SOVEREIGN BARONY OF CAUX: According to the Barony’s official Web-site (http://www.baronyofcaux.com/index.htm), “While the history of the Barony of Caux (or Caus) only goes back to 1069 CE in England, its Norman territories in the Pays de Caux predate the ascension of Hugo le Corbeau, 1st Baron, in 1040 CE. The present Baron, His Lordship John I is thought to be the 37th Baron of Caux, and third at least of that name, but is styled the 1st Baron in honour of the historic restitution of the Barony on August 27, 2001 CE. The capital of the Barony is maintained at the Baronial Embassy to North America, at Toronto, Canada, but territories in Normandie and Shropshire, including the sites of Castle Caus and the Chateau of Caux, are claimed. Members of the Baronial family maintain their personal estates in Wyoming, Vermont and Canada. The Barony's manors in Shropshire are famous for their bucolic beauty, and the Baron's demesnes in the Pays de Caux are known for their dramatic chalk cliffs and hanging valleys, or ‘veulettes’. The floral gardens at the Ambassadorial Enclave at Toronto, Canada are planted with many species of wildflowers native to the ancient manors of the Barony, and they create a pleasing effect which is sure to captivate the first-time visitor and remind the homesick subject of the meadows of Caux.” The Web-site is maintained by a descendant of Hugo le Corbeau: Mr. John Corbett, who resides in Toronto (“where the Baronial family was living in exile”). It goes into vivid detail about the ancient origins of the Corbets. Their “name derives from the old Norman ‘Le Corbeau’ which, over time, changed to ‘Le Corbet’.” Up until the Norman invasion of the Kingdom of England, which was led by William the Conqueror (Duke of Normandy), “they were an important family in the Pays de Caux region of Normandie.” Their “history begins with Hugo le Corbet or le Corbeau. With two of his sons, Roger and Robert, Sir Hugo joined in the battle of Hastings with William the Conqueror in 1066. Hugo helped counsel the Conqueror in regards to the Welsh border lands which were unconquerable.” Two of his sons, Roger and Robert, were given Baronies in return for their service as knights to the Conqueror. Roger, in particular, “received twenty-five manors in Shropshire (The Barony of Caux)” in 1069. “These Manors had been townships under Saxon rule. Roger called both his castle and Barony ‘Caux’ or ‘Caus’ after his home in Normandie.” Afterwards, “The Corbets owed fealty to the Earl Roger de Montgomery. They were in sovereign service to help control the borders of Wales, with absolute local authority over their demesnes.” Upon the death of William the Conqueror, William Rufus, his second surviving son, became kind of England. “Independent and sovereign under the overlordship of” the Conqueror’s red-faced successor, the Barony (together with several more along the Welsh border, known as “Marcher Baronies”) was essentially a free state. “This sovereign status was reconfirmed on the Barony of Caux in 1165 CE by the Count of Anjou, Henry II, Pretender to the English Throne.” The site then traces the le Corbeau/Corbet lineage until the point in which the Barony was “passed to Beatrice Corbet in 1397, and the title was vacated in 1422. The present claim to the Barony dates from 1972,” and “the historic and long-awaited restitution of the Ancient and Sovereign Feudal Barony of Caux” took place on August 27, 2001. Thus, Mr. Corbett, “in his capacity as the steward of the absent King,” became His Lordship, John I, Baron of Caux, “the absolute ruler and final judge of all the affairs of the Sovereign Barony of Caux and its subjects, peer, equestrian and common.” The site also explains the etymological connection between the words “crow” (“Corvus” in Latin) and the “Corbets” surname, which explains the bird’s olden significance as that family’s symbol (and now the heraldic beast of the Barony’s crest).
CELESTIA, THE NATION OF CELESTIAL SPACE: On December 20, 1948, James Thomas Mangan gave birth to Celestia, “claiming all space in the sky as its sovereign territory”. Mangan felt a tremendous affection for the heavens in part because “we all travel through the sky 1,500,000 miles each day; and we are basically sky people — not earth people.” That same day, he also issued Celestia’s unique Charter (the “Declaration by the Nation of Celestial Space”). In that document, he announced that the Nation of Celestial Space “proudly declares itself separate and distinct from any existing nation or country, with the sacred right of organizing and controlling its territory under a constitutional government of its own.” Mangan claimed “all Space in all directions from the Earth in its present celestial position, specifically exempting from claim every celestial body, whether star, planet, satellite or comet, and every fragment, unit or combination of celestial bodies known or unknown”. As Founder and First Representative, he registered this acquisition (the only one of its kind in all of history) with the Recorder of Deeds and Titles of Cook County in January of 1949. The very “act of accepting Celestia’s charter for the record and giving it a date and time stamp in history simply confirmed Celestia’s PATENT to all Celestial Space, which most authorities now grudgingly admit is real estate.” A 28-page December 1958 booklet entitled State of the Sky: Second Report to the Universe chronicles the entire history of this entity up until its 10th anniversary; it is also meant to be an addendum to Mangan’s “sharply condensed” Report to the Universe: The First Seven Years, “a White Paper issued by Celestia, April 30, 1956”. By the time State of the Sky was published, the Nation of Celestial Space already had 19,057 “participants” according to their census, a far cry from the 19 with which they started. A “participant”, by Mangan’s definition, is “a believer who held a copy of Celestia’s charter or ordered a world of space or secured a Passport to the Moon, or professed continued interest in Celestia’s welfare or who had donated his labor or advice or mechanical service to the cause.” These “persons of unassailable magnanimity” indomitably cling to their cardinal thesis, which serves as the very first paragraph of Celestia’s Charter: “A wholesome search of the human heart reveals the time-heavy longing of all men for a country clean and free of the world's pressures and poisons.” Mangan, “in league with several other inhabitants of the Earth,” founded the Nation of Celestial Space especially so that he might be able to nourish their yearning for a country devoid of tensions and toxins, “to point appreciative minds toward its honest realization; and to secure for sympathetic people, wherever they may live, the beauties and benefits of a vast domain as yet unclaimed by any state or nation”. The first Map of Celestia was drawn by the National Press Club (Washington, D.C.) in October of 1956, at a scale in which “one-tenthousandth of an inch equals 250,000,000 light years.” In September of 1957, the U.S. Patent Office certified the name Celestia, making it the sky's legal designation.
Their first numismatic issue is an attractive coin commemorating the “Fifth Anniversary of Restitution”. Dated 2006, this “One Dollar” piece was minted with the help of the hyper-productive Mr. Jorge Fernández Vidal (see my listings for HADEF and Westarctica), from whom I purchased the coin.
Images of the coinage from the Barony of Caux can be viewed at the Web-site of Mr. Vidal:
http://www.jfvcoins.com/Productos/micronations_english=catAC.html
They can also be seen at the site of Mr. Haseeb Naz’s private collection:
http://chiefacoins.com/Database/Micro-Nations/Barony_of_Caux.htm
During its earliest years, Celestia “formally and repeatedly informed the State Department of every established Nation on earth of its existence, its claims, its rights, its intentions, its nationhood.” And because Celestia completely “owns all space”, they peacefully protested several uses/abuses of the starry firmament as violations of their sovereignty. In September of 1949, they notified the U.S., U.S.S.R., Great Britain, and the U.N. that Celestia had “ruled against all further atom explosions”. Celestia’s aforementioned Charter granted “to every celestial body the right temporarily to use any part of its Space in any way ordained by God’s Will or Nature’s Design”. However, the use of any of the Celestia-occupied regions beyond the Earth’s atmosphere, “without permission, is hereby publicly forbidden to any artificial thing, project or activity, not commanded entirely by natural design or need.” (This would come to include radio and television broadcast signals.) However, the United States was the only nation for which this ban was lifted. In January of 1957, it was “granted a special license to send up man-made satellites during the term of the International Geophysical Year. No such license was ever granted to USSR.” The U.S. was also given exclusive authorization, valid for twenty years, to make the first expedition to the Moon. Despite Celestia's strenuous objections to Andrei Gromyko (Foreign Minister) and Nikita Kruschev (who was warned by cable), the U.S.S.R. committed an act of trespass by launching Sputnik I. As a testament to his concerns over national security, Mangan in June of 1958 even “spent one hour and a half in spirited debate over the space claims with Sergei Bogomolov,” who at the time was Second Secretary of the Russian Embassy in Washington, D.C.
On behalf of his heavenly cause, Mangan toiled with “inflexible perseverance”, lobbying and petitioning higher-ups in all levels and branches of the government (Senators, Congressmen, Committees, the Pentagon, the President, the FCC, etc...). His earliest attempt dates from February 21st, 1949, when “Mangan…offered to register with the U.S. Government as an agent of a foreign power. The office of the U.S. District Attorney at Chicago told him he would be notified when such registration became necessary.” In May1958, “the Select Committee on Astronautics and Space Exploration, U.S. House of Representatives, at the suggestion of Congressmen [Emmet F.] Byrne, [John William] McCormack and others, invited First Representative Mangan to submit a synopsis of his claims for insertion in the records of the Committee hearings.” In his never-ending quest, Mangan remained a pro-American patriot who stood “ready to turn his claim to all space over to the United States of America.” On June 12, 1958, Mangan actually discussed this delicate matter with an American official at the Pentagon: Monroe Leigh, Assistant General Counsel for International Affairs (U.S. Department of Defense). “Mr. Leigh examined several of Celestia’s confidential documentary proofs of its claim and title to celestial space. He stated that under existing U.S. laws, the claims could be turned over to either the Secretary of the Treasury or to the Administrator of General Affairs as an outright gift if the gift were to be used for the defense of the United States of America. When asked his opinion of the value of such a gift, he stated: ‘You can quote me as saying I do not see any way the U.S. could lose by accepting your claims.’ Head of State Mangan, having made no direct offer, stated that the political leaders of the U.S. would have to first show necessary knowledge, appreciation, and understanding of the claims as an instrument of defense and of peace, before he would actually execute the tender of the claims to the U.S.A.”
In June of 1958, “the National Flag of Celestia was unfurled for the first time on a television show…to a multi-million audience. On a circular plane of white, in a field of azure blue, the ancient printer-proofreader’s mark for space is imposed in black. White, black & blue are the natural colors of space. On this same show, First Representative Mangan announced to the network audience that unless the United Nations forbade rocket shots at the Moon, Celestia would soon make the Moon, Mars and her Two Moons, and the Planet Venus Protectorates of the Nation of Celestial Space.” The next day, in front of the U.N. Building in New York City, Celestia’s flag was flown alongside all the flags of the member nations of that international organization. A few days later, “an audience was held with Dr. Oscar Schacter [should be spelled Schachter], General Counsel of the United Nations, in which the U.N. was formally told that unless it stopped contemplated rocket shots at the Moon, the five celestial bodies mentioned above would be put under legal and moral protection of the Nation of Celestial Space. Counsel Schacter was also told by First Representative Mangan that no land nation or combination of land nations can write any space laws.” True to his word, Mangan issued a “Proclamation to the World” on July 25th, declaring that the 5 celestial bodies were indeed being safeguarded by the Nation of Celestial Space. “Celestia based its right to establish these Protectorates on the fact that they unceasingly move in the sovereign territory of this nation, touching it, and that the boundaries of no other nation enjoy any proximity with these bodies. No claims of seizure or acquisition of any kind were made in this document, which dealt only with protection. Individual copies of the Proclamation were conveyed to the State Departments of every nation of the United Nations.”
In the December 1958-January 1959 issue of Kiwanis magazine, Milan J. Kubic composed an article entitled nation from outer space. It begins: “Copernicus, the great medieval astronomer who is said to have spent the last 37 years of his life peering at the skies in an effort to establish the center of the universe, would nowadays find his problem licked. During the past few years, outer space has had its center at the corner of Central Park and 96th street in Chicago’s swanky suburb, Evergreen Park. There, in the basement of a $75,000 ranch house, a big man with a cigar in his mouth pours over piles of papers dealing with the affairs of what he calls the ‘Nation of Celestial Space.’ He, as the ‘nation’s First Representative,’ claims ownership of all outer space. (Celestial bodies are excluded.) Beaming at the visitor, he lifts his 225-pound, six-foot-one frame from the chair, and offers an earthly handshake. ‘The name is Mangan,’ he grunts pleasantly, ‘and, contrary to what the papers have said, I am no crackpot.’” Mangan could’ve listed many achievements to back up his words. He’d already had “an eminently successful career as advertising expert and promotion consultant”. He’d also authored 11 books, “one of which sold 400,000 copies”. The walls of Mangan’s “large den are covered with citations from the Army, Navy, Marine Corps, and a half-dozen governmental agencies praising his war-time dollar-a-year work on the home front.”
Mangan, 61 years of age at the time of the article, “has been the object of solicitous head shaking ever since that day in January 1949, when he walked into the Cook County recorder’s office in Chicago’s city hall and asked the officials to take cognizance of his claim to all outer space and to record a declaration by which he announced the formation of ‘a new Sovereign Power and Nation Legally Known as the Nation of Celestial Space.’ The recorder, at first adamant, surrendered when presented with a 2000-word legal opinion by the state’s attorney, and Mangan’s ‘nation’ then counting eighteen ‘participants’ (he shies away from the word ‘citizen,’ because it implies too many obligations, such as bearing arms and paying taxes), became a legal entity. To make sure that the word would spread around, Mangan asked 78 leading nations of the world for recognition.”
Sadly, he didn’t receive much respect from any of the official circles. “But people the world over, many of them fellow promotion agents, showed considerably more ‘magnanimity’ — the word Mangan uses to describe the bigness of thoughts and emotions he looks for among his nation’s participants. In the nine years that followed, the ranks of Mangan’s disciples swelled to more than 19,000, many of whom were attracted by his announced intentions to sell earth-sized chunks of space for $1 apiece. ‘The day after the papers broke this news,’ reminisced Mangan recently, ‘the mail brought in two hundred envelopes with one-dollar bills, each accompanied by a request for a part of my real estate. I returned the money, but I’ve kept a list of those people who showed interest in my idea — by thinking about my project, they earned the right to become my nation’s participants.’ Thinking, next to spreading the message about magnanimity, is about the only obligation of the members of the Celestial Space nation.” From the beginning, Mangan recruited many influential and/or capable people to actively support his universal idea and to help carry the heavy “burden of state affairs”. For instance, Dr. Robert Hunter Middleton, one of America’s best known type designers, “penned for free some of the official papers,” including the elegant calligraphy of the Charter. In 1957, Doctor-Professor Wolfgang J. Weilgart, of Heidelberg University, developed and submitted a special Space language for possible adoption as the national tongue of Celestia. “Newsmen volunteered to write press releases and did much to get Celestia’s name into some 100,000 news stories, 5000 radio broadcasts, and nearly 900 television programs. A wealthy enthusiast offered to buy 10,000 world-sized space ‘lots’ at $5 each to provide the cause with finances.”
Mangan claimed “that what pleases him most is the reaction his project has stirred among the common people. ‘It’s the little man I’m doing this for,’ he says. ‘The trouble with this world is that the man in the street — and don’t we all — feels like a little crumb. His complex of insignificance leads to insecurity. And insecurity leads to hatred. Now, if I manage to convince a little man who hasn’t got a blessed dime to his name that out there, in the space, he owns a piece of real estate as big as this earth, I’ve done something for his soul. I’ve put him at ease with the world.’” The most favorable response to his “imagination-taxing ideas” has come from men between the ages of 20 to 30. “‘Women are slower to accept space,’ he observes”. He also noted that the smallest amount of enthusiasm came from his own contemporaries: “people of my age are its worst enemies. Thinking in universal terms apparently is beyond their powers.” On the other hand, “‘The happiest experience I’ve had was with six school children and their teacher [Mrs. Julia Larson] in South Dakota who sent me five cents apiece with a solemn request that I reserve them some of my property, so that they could become the first rural school in outer space,’ smiles Mangan. ‘They’re high on my list of participants.’ Mangan, who does a great deal of traveling and public speaking on behalf of the Celestial Space nation, considers doctors of medicine and lawyers the two professional groups easiest swayed by his arguments. ‘The doctors have seen too many miracles to close their minds to an idea of spacial proportions,’” and the legal minds have to succumb to the airtight logic of his arguments.
“Legally, Mangan considers his claim to be unshakable. Before issuing his Declaration, he had spent nearly six months tracing every bit of evidence to satisfy himself that nobody had staked a claim to the universe before him. Once he cleared this hurdle, he found the rest easy. ‘In the years I’ve been with this thing, I’ve heard perhaps 500 objections to my claim, and I had no trouble answering any one of them,’ says Mangan. Here are some of the objections he’s encountered most frequently: ‘How high does your territory start?’ the unbelievers ask. ‘Where does the earth’s atmosphere end and the space begin?’ To that one, Mangan answers that space is all around us, since it fills everything that the earth moves through on her journey around the sun. ‘For this reason, I claimed all of the universe, then waited nine minutes, and then claimed the space our planet had vacated during that period. Thus, my claim is faultless.’” Kubic provides a couple more examples of the counter-arguments Mangan utilized to offset the legal/ethical/scientific disagreements of his critics and doubters. Mangan’s “simple logical” rejoinders “have won him a considerable following among the intellectuals, Mangan believes. In March 1958, a group of Loyola University law students signed a petition calling on the members of Congress to give Mangan a formal hearing.” This occurrence is also mentioned in State of the Sky. Prior to that, there had been a letter of great encouragement (dated November 30, 1955) from Lt. General James M. Gavin, (then retired) Chief of U.S. Army Research and Development, “acclaiming Mangan’s ‘indisputable claim to that area in which we should be very active shortly.’”
Mangan admitted that ruling a territory as vast as the universe hadn’t been serious, magnanimous work 100 percent of the time. “‘I had to go along with a great many stunts,’ he says, ‘because for a time it was the only way to keep my claim before the eyes of the public and thus prevent it from expiring by default. Also, I’ve invested some $20,000 into the spacial nation, not counting my time, and I’ve returned all the money sent to me for “lots” in the universe. The only way to get at least part of my investment back has been to permit the use of my ideas in promotional gags.’ Through the years, Mangan has issued passports to the moon and let a cheese distributor use their facsimiles in a sales drive, appeared in an advertising movie, and authorized a Kentucky distillery to make whiskey in outer space. And while he has also considered a Minneapolis radio station’s application for the right to be the first broadcaster in the universe, and a Portuguese West Africa undertaker’s request for a permission to blast the dead beyond the atmosphere, Mangan has expended more effort struggling for the most coveted trophy of all — official recognition of his claim.”
The international community, unfortunately, had shown little encouragement or understanding. “The United Nations ignored Mangan’s request for admission, President Eisenhower and Secretary Dulles didn’t acknowledge the receipt of their passports to the moon. The United States government failed to respond to Mangan’s unsolicited permission to fire artificial satellites during the International Geophysical Year, and only General Gavin thanked Mangan for his copy of the special passport. On the whole, Mangan admits, the official circles have been marked by a considerable lack of magnanimity.” So far, the only people in the government who were able to “think big” were Representative Emmet F. Byrne and Senators Frank Lausche and Paul Douglas. “‘And don’t you think that the other nations are any better. A few weeks after the Russians fired their first two Sputniks, I sent them a protest against invading my territory, and later informed them that their hardware was to be from then on fera natura — natural object without ownership. A few days later I got a call from a news agency that Kremlin had made an official inquiry whether I was a prankster or just a crackpot.’ The Russians made up in part for this insult in June 1958, when Sergei A. Bogomolov, second secretary of their Washington embassy, received Mangan and spent an hour and a half with him in a discussion, at the end of which Mangan says, ‘Bogomolov conceded that my claim is impregnable.’”
Mangan’s claim, as it now stands, “includes a self-proclaimed protectorate over Moon, Mars, her two moons, and Venus. (He does not claim ownership of celestial bodies, because, he says, it is customary in law to occupy a segment of land first); the U.S. patent-office protection for ‘Celestia,’ his name for the sky, and for the seal of the nation; a nihil obstat [official/authoritative approval] from the Secret Service department permitting him to mint golden money called Celeston; and an application for membership in the International Postal Union at Berne, Switzerland, on the acceptance of which hinges his plan to issue outer space postage stamps — another of the many spectacular, publicity-conscious steps he’s taken with his eye on an official recognition. This final goal has now become so all-important that Mangan is willing to forego all chances to turn his project into a business undertaking. ‘Those 6500 one-dollar orders I’ve received — and returned #151; for my real estate show clearly that there is money in the universe,’ he says. ‘By dividing outer space with the aid of imaginary poles sticking from the earth like pins from a cushion in all directions, each one-half degree apart, I could carve the universe into an infinite number of identifiable earth-sized “lots,” which would be planted on these poles like chunks of meat on a spike in shiskabab. There is no end to their number — and to the number of dollars I could collect for them.’ But Mangan adds that he’d be willing to turn over his claim to the government for nothing, if the United States requested it in the interest of national defense.” The author also briefly mentions Mangan’s meeting with Monroe Leigh, in which this issue was discussed.
According to Mangan, America is once again in a pioneering stage. “‘There are new territories — way out there in the space — to be conquered. It seems to me that even small-thinking men should have vision enough to recognize the value of my claim,’ reasons the First Representative. Just in case Congress should suddenly show greater appreciation of his claim and offer to buy it, the man with the cigar is ready to ask for $55 million, tax free. In the true spirit of magnanimity, he would also demand that Congress pass a special law exempting from taxes any gifts he would make from this sum to his supporters. But what if the government indicated willingness to take over his claim without payment? ‘As an American citizen, I’d surrender my claim to my country, of course,’ says Mangan thoughtfully. ‘I wouldn’t be entirely unrewarded, either. After all, I know that I have created a thing of logical and moral structure, and that’s plenty to show for any man’s life.’”
Pete Smith, in his “Names in Numismatics” feature from the January 2002 issue of The Numismatist, provides an exemplary chronology of Mangan’s life. Mangan was born in Chicago on Nov. 17, 1896. “His father edited the monthly magazine of the International Association of Steam, Hot Water and Power Pipefitters and Helpers Union.” Mangan “was appointed associate editor of the publication when he was just 12 years old.” He earned a bachelor’s degree in science from Loyola University in 1917 (Kubic, however, writes that Mangan “has a philosophy degree”) and served in the Navy during World War I. “He was employed by Mitchell Faust Advertising as a copy writer from 1918 to 1927. On April 19, 1928, he married Carol Marie Jackson; they had two children, James Carroll and Ruth Marie. From 1929 to 1944, Mangan was advertising manager for Mills Novelty Company, makers of coin-operated arcade and gaming machines.” During the Second World War, “Mangan used his creative talents to raise money for the Allied effort. He was Illinois chairman of special events and bond drives for the U.S. Treasury (1942-44) and a national promotional consultant for the U.S. Department of Labor (1942-45).” He “was with the public relations firm of Mangan & Mangan” after 1956.
For much of his professional life, dreaming up publicity stunts was a regular part of his business and his livelihood. (State of the Sky, for instance, reports that circa 1947 Mangan believed he could crack the secret of ESP “with a government subsidy of $30,000,000”. He was also granted a patent in 1956 for something called “Infinity Space Eye Glasses“.) Smith writes that “In the 1940s, Life magazine publicized his attempt to keep a top spinning for six hours…A competitive billiard player, Mangan believed he knew something about other sports as well. When he went to spring training with the Chicago White Sox and Milwaukee Braves in 1955, he tried to interest them in his creation, ‘jamokee,’ which involved hitting a tennis ball against a wall from about 10 feet away, claiming it improved eye-hand coordination. Perhaps coincidentally, the White Sox ignored his suggestion and finished in the cellar; some of the Braves tried his technique, and they won the league pennant the following year.” On a more serious note, “He was involved in a 1931 incident that sounds like something from the current evening news. On a Tri-State Airlines flight from Chicago to Detroit, Mangan charged the cockpit, shouting that he wanted the plane to land at South Bend, Indiana. Police arrested him when the plane landed in Detroit and escorted him to a mental ward. Doctors blamed airsickness and released him the following day.”
Mangan had a great talent for putting his thoughts to paper. Not only did he write short stories for Feature Movie magazine from 1915-16, but he went on to author “several motivational books, including You Can Do Anything, The Knack of Selling Yourself, How to Win Self-Confidence for Selling, Secrets of Selling Yourself to People, and The Secret of Perfect Living. He claimed his New Grammar of Advertising was the most frequently stolen library book in America.” He “once described his writing style as ‘heroin prose.’ This may explain some of his eccentric behavior.” Mangan “also wrote the song ‘We’re All Americans, All True Blue,’ which singer Kate Smith sang on her radio show. Although Irving Berlin, composer of ‘God Bless America,’ called it ‘the worst song ever written,’ it sold 500,000 records.” Mangan died in July of 1970.
Though Mangan “lived in a universe of make-believe” he was confident “that space exploration was the wave of the future…Fortunately for America’s space program, Mangan issued a 20-year license in 1957 that allowed the United States to pass through his territory to reach the moon. (Before taking his claim too lightly, just ponder the fact that the United States did not return to the moon after the license expired.) He sold 20,000 moon passports.”
Smith’s article also provides some numismatic information: “The first coin for [Mangan’s] fantasy nation was struck in 1959: a 14mm gold piece the size of a U.S. gold dollar. While the dollar contained 25 grains of gold, Mangan’s ‘celeston’ had 34 grains. He said that ‘Celestia always believes in giving extra value.’ Pictured on the coin’s obverse was his daughter, Princess Ruth Marie Mangan, her headband inscribed MAGNANIMITY. Eleven stars represented the years since Celestia’s establishment and the number of letters in ‘magnanimity.’ More gold coins were struck in 1960 and 1961 — proof pieces for all three years, and ‘business strikes’ in 1959 and 1960.” Afterwards, Mangan “produced a 1961-dated 1 silver joule” (a “joule” is the basic International System unit of electrical, mechanical, and thermal energy), which also depicts his daughter. Furthermore, Mangan purportedly “issued ‘Outer Space Scrip’ that was accepted by a few cooperating merchants.”
An old, brief article from the Chicago Tribune adds that the Celeston’s reverse bears “a tiny mint mark”, similar to #, which is the 400-year-old printer-proofreader’s symbol for space (it is the same emblem that is found on Celestia’s flag). Mangan’s “coins are intended not for barter or exchange, but for distribution among the friends of the Space Nation, now [circa 1959?] claiming a ‘population’ of 23,419. ‘Celestia is a moral nation seeking to establish peace in the universe,’ adds Mangan. ‘It would be nice if all the nations of the world followed our example and went back on the gold standard again.’”
A superb chapter about Celestia can be found in Virgiliu Pop’s Unreal Estate: The Men who Sold the Moon. To begin with, the author provides additional insight into Mangan’s early days. Pop describes the “eccentric First Representative of Celestia” as “an industrial designer by trade” and a “man of multiple talents”. Mangan “wrote a short autobiography even prior to becoming a Founding Father. From ‘You Ought to Know’, published in 1947, the reader learns about Mangan being an internationally famous speaker, a world champion top spinner, and one of the best grass cutters in America. ‘Mangan loves unusual stunts’ — says the booklet; ‘he is big and fat and likes to eat’…Mangan’s approach in ‘selling himself’, as stated in his autobiography, was to do away with the ‘homely virtues of Honesty, Honour, Loyalty and Reliability’, and instead be a ‘ruthless realist, a pounding pragmatist and an obnoxious opportunist.’” He also “boasted about having in his gamut a specialty he called ‘buzz bomb letters’” and claimed that he could write anyone and that they would do anything he asked, “no matter how difficult or extraordinary the request.” Pop comments that “Upon establishing Celestia, he seemed to have lost this knack — at least in matters pertaining to his nation.” He adds that “Mangan wrote 21 non-fiction books, sales of them totalling about half a million.”
One of the factors contributing to the recording of Celestia was the announcement made on December 30, 1948 by U.S. Secretary of Defense James Forrestal, in which he stated that the U.S. planned to build a space platform near the Moon. Mangan’s State of the Sky mentions this incident, and it also says that on February 14th of the following year, “protest was made directly to…Forrestal, that its planned space platform violated the sovereignty of Celestia.” Furthermore, Pop tells us that “Mangan based his action also on the radio pioneers who, seizing certain bands or frequencies, ‘forgot to claim the basic space…which moves the electronic wave through the sky.’” Pop also provides details about the origins of the Mangan’s micronation: “On January 4th, 1949, Mangan presented the Charter of Celestia to the Recorder of Deeds and Titles of Cook County, Illinois. He was not alone — an army of reporters, including TV crews and photographers from Life magazine — surrounded him. All work stopped and many of the 250 employees gathered round him and his entourage as he presented his case. The attendance was ‘overcome with the magnanimity of the matter to the point where one girl swooned’ — recalls Edwin A. Lotko, the author of the legal papers pertaining to the claim and future Attorney General of Celestia [and Celestia’s Ambassador to the United Nations]. The Recorder was perplexed as to the appropriate course of actions — hence he informed Mangan he could not record the claim. Mangan then took the matter to court and petitioned John S. Boyle, state’s attorney of Cook County, to render a legal opinion on the recordibility of the Charter. On January 14th, Boyle delivered a 2,000 word opinion instructing the recorder to put the Charter into record. Four days later, the charter was duly recorded. The recording was done in order to ‘properly publicize his discovery’, according to Lotko; Mangan did not plead for approval from a higher authority, but simply sought an ‘unchangeable point in time, which [Cook County] had the power to certify.’ The record ‘simply confirmed Celestia’s patent to all celestial space’ — declared Mangan.” Pop offers several snippets from Mangan’s Report to the Universe. One of them being: “Had some existing State, in particular a high ranking world power, laid claim to celestial space prior to December Twentieth, Nineteen Hundred and Forty Eight, consternation would now rule the peoples of all other nations…Kind destiny allowed this coup d’etat to fall to mild hands.”
After “claiming the entirety of space, Mangan dispatched letters to the secretaries of state of 74 nations, informing them of the establishment of the Nation of Celestial Space and inviting them to give the new entity official recognition. After seven years of celestial statehood, Mangan lamented that, despite having kept the world informed of its activities — ‘only three nations of the world, and these only remotely and indirectly, have given signs they were even conscious of its existence — Ecuador, Eire, and the United States of America’. By May 1959, the number of nations having ‘informally recognized [Celestia’s] existence’ increased by six, including the USSR, UK, Norway, Dominican Republic and Cuba. In 1960, Mangan boasted having achieved ‘informal recognition by 11 world powers.’ On December 29th, 1948, Celestia formally applied for membership in the United Nations. Six weeks later, word came back from the UN Headquarters that Celestia, in their opinion, could not meet the provisions of Article 4.1 of the U.N. Charter…Mangan replied with a brief detailing the reasons why, in his opinion, the U.N. could not refuse Celestia’s entry based on its own constitution. As no reply to this brief was received by 1956, the application was, in Mangan’s view, still standing. In June 1958 Mangan declared his intention to ask once and for all an answer from the United Nations on his application for membership: ‘If the U.N. Charter is truthful and words mean anything, I don’t know how they can keep me out.’” Domestically, Mangan gained much support. Pop mentions the law students at Loyola University (Mangan’s alma mater), who “petitioned the Congress of the United States to see that Mangan receives a formal hearing from an established Committee to whom he can — ‘submit such archives, files, proofs, and confirmations as may substantiate his claims and to whose objections and contra-arguments he may be given the right of answering, according to the principles of American Justice, and common Fairness’. The students declared that, thus far, they have been ‘unable to pronounce them invalid’, and that scrutiny of the claims is needed as they may be ‘vitally affecting the real estate laws of today and all the space laws of the future.’ Three days later, the Loyola students received a reply from a legislator who argued that he was ‘not altogether certain that a United States Senator is the ideal person to define sovereignty in Celestial Space. Unfortunately, our own realm is an exceedingly worldly one, and we are having difficulty even reaching Outer Space.’ His name was John Fitzgerald Kennedy.” Pop also mentions that Chicago-born congressman Emmet F. Byrne was supportive of Mangan’s claims. “In June 1958 Mangan left for Washington, DC, to ‘meet with personal friends among Senators and Congressmen’. He stated prior to this: ‘If any Solon will stand still for 20 minutes and hear me out, I’ll convert him.’ Mangan never got the Congress hearing. While no outright recognition came from the United States, there was at least a feeling of benevolent neutrality.” As we have seen in earlier sections of this write-up, Mangan seriously considered giving Celestia — the entirety of his celestial holdings — to the U.S. Government. He apparently made this offer in October of 1957, “in a letter to the Senate Armed Services Committee”. Mangan was particularly “Unhappy about the Sputnik trespass” and wanted “to save the nation’s face in the satellite race”. He expressed a “willingness to ‘deed over his imposing claims to the U.S.A. which can best use them as a tool for permanent peace on earth’ — provided they cease to treat his claim as ‘a laughing matter.’” Also in 1957, “Mangan said — ‘My claim to space is incontestable and my charter to the sky without flaw.’ He offered a $500 bet to anyone who proved he does not own the sky, and even held meetings where people could voice their objections. According to Lotko, ‘many lawyers debated with Mangan concerning the founding of Celestia, but each and every one was converted to the Mangan theory.’”
After being continually “Denied formal recognition by foreign powers and a seat at the United Nations, Mangan became very critical of the organization and of its extraterrestrial interests. In April 1956, the First Representative of Celestia shared his disapproval for the — ‘United Nations, various governments, societies, committees and associations [who] continue to debate and speculate on the future of “international space law”. They are seemingly unaware of the Celestial fait accompli which makes such deliberations legally impolitic and scientifically impolite.’ One year later, he declared Celestia as being ‘the only political entity to set up the coming space laws that all nations of the earth must obey.’” Also in 1957, Mangan affirmed “that neither the United States, nor Russia or the United Kingdom, have ‘any claim to space except through my nation, Celestia.’” Pop later added: “Lacking police to defend his title, Mangan would describe his nation as working ‘more on the principle of moral persuasion than force.’” Nevertheless, “In defiance of Mangan’s entity, shortly after the launching of the first artificial satellite, the United Nations General Assembly decided to set up an ad hoc Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space aimed at considering, inter alia, the legal problems which might result from space exploration. In the summer of 1958 Mangan stated his intention to ‘have a hassle with U.N. lawyers over coming space laws’, and to tell U.N. Counsel — ‘You can’t write ‘em from anywhere on earth — you have to get into the sky to write space laws that make sense.’” Pop then mentions Mangan’s meeting with Oscar Schachter. Despite all of Mangan’s objections, “the UNCOPUOS was established as a permanent body in 1959. Mangan was not happy. In May, prior to the UN meeting, he wrote UN head Dag Hammarskjöld that the summit discussing the use of celestial space is ‘out of order and violates the United Nations Charter. All celestial space has for ten years been the sovereign territory of the Nation of Celestial Space.’” Pop also mentions Mangan’s worries about “the intention of the spacefaring nations to ‘shoot rockets at the Moon and other Celestial Bodies for no discernible purpose than experimental contact and possible self-glorification’”. Celestia’s Charter, of course, clearly prohibited any unlicensed artificial activities in the sky. That’s why the Moon, Mars, Phobos, Deimos and Venus were formally designated by Mangan as Protectorates of the Nation of Celestial Space. His Proclamation stated that “any rocket contacts or shootings thereunto emanating from any individual State on Earth shall be considered transgressions of International Law.”
As was pointed out a couple of times in foregoing passages pertaining to this write-up, “Mangan granted the United States a special license to launch artificial satellites during the term of the International Geophysical Year; no such license was ever given to the Soviet Union: ‘The US license to fly man-made satellites was not applied for, nor was any fee paid by the United States of America. First Representative Mangan, an American citizen, simply wanted his own country, in the act of flying satellites, to be consistent with Celestial law’. The United States were seen by Mangan as being ‘licensed whether or not [they] have applied for the license or cares to make formal use of it.’ In December 1958, Mangan ‘granted’ the U.S. Defense department a one-year extension on its license to use outer space for its satellites and rockets. The ‘lease’, due to run out on December 31st, was extended so that the new Atlas satellite would not become an ‘outlaw in the sky.’” The issue of intrusion was a serious one for Mangan. Over the years, he would repeatedly enforce his edict on the use of Celestia’s space “either by licensing applicants or those whom he considered worthy, or by protesting trespass by those not holding licenses…Several entities either applied for licenses through Mangan, or were granted them by his own magnanimity. In his view, the payment of the small licensing fee was a ‘legal validation of Celestia’s authority to issue the license in question’.” Recipients of licenses included the Ford Motor Company (their “plans for guided missiles and possible space exploration” were given “an ‘official’ go-ahead”) in May 1955 and the Kitt Peak National Observatory near Tucson (they “operated sounding rockets exploring the fringes of space”). “Some licenses were purely humoristic; in 1958, one Harold Henry Elsesser became the first person licensed to ‘use and operate in any way he desires the space inside his own bowling ball’. Mangan explained his grasp upon the microcosm: ‘Whether you call space “inner space” or “outer space” or “celestial space”, it makes no difference. All space is truly Celestial Space.’ In June 1958, Mangan earmarked Jack Paar as the first licensed comedian in Outer Space ‘because there’s lots of fun in space and Parr is funny.’” As we have seen earlier, Julia Larson — the teacher from the Washington School in De Smet, SD — and her six students were granted the first official license to build and operate a rural school in outer space (this milestone was also mentioned in State of the Sky). “Each pupil sent along a letter of application,” and so did their teacher: “Ever since the first Sputnik went aloft, my pupils and I have been floating around up in space. I have budding scientists in the making…They want a right to outer space no matter how small. We are just as sane and sincere as any scientist could be.” Some “Entities applied for licenses for public relations purposes; in October 1958, Madigan’s department store in Chicago launched a competition among its personnel to ‘launch’ rockets to the Moon — namely, to make sky-high sales. The personnel director boasted about going to ‘a lot of trouble to make everything legal for the rocket teams to get to and land on the Moon’, that is, to visit Mangan and ask for an extension of the US license to the Madigan’s employees, and for passports to moon. In 1966, Mangan issued the first license for Moon Banking to Wesley H. Larson, president of Chicago’s Beverly Bank: ‘When the astronauts land on the Moon, they will want to cash checks and use money’, said Mangan.”
As for the business of Passports to the Moon, these were created because “Like every nation, Celestia claimed the right to regulate the entry of people in its own territory. While in 1949 Mangan declared that, pending recognition of his nation, he would not issue any passports for passage through space. He later changed his strategy. At the end of 1955, the first ‘official’ Passport to the Moon was bestowed upon Adler Planetarium Director Wagner Schlesinger. On December 16th, a few days short of Celestia’s seventh birthday, a special ceremony took place at Schlesinger’s institution, whereby he was issued the first passport to the Moon and return, as an acknowledgement of his dispersal of information about the Moon. On the same occasion, Mangan declared he has other passports earmarked for President Eisenhower and Lt. General James M. Gavin, Chief of Army research and development. By January 1959, no reply was received from President Eisenhower and Secretary Dulles concerning their travel documents provided by Mangan. In September 1959, Mangan — who signed the Passports in his other quality of ‘Acting Secretary of State’, announced that the two-year Passport to the Moon of President Eisenhower has expired. Given Mangan’s belief at that time that somebody will reach the Moon prior to 1965, he decided to make new five-year passports…Most of the people holding Passports to the Moon had no actual need for them. The document was rather an entry visa, permitting the holder to ‘pass through or remain in any part of interplanetary outer space between Earth and Moon’. Mangan’s magnanimity provided each NASA astronaut with one. ‘[T]hanks for the passport to the Moon; looks like I’m all set now’ — wrote a grateful John Glenn in January 1962. ‘I hope that I shall be using it within this decade’, yearned Gene Cernan in a letter to Mangan dated June 20th, 1966; ‘Perhaps it will serve as a talisman for me should I be the first astronaut to step upon the surface of the Moon’, he wrote a month later, not foreseeing he will actually be the last one, at least for a long time. While American astronauts were provided with passports, Soviet cosmonauts never applied for them.”
As demonstrated in the upper portions of this listing, “Mangan did not claim celestial space for his exclusive benefit; instead, he intended to subdivide his domain and share it with others — ‘so that any man, woman, or child, however small or insignificant they be, may some day own more real estate than the very country he lives in, yea more than the countries of the world combined!’” Mangan believed that space was real estate. “The aim behind this plan of privatizing space was to ‘make the little man feel big and think big’, in his view this state of mind bringing forth peace. Apparently, the idea of conveying title to space dates prior to Celestia’s foundation, and originates in a research report written by Mangan where he stated that no entity in all history had made any claim to celestial space up to that date. On the first day of December, 1948, one Lyndon C. Force wrote a letter to Mangan, placing an order for ‘the first world of space with complete real estate title when and if Mangan became ready to deliver same’.” This instance is also mentioned in State of the Sky. “Many such orders came through following the recording of Celestia. By April 1956, Mangan had received over 1200 applications for ‘parcels of space’ from many countries; the number skyrocketed to 25,000 by 1962. The ‘parcels of space’ were to be ‘perfect spheres of pure space, slightly larger than the earth, located by celestial latitude and longitude and other exact means.’ On October 5th, 1961, Mangan submitted his ‘Worlds of Space’ program to Douglas Dillon, Secretary of Treasury. The sale of spheres of space, 10,000 miles in diameter, equal to 246 quadrillion acres, at $1 ‘per world’ ought to earn, in Mangan’s estimation, $300 billion — enough to retire the US national debt. However, with the world’s population standing at three billion at that time, each human ought to purchase a hundred ‘worlds’ in order to reach that amount.” We are already aware that Mangan sent back all the money he received. “He saw no hurry in bidding for celestial properties, as there will always be enough earthy-sized chunks of space for everybody — ‘infinity minus one’, to be more precise.” Kubic’s article quotes Mangan thusly: if the “universe is just shy of infinite, then its size will remain practically the same whether it’s divided by one or one billion.” Mangan “did declare in 1956 that ‘though no conveyance of any title has transpired, the nations of the earth have been notified that it is the intention of Celestia to make such conveyances in the future’ — yet no such event ever occurred, despite the statement in one of his obituaries that he had ‘deed portions of the sky to those he considered deserving friends.’ It was also rumoured that Mangan ‘sold lots on the Moon’, yet his son denies this: ‘My father knew that one of the international legal requirements for claiming land was that the discoverer must touch the land, something that he himself never had done with the Moon. Then you can legally claim it.’ Indeed, as stated by Mangan himself regarding the document that proclaimed the Moon a protectorate of Celestia, ‘[n]o claims of seizure or acquisition of any kind were made in this document, which dealt only with protection.’”
Pop also devotes a paragraph to the Constitution proposed by Mangan. “By July 1949, preparations were on course for a constitution for Celestia, which would ‘wheel around the basic principle of magnanimity’. By 1956, only the first four articles were decided, providing for the prohibition of taxes and military conscription. The yet-to-be-written articles would guarantee freedom of religion and press while making no provisions for voting or citizenship. Mangan did not like voting; hence, he declared his nation will not be a democracy. Instead of citizens, the people of Celestia were known as ‘participants’, with thinking and suggesting rights only. In compensation, no taxes would be collected. The ‘participants’ included the ‘believers’ who held a Celestia charter, all those who applied for property rights in spheres of space, those who purchased passports, and those who gave their time and services in the interest of Celestia. By May 1959, Celestia had a population of 21,971. By 1968, there were more than 69,000 Celestia Participants.”
A fascinating part of Pop’s article offers some intriguing anecdotes: “While most entities ignored Mangan, there were however people contesting his claims. In August 1949, he was unhappy to learn that Leo Brandt, an Australian fruit merchant from Sydney, was attempting to divest him by alleging that he opened negotiations for all outer space back in 1937. Mangan’s comment on Brandt’s claim jumping was intransigent: ‘I never heard of him, but I disapprove of his tactics. A thousand people may have thought about this, but I’m the only man who’s ever made formal seizure.’ One year later, in April 1950, Charles Dickey — a student at the University of Tennessee — denounced Mangan’s ambitions by filing a claim in the county register’s office in Knoxville, Tennessee, to the ‘southern half of all the outer space’. Dickey justified his action in genuine Confederate style: — ‘That is just like a damned Yankee. I think it is all right for him to claim the northern part but he should leave the southern part for a southerner.’ Another letter came from Gustavo Adolfo Saroka in Buenos Aires, inviting Mangan to his own ‘government palace’ for ‘peaceful discussion’. The Argentine insisted his ancestors were awarded all material existence outside planet Earth, though admitting that records had been ‘confiscated by Russian Bolsheviks during the revolution’, rendering them unavailable for inspection. Mangan retorted: ‘By whom [was he awarded this]? Who had the nerve to give the stars away? I exempted all celestial bodies from claim, seizing only pure space. I am the only man in history to claim space only…’ An inmate in Alcatraz petitioned Mangan, claiming his grandfather had been charged rent for sunlight by Austrian Emperor Franz Josef. ‘Therefore he wanted in’, said Mangan.” Other folks contesting his claim were proprietors clinging to the “Cujus est solum, ejus est usque ad coelum” principle (He who owns the soil, owns up to the sky; He who owns the surface of the ground has the exclusive right to everything that is above it): “I get a lot of mail from so-called individuals who think I am nutty. Most of them own real estate and they themselves have made the nutty claim they own ‘all upward to heavens’ above their lots. The U.S. Supreme Court has voided this ancient doctrine, yet the objectors, who don’t like my claim, still go on claiming their own little chunks of space.” On March 17th, 1958, Mangan actually “directed the Chicago Title and Trust Company to make title corrections in terms of the vertical limits of land ownership. He accompanied the communiqué with the citation from Justice Douglas, delivered in United States v. Causby, 1946: ‘It is ancient doctrine that at common law ownership of the land extended to the periphery of the universe…But that doctrine has no place in the modern world.’”
My own meager supply of publications/photocopies about Celestia only provided me with information up until the late 1950s. Pop’s article filled in many gaps in the story of Celestia. And thanks to his meticulous research, I learned numerous things about Celestia that took place beyond that period: “In January 1960, Mangan warned Charles K. Cook, Police Chief of the Village of Riverdale, that he might become ‘the first man in History to be declared Persona Non Grata in Outer Space and a dunce for not knowing international protocol and being so backward in the Space Age’. The reason for such a drastic sanction was as mundane as it can be. Five days prior, Cook had charged [his son] James Carroll Mangan, Co-Successor First Representative of the Nation of Celestial Space with a traffic violation, fining him one dollar.” Mangan “objected, in 1963, to commercial endeavours such as COMSAT, without threatening any lawsuit: ‘Celestia is a moral nation dedicated to peace everywhere. All I am trying to do is suggest by example that, in space, right is more practical than might.’ In 1966, he filed a brief against paid subscription TV with the Federal Communications commission during hearings on pay-TV: ‘Space is the agent of all TV signals. Regular television was operating before I claimed outer space so I have no objection to its continued operation, but pay-TV is another matter.’ In 1966, he declared ‘Even this new U.S. Surveyor camera on the Moon is out of order because my permission was not asked — and I would gladly have given permission.’” Also in 1966, Mangan criticized “Senator John Pastore’s statement that space is the ‘public domain’. ‘What public has domain over it? For anything to be in the public domain, a public has to claim it, and no public has claimed space except me.’” In 1968, Mangan declared: “I’m invoking the 20-year statute of limitations because everyone ignored me. Since nobody has objected for 20 years to my Nation of Celestial Space it means all rules inaugurated by that nation hold unchallenged from now on.” Pop also reveals that the television program in which Celestia’s flag was unfurled for the first time was on a show hosted by Jack Paar. He refers to it as the “Jack Paar TV show”, which was the name by which many people referred to the The Tonight Show. In regards to the important event that took place the following day in front of the U.N. Building, Pop comments: “Faulting UN recognition, the flag rising must have been an unauthorized event.”
As was pointed out earlier, “Mangan was very serious about exercising the attributes of sovereignty pertaining to statehood, one of these being the issue of coinage and postage stamps.” On the topic of numismatics, Pop has a few informational tidbits to offer: Describing Ruth Marie’s profile on the gold Celestons, the author informs us that Mangan referred to his daughter as the “pleasantest person in the universe” and “a perfect symbol of Celestia’s basic philosophy — Joy through Peace.” In 1960, Mangan “printed a 75-cent bill payable to ‘Bearer on Demand’, backed by a checking account with the First National Bank in Evergreen Park. In 1968, Celestia issued a goldene alloy [does he mean “goldine”, an admixture of brass and zinc?] ‘Erg’, counting for a ten-millionth of a Joule and ‘backed by energy in the heavens’. The one-inch ‘Erg of Celestial Energy’ sold for $2. It was advertised as having the ‘lowest face value of any coin in 3000 years: one twenty thousandth of a US Cent’, or one ten millionth of a Joule, its obverse reading ‘One Erg Celestia Energy, “Magnanimity”, 1968’ while its reverse reproduced the Grand Seal of Celestia.” Pop states that Celestia’s “coins were well received. Numismatists dubbed them ‘UFO pocket change’. James A. Hootman of NASA’s Inventions and Contributions Board declared that ‘[t]he idea of basing a currency upon energy rather than upon gold or silver is interesting and appears logical.’ Mangan placed Celestons at the Smithsonian Institution and sent them out to astronauts; in 1965, Jim McDivitt and Ed White replied with a thank you letter — ‘we shall enjoy using them as good luck charms’. On May 29th, 1958, Mangan applied for official membership in the Universal Postal Union at Berne…Ten years later, one could purchase outer space stamps, at $2.50 a sheet.” His “Ergs of Celestia Energy” postage stamps were “valid ‘for Celestial Mail only and no good on earth.’”
The final pages of Pop’s article are especially poignant. “On December 20th, 1955, Mangan made his hometown, Evergreen Park, Ill., the capital of the ‘Universe of Space.’ After he moved house [sometime during or prior to 1970], he claimed to have solved the feud between the Catholic Church and Galileo, declaring both wrong: ‘The center of the universe, of the Nation of Celestial Space, is located right here. In Oak Lawn — at my home, 10613 Laramie Avenue.’ While the Founding Father of Celestia took the modest title of First Representative or Prime Minister, the nation evolved, with time, into a space empire…In 1965, Mangan named his wife, Carol, Empress of Celestia, creating several earldoms and baronies for his family. Newborn Todd Walter Stump, for instance, became the Count of the Milky Way. In 1968, [Todd’s] brother Glen was promoted from Earl of Mars to Marquis of the Red Planet. The two are children of ‘space baron’ Donald Stump, Mangan’s son in law. On the occasion of the 20th anniversary of Celestia, new royalty was created by Mangan. He named his sister, Josephine Mangan a duchess of the solar system. Four nephews became counts, and their wives countesses. Todd Stump got no promotion at the age of 3: ‘That title will stand because the Milky Way is a big place’ — said Mangan. Nowadays, Celestia’s Royal Family has at its core Ruth Mangan Stump (Princess of Celestia), James Carroll Mangan (First Representative, Co-Successor), Donald James Stump (Prince of the Solar System), Glen James Stump (Duke of Mars), Dean Andrew Stump (Duke of Selenia) and Todd Walter Stump (Duke of the Milky Way). One year after having founded Celestia, Mangan declared having willed his claim to the territory to his children — aware that he might not live to see the day when the Nation of Celestial Space would be considered anything but ‘fantastic’. Mangan’s death on July 14th, 1970, left his son James C. Mangan, in control of Celestia, in what the inheritor calls ‘the biggest inheritance in history.’ While his reign may have reached the bounds of the universe, Mangan’s life lasted a mere 73-year long moment. Perhaps this is because, as offered by an editorialist in 1949, under the space-time conception ‘[t]he claimant to all space seems to have missed a bet when he failed to stake out a claim to all time, too.’”
Profoundly, Pop closes his chapter by letting someone else from Mangan’s family share his most touching personal thoughts: “For a pursuit as unusual as dominion over celestial space, it is natural to wonder as to its founder’s purpose”, wrote Todd Walter Stump, grandson of the First Representative, in 2005. “By all accounts, my grandfather was a ‘character’; an enormous personality who had an insatiable curiosity, a voracious appetite for argument, and a catholic array of interests. Everything from spinning tops to celestial bodies was within his orbit. My own memories of my grandfather were of a desk cluttered with magnifying glasses, rubber cement, and a sea of papers and books; Papa allowing each of his young Dukes to shake a piggy bank for loose change; and the young royals spinning tops on the kitchen floor on Sunday afternoons after Mass. Papa was one of the lucky few whose vocation and avocation were the same. He was a promoter of ideas. Birds gotta fly, fish gotta swim, and Jim Mangan had to change your mind. And whether it was through better sales techniques, or by teaching us to focus our energies more positively, he changed many minds for the better. While there certainly was an element of bombast in his claim, he knew that before convincing anyone, first you must gain their attention. But make no mistake: the creation of the Nation of Celestial Space was a completely forthright and serious endeavour. In my opinion, it was no coincidence that Celestia was born in the aftermath of World War II. Fascism, communism, and all forms of totalitarianism left much of the world in a state of exhaustion, despair, and exploitation. So what more important proposition to bring to the world’s attention than: can man live in a state of magnanimity? He believed that the promotion of peace is essential; and perhaps the world needs a ‘State’ of magnanimity to achieve this ‘state’ of mind. He was prescient as well as visionary, having predicted space travel and other man-made objects in space as early as 1948. Those claims vindicated, let’s not doubt his belief that the future of humanity is in space and that from it the human race will derive unlimited energy. There was also a serious scientific, logical, and legal basis for his claim. But it was all in support of the notion that man could live in a state of peace and understanding. He pointed to the stars to help us recognize that the answer was in our hearts.”
I purchased the Gold Celeston (1959), Silver Joule, and Erg on eBay. Interestingly, on the Silver Joule, the phrase “107 Ergs” is inscribed directly underneath Ruth Marie’s portrait; also, the word “Celestial” appears to the left of her face, and the word “Energy” appears to the right of her face. All of this indicates that a Joule is worth 10,000,000 Ergs of Celestial Energy (which is harmonious with Virgiliu Pop’s statement that the value of an Erg was pegged at “a ten-millionth of a Joule”). As for the Erg, the denomination reads thusly: “1 Erg Celestia® Energy”. The Grand Seal of Celestia which adorns the coin is the attractive finger-pointing-skywards logo depicted in State of the Sky. It was registered by the United States Patent Office on February 19, 1957. The person from whom I purchased the Erg described it as being made of brass. Images of the Celeston can be viewed at the site of Mr. Haseeb Naz’s private collection:
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