Banner, 1937. Can someone who doesn’t read the papers be a Fortean?
Forteanism as a practice is essentially parasitic on newspaper reports, contesting and repurposing them. Probably fitting, then, that this member of the Fortean Society neither read the daily papers, nor agreed with the drift of Thayer’s organization.
Randolph William (or Wilhelm) Banner was born 12 March 1900 in Zurich, Switzerland, to Austrian parents. I know nothing of his early life. According to a letter that he wrote much later—in 1953—he spent much his youth traveling, starting in 1910, his journeys sometimes taking him toe England, Scotland, and Wales. He arrived in New York on 19 July 1922, as a student, from Hamburg, Germany, aboard the Mongolia. He moved westward and by September was in Los Angeles. It was from there, on the 14th, that he petitioned for naturalization. Banner was traveling on an Austrian passport.
That seemed to be a false start, though, and he continued his world travels. I do not see him in the 1930 census, and in that same letter he said that his travels continued until 1937. In 1934 he was in Nice, France, where he married a French woman named Marie Louise Antonie on 27 February or 27 January. She was 18 months older than him, and had given birth to a daughter in 1920. Banner was five-and-a-half feet tall, with several moles on his face; he’d gone twenty pounds in the past twelve years and weighed 175 pounds. He had hazel eyes and black hair. Together, they moved to the United States of America, arriving in New York City on 10 March 1937, two days before his 37th birthday. They moved to Los Angeles. In July, he once again petitioned for naturalization. Two years later, Marie did as well.
Forteanism as a practice is essentially parasitic on newspaper reports, contesting and repurposing them. Probably fitting, then, that this member of the Fortean Society neither read the daily papers, nor agreed with the drift of Thayer’s organization.
Randolph William (or Wilhelm) Banner was born 12 March 1900 in Zurich, Switzerland, to Austrian parents. I know nothing of his early life. According to a letter that he wrote much later—in 1953—he spent much his youth traveling, starting in 1910, his journeys sometimes taking him toe England, Scotland, and Wales. He arrived in New York on 19 July 1922, as a student, from Hamburg, Germany, aboard the Mongolia. He moved westward and by September was in Los Angeles. It was from there, on the 14th, that he petitioned for naturalization. Banner was traveling on an Austrian passport.
That seemed to be a false start, though, and he continued his world travels. I do not see him in the 1930 census, and in that same letter he said that his travels continued until 1937. In 1934 he was in Nice, France, where he married a French woman named Marie Louise Antonie on 27 February or 27 January. She was 18 months older than him, and had given birth to a daughter in 1920. Banner was five-and-a-half feet tall, with several moles on his face; he’d gone twenty pounds in the past twelve years and weighed 175 pounds. He had hazel eyes and black hair. Together, they moved to the United States of America, arriving in New York City on 10 March 1937, two days before his 37th birthday. They moved to Los Angeles. In July, he once again petitioned for naturalization. Two years later, Marie did as well.
Banner, 1943 The couple continued to work their naturalization process at least through 1942, when they had friends write affidavits in support of their petitions. But they requested that the petition be denied on 20 July 1943; the problem seems to not have been ideological, but bureaucratic—that Banner had applied for naturalization before, back in 1922. So he renewed the process in July 1943—mistakenly giving his first application as 1921—and this time was successful. I do not know when he learned English, but by the 1950s, his written English was excellent.
Banner seems to have had a long list of hobbies, and this channeled most of his reading. In that same letter, he listed chess, hunting, fishing, yachting, photography, orange and avocado growing, music, literature, seamanship, and navigation. I do not know what he did to support these avocations—one city director from 1952 had him a rancher. I’m not sure if that was always his occupation, though. He gained the most fame from his chess playing. He placed well in a number of southern California tournaments during the 1940s and 1950s. In the 1970s, he sent a letter to Martin Gardner—both a friend and foe of Forteans—in his guise as mathematical writer at Scientific American asking if he could reconstruct a game that Banner remembered only partially from many years before.
Banner appeared in the letter column of a few other magazines. In 1948, he wrote to Life magazine to explain a visual pun in the painting “The Ambassadors” by Holbein. In 1962, he wrote to Sports Illustrated admonishing them that a good boatsman needed to know more than the few knots that they recommended, listing the other ones he thought essential and their use. In a later personal letter, he noted, “I have always been fond of boats and fishing and for the past fifteen years [thus, dating back to 1938] have spent a good deal of time out on the ocean mostly between Newport and San Clemente island.”
Banner also had a developed interest in movies and their evolution, though he was not entirely fond of Hollywood’s recent trends. He did not think that sound, color, or 3-D added much, and was especially irritated that companies were simply remaking and retitling older films. (In the end, he thought all movies were either a reworking of “Crime and Punishment” or “Romeo and Juliet,” and wondered if movies would go the way of Balinese theater, with the stories very familiar and the audience detached.) But for all of Hollywood’s faults, he thought California’s movies better than French ones:
“One of the reasons I was happy to leave France in 1937 was that I would never again be forced to see a French moovie [sic]. I do not like dirty poor, realistic people living in squalor and amor not likely to be entertained by them presented in a film. I consider the moovies particularly equipped to present two things: Motion and the Impossible. For the rest I prefer the stage. As I have a particular liking for the phantastic in literature I like the moovies where they present the magical the impossible or the supernatural. I also like high society comedy a la P. G. Woodhouse [sic]; I am much happier watching the problems of people who have a butler, four Roles and some family jewels than those of the submerged fifth of France or Italy.
“Hollywood makes moovies with one end in view: To make Money. Right now the going is very tough owing to the enormous inroads of television. To make money the moovies turned out have to appeal to the masses and the masses have very poor taste. So Hollywood turns out mostly fifth rate junk. BUT do not underestimate Hollywoods [sic] potential. The Hollywood mooviemakers have enormous means, both technical and financial and can do almost anything and do it very well.”
Randolph Banner died 24 March 1978, not even a fortnight after his 78th birthday. Married died four years later, in March 1982.
****************
Randolph’s early life history reminds one of the Fortean Frederick G. Hehr, another peripatetic German who ended up in California. But his Fortean career is more like that of the more famous Fortean Kenneth Arnold: it is restricted to a brief period during the first half of the 1950s.
I do not know when or how Banner came to read Fort or Forteanism. A clue might be his statement that he liked to read fantastic literature: there were references to Fort in such works, and advertisements int he magazines that carried weird stories. So that certainly may have been the route. But given his eclectic interests, there are many other roads that would have led him to read Fort—and he seems to have done that—and join the Fortean Society.
He was first mentioned in Doubt 38 (October 1952), but the citation is not very helpful: his name is included in a long list of acknowledgments Thayer made for that issue. He would not be in Doubt again for several more years—as he explained, “Though I am very keen on Charles Fort I am not too active in the Fortean Society and do not turn up much as I hardly ever read a newspaper.” But, he took up a brief correspondence with Forteanism’s British representative, Eric Frank Russell, in 1953 and 1954, comprising five letters. These are the letters referenced and quoted above—including the bit about not reading newspapers. (He echoed that in his second letter, writing, “I never get much Fortean material for the magazine as I have a great many interests and gave up reading newspapers many years ago.”)
The main thrust the letters was Banner’s hunt for a phantom book by the British Rupert T. Gould. Although Gould himself was not a Fortean, he wrote a number of Fortean tomes, to wit, “Oddities,” “The Case for the Sea Serpent,” “The Loch Ness Monster and Others,” “A Book of Marvels,” and “Enigmas,” as well as the non-Fortean “The Marine Chronometer.” His books were much desired by American readers, and hard to come by. Banner had read four these—he did not mention The Loch Ness or marvel books—the sea serpent and chronometer books (at least) borrowed from the Los Angeles Public Library. But he was sure he’d seen reference to another “Nine Days Wonders,” which he could not find. Banner approached Russell in January 1953 and asked if he could help him.
Russell replied in September; the letter is lost, but from Banner’s reply it seems that Russell sent along Gould’s collection of essays “The Stargazer Lectures.” But he could not find any reference to “Nine Day Wonders.” Banner was perplexed, certain that it existed and completed a trilogy with “Oddities” and “Enigmas” and asked Russell to keep looking, offering to pay or do work for trade. In the meantime, he was happy with what Russell had sent along: “The book gives me great pleasure as it contains some fine new material on subjects dear to my heart such as the Indian Rope Trick and the Mary Celeste.”
Russell replied again in mid-October, and this time he presented a case for the book’s non-existence that Banner could not deny. He remained perplexed, though, certain he had seen some book by that title, and it seemed so much like something Gould would have written. He sent Russell a dollar for the book he had received, and again extended his offer to do research for him. (For what it’s worth, in desultory searching, the only book by this title that I have found is Charles Hamilton Aïdé’s 1875 comedy.)
Russell must have appreciated the correspondence because it would have been easy enough to stop it there, but he continued it. Two months later, he sent another letter—seemingly suggesting that Banner might have seen the Gould book under an unusual title, American publishers given to renaming books. (This might have been a shot at science fiction magazine editors, too.) Banner admitted the wisdom of this observation, which set him off on one of his remarks about Hollywood. In addition, Russell passed on notice of the book “Focus on the Unknown.” That book had been put out by Alfred Gordon Bennett. Banner sent him two-and-a-half bucks for the book. He received it sometime in early 1954, which prompted the final letter I have, Banner thanking Russell for the book, but admitting he did not think it was very good.
By the available evidence, Banner knew his way around Fort and Forteana. He linked discussion of the so-called San Clemente Monster to some of Fort’s writings. He had an interest in the topics covered by Gould. And he could see through Bennett’s rhetoric: “About the book and its author the less I say the better. The only thing I liked was some of the subject mater. The author has a remarkable facility for mixing fact and fiction and also does a good deal of misrepresentation (for instance he relates the well known episode of the ‘Devil’s Footprints’ [which Russell himself had written about in Doubt] so as to give the impression that they were enormous). He is also constantly trying with all his might to believe any quite unlikely bit of supernatural, spiritualistic or mediumistic nonsense. Also he is an out and out hnegrophle an attitude that pleases me just as little as antisemitism.”
There followed then a two year gap in Banner’s Fortean activities. One wonders if Banner’s distaste for antisemitism was partially the cause of the stopped correspondence, as Russell had antisemitic tendencies and seems to have been more offended by those who disliked antisemitism than antisemitism itself. At any rate, there was no more correspondence with russell—at least none that survives—and only two more mentions in Doubt. As to whether Banner remained a fan of Fort’s writings, I do not know, as records related to Banner are far too scanty.
One does get the impression, though, he was not entirely pleased with the direction the Society was taking—it’s not a hard conclusion to come to, given the letter of his that Thayer printed in Doubt 51 (January 1956):
“MFS Banner writes from Orange, Calif.: ‘As a clearing house of Fortean data I like and appreciate DOUBT, but I deplore that it contains so much material that I do not consider Fortean data.
“‘I am well aware of the many and complex foibles and inconsistencies of human societies and do not particularly enjoy being reminded of the stupidity that underlies the pros and cons of such subjects as: Vaccination, Militarism, Medical Rackets, Conscientious Objectors, Civilian Defense, Churches, Atheism, Antisemitism, Negrophilia, Tonsillectomy, Polio, Political Creeds.
“‘To me Fortean Data comprise only: More or less well established events or phenomena that are in conflict with accepted Science or with the normal and usual procedures to which we are accustomed.’”
This was a well-rehearsed objection of Thayer and his Society, dating back at least to the sixth issue of the magazine, and taken up by a number of science fiction fans. But irritation at the politics and economics that took up so much space in Doubt did not stop Banner from subscribing, because there he was, in the magazine, only a few months later, with Doubt 52 (May 1956). He was wondering if anyone could shed light on a particular phenomena that seemed Fortean—though was a well established physical phenomena, just quirky and blown out of proportion. He wanted to know about the Coriolis effect, though neither he nor Thayer seemed to know it by that name:
“I once thought of using the idea in an adventure story: My hero after being kidnapped or shanghaid would return to consciousness in a closed room and would deduce that he had been taken south of the Equator by noticing the clockwise swirl of his washbowl outflow.”
That idea of a Fortean story reinforces the idea that Banner came to Fort and the Fortean Society probably by reading pulp fiction. The idea is a slight one, but exactly the sort of thing that would have been appealing to science fiction readers of the time. For all that Banner was himself a man of the world, of many talents and interests, for all that he carped about Thayer’s soft-headed approach to Forteanism—there was a naive center to the man, too, that is endearing.
Banner seems to have had a long list of hobbies, and this channeled most of his reading. In that same letter, he listed chess, hunting, fishing, yachting, photography, orange and avocado growing, music, literature, seamanship, and navigation. I do not know what he did to support these avocations—one city director from 1952 had him a rancher. I’m not sure if that was always his occupation, though. He gained the most fame from his chess playing. He placed well in a number of southern California tournaments during the 1940s and 1950s. In the 1970s, he sent a letter to Martin Gardner—both a friend and foe of Forteans—in his guise as mathematical writer at Scientific American asking if he could reconstruct a game that Banner remembered only partially from many years before.
Banner appeared in the letter column of a few other magazines. In 1948, he wrote to Life magazine to explain a visual pun in the painting “The Ambassadors” by Holbein. In 1962, he wrote to Sports Illustrated admonishing them that a good boatsman needed to know more than the few knots that they recommended, listing the other ones he thought essential and their use. In a later personal letter, he noted, “I have always been fond of boats and fishing and for the past fifteen years [thus, dating back to 1938] have spent a good deal of time out on the ocean mostly between Newport and San Clemente island.”
Banner also had a developed interest in movies and their evolution, though he was not entirely fond of Hollywood’s recent trends. He did not think that sound, color, or 3-D added much, and was especially irritated that companies were simply remaking and retitling older films. (In the end, he thought all movies were either a reworking of “Crime and Punishment” or “Romeo and Juliet,” and wondered if movies would go the way of Balinese theater, with the stories very familiar and the audience detached.) But for all of Hollywood’s faults, he thought California’s movies better than French ones:
“One of the reasons I was happy to leave France in 1937 was that I would never again be forced to see a French moovie [sic]. I do not like dirty poor, realistic people living in squalor and amor not likely to be entertained by them presented in a film. I consider the moovies particularly equipped to present two things: Motion and the Impossible. For the rest I prefer the stage. As I have a particular liking for the phantastic in literature I like the moovies where they present the magical the impossible or the supernatural. I also like high society comedy a la P. G. Woodhouse [sic]; I am much happier watching the problems of people who have a butler, four Roles and some family jewels than those of the submerged fifth of France or Italy.
“Hollywood makes moovies with one end in view: To make Money. Right now the going is very tough owing to the enormous inroads of television. To make money the moovies turned out have to appeal to the masses and the masses have very poor taste. So Hollywood turns out mostly fifth rate junk. BUT do not underestimate Hollywoods [sic] potential. The Hollywood mooviemakers have enormous means, both technical and financial and can do almost anything and do it very well.”
Randolph Banner died 24 March 1978, not even a fortnight after his 78th birthday. Married died four years later, in March 1982.
****************
Randolph’s early life history reminds one of the Fortean Frederick G. Hehr, another peripatetic German who ended up in California. But his Fortean career is more like that of the more famous Fortean Kenneth Arnold: it is restricted to a brief period during the first half of the 1950s.
I do not know when or how Banner came to read Fort or Forteanism. A clue might be his statement that he liked to read fantastic literature: there were references to Fort in such works, and advertisements int he magazines that carried weird stories. So that certainly may have been the route. But given his eclectic interests, there are many other roads that would have led him to read Fort—and he seems to have done that—and join the Fortean Society.
He was first mentioned in Doubt 38 (October 1952), but the citation is not very helpful: his name is included in a long list of acknowledgments Thayer made for that issue. He would not be in Doubt again for several more years—as he explained, “Though I am very keen on Charles Fort I am not too active in the Fortean Society and do not turn up much as I hardly ever read a newspaper.” But, he took up a brief correspondence with Forteanism’s British representative, Eric Frank Russell, in 1953 and 1954, comprising five letters. These are the letters referenced and quoted above—including the bit about not reading newspapers. (He echoed that in his second letter, writing, “I never get much Fortean material for the magazine as I have a great many interests and gave up reading newspapers many years ago.”)
The main thrust the letters was Banner’s hunt for a phantom book by the British Rupert T. Gould. Although Gould himself was not a Fortean, he wrote a number of Fortean tomes, to wit, “Oddities,” “The Case for the Sea Serpent,” “The Loch Ness Monster and Others,” “A Book of Marvels,” and “Enigmas,” as well as the non-Fortean “The Marine Chronometer.” His books were much desired by American readers, and hard to come by. Banner had read four these—he did not mention The Loch Ness or marvel books—the sea serpent and chronometer books (at least) borrowed from the Los Angeles Public Library. But he was sure he’d seen reference to another “Nine Days Wonders,” which he could not find. Banner approached Russell in January 1953 and asked if he could help him.
Russell replied in September; the letter is lost, but from Banner’s reply it seems that Russell sent along Gould’s collection of essays “The Stargazer Lectures.” But he could not find any reference to “Nine Day Wonders.” Banner was perplexed, certain that it existed and completed a trilogy with “Oddities” and “Enigmas” and asked Russell to keep looking, offering to pay or do work for trade. In the meantime, he was happy with what Russell had sent along: “The book gives me great pleasure as it contains some fine new material on subjects dear to my heart such as the Indian Rope Trick and the Mary Celeste.”
Russell replied again in mid-October, and this time he presented a case for the book’s non-existence that Banner could not deny. He remained perplexed, though, certain he had seen some book by that title, and it seemed so much like something Gould would have written. He sent Russell a dollar for the book he had received, and again extended his offer to do research for him. (For what it’s worth, in desultory searching, the only book by this title that I have found is Charles Hamilton Aïdé’s 1875 comedy.)
Russell must have appreciated the correspondence because it would have been easy enough to stop it there, but he continued it. Two months later, he sent another letter—seemingly suggesting that Banner might have seen the Gould book under an unusual title, American publishers given to renaming books. (This might have been a shot at science fiction magazine editors, too.) Banner admitted the wisdom of this observation, which set him off on one of his remarks about Hollywood. In addition, Russell passed on notice of the book “Focus on the Unknown.” That book had been put out by Alfred Gordon Bennett. Banner sent him two-and-a-half bucks for the book. He received it sometime in early 1954, which prompted the final letter I have, Banner thanking Russell for the book, but admitting he did not think it was very good.
By the available evidence, Banner knew his way around Fort and Forteana. He linked discussion of the so-called San Clemente Monster to some of Fort’s writings. He had an interest in the topics covered by Gould. And he could see through Bennett’s rhetoric: “About the book and its author the less I say the better. The only thing I liked was some of the subject mater. The author has a remarkable facility for mixing fact and fiction and also does a good deal of misrepresentation (for instance he relates the well known episode of the ‘Devil’s Footprints’ [which Russell himself had written about in Doubt] so as to give the impression that they were enormous). He is also constantly trying with all his might to believe any quite unlikely bit of supernatural, spiritualistic or mediumistic nonsense. Also he is an out and out hnegrophle an attitude that pleases me just as little as antisemitism.”
There followed then a two year gap in Banner’s Fortean activities. One wonders if Banner’s distaste for antisemitism was partially the cause of the stopped correspondence, as Russell had antisemitic tendencies and seems to have been more offended by those who disliked antisemitism than antisemitism itself. At any rate, there was no more correspondence with russell—at least none that survives—and only two more mentions in Doubt. As to whether Banner remained a fan of Fort’s writings, I do not know, as records related to Banner are far too scanty.
One does get the impression, though, he was not entirely pleased with the direction the Society was taking—it’s not a hard conclusion to come to, given the letter of his that Thayer printed in Doubt 51 (January 1956):
“MFS Banner writes from Orange, Calif.: ‘As a clearing house of Fortean data I like and appreciate DOUBT, but I deplore that it contains so much material that I do not consider Fortean data.
“‘I am well aware of the many and complex foibles and inconsistencies of human societies and do not particularly enjoy being reminded of the stupidity that underlies the pros and cons of such subjects as: Vaccination, Militarism, Medical Rackets, Conscientious Objectors, Civilian Defense, Churches, Atheism, Antisemitism, Negrophilia, Tonsillectomy, Polio, Political Creeds.
“‘To me Fortean Data comprise only: More or less well established events or phenomena that are in conflict with accepted Science or with the normal and usual procedures to which we are accustomed.’”
This was a well-rehearsed objection of Thayer and his Society, dating back at least to the sixth issue of the magazine, and taken up by a number of science fiction fans. But irritation at the politics and economics that took up so much space in Doubt did not stop Banner from subscribing, because there he was, in the magazine, only a few months later, with Doubt 52 (May 1956). He was wondering if anyone could shed light on a particular phenomena that seemed Fortean—though was a well established physical phenomena, just quirky and blown out of proportion. He wanted to know about the Coriolis effect, though neither he nor Thayer seemed to know it by that name:
“I once thought of using the idea in an adventure story: My hero after being kidnapped or shanghaid would return to consciousness in a closed room and would deduce that he had been taken south of the Equator by noticing the clockwise swirl of his washbowl outflow.”
That idea of a Fortean story reinforces the idea that Banner came to Fort and the Fortean Society probably by reading pulp fiction. The idea is a slight one, but exactly the sort of thing that would have been appealing to science fiction readers of the time. For all that Banner was himself a man of the world, of many talents and interests, for all that he carped about Thayer’s soft-headed approach to Forteanism—there was a naive center to the man, too, that is endearing.