Edgar James Banks specialized in digging up the ancient secrets of the Middle East. But uncovering the great archaeologist’s life proves to be an excavation in itself, exposing more than a few secrets.
Seventeen years ago, I began a search for Mesopotamian cuneiform tablets misplaced or forgotten in Utah “basements.” Progress was slow. But in May 1995, after twelve years of patience, the first collection was located in dusty storage in the Utah Museum of Natural History. A second collection (including cuneiform tablets, cylinder seals, and two inscribed bricks) surfaced at Brigham Young University’s Museum of Peoples and Cultures in December 1996. These were found following a lead picked up at a social gathering. Someone casually mentioned seeing a “beer tablet” at BYU many years ago.
Two more years passed. Then, in April 1998, The World & I published my article on the origin of writing. The essay included an account of my discovery of the first “forgotten” collection and my ongoing research into the life and work of Edgar James Banks, the archaeologist who brought the collection to the United States.
This article triggered so much interest–including fairly extensive TV and press coverage–that my turtle-speed research accelerated with the speed of light. Subsequently, I have been informed of several collections in both private hands and public institutions including Utah State University at Logan, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints Museum of History in Salt Lake City, and Arizona State Museum in Tucson. Then, in July, I was granted a “dream break,” sent to me no doubt by all the ancient deities of Mesopotamia.
I received a phone call from one quite mortal American, Stedman Pool. His first words were intriguing: “Dr. Wasilewska, please write down my phone number and my name since you don’t want to lose me.” What followed was far more exciting.
Pool referred to an article about my research that also mentioned Professor Banks. Banks sold the first “rediscovered” collection of cuneiform tablets in Utah in 1914, and I’d been trying to unfold his life story–with only modest success–since 1995. In fact, I was getting quite frustrated with this research. Suddenly here was Pool, a friend of Banks’ family. He told me that the archaeologist’s daughter, Daphne Banks McLachlan, was alive and well in Florida.
It was one of the few times in my life when I became absolutely speechless. In 1996 I had tried to contact McLachlan, but my letters had been returned by the post office. One even carried a note stating that she had passed away. To my delight, I now learned that this was not the case.
| Before leaving Baghdad, Banks became a dealer in antiquities, purchasing cuneiform tablets for a song from Arabs digging at Telloh and other sites. |
A few days later I called McLachlan. I was eager to “jump on the first flight” to Florida. Not having had the greatest experience with scholars in the past, she only hesitantly agreed to see me. Later I learned that she did not believe I would actually come. But how could I not? After so many years of chasing the ghosts of the past, I finally had a chance to connect them with reality. But anxious as I was, I couldn’t fly to Florida immediately. Prof. David Owen of Cornell University was coming to Utah to work with me on the collection of cuneiform tablets that had triggered my interest in Banks in the first place. But the day after he left, I was aboard a red-eye flight to Orlando.
My first stop was the Historical Museum at Eustis. The curator, Louise Carter, and Walter Simms, a volunteer, guided me through their collections. Banks had lived in Eustis for many years. We frantically copied documents, and I photographed everything in the museum even vaguely associated with Banks and his family. Then, after a few hours, McLachlan herself came to collect me. I was to be her guest in her beautiful home at Umatilla. She was everything I expected and more. This attractive woman was full of energy, as could only be expected from the daughter of one of the most remarkable, though currently neglected, American explorers.
For the next four days, we “dug” through old papers, letters, books, and pictures. Each had a fascinating story to tell. I believe it will take me years to explore them all in depth and build a credible account of all Banks’ remarkable accomplishments. One happy discovery was that McLachlan’s mother, Minja Banks, had written synopses of many of Banks’ exploits and stories. Together we uncovered many possible avenues for future research.
Edgar James Banks
anks (1866–1945) was a dedicated explorer of the Middle East and devoted student of its past. In hope of gaining access to archaeological sites, he secured a position in Baghdad in 1898 as an American consul to the Ottoman Empire. This did not last long. Money was scarce, and local authorities hindered his archaeological ambitions. But before leaving Baghdad, Banks became a dealer in antiquities, purchasing cuneiform tablets for a song from Arabs digging at Telloh and other sites. Years later, he received tablets and other artifacts from a fellow dealer in Constantinople (Istanbul) called “David.” Banks imported at least 11,000 such relics to the United States, and some estimates suggest the number may have been as many as 175,000 pieces. Examining the documents in McLachlan’s possession and papers she donated to the University Museum at Chicago in 1997 might help clarify the number and present location of these objects.
In 1900, Banks was in Constantinople as leader of a proposed archaeological expedition to Ur
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(where the famous royal tombs of the third millennium b.c. were discovered years later by Sir Leonard Woolley). The venture was sponsored by the University of Chicago and financed by John D. Rockefeller. Henry Morton, president of the Stevens Institute, organized a memorable Babylonian dinner for the friends of the expedition before Banks left the United States for Turkey. Place cards were written in cuneiform, bread was shaped like Babylonian bricks, and the ice cream served was “the color of the desert sand.” A cake in the shape of the Tower of Babel was presented. “About it,” Banks would note, “wandered miniature Arabs with miniature picks, and concealed within its several stages was an art treasure for each of the guests.” He had the honor of cutting the cake and disposing of its treasures among the invited guests.
It took Banks three years to obtain the Ottoman sultan’s permission to begin his dig. Even then, he could not excavate Ur. Nor could he choose Babylon or Tell Ibrahim, other prominent sites. His excavations were to be at Bismya, the site of ancient Adab, in Iraq. (I visited this site in 1999, and a partial account of my journey appeared in the April 2000 issue of The World & I.)
Uncomfortable using Rockefeller’s money during the three-year wait, Banks supported himself by becoming acting professor of ancient history at Robert College (now known as Bosporus University in Istanbul). He also acted as assistant to the American ambassador, John Leishman, with whom he became firm friends. Never one to waste time, Banks visited various sites in Turkey, including Troy. This famous site will always, of course, be associated with Homer. But in the annals of archaeology it is also connected with the rich entrepreneur-archaeologist Heinrich Schliemann. Schliemann’s excavations in the 1870s produced the celebrated “treasures of King Priam” that are now exhibited in Moscow.
Schliemann took full credit for locating Troy, but reality was somewhat different. Frank Calvert, a Briton, owned the land on which the Homeric Troy was partially located. Calvert first located the site and introduced Schliemann to it. (Indeed, Calvert introduced him to archaeology in general.) Calvert had none of Schliemann’s arrogance or drive for fame. Unfortunately, his name has almost disappeared from archaeological annals. But Calvert knew the story of Troy and Schliemann’s excavations better than anyone. Banks met Calvert. His recollection of Calvert’s account is recorded in Minja Banks’ notes. As my own research is still in progress, I cannot detail the revelations found in Banks’ narrative. Suffice to say that it provides yet more evidence that Schliemann stopped at nothing to advance himself and experienced extreme difficulties with truth.
Many of Schliemann’s lies have already been exposed by authors such as William Calder III and David Traill. Minja Banks’ notes may provide the definitive corroborating evidence to convince doubters that Schliemann was not only a compulsive liar about his private life but also his activities as an archaeologist.
Banks’ own luck changed on August 27, 1903. Leishman received a cipher telegram from Consul Ravndal of Beirut with the following message: “Vice-consul Magelssen [sic] shot; assassinated in carriage Sunday night” (Banks, 1912). This cipher was also forwarded to President Roosevelt’s administration in Washington and the media. In response, the U.S. European Squadron was ordered to Beirut on August 28. That same day Leishman received new information: “Vice-consul not assassinated; shot at, ball passing close.” A drunk had haphazardly fired a revolver at the vice-consul as he returned home from some engagement.
But the matter was not closed. On August 31, Admiral Cotton informed Leishman that three U.S. ships, led by the flagship Brooklyn, were on their way to Beirut to exact punitive revenge for the “assassination.” These confusing events almost led to war between America and the Ottoman Empire. Both governments were caused great embarrassment. Only diplomatic negotiation at its best prevented further escalation of the mistake. In the meantime, Magelsson was apparently busy collecting his obituaries and thoroughly enjoying his celebrated “death.”
| Banks was the first American to climb Mount Ararat (in search of Noah’s Ark in 1912) and crossed all the deserts from Turkey to Aden (Yemen) the same year. |
As part of the diplomatic settlement, Banks received his long-awaited permit on October 3, 1903. The story of Banks’ excavations at Bismya and the many problems he encountered is narrated in his book Bismya, or the Lost City of Adab (G.P. Putnam Sons, Knickerbocker Press, New York, 1912) and numerous articles. I would like to stress the importance of his work. He was the first American archaeologist to join the ranks of the great discoverers of the ancient Middle Eastern civilizations. Sadly, controversy marred his reputation. Among his many discoveries was a statue of a Sumerian king named Esar. Banks knew of Esar, but for reasons I am unclear of, the find was heralded at the time as being the oldest statue of King David. The statue then disappeared, and Banks was falsely accused of having something to do with it. Needless to say, he was innocent. The statue was found and is now believed to be in a collection in either Istanbul or, more probably, Baghdad. The scandal meant, however, that Banks was forced out of any further excavations.
What surprises me is that such a remarkable explorer has been largely forgotten. Most educated Americans know of Lawrence of Arabia, but nobody recognizes the name Edgar James Banks, though he was involved in the international politics of the Middle East well before Lawrence (twenty-two years his junior) even visited the region. Banks was also the first American to climb Mount Ararat (in search of Noah’s Ark in 1912) and crossed all the deserts from Turkey to Aden (Yemen) the same year. Such accomplishments should not be overlooked. Moreover, Banks was not particularly healthy at the time of his adventures. At present only scattered information about his activities–such as the agonizing time he was abandoned in the desert by his guides–is known, but in the near future I hope to fully document the eventful career of this real-life “Indiana Jones” for the reader.
Collaboration with DeMille
eturning to the United States, Banks wrote a number of articles and books and embarked on several lecture tours during which he sold hundreds if not thousands of cuneiform tablets. On August 19, 1914, Banks married his second wife, Minja (daughter of Marko Miksic and Emilija Bistoniya of Croatia), and the couple would have two children, Bobbie and Daphne. To support his family, Banks became involved in real estate, but his love for adventure and the Middle East did not disappear. In time he embarked on a new career–this time in the field of motion pictures.
Until August 1998 the only information I had about his involvement in the movie industry were the names of two companies, The Sacred Films Inc. and Seminole Inc., and an article by Banks concerning the first of them (with a few photos from the movies he claimed to have made). Since neither company was registered, the film specialists I contacted suggested that if any movies were made, they must have been low-budget, limited-market, religious productions. I suspected there was much more to the story. Indeed, some mystery seemed to be involved. Banks himself wrote that Sacred Films was producing its biblical movies in secret and was employing quite famous actors and actresses. Nevertheless, can you imagine my astonishment when McLachlan informed me that it was Cecil B. DeMille who, in 1921, invited Banks to become a consultant on movies that concerned biblical stories?
DeMille directed two versions of The Ten Commandments (a silent version in 1923 and the 1956 spectacular). Banks is not credited with any involvement in the earlier film. But learning that Banks may have been involved in other productions (possibly for a private collection) created by this movie legend was extraordinary. I thought that I had solved at least one mystery of Banks’ life, especially because McLachlan has almost two hundred 8 by 10 stills from these old films. I believed I would be able to prove that Banks’ movies really existed and that I could identify them through his connection with DeMille. How wrong I was!
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The plot only thickened. Instead of solving one small mystery, I encountered a much bigger one. I have no doubt that Banks worked with DeMille in California between 1921 and 1923. But none of the official sources on the director, including his autobiography, refer to any movies produced or informed by such a collaboration. It is an extraordinary omission, a silence that speaks volumes.
Based on McLachlan’s stills, I have been able to identify almost all the episodes or stories that were developed. DeMille and Banks’ projects began with the story of Adam and Eve and proceeded, in chronological order, through the events described in Genesis. After Banks left California, possibly at the request of Minja, who was sick in 1923, he settled in Eustis, Florida. DeMille meanwhile produced the next biblical chapter in line, the Ten Commandments, released in December 1923. Today the set built for that movie is considered to be Hollywood’s first grand-scale historical set, and in 1998 plans were made to excavate it. But Banks’ stills indicate clearly that the sets built for the earlier biblical stories–such as, for example, the city and ziggurat of Ur, or for the story of Noah’s Ark and the Flood–were equally impressive
There is no doubt in my mind that Banks’ movies were a high-budget Hollywood production. Since he did not have the money to even contemplate starting such an undertaking, DeMille’s central involvement is almost certain. My hope in learning more about these lost, forgotten, or secret movies is not only to verify the documentation mentioned above. I also hope to identify the actors and actresses who were involved. According to Banks’ daughter, her father talked about directing Gloria Swanson, and her mother recalled that Banks also advised Douglas Fairbanks before that actor made the movie Robin Hood. But who was directly involved in DeMille’s mysterious and ambitious biblical project? I believe that I can recognize a few performers from the stills I have studied, but I am no specialist. Consequently, I must keep these guesses to myself.
More intriguing is the question of what happened with these movies. And why did DeMille keep silent about their production? These are questions that I hope to answer. I do not yet know what happened to the movies produced by the secret company called Sacred Films. But the mystery of Seminole Inc. movies is solved. This was Banks’ private company and operated at Eustis. The old studio was recently renovated. It is located across the street from Banks’ first house in the town.
Seminole focused on stories related to the classical world of ancient Greece and Rome. Eventually the company went bankrupt. McLachlan remembers her father packing his movies up in tin cans and burying them somewhere on their property, apparently for fear that they were a fire hazard. She recalls what the pit looked like but does not remember the location. Looking for them would likely be an exercise in futility. Banks’ property included more than 350 acres of orange groves, and the movies could hardly be expected to survive years of exposure to the humid Florida climate.
Banks spent the rest of his life at his property at Lake Dalhousi, where he built a fabulous mansion of his own design. He seldom left his house for any activities other than growing oranges, and rarely talked of his adventures and achievements. He died a very modest man on May 5, 1945. At the time, few of his neighbors in Eustis had any concept of his extraordinary claims to greatness.n
Ewa Wasilewska is adjunct professor of anthropology at the University of Utah. She welcomes correspondence on this essay and can be reached through E-mail at Mruczekf Creation Stories of the Middle East, to be published by Jessica Kingston Press in September. The book is based on her four-part series on the same topic published in the February through May 1994 issues of The World & I. She is currently completing a book on Edgar James Banks titled The Forgotten American Indiana Jones.
Acknowledgments
Although my research and book are not finished, I decided to release this limited (and copyrighted) account because the success of my work depends on assistance from others.
I wish to express my gratitude to Mike Leavitt, governor of Utah, for his interest in my ventures. The governor opened the first public presentation of my discoveries on September 24, 1998, at the University of Utah in Salt Lake City.
I also wish to thank the editors of The World & I, particularly Dr. Morton Kaplan and Stephen Osmond, for supporting my research and providing the forum for periodic publication of its results.
This research could not have advanced without the trust and assistance of Daphne Banks McLachlan, who loaned family documents and stills to my care. She has my deepest gratitude. I feel privileged to have met her and, through her stories, to relive the life of her father.
Thanks should also be directed to my colleague Prof. David Owen, to Stedman Pool, Louise Carter, Walter Simms, the Utah Humanities Council, PhotoTech of Utah, and the Utah Museum of Natural History. I must also thank Richard Trevithick, Gloria and Ed Skurzynski, and Prof. James Kelly for their financial support and all curators who provided access to their collections. Also, numerous friends and students have given invaluable assistance, notably Adrienne Roberts, who located the Arizona collection of artifacts.
I hope that this research restores Professor Banks’ legend and the respect he deserves for his numerous contributions to diplomacy, archaeology, film, and other fields.
—-E.W.
Easier said than done.
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