One of the benefits of doing historical research in the early 21st century is the wealth of newspaper indexes. There is Newspaperarchive.com. Proquest has digitized many papers. As well, there are still the older indexes—some published, some not. It’s important to remember that even using these, there’s still a lot that is missed. Nonetheless, surveys of papers today can be made much broader much easier than in the past.
And doing so, it becomes clear that the Oakland Tribune was a major disseminator of Charles Fort, at least in the Bay Area. Again, this conclusion must be taken with a certain grain of salt: the Tribune is digitized, which makes searching it easier. Its San Francisco competitor, The Chronicle--both were staunchly Republican papers in the first part of the twentieth century—is only indexed. Some of the indexes are published. Some were created by California state librarians. And it is possible that references to Fort slipped through the index. Be that as it may, the Tribune was important.
And doing so, it becomes clear that the Oakland Tribune was a major disseminator of Charles Fort, at least in the Bay Area. Again, this conclusion must be taken with a certain grain of salt: the Tribune is digitized, which makes searching it easier. Its San Francisco competitor, The Chronicle--both were staunchly Republican papers in the first part of the twentieth century—is only indexed. Some of the indexes are published. Some were created by California state librarians. And it is possible that references to Fort slipped through the index. Be that as it may, the Tribune was important.
One suspects that Fort’s digging through old newspapers and clippings made him especially beloved among the hacks who toiled at daily papers.
As already noted, The Tribune devoted column-inches to the flying saucer craze. It also opened its pages to David Bascom and Kathleen Ludwick’s letters in praise of Charles Fort.
The first reference to Fort I have identified came in a 15 February 1931 anonymous review of Lo! : “‘Lo’ Is Plague To Scientists—Charles Fort’s Book is Bizarre and Fascinating.” The article begins with reference to the recent founding of the Fortean Society, which had made papers around the country, before moving on to consider Fort, then his book. “Though this [may] sound like a practical joke running riot in the laboratory, it is more than that,” the reviewer noted. “For Fort has something close to genius in his methods. He is as original as a madman and as gifted in his abilities to produce effects as to win over completely any of our leading men of letters.” As evidence, the reviewer notes the eminent list of writers at the founding of the society.
Almost exactly five months later, on 14 July 1932, an editorial titled “It ‘Rained Goldfish’” mentioned Fort. “It “rained goldfish” in St. Louis one day last week,” the opinion piece started. But don’t write Fort just yet: someone explained that the goldfish came from an overflowing aquarium. The editorialist, though, was not wont to give this explanation much credit—preferred, instead, to imagine, “The gutters in the southeast section of the city sparkled with the lovely things.”
The following year, on 17 June 1932, the paper ran a dismissive review of Wild Talents by the literary critic Laurence Stallings. Stallings, like Bascom in later years, compared Fort’s work to the nonsense novels of Stephen Leacock (as well as Shaw and Chesterton’s antiscience) and found it wanting what Leacock called “the larger lunacy”: “Fort’s work is, for all its mordant pleasure, somewhat niggardly turned out. It hasn’t any regimentation, any thesis, worth the name.” As the review continues, and the references pile up, it becomes clear that Stallings problem is that Fort lacks an overarching metaphysics, in the manner of Oswald Spengler. I think that this badly mis-reads Fort, but it is one of the few negative notes about Fort in the Tribune.
Fort did not appear in the paper for another five years—until September of 1937, when the first issue of Tiffany Thayer’s Fortean Society magazine debuted with a publicity blitz by him that attracted the attention of newspapers across the country. In it, Thayer charged that “ignorant science” had killed Amelia Earhart. She was lost, Thayer claimed, because scientists pretended to know the whole schope of the Earth, but did not, and that complacent ignorance had been Earhart’s undoing.
Four years later, the paper’s in-house book reviewer Marvin Sargent considered the recent publication of Fort’s collected works: “Juicy Morsel for Skeptics and Debunkers” (18 May 1941). The review is positive about the book—finding it “shivery” reading and “a deep well of witches’ lore to be dipped into often for moments of rare pleasure.” However, Sargent errs when he tries to understand Fort the man. He thinks that Fort is demanding explanations from science, and only offering his explanations as “jokes.” Fort wanted more than explanations, and was doing something more serious than offering “jokes,” Further, he perpetuates an unfounded story. Sargent claims that Fort died from a condition that could have been cured by medicine, but his skepticism kept him from believing it.
As already noted, The Tribune devoted column-inches to the flying saucer craze. It also opened its pages to David Bascom and Kathleen Ludwick’s letters in praise of Charles Fort.
The first reference to Fort I have identified came in a 15 February 1931 anonymous review of Lo! : “‘Lo’ Is Plague To Scientists—Charles Fort’s Book is Bizarre and Fascinating.” The article begins with reference to the recent founding of the Fortean Society, which had made papers around the country, before moving on to consider Fort, then his book. “Though this [may] sound like a practical joke running riot in the laboratory, it is more than that,” the reviewer noted. “For Fort has something close to genius in his methods. He is as original as a madman and as gifted in his abilities to produce effects as to win over completely any of our leading men of letters.” As evidence, the reviewer notes the eminent list of writers at the founding of the society.
Almost exactly five months later, on 14 July 1932, an editorial titled “It ‘Rained Goldfish’” mentioned Fort. “It “rained goldfish” in St. Louis one day last week,” the opinion piece started. But don’t write Fort just yet: someone explained that the goldfish came from an overflowing aquarium. The editorialist, though, was not wont to give this explanation much credit—preferred, instead, to imagine, “The gutters in the southeast section of the city sparkled with the lovely things.”
The following year, on 17 June 1932, the paper ran a dismissive review of Wild Talents by the literary critic Laurence Stallings. Stallings, like Bascom in later years, compared Fort’s work to the nonsense novels of Stephen Leacock (as well as Shaw and Chesterton’s antiscience) and found it wanting what Leacock called “the larger lunacy”: “Fort’s work is, for all its mordant pleasure, somewhat niggardly turned out. It hasn’t any regimentation, any thesis, worth the name.” As the review continues, and the references pile up, it becomes clear that Stallings problem is that Fort lacks an overarching metaphysics, in the manner of Oswald Spengler. I think that this badly mis-reads Fort, but it is one of the few negative notes about Fort in the Tribune.
Fort did not appear in the paper for another five years—until September of 1937, when the first issue of Tiffany Thayer’s Fortean Society magazine debuted with a publicity blitz by him that attracted the attention of newspapers across the country. In it, Thayer charged that “ignorant science” had killed Amelia Earhart. She was lost, Thayer claimed, because scientists pretended to know the whole schope of the Earth, but did not, and that complacent ignorance had been Earhart’s undoing.
Four years later, the paper’s in-house book reviewer Marvin Sargent considered the recent publication of Fort’s collected works: “Juicy Morsel for Skeptics and Debunkers” (18 May 1941). The review is positive about the book—finding it “shivery” reading and “a deep well of witches’ lore to be dipped into often for moments of rare pleasure.” However, Sargent errs when he tries to understand Fort the man. He thinks that Fort is demanding explanations from science, and only offering his explanations as “jokes.” Fort wanted more than explanations, and was doing something more serious than offering “jokes,” Further, he perpetuates an unfounded story. Sargent claims that Fort died from a condition that could have been cured by medicine, but his skepticism kept him from believing it.
