We love our heroes. Sometimes, we love them even more when they come from us, from our ranks, from the common folk. And sometimes we love them even when or possibly because they are obviously bad people. Take the case of Captain Moonlite. You may have snickered a bit at that name, but that was his preferred moniker. Let me explain.
He was born Alexander Scott in Ireland in 1842, the son of a clergyman. But Ireland was too small for young Scott’s imagination, and he went to London to study engineering. He then followed his family as they immigrated to New Zealand at a time when that British possession was still being settled. The British authorities were waging war against the local Māori and Scott was inducted as an officer to fight in the wars against the first nation. He received wounds in both legs, and was reluctant to return to duty when he was healed. That led to charges against him for shirking his duty. In Scott’s defense, he pointed out that the British policy of warring against the Māori was immoral. He had witnessed what today we would classify as war crimes against the locals. Discharged, Scott began to follow his father’s footsteps in church service.
But something fundamentally had changed in him. The next time history hears from him, he robbed a bank. And it’s not only that he robbed it, it was how he robbed it that made the feat different and peculiar. The bank teller described the robber as being dressed in a cape and a mask, and he was handed a note that absolved the teller of any wrongdoing; it said that he, “had done everything in his power to resist this intrusion,” and was signed, “Captain Moonlite.” Scott was caught and prosecuted and served some months in jail, but he managed to rob some other places and got caught again. And he managed to escape jail by tricking a guard into opening the cells of some other prisoners who then overpowered the guard. Finally, Scott was recaptured, prosecuted for the robberies and the escape, and sentenced to 10 years hard labor.
And that’s when Scott began to tour New Zealand as a public speaker. He made presentations on how corrupt and unfair and downright foul the prison system was. Scott was a captivating, charismatic speaker, and crowds loved his presentation. They felt that he spoke for them. With him on his tour of speaking engagements, Scott was accompanied by a fellow former prisoner, a young man named James Nesbitt. As Scott’s popularity grew, the authorities bristled over his accusations against the prison system and the racist policies of the government against the Māori. They tried to pin several unsolved robberies and other crimes against Scott. That made him out to be a martyr to the public at large.
What few people knew was that Scott was using his speaking tours as a cover for the robberies that he and Nesbitt were committing as they made their way around the country. The managed to assemble a gang of former convicts to assist them on their tour of crime. One instance saw Scott deliver his lecture to a crowd of people and then he and his gang calmly robbed every member of the audience, ordering them at gunpoint to empty their pockets and purses. Rather than turn the public against him, such acts only caused the common man to love him even more. They were thrilled to having been robbed by Captain Moonlite and his fellows. And in all of these crimes, Scott and his gang went to great lengths to not use violence even though they brandished weapons during the robberies.
Finally, as usually happens, Captain Moonlite and his gang were caught. The authorities set a trap that ended in violence despite Scott’s attempts to not use weapons. In a shootout, a police deputy was killed, and two of Scott’s men were also shot and killed including Nesbitt. As his dear companion lay dying, Captain Moonlite cradled Nesbitt’s head and openly wept according to witnesses. Scott was tried for not only the killing of the policeman but also for all the string of robberies he and his gang committed. He was sentenced to hang for his crimes. The public cried for leniency from the court, for clemency for Scott and the other gang members, but the government was happy to rid itself of this thorn in its side. He was publicly hanged in 1880, and it was said that he wore a ring on his finger that was made from a lock of Nesbitt’s hair.
What makes a hero? What is it about someone who obviously and openly flaunts the law that makes the public flock to them, causes them to rush to their defense, to stand up for them and feel that the criminal somehow is relatable and “speaks” for them? Psychologists might say that we as the public project our desire to break the law onto these miscreants, that we who ourselves would never consider doing these things somehow find release in the fact that others do, in fact, commit crimes. And we cheer them on as some sort of a release for our own desires to do those things.
In the final analysis, Captain Moonlite, no matter how charming and popular, was still a criminal and possibly a murderer. And while making such people into popular heroes can be cathartic, we must remember that it also can be a dangerous thing.
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