Masked men and pigeons
Keep the world safe and make some men rich
Although Richard Stengel, the editor of Time magazine, passed on choosing Wikileaks founder as Person of the Year, Julian Paul Assange is creating havoc not only in the State Department but for all those in the secrets business. He is breaking a taboo held sacred since the Sumerians invented Cuneiform five thousand years ago. He revealed written secrets; confidential cables never intended for public disclosure.
Secrets do not just concern the Pentagon, the hacker’s current target, but are an integral thread in the fabric of civilization; not only allowing governments to conduct business, defend against enemies, and negotiate peace treaties, but to help individuals to get medical treatment and in the confines of a therapist office, unburden themselves from the pressures of career, marriage, and parenthood. All with the assurance that their private thoughts will not be exposed.
Secrets come in many flavors. In some cases their revelation may cause an empire to fall, a treaty to disintegrate or simply momentary embarrassment.
The most innocuous form of secrets is associated with the craft of writing.
Modern literature is filled with examples of nom de plumes, which allow writers to venture into risky topics. The most famous pen name is Mark Twain, author of “Tom Sawyer,” and “Huckleberry Finn”. Samuel Langhorne Clemens also used the alias of Sieur Louis de Conte for his controversial examination of Joan of Arc.
Serious mathematician and logician Charles Dodgson, took cover under the name Lewis Carol when he wrote the children’s fantasy tale of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.
Not only have secrets protected the name of authors, but cities, countries and planets have benefited from identities remaining unknown.
The preeminent fictional character to use a secret identity is Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster’s famous undocumented alien, Superman. So convincing is his portrayal of a mild-mannered reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper that he manages to fool the world by simply popping on a pair of black horn-rimmed glasses with clear lenses. His fictional counterparts resort to uncomfortable masks and cowls.
Mystery of Clark Kent’s glasses
Although Clark Kent has eluded scores of supervillians and nosy immigration officials since 1932, he is not the pioneer of exploiting the power of a secret identity.
It was Johnston McCulley’s Zorro, first appearing in 1919, who cast the template by which the superhero mold was set. McCulley had been a struggling hack writer for the Police Gazette, which masqueraded as a high-minded professional journal of interest to law enforcement. In truth, it was a shameless tabloid featuring lurid coverage of murders and glorifying Wild West outlaws. Its pages were splashed with engravings and photographs of scantily-clad strippers, gaudy burlesque dancers, and long-legged prostitutes. Every issue brazenly flamingoed on the jagged edge of late Victorian obscenity. It’s no wonder McCulley felt kinship with a hero who disguised the truth of who he was, for the writer himself was buried a dozen deep in his own secret identities, including: Harrison Strong, Raley Brien, George Drayne, Frederic Phelps, Walter Pierson, and John Mack Stone; and on special occasion, when wanting to express his womanly wiles, he wrote behind the literary skirts of Monica Morton and Rowena Raley.
Misguided amateur historians claim that Zorro’s rightful origins are indebted to the mid-evil bandit, Robin Hood.
While he and his conniving gang of “Merry Men” did use a variety of disguises to rob his innocent victims of their hard-earned capital, Robin Hood did not consistently maintain a specific secret identity. When brute force failed to secure the booty, his chief henchman, “Little John,” gleefully resorted to extortion and protection schemes. The poor, who they ostensibly served, were those who received payola for their cooperation and most importantly their silence when the overworked Sheriff of Nottingham followed up on the swath robberies Robin Hood cut through Sherwood Forest. If anyone was the rightful descendent of this 13th century crime boss’ legacy, it was the more compassionate, Al Capone, whose iron first terrorized Chicago in the 1920s. In the wake of the stock market crash in 1929, the Italian gangster was the first to open a soup kitchen. The destitute would line up around the block to receive a free hot lunch and merchants were ordered to give away groceries at Capone’s expense. There is no proof that Robin Hood did anything of the kind, but Zorro’s record of only punishing the corrupt is unblemished.
By day he plays the seemingly ineffectual socialite of Don Diego de la Vega (even the name suggests he’s a first class fob who couldn’t fight his way out of a crispy burrito with a ten-foot shillelagh).
As he serenades the sexy senoritas in the palatial haciendas of the Pueblo de Los Angeles in the Spanish colonial years, his dandified persona effortlessly glides throughout ranks of the corrupt aristocracy.
By night, donning the black cape and mask, he is transmuted into a stealthy figure, whose lightening rapier cuts at the heart of injustice as he emblazons his unmistakable trademark in three perfect strokes. The “Z”, as all he targets know, stands for Zorro.
Generations later, Batman is the 20th century resurrection of the spirit of the masked rider. Bruce Wayne, although not as hapless as Don Diego pretended to be, is a wealthy, yet unimpressive figure in the Gotham City skyline. The main contrasting feature between these dark nights is that while Don Diego is a cultivated aristocrat who can quote poetry and recite lengthy passages from Cervantes, secretly Bruce Wayne is an engineering genius. With minimal help, he manages to create an array of weaponry that puts him roughly on an equal footing with those who have actual superpowers.
Superman’s origins, if not more original, are at least more eclectic, but probably influenced by other characters also created by Johnston McCulley, which include: Black Star, The Mongoose, Thubway Tham, the Green Ghost, the Thunderbolt, and the Crimson Clown. Part of the creative mix had to have come from the towering literary figure of fantasy fiction and creator of Tarzan, Edgar Rice Burroughs, specifically his character of the immortal John Carter from Mars. The red planet is not exactly Krypton, but the metaphor is close enough.
The name itself, Superman, didn’t exactly start with Siegel and Shuster.
That accolade goes to the author of “The Gay Science,” Friedrich Nietzsche, also famous for his metaphysical proclamation that “God is dead.” His Übermensch is not a man with a body of steel but the possessor of an iron will, who uncompromisingly follows his own highly-developed sense of morality. Socrates, Jesus, Julius Caesar, Leonardo da Vinci, and Shakespeare were a few the German philosopher felt came closest to this ideal. There is nothing to suggest in any of the comic books, movies or television series that the Smallville resident is anything but an intellectual lightweight. It is only by the happenstance of Krypton’s mass relative to that of the Earth’s that he even has his powers. Were it not for the fact that his secret identity gives him incredible scoops and he can type 600 words a minute, he would have never kept his job at the Daily Planet. Rarely did any of his stories make it to the city desk without merciful copy editing by Lois Lane, who pulls his journalist derriere out of the fire hourly.
Kent isn’t the only superhero with ink in his veins. Green Hornet is the secret identity of fellow journalist, Britt Reid. Unlike Kent who never warranted a promotion, Reid worked his way to the top and is the publisher of the Daily Sentinel, which gives him more freedom to fight crime than Kent, who takes orders from tyrannical editor Perry White.
Although it may seem ironic, the practice of news gathering and its transmission are filled with secrecy. Terms like “off the record” and “deep background” are commonly used.
One of the most famous chroniclers of all time learned several lessons on the subject while on his little Asian holiday.
Marco Polo upon his return to Italy from his famous Chinese expedition in the 13th century revealed some of the cunning and brutal measures that his host Kublai Khan used in the administration of his immense information-gathering network that united China.
A combination of coded messages, subterfuge and misdirection allowed the grandson of Genghis Khan to keep the empire running with an efficiency rarely seen in the ancient world.
One of the first information magnates of the modern world, predating Joseph Pulitzer, was renowned for the miraculous ways he managed to get the most timely stock information to hungry traders.
While many of his competitors used the telegraph and the rails, Paul Julius Reuter went wireless! His technology was far more advanced; leveraging the earth’s magnetic field and sophisticated systems of landmark imagery and olfactory analysis. In other words—homing pigeons.
There was a 76-mile telegraphic gap between Aachen and Brussels, Belgium’s capital city and financial center. He used a fleet of 45 homing pigeons to bridge that gap, allowing his clients to use that secret information six hours ahead of his competitors who brought the quotes by train.
Trumping Reuter in the use of these birds for financial gain were the Rothschilds, famous for their far flung financial empire.
The most wily of them, Nathan, theorized that the outcome of the battle between Napoleon and Wellington at Waterloo would have a huge impact on European financial markets, particularly England’s.
This theory was not unique to Nathan, since the great European armies had been preparing for this Armageddon for quite some time. The only outstanding question was, “How could the Rothschilds’ capitalize on the outcome?”
Since his family already had a network of spies in both armies and local villages, he was well positioned to be one of the early recipients of the news. This wasn’t good enough for Nathan. He wanted an edge that would outflank his competitors; so he hired a secret squad of pigeoneers. As his bird air force stormed his London offices he learned that the ferocious Bonaparte had met his match in Wellington. Consequently Nathan knew the value of British securities was about to soar.
Simply buying them at the prevailing price would have been a massive squandering of the secret knowledge he paid so dearly to obtain.
In an ostentatious display of feigned panic, he started to sell the very securities that would soon double and triple their price.
His shaken competitors, not as cagey of chess players as he, followed his duplicitous example. Within the hour, the price plunged to almost nothing. The Rothschilds, through their various secret agents, scooped up the securities at fire sale prices. The next day, when the British government learned of their glorious Waterloo victory it became common knowledge to financial professionals. The value of British debt soared. Within that 24-hour window of opportunity, at the courtesy of his pigeon air force, the Rothschilds leaped ahead years in their quest for financial dominance of Europe. Some financial historians claim the Rothschilds increased the value of their portfolio twenty fold. All though that number remains in dispute, there’s no question that this legendary family owes a debt to their flying secret weapon.
However, there was never a more dramatic moment in the history of pigeon espionage than what occurred during the Franco-Prussian war in 1870.
Paris was under siege! Cut off from all supplies! Surrounded by the Prussian army. Not only were the Parisians dying from cholera, but they were so hungry they were forced to eat elephants from their zoo. But, worst of all, their spirit was decaying from lack of contact with the outside world.
Under the command of the Leonardo da Vinci of Paris, “Nadar,” they fought this crisis by secretly stowing pigeons away in hot air balloons. Not only was the renaissance man a master photographer of Paris and a caricaturist of world renown, but he was also the leading aeronautical expert of Europe. His credits include flying the largest balloon ever to be constructed, and he was one of the few to fly the first dirigible, predating Count Zeppelin by a half century.
When the pigeons returned to Paris, their tail feathers carried narrow cylinders fitted with tiny microfilm slides carrying hundreds of coded messages.
The most important message
While most of the information contained in those tiny specs was of a personal or military nature, the depravation of liberty forced some to consider the philosophical implications.
One of those messages expressed the earliest of thoughts of an artistic vision of a young French soldier from Alsace. It would be a shining symbol of what the Parisians had temporarily lost. The result of this image, burning in Lieutenant Bartholdi’s mind, would be of no small consequence, even though it would be sixteen years for it to come to fruition.
The pigeon flying this and a thousand other messages, Carlene, was colored with a white crown and a black scalloped collar.
Fortunately, the Prussian hackers, using rifles instead of laptops, failed to capture the vital information she carried.
Although they rained down a storm of lead on her, the two-toned bird dodged her way to the loft just before dusk, in time for the last pick up of the day. Her arrival was hailed by a flutter of brass bells and she was rewarded with her first meal in several days. The microfilm negatives, the size of pieces of confetti, were rushed to the postal headquarters for processing.
In a dark room, using a candle-powered magic lantern, the images were faintly projected on the whitewashed wall. Ciphers, using nothing more than handwritten code sheets and candles to see their blank forms, looked at what appeared to be random letters and turned them into Pigeon Post Telegrams. All of these messages were eventually put into a volume and are housed in France’s postal museum.
Although delivered like regular mail, these telegrams were received as if they were lightning bolts flung by Zeus.
The next morning, a Parisian family, who had been praying for a letter from their son, instead got one from his commanding officer. Although little consolation, Anton died bravely. As they read, and reread the 40-word message, another freedom fighter had also succumbed to a Prussian attack. A bullet fragment lodged near the heart, and like the advancement of the enemy soldiers weeks ago, it too became lethal. As the bells of the Notre Dame Cathedral struck the last gong of the morning, Carlene fell from her perch. She would never again know the breath of liberty she had helped bring to the citizens, not just to imprisoned Parisians that year, but to all of those people who sail into New York Harbor and have the privilege of catching a glimpse of the torch-bearing colossus that was once only the size of a grain of sand when she carried the embryo of its vision in her tail feathers.n
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The most sought-after item in the collection was her pair of famed Luxor No.6 flying goggles. Worn by Earhart when she experienced her first crash in July 1921 while learning to fly with Neta Snook, the goggles still evidenced a cracked lens. The bidding opened at $10,000 and escalated to a final sales price of $17,775.
I hope all is well with you. We loved the Mad Men coverage in the December issue of the Collector. 
