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Wide Angle 21.2 (1999) 27-30


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The Center for Mass Communication and The Invader A Memoir

Dorothy O. Olson

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In his memoir Media Marathon, Erik Barnouw used a quote from John dos Passos as a chapter heading: "People don't choose their careers; they are engulfed by them." If that was true of Erik, it also describes George Stoney, and for that matter, me. It might be said that the three of us were joined by serendipity and the United States Public Health Service (USPHS).

While he was teaching at the School of General Studies at Columbia University, Erik was sought out by an energetic terrier of a man named T. Lefoy Richman (Rich), who was Public Information Officer for the Venereal Disease Section of the USPHS. Richman had already drafted Dr. E. Gurney Clark, Professor of Epidemiology at Columbia's School of Public Health. The two came together to enlist Erik in this cause.

By the end of World War II, thanks to data collected by the military, USPHS had statistics on the incidence of syphilis in the armed forces. By then, they also had penicillin and knew it was a cure. But they faced a seemingly unbreakable taboo. The Surgeon General of the United States had been cut off national radio for uttering the word "syphilis." All kinds of groups opposed any hint of a public information campaign. [End Page 27]

Rich came to Columbia because Erik had a successful department of radio within a university that could provide impeccable auspices. The final result was an ingenious scheme to set up a production unit under the umbrella of the Columbia University Press, named The Center for Mass Communication (CMC). CMC could accept funds funneled through various non-profit agencies, state governments, and the like, to produce educational materials in many formats --radio programs, pamphlets, posters, even a juke-box record--that state and local health departments could purchase for use in their own campaigns. It wassoon evident that CMC would be asked to produce films for these ongoing and expanding campaigns. I had joined CMC a few months after its debut, but neither Erik nor I had professional film experience.

Enter George Stoney. None of us is really clear about how our association cameabout, but almost certainly Rich was a player, as was Dr. Dan Bowden, a memorable character who was the Venereal Disease Control Officer for the Georgia State Department of Health. I can't say which of this cast of characters had the idea of making a film on the history of the fight against syphilis. My guess wouldbe Rich, probably together with Erik. Dr. Dan was enthusiastic about the idea, and financing was found in what he called his "sinking fund," that is, undesig-nated moneys he kept aside for special things he wanted to do without undue interference. The film budget for what became The Invader was then channeled through the CMC. What I am certain about is the determination of its style.

Erik and I had each independently seen a short that was playing in New York at the time, called 1848. It was the story of the Revolution of 1848 and the year of the Paris Commune. Directed by Victoria Mercanton, written by Albert Saboul, it had no live action. Instead, it used paintings, drawings, and engravings by many of the artists who had been swept up by the violent action of the time: Daumier, Descamps, Gavarni, Champin, Delacroix, and other contemporary recorders. This seems old hat now, but it was one of the first films to use this technique, and we were both mesmerized by the strength and excitement it engendered.

I seem to recall that George was a bit intimidated by the idea at the beginning. He had never done anything like that. The sheer number of required photographs [End Page 28] turned out to be beyond anyone's estimate. Ultimately, documents were garnered from institutions all over the world, including The New York Public Library, the Louvre, Johns Hopkins, the Prado, Colmar, the...

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