JUNE 2020

JUNE   2020
He Has Dragged Us Back Forty Years.

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Wednesday, October 30, 2019

BITE ME! The Truth About Vampires

I want to pierce to the very heart of this issue, which is mythology. If the little prince had been remembered by his real name, Vladimir Basarab Tepes , he would have been a lot less infamous. He might still have been reviled as Vlad the Impaler, or, in the same vein, immortalized as Vlad III,  Prince of Wallachia and defender of the Christian faith.... except he was such a hellian that in the end the Christians also refused to claim him. The bloody truth is that his own baptized appellation has so faded against his myth that you are far more likely to say, “Oh,  I know who that is. That is Dracula, the inappropriate Transylvanian phlebotomist.” But even then you would be dead wrong. Well, undead wrong,
Dracula is not a name. It is a title, and in Romanian means “Sons of the Dragon”. They were an order of Christian Knights, which included Vlad’s father  during the mid-thirteenth century, when he was the Prince of Wallachia,  not Transylvania. He ruled a tiny slice of the southern Carpathian mountains, as a vassal to the Sultan of the  Muslim Ottoman Empire.
At the tender age of five Vlad’s familiar bonds were severed when he was offered up as a hostage to the Ottoman Sultan,  Murad II (above). Vlad grew up a cruel little creature. At any moment he might be executed by Christians or Muslims because his dad was getting too close or not close enough to the Sultan.   During his six years in a Turkish prison, Vlad’s only playmates were bugs and spiders, who he tortured to his heart’s content. 
When he was eleven Vlad’s father and older brother were both murdered by Boyars, the local landlords. You can understand, then, that when Vlad was finally given the keys to the princedom, in 1456, he perforated every Boyar he could lay his bloody hands on. Unfortunately he skewered his economy as well, but you can’t have everything.
To hold onto this little kingdom Vlad (above, right) had to lean first toward the Ottomans and then toward the Christians, but never to much or too long in one direction or the other.  So he laid claim to the Christian title of Dracula only at formal occasions, such as banquets and blood lettings, which were often the same events for him.  But Vlad's entrance into his victim's blood stream was about as far from the neck as you can get.
Legend has it that Vlad once sat in judgment of a wife suspected of adultery. He awarded the husband a divorce, and avoided burdening the man with child support by impaling the mother and child on the same spike. His social programs were saturated with the same carnassial logic. The invalids in his realm were invited to a feast, at which Vlad bolted the doors and windows and set the hall on fire. Once the flames died down Vlad announced he had eradicated poverty in his realm, like any good Republican.  
In 1462 the Sultan decided he had enough of Vlad’s savage vindictiveness, and the Ottomans invaded Transylvania with a 90,000 man army. Since Vlad only had about 30,000 men his cause seemed a dead letter. Still Vlad made it interesting by puncturing the 20,000 mostly Muslim men, women and children, of his capital city of Targoviste, and leaving the forest of their skewered corpses behind his retreating army. 
This particular act of mass murder managed to impress the Sultan,  who was no slouch in the mass mayhem department, himself. Still the outcome was the same; Murad II  forced Vlad into exile, and  placed Vlad’s half brother on the throne.
And it turned out that Vlad’s Christian allies were no more comfortable with the intemperate Prince  e than the Muslims. Vlad was locked up in the 14th century equivalent of a mental ward for 12 years, by which time the memories of his murderous malignant management style seem to have faded. So, in November of 1476 he had mended enough Christian fences to be re-crowned Prince, but about month later Ottoman troops ambushed Vlad and his little band of sociopaths and butchered them all. Monks buried his body in the Monastery outside Comana, in what is today Romania. But to prove to the Sultan that Vlad was  was not merely dead, but certainly, assuredly and really most sincerely dead the soldiers  decapitated the  corpse and sent his head ahead to Constantinople.
No doubt about it, Vlad Teppes  was a capricious and violent murderer, but no one thought he was coming back from the grave.  But Vlad was never ever accused of being a vampire, not in his original lifetime, anyway.  He would not have even known what a “vampyre” was.  He might not even have known what a vrykolakas was. Because that was a Greek invention, a sort of Slavic vampire without dentures, one of the undead motivated by a necrotic sense of humor. 
A vrykolakas is created when a dog or a cat jumps over a fresh human grave. Should they pause to urinate on the crypt mid leap, the uric acid drives the new vrykolakas to clamber from their tomb and engage in a mortiferous game of “Knock, knock”.  In Slavic lands, a tap on the door after dark should never be answered. Not because Greeks fear Mormons will put the bite on them, but because it just encourages the vrykolakas to keep knocking. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vrykolakas)
The one thing Vlad would never have expected was to be connected with was bats. Bats eat insects, and although being warm blooded and carrying diseases which sometimes infect humans, European bats were never considered a threat. However,  in 1810, Frenchman Etienne Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire recorded the first vampire bat, captured in the New World.  By 1839 even Charles Darwin had written about the bloodthirsty little rodents.  
The closest real life version of  a human vampire are 3 species of air born rodents,  the common  Desmodus rontundus, the hairy legged Diphylla ecaudata, and the white winged Diaemus youngi. These are all the vampire bats there are.  These little south of the border blood suckers secret an anticoagulant in their saliva, called Draculin.  Very linguistically inventive, these biologists. Draculin keeps the victim's life's blood flowing as long as the sanguivore keeps drinking.  But vampire bats take only an ounce of blood a night, and unlike a lawyer or an investment banker,  often share their meals with less successful bats.  But by the end 18th century, the elements of the vampire story were on the table, waiting for someone to assemble them.
It was an Irishman,  Abraham "Bram: Stoker, who put it all together. He was the business manager for  London's Lyceum Theatre, and he supplemented his income grinding out popular adventure and horror stories.  And in 1897 conceived his most popular one,.  "A key was turned with the loud grating noise of long disuse, and the great door swung back…Within, stood a tall old man, clean shaven save for a long white moustache, and clad in black from head to foot, without a single speck of color about him anywhere….The old man motioned me in with his right hand with a courtly gesture, saying in excellent English, but with a strange intonation. “Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own free will!...I am Dracula…”
But was Stoker inspired by the real Dracula? Elizabeth Miller who has made a study of the issue (“Dracula: The Shade and the Shadow” – 1998) does not think so. She wrote. “…(Stoker's) research seems to have been haphazard (though at times fortuitous) rather than scholarly. What he used, he used “as is,” errors and confusions included….After all, Stoker was writing a Gothic novel, not a historical treatise. And he was writing Dracula in his spare time, of which I doubt he had much.”
It was Stoker's business to know what the public wanted and to give it to them. Obviously the public always wants sex. But if the deeply closeted Stoker had openly supplied sex to his Victorian audiences  he would have gone directly to jail,.like his close friend, playwright Oscar Wilde.  
Had Stoker not written "Dracula" he might have been famous as the man who married Oscar Wilde's ex-girlfriend. In fact, it was just after Wilde's conviction for "gross indecency" meaning homosexuality, that Stoker began writing Dracula,  In that story, Stoker sublimated the theme of suppressed sexuality, which has been part of every vampire tale which  followed. 
But Vampires on the page proved so bloodless they produced few progeny. And it was not until 1922 that the Prince of Darkness hit the silver screen. Suddenly sucking blood became a business model, able to even survive the misdirected anger of Stokers' widow,  the lovely Florence  Ann Lemon  Balcombe Stoker.   
After "Bram" died from tertiary syphilis in 1912, Florence (above) became the executor of his estate, such as it was. She managed to publish a collection of his short stories in 1914, but the sales were anemic.  Then, in 1922 she learned of a film claiming it was "loosely based" on her late husband's book, which had been released by a German organization called Parna films.  
Now Parna is a Sanskrit word meaning life force, as in "may the force be with you". Founded by a small group of occult affectionatos in 1920, they intended getting rich by making films about the supernatural.  They hired writer Henrik Galeen, based on his script "The Golem: How He Came Into The World' (above). But a single minded Jewish mud monster failed to resonate with German audiences at least in 1914. However the occultists were certain a film version of Dracula would be hit, but to avoid sharing royalties, Galeen changed the name of his undead vampire to Count Orlok, and named the entire effort "Nosferatu".
 In the spring of 1921 they hired Friedrich Murnau (above) to direct, and after rewriting the ending, he started shooting in July.  
And on 4 March, 1922, "Nosferatu" opened to rave reviews from everybody except Florence Stoker. With the backing of the British Society of Authors, Florence  demanded the producers pay her royalties, and that they turn over to her the negative of the film, as well as every copy made so far. In a ploy as old as business, Parna declared bankruptcy under the legal theory "you can't sue me because I no longer exist".  The film about the undead had become a zombie movie.
It didn't work. In 1925 the German courts ruled in Florence's favor. The single negative of Nosferatu, and all distribution prints were handed over to her lawyers. Whereupon, Florence burned the lot. Maybe she should have seen the film before she burned it.   Some partial prints were discovered later, and slowly over the last century, film lovers cobbled much of the film back together.  And the movie helped to sell a lot of copies of the book "Dracula".
Still since then Dracula has been to Hollywood and Berlin and Moscow and back, in almost 200 retellings of the myth of Dracula and his pups. We all know how to annoy a vampire - garlic or a cat - how to kill a vampire - sunlight or a stake through the heart. and a Cross seems to cause them great pain, even of its two candle sticks held at right angles.  And it never seems to bother fans of the bite movies that we allot brain space to all of this vital information about a mythical creature we are never going to meet.
The disconnect in these  ensanguine exhibiionists is that central issue of sex, which makes no sex, er sense.  To the  un-dead, any exchange of bodily fluids is what you call counter productive. For a vampire, it can only be a one way street. Believe me, there are no vampires out there watching porn on the Internet.
An actual human vampire would require a similar anticoagulant in their saliva to Draculin, else their nightly siphoning would form a huge, clot of hemoglobin in their tummies, which they would vomit up periodically like a stinky full ball. And a few of those around the property should make Vampires stand out like a sick cat. Has anybody given this any thought?  Obviously, I have.
But the human fascination with fangs seems to have been all about the sublimation of sex. Who would have thunk that?
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Tuesday, October 29, 2019

All PROPHETS ARE FALSE- The Corvallis Love Cult

I am an admirer of the English philosopher Charles Chaplin, who observed that "Life is a tragedy when seen in close-up, but a comedy in long-shot”. As an example I now present the life of Franz Edmund Creffeld,  who began life in 1871 with an extreme long shot in the far off kingdom of Germany.
Franz trained for the priesthood but was then forced to leave Germany and the Catholic Church in order to avoid military service. 
He immigrated to the United States, and in 1899 he arrived in the little town of Corvallis, Oregon, wearing the uniform (above) of a lieutenant in the Salvation Army.
Corvallis was (and is) a farming community on the West bank of the Willamette River, about half way between Portland and Eugene. At the turn of the 20th century it was home to nine churches, an Odd Fellows Hall, a Freemasons Lodge and a small core of about 25 adherents to the relatively new Salvation Army. 
The organization was revolutionary. William Booth (above, center) , the Army's founder, often became so possessed by "The Spirit" that he writhed on the floor and babbled in tongues. Also the Army was one of the few social or religious organizations at the turn of the century in which woman could hold respected leadership positions.
Despite these socially advanced elements, by 1903 the 29 year old Lt. Creffeld, was finding the strict doctrine and command structure of the Salvation Army to be too restrictive.  Franz chose instead to build upon his congregation, which contained a majority of women. And alone in the wilderness he  led them off the Salvation Army reservation. 
In the summer of 1903, under Franz's direction and in an act of extraordinary sexual independence for the time, the two dozen female  members built,  with their own hands,  a meeting house on Kiger Island, a 2200 acre wooded sanctuary in the Willamette River, just south of Corvallis.
That summer the sect was bursting with curious women and girls drawn to the power of the handsome charismatic Franz Creffeld's preaching  and the forbidden hints of feminism. His Salvation Army commanders described Lt. Creeffeld’s adherents as “Come-Outers” but they described themselves as “Holy Rollers”.
Come winter the revolution shifted back to town, into the home and family of prominent local businessman and convert, Mr. O.P. Hunt,, Mrs. Hunt, their sons and daughters - particularly their youngest daughter Maude Hunt (above) . Mr. Hunt hung a sign over his front door: “Positively No Admittance Except on God's Business”. The return to town brought increased scrutiny from the unconverted males of Corvallis, and they did not like what they observed. Even less did they like what they suspected.
Rumors told of nighttime naked rambles in the wilds of Kiger Island. And when the wooden sidewalks around the Hunt home were torn up and burned, along with stacks of furniture and piles of kitchen utensils, all to cleanse the Hunt family's soul of the temptation represented by physical property, one of the local newspapers suggested “…a condition bordering on insanity”.
Franz's flock were encouraged to wear old clothes instead of new. Members were discouraged from having contact with family members who were not Creffeld's followers. Indeed, the now bearded Franz began referring to himself as a prophet. He announced that henceforth he was to be called “Joshua II”  It was too much for a good Christian manhood of Corvallis to tolerate.
On the night of 4 January, 1904 a dozen or so self described “white cappers” (adorning themselves in the Klu Klux Klan’s white robes) set upon Franz Creffeld and on Mister Hunt. The pair were dragged to the edge of town. There both men were threatened with tar and feathers. (I doubt they actually applied the treatment since the usual effect of hot tar on human flesh is serious burns, often  resulting in the victim’s death. No such injury was recorded by Creffeld.)
More likely Franz was merely roughed up, frightened and then chased into the woods, where later Mrs. Hunt and Maude were able to find and secretly escort the prophet back to their home. Shortly thereafter the town was appeased by news that “Joshua” and young Maude Hunt (above) had been married. The sexual escapades of “Joshua”, real or imagined, would seemed to have been ended.
Still it was clear that the locals had reached some sort of limit. Although there had never been more than 20 adherents to "Joshua/Franz's sect, a half dozen of his young female followers were committed by their parents to the “Boys and Girls Aid Society” - including O.P. Hunt’s son and his new bride. Others were shipped off to relatives out of state. One or two women were even committed to the state lunatic asylum, in Salem.
A sullen quite catching of breath settled over the town. But that ended in April of 1904 when the Portland police issued an arrest warrant for Franz on a charge of adultery with a young adherent from that town, Esther Mitchel. The aggrieved party was George Mitchel, Esther's elder brother. George  even posted a $150 reward for the arrest of "Joshua".
Franz immediately disappeared, and was not seen again in Corvallis until August, when he was discovered by a young boy. The Prophet Joshua was filthy, nude and starving, hiding beneath the Hunt household. 
Arrested and tried in Portland, Franz was found guilty of adultery and sentenced to two years in the state prison.
And it was upon his arrival there, shaved and bathed,  that we get our first (and only) clear look at the real Franz Creffeld.  He stood five feet six inches tall, and weighed 135 pounds. There is something mystical about his eyes. They were “hypnotic”, glaring defiantly, almost mockingly, into the camera. For the first time you can begin to get a feeling for the power and attraction of this man's lunacy. This was the man all those women were swooning for?
Jail could not restrain or reform Franz Creffeld. He was released, with time off for good behavior, in February of 1906. What he could not know at the time was that he had barely three months left to live.
 Out of jail, Franz immediately reconstituted his flock, especially the Hunt family, who sold their property in Corvallis and used the funds to purchase property near the small town of Waldport, where Alsea Bay meets the Pacific Ocean. 
The Hunt family had deep roots in Waldport, but even here the bizarre practises of Franz's  church caused friction, in particular when a young girl spied several female followers cavorting naked on the beach. And, after one male family member tired to take a shot at him, Franz decided it would be safer to move to the more cosmopolitan Seattle, Washington.
And it was in Seattle, on 7 May, 1906, that Franz (Joshua II) Creffeld and Maude, out for a walk, paused in front of Quick’s Drugstore on First Street. There George Mitchell, convinced his sister Esther had been and was still being violated by the prophet, shot Franz in the back of the head. The prophet died instantly.
George Mitchell was tried in Seattle. His lawyers skillfully put The Prophet's behavior on trial. On 10 July, 1906  the jury came back after deliberating for just an hour and a half. To no one's surprise the verdict was “not guilty”. 
After celebrating for three days, George Mitchell was preparing for a reconciliation meeting with his sister Esther at the Seattle train station, when he was gunned down - by his own sister, Esther Mitchell.
She told the first police to arrive, “Of course I killed George. He killed Joshua the Prophet, didn’t he? What else was there for us to do?” The Seattle Police Chief, Charles Wappenstein, complained, “I wish these Oregon people would kill each other on their own side of the river.”
Esther’s use of the word “us” was correct. Maude had bought the gun and Esther had used it. 
While awaiting trial for this offense. Maude drank strychnine. Her father, O.V. Hunt, arraigned to have Franz’s body exhumed and reburied next to Maude’s.
At her trial for the murder of her brother,  Esther Mitchell was judged to be insane. For three years she survived in the Washington State Asylum at Steilacoom. She was released on 5 April, 1909, and was according to the hospital staff, “thoroughly disgusted with herself”. That diagnosis would appear to have been incorrect. Mr. O.V. Hunt collected Ethe and took her with him back to Waldport. There Esther managed to find some peace, and in 1914 at the age of 26, she married.
But three months later Esther ("X") drank strychnine, just like Maude. It was time for the final fade to black. Except there was to be a sequel.
On 26 March, 1997, outside of San Diego, California, some 40 members of the religious group “Heaven’s Gate”, committed suicide. It was, they believed, the price for a ticket aboard the space ship approaching earth from behind the comet Hale Bop.  About twenty of those deluded unfortunates were decedents of the Franz Creffeld’s movement, who had been recruited from Waldport in September of 1975. Final fade to black.
Fade in a title card, which reads; Tom Stoppard, another Englishman wrote, “The bad end unhappily, the good unluckily. That is what tragedy means”.
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