Christopher Lee: Heroic Prince of Darkness

Artist Heroes, Celebrity Heroes, War Heroes

christopher_lee1By Rick Hutchins

On the silver screen, he was best known for portraying an evil that brought terror to the hearts of the innocent and the brave. For his artistry, he was knighted by Prince Charles of England.

In reality, in the darkest decade in living memory, he fought the greatest evil mankind has ever known.

Perhaps he was knighted for the wrong reason.

Sir Christopher Lee was born in 1922, his father a colonel of the King’s Royal Rifle Corps, whose service dated back to the Boer War, and his mother a descendent of Charlemagne, whose beauty was preserved in art and sculpture. His first acting role was at the age of six in a school play. He was never very good at academics or sports, but he excelled in the arts. All of this is common knowledge.

But some people have unknown depths. Some lives rival the adventures of Pulp fiction.

At the onset of the second World War, Lee volunteered for the Finnish forces, but did not see combat. Two years later, he volunteered for the Royal Air Force, but a medical condition prevented him from flying. Determined to serve, he then volunteered for RAF Intelligence and it was there that he truly flourished. After coming to the attention of his superior officers for his skill at decodinglee-dracula German ciphers (he was fluent in several languages), he was transferred to North Africa, where he served with the Long Range Desert Group. Here, he penetrated behind enemy lines, infiltrating Axis bases from Egypt to Benghazi to sabotage enemy aircraft and installations.

In addition to several near-death experiences while serving near the front lines, Lee was felled by malaria six times during the North African campaign, and returned to duty each time.

Following the Axis surrender in North Africa and the Allied invasion of Italy, Lee began Intelligence work for the Army. During this time, he served with the Gurkhas, suffering yet another brush with death, and took part in planning a potential assault on the Nazi’s Alpine Fortress. Lee was then returned to the Air Force, where he was promoted and posted to Air Force Headquarters to work with the Special Operations Executive, conducting espionage, sabotage, and reconnaissance missions in Occupied Europe.

When the war ended, Lee worked with the Central Registry of War Criminals, tracking down Nazi fugitives and turning them over to the authorities for interrogation and indictment. He duties brought him several times to Nazi concentration camps, where he witnessed the aftermath of the Holocaust firsthand.

Flight Lieutenant Christopher Lee retired from active duty in 1946. This is the bare bones of what we know of his activities in the second World War. His full service record remains classified to this day.

Lee was decorated for his heroism in wartime by Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia, Poland, and Great Britain. He was appointed a Commander of the Venerable Order of St. John. He was knighted for his services to charity. These, of course, are in addition to the many well-deserved honors he received for his inimitable work in film.

On screen, he portrayed the darkest of villains; on the stage of life, he was truly the noblest of heroes.

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Rick Hutchins was born in Boston, MA, and has been an avid admirer of heroism since the groovy 60s. In his quest to live up to the heroic ideal of helping people, he has worked in the health care field for the past twenty-five years, in various capacities. He is also the author of Large In Time, a collection of poetry, The RH Factor, a collection of short stories, and is the creator of Trunkards. Links to galleries of his art, photography and animation can be found on http://www.RJDiogenes.com.

This is Hutchins’ eleventh guest blog post here.  His first two, on astronaut and scientist Mae Jemison and the Fantastic Four’s Reed Richards, can be found in our book Heroic Leadership.

Leverage Your Fortune: Respecting Someone Costs Nothing

Commentary and Analysis

3611908731_95e2dd639a_zBy Steve Hutchins

Once upon a time, I was a young man. And I had some vanity. Don’t we all . . . .

I had every hair color and style under the rainbow. I knew I was a faggot, even then, and I was trying to craft myself into an image that I was attracted to. So stupid. But I was a kid.

One day, I followed my favorite hair stylist into Quincy, Massachusetts. That was cool for me; my comic book shop was in Quincy. I could get my hair done, get my monthly “stash”. It all worked. I boarded the bus and made my way. Those were the days. I was wearing my favorite long coat. It was like a trench coat, but made of wool. I wore that coat for years. Wore it out, in fact.

I ended up beside a man who was, I guess, what would be called “troubled”. I’m sure you’ve met people like this before: it’s clear something isn’t quite right, but it’s difficult to define exactly what. He started talking to me. Just talking. My Mum would kill me, but me, I’ve always had a good handle on whether I’m in danger or not. At sixteen, yes, she would have killed me.

He said to me: “You must be a businessman.”

I said, “What? Me? No!”

“Well, I saw that coat and I thought you must be a businessman.”

I replied, “Not me. It’s a nice coat, but I’m just a kid.”

american-horror-story-season-3-kathy-bates-ryan-murphy-jessica-langeAs impressed as he may have been with my coat, that wasn’t really his agenda. He wanted to talk. And he just kept talking. And I kept listening.

He was fixated on his childhood. He mentioned he was spending time in an institution in Quincy. Yes, a psychological institution. He spoke much about marijuana. Even then, it didn’t mean a thing. Ryan Murphy provided my latest cliché’ in American Horror Story: Asylum: “I don’t judge, Jude. I never judge.”

At one point in this man’s conversation, I happened to look across the bus at the other passengers. They were looking at me the same way they were looking at him. Time delivers some perspective. I was a child. These adults judged me, words unspoken, upon my casual association. It was, as if, well, you must be crazy, too, to be talking to him. I never forgot that feeling nor how unfair that was.

Was I that guy’s hero? And will I ever know? It was a time and a place in space and a circumstance and a mood and. . . well, clearly no one else on that bus was willing to talk to that man. Why not? It costs you. . . what? Respecting someone costs nothing.

I’m not sure why I’m telling this story. It was one of few defining moments in my life, but I haven’t told it in a very long time. I suppose my point is that I had been picked on, as every kid has, but that was kid stuff and I’ve always handled bullies well.

But, when those passengers on that bus looked at me, I realized that poor man was looked down upon like that every day of his life. It wasn’t a moment for him. It wasn’t a cute little story he could tell years later. He was harmless. All he wanted was an ear to bend, that’s all.

I suppose my point isn’t that my ears easily bend, but, rather, why is what I did such a difficult thing for most people? Who is the hero here? That stupid kid, sparing scant minutes of his life to listen, or that troubled guy fighting every day to live a better life? I never forgot that moment. It’s been thirty years now.

We have to try to help others where we can. Life wouldn’t make much sense otherwise.

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Steve Hutchins supports heroism in all its forms and resides in Whitman, Massachusetts.

Deborah Sampson: A Patriot By Any Other Name

Unsung Heroes, War Heroes

Sampson_2By Rick Hutchins

Freedom and independence were matters of conviction for the soldiers of the Continental Army who fought and won the American Revolution. For Deborah Sampson, that conviction ran deeper than most and her war was fought on two fronts. Her victories speak across the centuries and have no less meaning in the modern world.

Despite being descended from both William Bradford and Myles Standish, Deborah endured a childhood of poverty and deprivation. When her father vanished at sea, she was sold into indentured servitude, which remained her lot until she turned eighteen. Subsequently, her mother arranged for her marriage to a wealthy man, but Deborah had other ideas.

At this time, the War of Independence was in full swing and Deborah wanted to do her part for her country. Since women were not allowed to serve in the military, she disguised herself as a man and adopted the name of her dead brother to enlist. She was attached to the 4th Massachusetts Regiment as Robert Shurtleff.

As Robert, Deborah saw active combat on a number of occasions and suffered several injuries, including serious wounds to her head and leg. While her head injury was treated by medics, she was too fearful of having her identity as a woman exposed to allow them to Sampson_1tend to her leg. She saw to this herself, removing one musket ball; unfortunately, she was not able to remove a second musket ball, which remained embedded in her leg, causing her difficulties for the rest of her life. Following these injuries, Deborah was promoted and assigned as the aide de camp of General John Patterson.

Toward the end of the war, Deborah returned to combat duty for mop-up operations and was stricken with fever. Unconscious, she was treated by Doctor Barnabas Binney, who quickly discovered her true sex. However, he did not betray her; in fact, he took her to his home, where he cared for her with the help of his family.

When the time came for her to be discharged, Doctor Binney gave her a letter to be delivered to General Patterson, which disclosed her circumstances. The general accepted this revelation with composure and, based upon his testimonial, as well as the testimonials of the other officers under whom she served, Deborah was given an honorable discharge from the Continental Army by General Henry Knox and Commander-In-Chief George Washington.

Her life as a veteran of the Revolution was equally remarkable. In the years following the war, she supported her family by becoming the first female lecturer in American history, 9780396073437billing herself as The American Heroine. Like most other veterans, she had to petition the government for her back pay and pension. The Massachusetts legislature and Governor John Hancock approved her back pay, with interest. With the advocacy of her friend Paul Revere (who also supported her with loans in times of trouble), she was awarded a full military pension and land by the Congress of the United States. Upon her death, her husband was granted a widow’s pension.

Deborah Sampson is the official heroine of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. No truer patriot ever lived. She not only participated in the birth of her nation, on peril of her life, but she embodied principles of equality that modern patriots still strive to achieve.

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Rick Hutchins was born in Boston, MA, and has been an avid admirer of heroism since the groovy 60s. In his quest to live up to the heroic ideal of helping people, he has worked in the health care field for the past twenty-five years, in various capacities. He is also the author of Large In Time, a collection of poetry, The RH Factor, a collection of short stories, and is the creator of Trunkards. Links to galleries of his art, photography and animation can be found on http://www.RJDiogenes.com.

This is Hutchins’ tenth guest blog post here.  His first two, on astronaut and scientist Mae Jemison and the Fantastic Four’s Reed Richards, can be found in our book Heroic Leadership.

The Greatest Power

Commentary and Analysis, Superheroes

By Rick Hutchins

If you had the choice of any super power, which would you choose?

This question is asked frequently at dinner parties, in coffee houses, on Internet community forums and on personality tests. It’s always interesting and revealing to hear how each person would take advantage of one chance to make an exception to the laws of reality, to find out which power they think is the greatest. But it’s usually answered as a lark, with whimsy — time travel to go back and invest in Microsoft or invisibility to hang out in the high school locker room — or with a darker undercurrent of wish fullfilment — super strength or mind control to take revenge on those who have done us wrong. Only a small number seem to respond thoughtfully on what power would bring the greatest good to the greatest number.

Only a small number seem to fantasize about being a hero.

Because that’s the problem with super powers. Power corrupts. And absolute power corrupts absolutely.

The original super-hero was Superman; he provided the template for all who were to follow and he was gifted with multiple powers. He was super strong, he could fly and see through walls, and move faster than the speed of sound. He could melt lead just by looking at it and his very breath could surpass the strength of a hurricane. Bullets and lasers bounced harmlessly off his skin. He could pass through the heart of a star unharmed. If ever there was a man with absolute power, Superman was he.

But consider how this man lived. The most powerful man in the world worked as an anonymous reporter, disguised as a mild-mannered everyman, bullied by his boss and rebuffed by the women at the office. His downtime was spent in his Fortress of Solitude, in quiet contemplation among the souvenirs and mementos of his extraordinary life. He could have had any woman he wanted, by force or charisma; he could have had any riches that he desired; he could have ruled the world, for no one would have dared deny him anything. Instead, he used his power to protect the planet, to defend the defenseless and to help down cats who were stuck up in trees.

From the day we are born, we are told that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. But Superman, the iconic figure of our subconscious desire for greatness, puts the lie to that. He tells us that you can have all the power in the world and still live a life of humility and generosity. He shows us that the greatest power is incorruptibility.

None of us will ever leap a tall building in a single bound, change the course of a mighty river or bend steel in our bare hands. Seldom is any one person put in a position to save the world or to alter the destiny of Humanity. But we can always return that lost wallet with the contents intact, tell the truth when it matters, stand our ground when it’s easier to walk away or do unto others as we want them to do unto us.

Everyone has the potential to be a hero because everyone has the power to be incorruptible.

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Rick Hutchins was born in Boston, MA, and has been an avid admirer of heroism since the groovy 60s. In his quest to live up to the heroic ideal of helping people, he has worked in the health care field for the past twenty-five years, in various capacities. He is also the author of Large In Time, a collection of poetry, The RH Factor, a collection of short stories, and is the creator of Trunkards. Links to galleries of his art, photography and animation can be found on http://www.RJDiogenes.com.

This is Hutchins’ fourth guest blog post here.  His first two, on astronaut and scientist Mae Jemison and the Fantastic Four’s Reed Richards, can be found in our book Heroic Leadership.

Survivors of Trauma: Heroes Emerging From the Darkness

Unsung Heroes

By Lisa Compton

As I trauma therapist, I have the privileged experience of working with people I consider true heroes — those who have been through painful traumatic events and find the courage to continue living a productive life.  Trauma survivors are some of the bravest people I know.  Counseling those that have experienced trauma is both rewarding and challenging for the therapist.

As I sit with client after client that has survived various types of trauma, I am in awe of the depth of our experiences as trauma counselors.  The most severely wounded and hurting are entrusted into our care.  Their painful memories and broken spirits seek out our “expertise” often as a last hope to make sense of the chaos that surrounds the human existence.

The clients that become fixated in our own minds and trigger our countertransference are the ones who have suffered the most extreme of what this earth has to offer.  Our curiosity is often peaked by their remarkably horrifying stories and our minds sent into a whirlwind of pondering, “Could this ever happen to me?”

Treatment starts with a cry within our own spirits — what do I have to offer this client that will ease the pain, and is easing the pain even possible? We rely on our past successes with wounded clients to combat the helplessness we feel as we sit passively witnessing their trauma narratives.  We are not able to help all of them. The threat of suicides lingers in the therapeutic air as the ultimate failure of treatment.

However, there are those who are heroically able to overcome the odds.  There is a hope for even the most extreme cases that the human soul can thrive after experiencing the deepest wounds.  It is based on this hope that we ask the client to rip off the scab that has provided a barrier of protection and share with us the cuts that run to their core.  An intimacy of trust develops between them and us.  Our small office with a chair and sofa transforms into sacred ground where the evil that was meant to destroy them becomes overtaken by the power of healing and survival.

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Lisa Compton is a Licensed Clinical Social Worker and Certified Trauma Specialist.  She was once a student of Scott Allison’s at the University of Richmond.

We’re Now Contributors to Psychology Today

Commentary and Analysis,

Some good news – we’ve been invited to contribute our insights about heroism at Psychology Today’s online magazine.  Over 13 million people visit Psychology Today’s website each month, and we welcome you to follow them on Facebook, Twitter, and Google+.

We’ve already posted several articles about heroes at Psychology Today. The first is called, Do Heroes Make Us Smarter? In this essay, we describe how heroes are our greatest teachers. Heroes model virtue, clarify complex and paradoxical life truths, equip us with emotional intelligence, and reveal how their journey can be our journey, too.

Our second post is called, 5 Surprising Ways That Heroes Improve Our Lives. In this article, we discuss five non-obvious benefits of heroic action. Heroes elevate us emotionally; they heal our psychological ills; they build connections between people; they encourage us to transform ourselves for the better; and they call us to become heroes and help others.

Our third post at Psychology Today asks the question, Why Are There So Few Heroes? Here we explore various reasons why heroes seem to be in short supply, but we conclude with the promising note that there may be many more heroes out there than you think.

Although we’ll be contributing to Psychology Today, we’ll still be posting hero profiles and analyses regularly at this blog and at our Reel Heroes movie blog. Thanks to all of you for following our work, and please do continue to give us your valuable feedback.

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