.” Three of those named by the Canadian Theosophist as evidence of Thayer’s plan are the subject of this posting: George Seldes, Norman Thomas, and Manly P. Hall. They all appeared in The Fortean Society Magazine or Doubt, with an MFS attached to their name—Member of the Fortean Society—but seemed inactive, unconcerned with Thayer or his aggregation of academic cranks. Indeed, they seem to have been more-or-less appointed to the Society because they were themselves academic cranks, and they continued their own work without much regard for the Society. They were Forteans in name only.
Unlike the other two Forteans, though, Hall had at least heard of Charles Fort, and had opportunity to mention him a few times in his voluminous writings.
Manly Palmer Hall was born 18 March 1901 in Ontario, Canada, his father a dentist, his mother a chiropractor and a Rosicrucian. In 1919, he moved to Southern California and joined the mystical groups there—a subculture that would overlap with Forteanism through the work of N. Meade Layne, R. DeWitt Miller, and A. L. Joquel, among others. In 1928, he published The Secret Teachings of All Ages, which made his name in metaphysical communities. He would continue publishing books on Theosophy, Rosicrucianism, Masonry, and allied subjects, as well as journals and magazines, throughout his life. In 1934, he founded the Philosophical Research Society, a Los Angeles-based organization which studied religion, mythology, metaphysics and the occult. The Society has a vast library, and is still in existence today. Like other Forteans, Hall belonged to the Institute of General Semantics.
Hall died 29 August 1990.
Hall’s mentions in Doubt are brief, although they do hint at connections between Hall and Forteanism that are outside the compass of the Fortean Society. He rates his first mention in The Fortean Society Magazine 10 (Autumn 1944, p. 141) as an incidental part of a column Thayer wrote on proper reading material for Forteans. This column was not the same as the ones in which he discussed Thomas and Seldes, rather indicating that Thayer, with a renewed interest in the subject, was looking for fellow travelers. In this case, he had come across the magazine Frauds, published in La Crescenta, California. Frauds published essays by T. Swann Harding, another Fortean, and likely the person who alerted Thayer to the magazine. And Thayer liked the magazine enough to recommend it. But he thought Frauds notions of “frauds” was too circumscribed.
Frauds attacked some of Thayer’s enemies, but also held the line for much of what Thayer called Orthodoxy. Thus, Frauds dismissed Bernar MacFadden’s cancer-curing diet—but didn’t speak against what Thayer thought of as the medical racket; it sniffed at spiritualism, but had kind words for Christian Science and nothing whatsoever to say about Catholicism. Frauds wanted stronger usury laws to curtail ‘loan-sharks,’ but did not go after interest as practice, “although,” Thayer said, “twenty minutes thought on the subject will reveal to any man who can count on his own fingers that the practice of permitting money to be lent at interest is almost entirely responsible got mankind’s present degradation.” Frauds’s call for Ireland to take the side of Great Britain in the war brought “tears (of merriment)” to his eyes. And, for current purposes, Frauds had nothing to say about what Thayer considered the racket of astronomy—but had taken shots at Manly P. Hall and his astrological practices.
At the time, Hall was an Accepted Fellow of the Fortean Society, which is the same position as occupied by Norman Thomas, among others, and he was called out in a later issue (Doubt 15) and the pamphlet “The Fortean Society is the Red Cross of the Human Mind” as belonging to that club. Essentially, Accepted Fellows were people that Thayer thought represented Forteanism. They were asked if they wished to be so honored and if they agreed—some said no—they were given the title. As Founders of the Society passed on, Thayer wanted to add “Honorary Fellows” as successors—keeping the number of founders always at 11—and honorary founders would always be drawn from the ranks of the Accepted Fellows. At least, this scheme was how Thayer thought about the situation in the mid-1940s. Later, he would come to care less about membership categories. Still, the position suggests that Hall and Thayer were in contact at least once, when Thayer extended the offer and Hall accepted it.
There is the slightest chance that Thayer had even met Hall before. Thayer noted in Doubt 49 (August 1955, 349) that when he lived near the spot where Hall built the Philosophical Research Center when he was in Hollywood in the early 1930s. But even if that meeting occurred, it was before Thayer had re-formed the Fortean Society. And so Hall’s main contribution to the Society itself seems to have been responding to a letter from Thayer.
The Fortean Society and The Philosophical Research Society, though, sometimes appealed to the same people—those Forteans who were interested in metaphysics, who saw Fortean anomalies as keys to unlocking the universe’s ultimate, hidden truths. Thayer would never allow that such capital-t truths existed, but some members sought them out. Thus, Arthur Louis Joquel worked as a librarian at the PRS for many years, which allowed him to write several articles for Theosophical magazines and rework them into his 1952 Theosophical book The Challenge of Space. Another Fortean member, Jennie Selby Thomas, said, “I believe the reading of intelligent literature enables one to flower instead of whither with age. Manly Hall has been a wonderful teacher and guide. I have heard him lecture on Charles Fort. Wishing you continued success in the extension of truth” [Doubt 49, August 1955, 351]. It is no surprise, then, that Thayer offered Hall’s books for sales—no different than recommending reading Frauds even when he thought it limited.
Jennie Thomas’s remembrance indicates that Hall, unlike (it seems) Norman Thomas and George Seldes, had heard of Fort—and why wouldn’t he have? Given his career, it was impossible not to have come across Fort’s writings and formed some opinion of them. The tricky part is understanding what those opinions are, exactly, and what to make of them.
Hall wrote a lot, and I cannot say that I have searched through all of his output. But I didn’t notice any references to Fort in his major works. Rather there are a few stray remarks in his magazine, Horizon (later: PRS Journal). I also found a lecture in which he mentioned Fort, although that does not seem to be the lecture to which Thomas and Thayer referred. I do think I might have an idea of what that lecture was, however.
Hall seems to have seen Fort mostly as a collector—not a philosopher; the way, say, some biologists dismiss taxonomists as ‘mere stamp collectors,’ never noticing the philosophy that undergirds taxonomic work. Fort had a method, and a point he was trying to make, but Hall does not seem to have read Fort closely enough to understand.
In 1946, for example, Hall almost got correct the amount of information that Fort had collected (he missed one volume), but bemoaned that these were never integrated into a larger framework—presumably, given Hall’s own inclinations, a theory that would be grounded in ancient and esoteric wisdom:
“The late Charles Fort collected three volumes of well-authenticated accounts of incredible occurrences for which no reasonable explanation is available. These accounts, however, seldom lead to any critical investigation of the circumstances. The deadly silence which follows the announcement that a group of savants is about to examine the phenomena probably indicates that these learned gentlemen were unable to discover any evidence of fraud” [Crisis in Higher Learning, Horizon, vol. 5, no. 4 Spring 1946, 47-59 (quote p. 54)].
A few years before, he had invoked Fort to remind readers “we need a basic tolerance toward the unknown.” The article’s main focus was rocks falling, from a seemingly clear sky, onto the Oakland, Ca, home of Irene Fellows. The story had made the papers in San Francisco, and engaged the interest of some Forteans there, the science fiction editor Anthony Boucher, the science fiction writer Miriam Allen de Ford (widow of the late Maynard Shipley), and the literary critic Joseph Henry Jackson, although it is doubtful Manly Hall knew anymore than what he had read in the papers, as the old Will Rogers’s line goes.
Hall mentions Fort in the opening paragraph—he “had an inquiring type of mind in matters of the mysterious”—and, later, suggested that were Fort still alive, he would class the case among those he labelled ‘Telaportation,’ as Hall spelled the word. This assumption gives the puckish Fort too much credit for consistency, and he might just as well have dismissed the event for some obscure reason. But Hall’s concern here is not really with Fort, but with teleportation, as I spell it, and e went on for many paragraphs discussing the widespread and ancient knowledge of teleportation [“Pebbles from the Sky,” Horizon, Nov. 1943, 29-31.]
The Western mind, he said, as it has developed, no longer confronts these mysteries—and a confrontation wight hem would lead them back to surer sources of knowledge, ancient wisdom and traditions that had been lost, as well as abilities—such as teleportation—which once were controlled, but no longer. Fort’s role in all of this, then, was that he “performed a very useful service when he reminded thoughtful men of the scope of the larger problems of the unknown.” Fort made it more difficult to ignore the mysterious; those who contemplated the mysterious things that were dismissed by the modern mind might be led to question current thought, and find themselves falling behind Hall in looking to ancient traditions for answers. Fort raised the questions, but was never part of the answers.
He made a more deflating point in the early 1950s, at which time flying saucers had become a topic of discussion: the ancient mystery of lights in the sky given scientific form. This mention of Fort came in a lecture Hall gave, “The Case of the Flying Saucers,” the typed lecture notes now preserved on-line: http://www.manlyphall.org/text/the-case-of-the-flying-saucers/. Hall concluded that flying saucers were likely not from outer space at all, but were research experiments by military agencies. In a long speech, he mentioned Fort only once, and that was largely to dismiss him. Hall said, “One of the interesting phases has been to draw Charles Fort and some of his opinions into it in an effort to prove that mysterious atmospheric visitors have been reported for more than two hundred years.” He, however, doubted such correlations could be made—the astronomical sciences were poorly developed in the past, and so earlier reports not reliable, and anyway people are given to being deceived by their senses. He gave as an example tales of sea monsters and mermaids which, he said, were the product of sailors mis-apprehending the things they were seeing, turning penguins, for instances, into sirens. Fort—or, at least the Forteans—in this case, were not even asking the right questions.
All of which raises its own pressing question—What does it even mean to be Fortean?
And here we get into hair-splitting.
The question itself can be broken into three, I think. First, could someone who had never read Fort at all be a Fortean—a born Fortean, as Thayer said, or like the Greek philosophers Thayer favored as being Fortean before Fort. Simple answer: no.
Longer answer: make the analogy with Christianity. Could someone who never read the Bible, never heard of Christ, be Christian? No. That person might embody Christian ethics or a Christian lifestyle. But those ideals, those ethics would have been developed out of an entirely different set of circumstances. That person would have been uninfluenced by Christian history. Same with Forteans—which is why George Seldes and Norman Thomas as Forteans in name only. They were baptized into the faith, so to speak, by Thayer, but the development of their thought, the causes of their actions—these things were not influenced by Fort or Fortean thought.
Second, is someone aware of Fort, even conceding his intelligence and worthiness, necessarily a Fortean? Once more, simple answer, No. Again, consider the analogy. Many mystical and religious leaders acknowledge the power of other religious figures, without necessarily becoming members of that faith. The Dalai Lama, for one, often talks about the beauty of Christ’s teachings—doesn’t make him a Christian. I myself might concede that some of what Gandhi taught was excellent, but I’m no a Hindu. And so this is one way that Hall fails to be a Fortean—or is one in name only. Sure, he knew Fort, sure he even acknowledged some of what Fort wrote was interesting and worth contemplating. But, ultimately, Fort’s writings and Fort’s conclusions were sidetracks for Hall. Fort did not influence, he did not really engage with Fort’s ideas. Indeed, it’s not clear—as we will see—he knew much about Fort at all: that what he discussed, when he discussed Fort, was not Fort, but the idea of Fort, the way that many people do not discuss Christ, or what is in the Bible, but the prevailing idea of who or what Christ was.
Third, are all members of the Fortean Society Forteans? For the most part yes. I do not want to get involved in “No True Scotsman” arguments about what really makes a Fortean a Fortean, or the only correct way to interpret Fort’s works. For a final time, consider the analogy with Christianity. There are liberal and conservative versions, muscular and meek, intellectual and emotional. Some versions are diametrically opposed to each other. Wars have been fought over the correct interpretation of the Bible. But all those who claim to be Christians, as far as I am concerned, are Christians. Same with Forteanism. Forteans are people who identify themselves as Forteans, whatever the content of their ideas or their particular readings (or non-readings) of Fort.
But that’s not the same as saying all who belong the Fortean Society are Forteans. There were plenty of people, collected by Thayer who joined the Society without necessarily declaring themselves Forteans. Some, like Seldes and Thomas, who never seemed to have heard of Fort at all. And others, like Hall, who knew of Fort, maybe even approved of some of his writings, but still didn’t think of themselves as Forteans, or even particularly interested in Fort.
This lack of interest comes clear in a 1942 from Horizon that focused a lot on Fort. Indeed, I suspect that this was Hall’s lecture on Fort, printed in his own magazine rather than an astrological one. (Not a surprising confusion on Thayer’s part, given that Hall was interested in, and wrote about, astrology.) The article was titled “How Scientific is Science?” (Horizon, vol. 1., no. 5, Jan. 1942, 22-23) and a footnote says that it was condensed from a public lecture.
Hall begins on solid enough Fortean ground. He comments that, in the current martial environment, there would be invented new machines, but that these would all rely on physical—not metaphysical—properties. Indeed, he said, science had ruled out metaphysics—not based on study, but from pure prejudice. Scientists made ex cathedra statement all the time, on subjects they could not hope to know about: there is no soul, for example. This bit could have come from Thayer’s pen: “The scientific world cannot have laymen regarding any scientist as ignorant; the public would lose faith, There must be theories, and someone has to believe them. . . . Science spends much time hushing up that which it cannot explain, even against the evidence of the five senses of thoroughly reliable persons, supported by documentary attestation.”
At this point, Hall introduced Fort—as someone who would speak truth to power, someone who said the scientific emperor wore no clothes—typical stuff. Except that Hall’s Fort was a purely imaginary figure, with degrees he had not earned, setbacks he had not suffered, and ideas he did not champion:
“This attitude was not suited to a man named Charles Fort. Some years ago he culminated a period of investigation with a magnificent expose of the fallacies of human knowledge. The books he wrote cost him his job; he was asked to resign his connection with an important museum.”
Where, exactly, Hall came across this account of Fort is hard to know. Thayer’s edited omnibus edition of Fort’s book had come out in 1941, and the introduction gave a brief biography of the man, without any of this detail. A. L. Joquel went to work at Hall’s library around this time, and surely he had a more reliable understanding of Fort. Perhaps this was the bastardization of a story—told in Emund Pearson’s 1928 Queer Books—that Fort was non-plussed to find his works catalogued with eccentric literature, rather than science. Whatever the reason, Hall was confident he got the story straight, and added more detail:
“Dr. [!] Fort’s works are not speculation; they are scientifically annotated and completely irrefutable. He did not attack the great findings of science [!]. But the subject of his writings is: science is already in possession of knowledge of the metaphysical world, but will not admit it. In presentation of each fact he states where it came from, submits proof of scientific knowledge, annotated by scientific reports and naming the scientific organization which examined it. No one quoted came forward to deny or contradict him. But his resignation was asked for, his professional connection severed,” [sic]
This view of Fort is at odds with many facts—he did not have a doctorate, nor did he abstain from attacking the great findings of science: just ask the astronomers. Still, it might not rule Hall out as a Fortean. He was clearly reading him in a particular way—to substantiate his claim that ancient wisdom already included scientific knowledge—and I am not here to referee the best way to understand Fort. But what really comes across is a fundamental disinterest in Fort and the Forteans—he is invoking the name not to identify with it, but simply to make a larger point.
Hall continues,
“This attitude is not scientific. Laymen resented it, and a group of brilliant and popular writers of the day gathered together to head up an organization which they have named the Fortian [sic] Society, formed to carry on investigation of the metaphysical facts that science has ignored.”
Which is not what the Fortean Society’s founding was about at all. And even as it was reconstituted by Thayer, the Fortean Society rarely investigated metaphysical facts, instead reporting anomalies and complaining about politics. To be fair, though, Hall did get some maters about Fort correct:
“Dr. Fort’s books record many things of vast importance in report [sic] of his investigations and confirming the opinions of others. One discovery is: It is possible for solid objects to be moved instantly across the earth. It is possible for a human being to move from one side of the earth to the other instantly.
He discovered it is possible for one solid to pass through another solid.
….Dr. Fort’s works include levitation in the movement of a solid substance through space.”
Substitute speculation for discovery and one san see Fort in this description at least: Fort dud speculate on numerous unusual modes of transportation. He also reported on other anomalies, but not quite so confidently and with quite as much evidence as Hall had it at the end of the article:
“Dr. Fort in one of his books details the examination of oil which materialized in the air about one inch below the roof of a house in England. Hogsheads of the oil have been taken out. Hordes of scientists have examined every part of the house; there are no pipes or tubes; photographs show that the ceiling is not even stained by oil. By all methods of scientific proof there is no fraud. Dense oil manifests out of thin air. And that’s that, so far as science is concerned. An oil source is the most vital need of any nation engaged in modern warfare. But in the face of this materialization of dense matter out of thin air science demands that we continue to believe that crude oil comes only from down deep in the earth where we have always believed it.
….
As much as we can admitted science’s contributions to our well-being, the scientists stands against his own principles when he conceals facts and stubbornly holds out against a fact as not being a fact because sit is a metaphysical fact. Metaphysics is no longer n abstract dream; it is time for it to be included in the exact sciences; metaphysical knowledge is demonstrable fact.”
That conclusion seems based on a story Fort recounted in Lo!:
Aug. 30, 1919—Swanton Novers Rectory, near Melton Constable, Norfolk, England—oil ‘spurting’ from walls and ceilings. It was thought that the house was over an oil well, the liquid percolating and precipitating, but it was not crude oil that was falling: the liquids were paraffin and petrol. Then cam showers of water. Oil was falling from one of the appearing-points, at a rate of a quart in ten minutes. Methylated spirits and sandalwood oil were falling. In an account, dated September 2nd, it is said that receptacles had been placed under appearing-points, and that about 50 gallons of oil had been caught. Of thirteen showers, upon September 1st, two were of water.”
Fort then goes on to discuss the investigation into the appearance of the water, the sad official explanations and the contradictory details. One can see the genesis of Hall’s account in this story, but it was not necessary to enumerate all the exaggerations. Hall was clearly most interest din making his point about the need to accept metaphysics. Fort as only support in the grander project—and not even very well used Fort.
Hall was a Fortean in name only.
Frauds attacked some of Thayer’s enemies, but also held the line for much of what Thayer called Orthodoxy. Thus, Frauds dismissed Bernar MacFadden’s cancer-curing diet—but didn’t speak against what Thayer thought of as the medical racket; it sniffed at spiritualism, but had kind words for Christian Science and nothing whatsoever to say about Catholicism. Frauds wanted stronger usury laws to curtail ‘loan-sharks,’ but did not go after interest as practice, “although,” Thayer said, “twenty minutes thought on the subject will reveal to any man who can count on his own fingers that the practice of permitting money to be lent at interest is almost entirely responsible got mankind’s present degradation.” Frauds’s call for Ireland to take the side of Great Britain in the war brought “tears (of merriment)” to his eyes. And, for current purposes, Frauds had nothing to say about what Thayer considered the racket of astronomy—but had taken shots at Manly P. Hall and his astrological practices.
At the time, Hall was an Accepted Fellow of the Fortean Society, which is the same position as occupied by Norman Thomas, among others, and he was called out in a later issue (Doubt 15) and the pamphlet “The Fortean Society is the Red Cross of the Human Mind” as belonging to that club. Essentially, Accepted Fellows were people that Thayer thought represented Forteanism. They were asked if they wished to be so honored and if they agreed—some said no—they were given the title. As Founders of the Society passed on, Thayer wanted to add “Honorary Fellows” as successors—keeping the number of founders always at 11—and honorary founders would always be drawn from the ranks of the Accepted Fellows. At least, this scheme was how Thayer thought about the situation in the mid-1940s. Later, he would come to care less about membership categories. Still, the position suggests that Hall and Thayer were in contact at least once, when Thayer extended the offer and Hall accepted it.
There is the slightest chance that Thayer had even met Hall before. Thayer noted in Doubt 49 (August 1955, 349) that when he lived near the spot where Hall built the Philosophical Research Center when he was in Hollywood in the early 1930s. But even if that meeting occurred, it was before Thayer had re-formed the Fortean Society. And so Hall’s main contribution to the Society itself seems to have been responding to a letter from Thayer.
The Fortean Society and The Philosophical Research Society, though, sometimes appealed to the same people—those Forteans who were interested in metaphysics, who saw Fortean anomalies as keys to unlocking the universe’s ultimate, hidden truths. Thayer would never allow that such capital-t truths existed, but some members sought them out. Thus, Arthur Louis Joquel worked as a librarian at the PRS for many years, which allowed him to write several articles for Theosophical magazines and rework them into his 1952 Theosophical book The Challenge of Space. Another Fortean member, Jennie Selby Thomas, said, “I believe the reading of intelligent literature enables one to flower instead of whither with age. Manly Hall has been a wonderful teacher and guide. I have heard him lecture on Charles Fort. Wishing you continued success in the extension of truth” [Doubt 49, August 1955, 351]. It is no surprise, then, that Thayer offered Hall’s books for sales—no different than recommending reading Frauds even when he thought it limited.
Jennie Thomas’s remembrance indicates that Hall, unlike (it seems) Norman Thomas and George Seldes, had heard of Fort—and why wouldn’t he have? Given his career, it was impossible not to have come across Fort’s writings and formed some opinion of them. The tricky part is understanding what those opinions are, exactly, and what to make of them.
Hall wrote a lot, and I cannot say that I have searched through all of his output. But I didn’t notice any references to Fort in his major works. Rather there are a few stray remarks in his magazine, Horizon (later: PRS Journal). I also found a lecture in which he mentioned Fort, although that does not seem to be the lecture to which Thomas and Thayer referred. I do think I might have an idea of what that lecture was, however.
Hall seems to have seen Fort mostly as a collector—not a philosopher; the way, say, some biologists dismiss taxonomists as ‘mere stamp collectors,’ never noticing the philosophy that undergirds taxonomic work. Fort had a method, and a point he was trying to make, but Hall does not seem to have read Fort closely enough to understand.
In 1946, for example, Hall almost got correct the amount of information that Fort had collected (he missed one volume), but bemoaned that these were never integrated into a larger framework—presumably, given Hall’s own inclinations, a theory that would be grounded in ancient and esoteric wisdom:
“The late Charles Fort collected three volumes of well-authenticated accounts of incredible occurrences for which no reasonable explanation is available. These accounts, however, seldom lead to any critical investigation of the circumstances. The deadly silence which follows the announcement that a group of savants is about to examine the phenomena probably indicates that these learned gentlemen were unable to discover any evidence of fraud” [Crisis in Higher Learning, Horizon, vol. 5, no. 4 Spring 1946, 47-59 (quote p. 54)].
A few years before, he had invoked Fort to remind readers “we need a basic tolerance toward the unknown.” The article’s main focus was rocks falling, from a seemingly clear sky, onto the Oakland, Ca, home of Irene Fellows. The story had made the papers in San Francisco, and engaged the interest of some Forteans there, the science fiction editor Anthony Boucher, the science fiction writer Miriam Allen de Ford (widow of the late Maynard Shipley), and the literary critic Joseph Henry Jackson, although it is doubtful Manly Hall knew anymore than what he had read in the papers, as the old Will Rogers’s line goes.
Hall mentions Fort in the opening paragraph—he “had an inquiring type of mind in matters of the mysterious”—and, later, suggested that were Fort still alive, he would class the case among those he labelled ‘Telaportation,’ as Hall spelled the word. This assumption gives the puckish Fort too much credit for consistency, and he might just as well have dismissed the event for some obscure reason. But Hall’s concern here is not really with Fort, but with teleportation, as I spell it, and e went on for many paragraphs discussing the widespread and ancient knowledge of teleportation [“Pebbles from the Sky,” Horizon, Nov. 1943, 29-31.]
The Western mind, he said, as it has developed, no longer confronts these mysteries—and a confrontation wight hem would lead them back to surer sources of knowledge, ancient wisdom and traditions that had been lost, as well as abilities—such as teleportation—which once were controlled, but no longer. Fort’s role in all of this, then, was that he “performed a very useful service when he reminded thoughtful men of the scope of the larger problems of the unknown.” Fort made it more difficult to ignore the mysterious; those who contemplated the mysterious things that were dismissed by the modern mind might be led to question current thought, and find themselves falling behind Hall in looking to ancient traditions for answers. Fort raised the questions, but was never part of the answers.
He made a more deflating point in the early 1950s, at which time flying saucers had become a topic of discussion: the ancient mystery of lights in the sky given scientific form. This mention of Fort came in a lecture Hall gave, “The Case of the Flying Saucers,” the typed lecture notes now preserved on-line: http://www.manlyphall.org/text/the-case-of-the-flying-saucers/. Hall concluded that flying saucers were likely not from outer space at all, but were research experiments by military agencies. In a long speech, he mentioned Fort only once, and that was largely to dismiss him. Hall said, “One of the interesting phases has been to draw Charles Fort and some of his opinions into it in an effort to prove that mysterious atmospheric visitors have been reported for more than two hundred years.” He, however, doubted such correlations could be made—the astronomical sciences were poorly developed in the past, and so earlier reports not reliable, and anyway people are given to being deceived by their senses. He gave as an example tales of sea monsters and mermaids which, he said, were the product of sailors mis-apprehending the things they were seeing, turning penguins, for instances, into sirens. Fort—or, at least the Forteans—in this case, were not even asking the right questions.
All of which raises its own pressing question—What does it even mean to be Fortean?
And here we get into hair-splitting.
The question itself can be broken into three, I think. First, could someone who had never read Fort at all be a Fortean—a born Fortean, as Thayer said, or like the Greek philosophers Thayer favored as being Fortean before Fort. Simple answer: no.
Longer answer: make the analogy with Christianity. Could someone who never read the Bible, never heard of Christ, be Christian? No. That person might embody Christian ethics or a Christian lifestyle. But those ideals, those ethics would have been developed out of an entirely different set of circumstances. That person would have been uninfluenced by Christian history. Same with Forteans—which is why George Seldes and Norman Thomas as Forteans in name only. They were baptized into the faith, so to speak, by Thayer, but the development of their thought, the causes of their actions—these things were not influenced by Fort or Fortean thought.
Second, is someone aware of Fort, even conceding his intelligence and worthiness, necessarily a Fortean? Once more, simple answer, No. Again, consider the analogy. Many mystical and religious leaders acknowledge the power of other religious figures, without necessarily becoming members of that faith. The Dalai Lama, for one, often talks about the beauty of Christ’s teachings—doesn’t make him a Christian. I myself might concede that some of what Gandhi taught was excellent, but I’m no a Hindu. And so this is one way that Hall fails to be a Fortean—or is one in name only. Sure, he knew Fort, sure he even acknowledged some of what Fort wrote was interesting and worth contemplating. But, ultimately, Fort’s writings and Fort’s conclusions were sidetracks for Hall. Fort did not influence, he did not really engage with Fort’s ideas. Indeed, it’s not clear—as we will see—he knew much about Fort at all: that what he discussed, when he discussed Fort, was not Fort, but the idea of Fort, the way that many people do not discuss Christ, or what is in the Bible, but the prevailing idea of who or what Christ was.
Third, are all members of the Fortean Society Forteans? For the most part yes. I do not want to get involved in “No True Scotsman” arguments about what really makes a Fortean a Fortean, or the only correct way to interpret Fort’s works. For a final time, consider the analogy with Christianity. There are liberal and conservative versions, muscular and meek, intellectual and emotional. Some versions are diametrically opposed to each other. Wars have been fought over the correct interpretation of the Bible. But all those who claim to be Christians, as far as I am concerned, are Christians. Same with Forteanism. Forteans are people who identify themselves as Forteans, whatever the content of their ideas or their particular readings (or non-readings) of Fort.
But that’s not the same as saying all who belong the Fortean Society are Forteans. There were plenty of people, collected by Thayer who joined the Society without necessarily declaring themselves Forteans. Some, like Seldes and Thomas, who never seemed to have heard of Fort at all. And others, like Hall, who knew of Fort, maybe even approved of some of his writings, but still didn’t think of themselves as Forteans, or even particularly interested in Fort.
This lack of interest comes clear in a 1942 from Horizon that focused a lot on Fort. Indeed, I suspect that this was Hall’s lecture on Fort, printed in his own magazine rather than an astrological one. (Not a surprising confusion on Thayer’s part, given that Hall was interested in, and wrote about, astrology.) The article was titled “How Scientific is Science?” (Horizon, vol. 1., no. 5, Jan. 1942, 22-23) and a footnote says that it was condensed from a public lecture.
Hall begins on solid enough Fortean ground. He comments that, in the current martial environment, there would be invented new machines, but that these would all rely on physical—not metaphysical—properties. Indeed, he said, science had ruled out metaphysics—not based on study, but from pure prejudice. Scientists made ex cathedra statement all the time, on subjects they could not hope to know about: there is no soul, for example. This bit could have come from Thayer’s pen: “The scientific world cannot have laymen regarding any scientist as ignorant; the public would lose faith, There must be theories, and someone has to believe them. . . . Science spends much time hushing up that which it cannot explain, even against the evidence of the five senses of thoroughly reliable persons, supported by documentary attestation.”
At this point, Hall introduced Fort—as someone who would speak truth to power, someone who said the scientific emperor wore no clothes—typical stuff. Except that Hall’s Fort was a purely imaginary figure, with degrees he had not earned, setbacks he had not suffered, and ideas he did not champion:
“This attitude was not suited to a man named Charles Fort. Some years ago he culminated a period of investigation with a magnificent expose of the fallacies of human knowledge. The books he wrote cost him his job; he was asked to resign his connection with an important museum.”
Where, exactly, Hall came across this account of Fort is hard to know. Thayer’s edited omnibus edition of Fort’s book had come out in 1941, and the introduction gave a brief biography of the man, without any of this detail. A. L. Joquel went to work at Hall’s library around this time, and surely he had a more reliable understanding of Fort. Perhaps this was the bastardization of a story—told in Emund Pearson’s 1928 Queer Books—that Fort was non-plussed to find his works catalogued with eccentric literature, rather than science. Whatever the reason, Hall was confident he got the story straight, and added more detail:
“Dr. [!] Fort’s works are not speculation; they are scientifically annotated and completely irrefutable. He did not attack the great findings of science [!]. But the subject of his writings is: science is already in possession of knowledge of the metaphysical world, but will not admit it. In presentation of each fact he states where it came from, submits proof of scientific knowledge, annotated by scientific reports and naming the scientific organization which examined it. No one quoted came forward to deny or contradict him. But his resignation was asked for, his professional connection severed,” [sic]
This view of Fort is at odds with many facts—he did not have a doctorate, nor did he abstain from attacking the great findings of science: just ask the astronomers. Still, it might not rule Hall out as a Fortean. He was clearly reading him in a particular way—to substantiate his claim that ancient wisdom already included scientific knowledge—and I am not here to referee the best way to understand Fort. But what really comes across is a fundamental disinterest in Fort and the Forteans—he is invoking the name not to identify with it, but simply to make a larger point.
Hall continues,
“This attitude is not scientific. Laymen resented it, and a group of brilliant and popular writers of the day gathered together to head up an organization which they have named the Fortian [sic] Society, formed to carry on investigation of the metaphysical facts that science has ignored.”
Which is not what the Fortean Society’s founding was about at all. And even as it was reconstituted by Thayer, the Fortean Society rarely investigated metaphysical facts, instead reporting anomalies and complaining about politics. To be fair, though, Hall did get some maters about Fort correct:
“Dr. Fort’s books record many things of vast importance in report [sic] of his investigations and confirming the opinions of others. One discovery is: It is possible for solid objects to be moved instantly across the earth. It is possible for a human being to move from one side of the earth to the other instantly.
He discovered it is possible for one solid to pass through another solid.
….Dr. Fort’s works include levitation in the movement of a solid substance through space.”
Substitute speculation for discovery and one san see Fort in this description at least: Fort dud speculate on numerous unusual modes of transportation. He also reported on other anomalies, but not quite so confidently and with quite as much evidence as Hall had it at the end of the article:
“Dr. Fort in one of his books details the examination of oil which materialized in the air about one inch below the roof of a house in England. Hogsheads of the oil have been taken out. Hordes of scientists have examined every part of the house; there are no pipes or tubes; photographs show that the ceiling is not even stained by oil. By all methods of scientific proof there is no fraud. Dense oil manifests out of thin air. And that’s that, so far as science is concerned. An oil source is the most vital need of any nation engaged in modern warfare. But in the face of this materialization of dense matter out of thin air science demands that we continue to believe that crude oil comes only from down deep in the earth where we have always believed it.
….
As much as we can admitted science’s contributions to our well-being, the scientists stands against his own principles when he conceals facts and stubbornly holds out against a fact as not being a fact because sit is a metaphysical fact. Metaphysics is no longer n abstract dream; it is time for it to be included in the exact sciences; metaphysical knowledge is demonstrable fact.”
That conclusion seems based on a story Fort recounted in Lo!:
Aug. 30, 1919—Swanton Novers Rectory, near Melton Constable, Norfolk, England—oil ‘spurting’ from walls and ceilings. It was thought that the house was over an oil well, the liquid percolating and precipitating, but it was not crude oil that was falling: the liquids were paraffin and petrol. Then cam showers of water. Oil was falling from one of the appearing-points, at a rate of a quart in ten minutes. Methylated spirits and sandalwood oil were falling. In an account, dated September 2nd, it is said that receptacles had been placed under appearing-points, and that about 50 gallons of oil had been caught. Of thirteen showers, upon September 1st, two were of water.”
Fort then goes on to discuss the investigation into the appearance of the water, the sad official explanations and the contradictory details. One can see the genesis of Hall’s account in this story, but it was not necessary to enumerate all the exaggerations. Hall was clearly most interest din making his point about the need to accept metaphysics. Fort as only support in the grander project—and not even very well used Fort.
Hall was a Fortean in name only.
