jump back when a train approached or flinch when a gun was pointed at them for the first time in The Great Train Robbery. In the 1 9 5 0 s and ' 6 0 s , Alfred Hitchcock was known for provoking physical reactions in his audiences, and he was a master organist, playing the viscera like a 356 T H E W I S D O M OF THE BODY mighty Wurlitzer in tension-filled movies like Psycho, The Birds, and Vertigo, but he was not alone, for all good directors know instinctively how to use their tools to make us feel something, physically and emotionally. T h e y employ everything in the toolbox — story, characters, editing, lighting, costumes, music, set design, action, special effects, and psychology — to bring about physical responses such as holding
write their message in invisible ink on one sheet of paper, then press this tightly against another sheet. Moisture in the air would carry some of the ink to the second sheet without the telltale differential wetting of the fiber papers on which the iodine test relied. This compelled T.O.D. to find the specific reagent required. Perhaps the most interesting development of the secret-ink war was the German instrument discovered by Shaw, Pierce, and others in 1945 and dubbed the "Wurlitzer Organ" because of its resemblance to that musical instrument. They found a burned-out shell of one "organ" in the bombed remnants of the Munich censorship station, and an undamaged one in the censorship station on an upper floor of the Hamburg post office. It examined suspected letters on an assembly-line basis by ingeniously exploiting some principles of physics to make the invisible ink glow. It first exposed the paper to ultraviolet light. This pumped energy into chemicals of the
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