THEY’LL NEVER DESTROY A VIEW

It looks more like some futuristic warhead than a pickled vegetable, but what a way to go! A friend and Daily Telegraph journalist claims it was she who first coined the nickname ‘Gherkin’, for Norman Foster’s glass and metal miracle at the heart of the City, on 30 St Mary Axe, but now it’s semi-official. The Gherkin stands on the sight of the former Baltic Exchange and, although plans for a larger Millenium Tower were dropped, like the Twin Towers that building was destroyed in a terrorist attack, from the massive bomb placed by the Provisional IRA. The night before last though there was a Charity-PR-Photo Show at the top of the new incarnation, and that astounding view is a wonder to man and phoenix alike. At night, with an open 380 degree view over sparkling London, sharp and clean in the hard cold, your mind and heart soar, beyond the shiny suites, fizzing champagne and the polite guff, out across the capital; then down, to Tower Bridge, and the Tower of London, like a medieval mecano set, and out along the snaking bend of the river Thames. To its coming rival too, Renzo Piano’s ‘Shard’, looking like a cross between Thunderbird III, only because of the scaffolding, and an architectural Christmas present, waiting to be unwrapped. The Gherkin may not be enormously tall, but it’s what’s in the way that counts, namely nothing, and in that glass and metal capsule, surprisingly light in design, you feel as if a map of the world has been laid before you. Well, at least a map of thrilling and often eccentric city. With a nod to the Institute of Chartered Surveyors, it brings on thoughts of William Blake, no longer wandering through each ‘chartered’ street, ‘near where the chartered Thames doth flow’, but asking a better question – ‘how do we know but every bird that cuts the airy way, is an immense world of delight, bounded by our five senses?”

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HAPPY CHRISTMAS FROM PHOENIX

Boy, does Leonard Cohen know how to tear the heart strings. “It begins with your family, but then it comes down to your soul”, “I have tried in my way to be free”, “The lovers will rise up, and the mountains touch the ground”, “Oppressed by the figures of beauty” “So long, Mary Anne”! If anyone stumbles on Phoenix Ark, in the mad maelstrom of the net, you’re very welcome. I’ve thought of a new slogan, “telling stories, not just selling stories”. Well, maybe not. But Happy Christmas, or whatever, especially to anyone lost or hurt, frightened, confused, browbeaten, or alone, young and old. You really aren’t alone, others have been there, across the vast, mysterious sweep of time and existence, so never, ever give up on you. It’s only about connection, and knowing the light again, the light deep in everyone, and the astounding power of consciousness and the whole self. The ones who make fear are in the wrong, who disconnect, or swap humanity for politics or power, and everything we do is part of making meaning. “And who, shall I say, is calling?!” Leonard, of course, via a fluttering Phoenix.

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DRUE HEINZ, AND THE LITTLE LITERARY MYSTERY OF A WARTIME STRIPTEASE

FROM THE PHOENIX ARK FILES:

It turned up in a World War II visitor’s book, from an aristocratic home, on a hill in Switzerland, with sweeping views to Mont Blanc. There a glamorous American heiress, and a Swiss Baron, banker, and notable art collector, lived out the war in grand style, and with a considerable taste for adventure. Among their more permanent guests was the painter Balthus. They were also intimately connected with a celebrated spy – Allen Dulles – first Civilian Director of the CIA. The hostess of the house would help Dulles retrieve the Ciano diaries from Mussolini’s favourite daughter, Edda. As part of an American East Coast elite, she was at least an informal agent for the OSS, forerunner to the CIA, the Office of Strategic Services. As for Dulles, still said to be a romantic hero at the Agency, and a committed lady’s man, the be-spectacled, swashbuckling, but famously discrete lawyer had crossed into Switzerland, via Lisbon and Spain, as the borders slammed shut on the eve of Operation Torch, the allied invasion of North Africa. He was armed with a banker’s draft for a million dollars, and a virtually free hand, as Berne OSS station chief. That he cherished, and fully exploited, culminating in his work over Operation Sunrise, for German surrender in Northern Italy. His all important Swiss escapade is touched on, fictionalised, but largely avoided, in the film The Good Shepherd, starring Matt Damon. Dulles certainly believed in something that seems to have gone into decline, operatives fully enagaged on the ground, and culturally educated and well informed, rather than doing much second hand, perhaps nowadays down the net. He once famously said that all you really need in life is ‘a little bit of courage’.

Dulles had worked for the State Department, became a lawyer with Cromwell and Sullivan, and was a member of Yale’s infamous Skull and Bones Society, initiate to Presidents and security gurus, alike. In Switzerland he set about building a spy network that saw his intelligence gathering reach Roosevelt’s own desk. Since he had turned Lenin from the American Legation door in Switzerland, in 1918, he would never make the same mistake again, and worked with many. He also contacted every American living there, to ask for help, in what he described to Washington as a ‘somewhat distorted world’. It was the kind of world where agents still wore red carnations, or proffered a pack of Camel cigarettes, rather than Gauloise, to establish their allegiance to Free France, or Vichy. One that saw the British and Americans in touch with Admiral Canaris, employer and lover of Mata Hari, as head of the Abwehr, German Military Intelligence. Until Canaris fell, after the attempt to assassinate Hitler, and the Abwehr were abolished. Canaris was effectively replaced by Walter Schellenberg, who mounted two machine guns on his desk in Berlin, and later settled in Switzerland to write The Labyrinth. One of Allen Dulles’s greatest coups though was securing the help of the heroic Fritz Kolbe, who the British had turned away from ‘the shop’, and whose reports were validated in London by none other than Kim Philby, already working for the Soviets. Actually Dulles was too acute to sign his name in a visitor’s book, although his daughter Joan, and troubled wife Clover Todd, both appear in 1944. As does a patient of the psychologist Carl Jung, who, though he never came to the house, Dulles also consulted in Germany, and had his own OSS code number. There too came Dulles’s station replacement in Berne, Robert P. Joyce, and General Barnwell Legge, American Legation secretary. Legge was heavily criticized in a recent military controversy on the internet, for his involvement in preventing downed American airmen escape, under threat of Court Martial, probably because Dulles did not want their Swiss operation compromised. Also for failing to correct conditions at the scandalous camp at Wilmeroose, although one subordinate called him a caring man.

In a very ‘Special Relationship’, British Intelligence were at the house too, many times. In the person of George Younghusband, military number two at the British Legation, and the Colditz escapee Pat Reid, famous for his escape-themed board game, and for so successfully telling The Colditz Story, after the war. Reid never wrote about his time in Switzerland though. More specifically, on the British front, there is Henry Cartright, head of MI9 in Switzerland. MI9 dealt with escape routes out of Switzerland, although the role of MI6 has been little written about, in terms of the use and significance of information that debriefed escapees must have provided to intelligence networks, for attacks on Germany. Cartwright was a world War I escapee himself, whose best seller on the subject was avid Nazi reading in WWII, for obvious reasons. That house was watched closely by the Swiss Police too, reported for high antics, and for harbouring ‘a nest of spies’. Its owners were friends with the head of the Berne police though, and so probably protected, in the semi neutral atmosphere of smoke and mirrors diplomacy. One affected in Switzerland by the changing winds of war.

Soon after the war though, they received a grateful card from the British Legation, commending the couple not only for hospitality, but for their invaluable help to British and American escapees. It makes a family visitor’s book a very important historical document, as are unseen papers on Hitler and Edda Mussolini. Perhaps significantly, they received no such commendations from US Services, since spying rarely stops. The question still remains though as to how much their Brit guests were aware of the depth of their American connections, because the house’s true significance is testified to by a meeting in 1945, still a mystery, that involved a visit by colonels at the heart of SHAEF, The Supreme Headquarters of the Allied Expeditionary Force, and ETOUSA, American Theatre of Operations, during Operation Overlord. They had helped covertly in a war that would see Nazi scientists smuggled to America too, in the battle for the A-Bomb, under Dulles’s Operation Paperclip, and herald the triumph of American world hegemony, in more ways than simple military victory. If information is power, cash rich America certainly won the covert war, because America soon had vast reserves of European files transferred to Washington. Incidentally, some 6000 secret papers relating to Switzerland, and designated Safehaven, remain closed.

There is one rather surprising name in the visitor’s book too though, on an evening in 1943 – Drue Mackenzie Robertson. She is actually Drue Heinz, future wife of the Baked Bean and Ketchup Multi-Millionaire, Henry J Heinz. She was a doyenne of New York Society for many years – writing letters to the New Yorker in 1944, so she may have been back in the States by then – but also became a celebrated patron of the literary arts. One the flapping Phoenix Ark could certainly do with a little help from – for our love of stories, real and fictional! She is publisher of The Paris Review, established the Drue Heinz Literature Prize, and her foundation endows the Drue Heinz lecture series in Pittsburg. At the Carnegie Museum of Art, her foundation also funds exhibitions at the Heinz Architectural Centre, and supports The Lincoln Centre Review. Having endowed a chair of American Literature at St John’s College, Oxford, and involved with Hertford College too, Drue Heinz has long been at the very epicentre of American Arts and Culture, but also influential in the UK. In 2002 she was made an Honorary Fellow of The Royal Society of Literature.

Born Doreen Mary English, Mrs Heinz clearly had a taste for theatrics earlier on, and as an actress, earned a small part in the movie Uneasy Terms, in 1948. It is all a long time ago, and many lives have passed in-between, so distance affords both mystery, and admiration, for a now grand old literary lady. But what of such tantalising ‘skull and bones’ in her cupboard, and was Drue Heinz really part of the OSS too, America’s Office of Strategic Services, or only linked by association? The term spy became a very moveable feast during the war, but it is an open secret that some of the most fertile areas of unwritten intelligence history are neutral territories, and Switzerland is no exception. Drue Heinz was there that night in Switzerland, 67 years ago, in 1943, and her signature is on the visitor’s page too, below her second husband, Dale Wilford Maher. As a graduate of the US Cavalry School and military attaché, Maher is a dead ringer for a spy, and signs himself ‘Master of the Five by Five”. That entry rather bemused this excited researcher, until, last year, one of the obvious links sprang fully armed from the pages of history, to validate a remarkable story, worthy of a movie, or a very stylish spy novel. ‘Five by Five’ was official Nato parlance for the best quality wireless transmissions, namely ‘reading you loud and clear’.

These people based at the American Legation then, and guests at a private home, were sending back radio reports, as Dulles himself began nightly transmissions from Switzerland, which in a coming technological age changed the cloak and dagger style of British dominated spying. It was the dawn of a new era, and they specialised in American style code words, like ‘Fatboy’ for Herman Goering. Stationed in Berne, in his beautiful flat in the Herengasse, Dulles’s own rather charming code name was Mr Burns, so you might take another glance at the satirical cartoon The Simpsons. To underline the personal touch, that Dulles would stamp all over the CIA, he called the technique for an operative communicating with a plane overhead by radio, ‘J-E Operations’. It came from the initials of Dulles’s daughter Joan, and his sister Eleanor. Despite British fears, Dulles’s work never compromised the greatest British coup though, in his supposedly ‘gung ho’ and open door approach. A coup embodied in the Enigma project, and Ultra transmissions, concealing the fact Britain had cracked and could read all German messages at the start of the war. British archives, although still closed, reveal a wireless transmitor was installed in their own Swiss legation in 1943.

Dulles, whose obsession would soon become the Soviet threat, and who encouraged later assassination programmes, out of the no-holes-barred tactics learnt in defeating the Nazis, notably had shares in the American Fruit Company, and has a rather more suspect role after his heroic war effort. Allied propaganda was one of his specialities in Switzerland, and as a master of dis-information, he was to be involved in a Mind Control programme, and Operation Mockingbird – perhaps he liked Harper Lee – the CIA’s attempt to directly influence the American media. Another visitor to that house would be Captain Tracy Barnes, a so-called ‘Jedburgh Agent’, and code named ‘Trick’, who would later turn up in the Cuban ‘Bay of Pigs’ debacle. It was of course Cuban bedeviled Kennedy who said of the CIA that he would like to scatter the organisation ‘to the four winds’. But what of Drue Heinz, whose Wikepedia profile is rather thin? Tantalizingly, that evening Drue Heinz signed herself in appealingly Mata Hari vein, for such a sparkling Manhattan hostess-to-be – “Queenie – the Striptease Queen!” The intense passions and fortunes of war, and such heady Swiss excitement, may have been too much for some. Dale Maher died in 1948, and his forwarding address on the internet is simply listed as ‘The State Department’. Drue Mackenzie Robertson married Henry J. Heinz II in 1953, becoming his third wife, and so perhaps beginning her powerful and passionate role in fiction and the arts. A passion fully shared by Phoenix Ark Press, although admittedly with a sometimes sceptical eye on other literary powers that be.

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THE STORIES YOU READ, AND THE STORY OF A NEW PUBLISHER

Can a writer really build a publisher in front of your eyes, fight back for authors, and create a free novel, as it’s written?! Well, Dragon in the Post has a new cover, click the top right page, and so do some of the books in our Wildcall and Thumbmarks catalogues. But where will the Phoenix Ark story go – down the drain, or to the highest turrets of Pendolis?

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DOWNING TOOLS

I’m concerned some blog followers might think some pieces here are just about personal issues, or personal problems. It has certainly been a problem coping with something so personal, but the professional is far more important, especially in writing about the publishing industry, storytelling and authors. I’ve met many editors who show an extraordinary arrogance, and this is most certainly a case in point. In the UK a publisher long ago shut a door, after a department had moved jobs, and then told me ‘there was no market for animal fantasy’. It was complete nonsense, and Fell went on to be a small best seller in America, and sold here too. It is partly why having to face that attitude again, but with people I knew so personally, became appalling. The things I believe were specifically wrong though were virtually disallowing me to represent my own work properly, entirely for the comfort of someone else, allowing a situation to develop, seemingly unresolvable, that totally inhibited real editor-author honesty, and holding up another book for years, that was part of my potential livelihood, and so holding my whole life to ransom. As hokey as it might sound, I threw down tools at one point, and said I had not become a writer in the first place to allow those kind of values to operate. It’s true, but by then internal politics was far more important than any truth about art, the fight of writers, or what is vital to the writing process. DCD

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PHOENIX TAKES WING – WITH ALL OUR WRITERS THE STARS!

PHOENIX TAKES WING – WITH ALL OUR WRITERS THE STARS!.

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Sherlock Holmes, security, disclaimers, Ra Ra Rasputin, and releasing the Phoenix Files!

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or used fictitiously…” Every novelist knows that is the legal disclaimer that appears in the front of any published novel, and every movie lover will have seen something similar tagged to a film. But where does it actually come from?

Phoenix’s boss found out last year, when researching a private biography in the Paris National Archive. Those files had been kept closed under the seventy year rule, probably similar in time-period to the valuable protection of authorial copyright, namely a normal lifetime’s distance after an author’s death, and included a police dossier on the arrest of Adrian Conan Doyle, the rather dissolute son of Sir Arthur, creator of the great detective himself, Sherlock Holmes. Adrian and his brother, in very Sherlock Holmes vein, had been arrested at Bolougne-Sur-Mer in the 1930’s, for trying to smuggle weapons through customs, onto a Packet Boat. They would not have had a chance in today’s high security climate, because both were carrying sword sticks, of all swashbuckling things, revolvers, and several boxes of ammunition. 21 and 19 years old respectively, they were questioned, fined and released, though according to his biographer, Adrian would later develop an obsession with weapons, and Medieval torture instruments. Among some fascinating ‘secret’ records though, was another dossier on Prince Yusupov.

It was of course Felix Yusupov who was responsible for the origins of the above disclaimer, certainly in movie theatres, after he sued MGM, for its portrayal of him in the 1932 film ‘Rasputin and the Empress’, and their dramatisation of his involvement in Rasputin’s murder. He won the case, for libel and invasion of privacy, not over the murder, but for the fact the film had suggested Rasputin had seduced his wife, Princess Irina Alexandrova. One of the richest men in Russia, who fled to Europe after the Revolution, Yusupov founded a fashion house with her, and made rather a career out of suing people. He had already gone head to head with Karensky in London, who founded the exile newspaper, The Days, and specialised in attacks on ‘White Russian’ aristocrats like Yusupov. But the file we found was itself a little gem of mis-sleuthing, and historical translation. It involved their investigating an attempt to blackmail the Prince over a homosexual affair with the son of a French Count. Among decidedly loaded police remarks about Yusupov’s femininity, and fondness for the company of young men, it reveals the French police paid a ‘snitch’ to root through Yusupov’s clothes, left at his tailor, where they found a little parcel of cocaine in his pocket. Fictional Holmes would have loved such 1% solutions, because although Yusupov is said to have boasted on the boat leaving Russia, that he had murdered Rasputin, the language of all those police files so exposes the official prejudices of the time. Also the language of professional sleuthing emerging everywhere, which, with relatively new forensic techniques like Finger Printing, began to transform the landscape of investigations, and moved it out of the romantic domain of the ‘spy’ – there were several notes in those files scrawled on restaurant napkins – into the territory of the official policeman. In Conan Doyle’s take, who at been dead for eight months when his sons were arrested, often the territory of the bumbling Lestrade. Incidentally, after fighting battles against real injustice, Sir Arthur’s famous last words must have been some of the greatest of all time, to his second wife – ‘You are wonderful.’

It was one of many fascinating things that turned up, although supposedly not of interest to today’s serious, or even scandal hungry newspapers, and so the general public, (we tried), so over the next few weeks, that and other little discoveries will be added to our own blogged ‘Phoenix files’. Phoenix puts no such disclaimer in front of its blog, we’d rather the tag ‘this is a true, or based on a true story’. We naturally coda it to ‘excerpts’, and in the books we are trying to produce, when of course they are fictional. DCD

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THE PHOENIX ARK CHRISTMAS WRITER’S APPEAL, FREE!

Dear gentle reader,

if you’ve been touched at all by the thrills and spills of a madly determined fantasy author, and a struggling little phoenix of a publisher, as the bitter cold frosts the window panes of involvement, love and connection, spare a passing thought for the Bob Cratchit of literature. His hands, in his half fingered woolen gloves, are crabbed with toil, his weary, tear filled eyes dim to the normals joys and camaraderie of powerful publishers, or indeed the common laughter of engaged humanity, at this very special time of year. Which is as much to say that he needs not a steaming jug of Smoking Bishop, nor even a pay rise, but a kindly word of recommendation. So you perhaps might bring a few friends, especially younger readers, just one or two each, even by navigating that link button in your email and by copying our url into the box that appears, to send to your chums, and suggest they take a peek at Dragon in the Post.

Though on the reading page, linked below, there is a Donation button, it is entirely free, and poor Bob must believe in the power of the word, you see, to strike a blow for writers everywhere, and if it’s any good, perhaps a story really is a gift. Old Harry Potter did it, by word of mouth in the schools first, or so the story goes, before the marketing juggernaut took over. Perhaps it is no good, and like the mounds of crumpled paper surrounding our Dickensian computer at Phoenix Ark Press, it should be consigned to the dustbin of eternity. But Bob thinks it is rather good, though he dribbles a lot, and has grown fond of it too, poor fool. Yet even the humblest clerk or scribe needs, now and then, to feel the electric current of direct connection, between author and reader, to feed the flickering fires of creativity. A very Happy Christmas though, Holidays, Hanukkah, and the rest, and God Bless us every one!

Phoenix Ark Press

To see a little related movie, although featuring our favourite Phoenix, and join the dragon story as it happens, click

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STUDENT DREAMS HERE AND IN THE US

If politicians here have talked about students living in a dream world, my deepest Texan source gives a fascinating insight into the different causes of students here, and in the USA, since this website seems to have evolved out of a ‘special relationship’. While student fees are through the roof in America, American students are not protesting about money and funding. But they are fighting a corner for immigrants, apparently with Hunger Strikes, trying to bring in the DREAM act, securing protection for the children of illegal immigrants, either to go to school, or join the military. How the sober visions of the old are seen through a different glass to the passionate young, but it is always good to know that people are fighting for things, especially the human, and have a right to be heard. DCD

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PHOENIX POLITICO

A friend commented on Phoenix becoming political, and it felt strangely uncomfortable. Is it because, coming from such a political family, politics has at times been rather a dirty word to me? Although a fact of life, I don’t think politics is the key to human happiness at all. Or is it because a so called friend, at the heart of a US publisher, warned me how ‘political’ work is, before a nightmare unfolded in New York, and they acted so cynically and politically? As that firm underlined to an author, a writer is not an employee at all, and so protected by the benefits employees enjoy, but nor should I have been used as an internal political football. My work should have been protected too, and by extension my livelihood.

I and Phoenix, except that half the gnomes disagree with my politics, believe in the story, on either side of the political divide, and the truth and falseness of people. That is why law is so important too. As for freedom of speech, perhaps I believe as much in the intelligence of what is said and done. What happened in London yesterday might put a sharp curb on notions of absolute freedom. But then a group of thugs, showing off to camera, and labelled as ‘students’, can sour the vital right of peaceful protest. To see the windows of the High Court smashed, the Treasury, and the National Gallery invaded, and that security breach with Charles and Camilla, does not exactly symbolise a ‘free’ society to me. That might quickly turn people off the student cause, and education is a vital cause. As for Julian Assange, there is certainly a case that a blanket sharing of documents is a dubious or irresponsible thing, as there is if there really is a specifically anti-American agenda to Wikileaks. The fact is though, if a journalist starts to censor themself too much, then they become the Judge and Jury, so perhaps the blanket approach was the only option. Now, it’s time for us to get back to what we do best, telling stories. DCD

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