The Green Flag

I.

We all do something foolish now and then.

Something daft. Harebrained. Compelling. Absurd.

Something based on an idea so charming and ill-conceived that it propels itself full-tilt around the world into beautiful, dubious brilliance: an idea so ludicrous that it just might work.

In May 2007, as the thirtieth anniversary reunion tour of defunct ’80s band The Police was getting under way, a group of fans had thus such an idea: in support of Stewart Copeland—musician, composer, and founder and drummer of the Police—they resolved to follow him around the world with a small green flag.

The flag had not been built for such a journey: a sign created to help a few fans find each other in airports and restaurants, the flag had been built to last for only three days.

But sparked by an impulsive suggestion and fueled by a heady cocktail of reunion-tour frenzy and fan appreciation, members of the forum of StewartCopeland.net recommissioned the flag to attend Police concerts around the globe, collecting fans’ signatures and showing to Copeland that wherever in the world he might find himself, someone in the audience was there to cheer him on.

Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t.

Along its voyage, the green flag escaped a bus fire in Texas, a customs agency in Sweden, and a closed mail warehouse in Argentina. A courier arrived in London for a flag pick-up scheduled for Milan. A major shipping company refused to deliver the flag in New Jersey, insisting that the location from which the recipient was calling did not exist. Presumably mistaken for a viridescent drug mule, the flag arrived in the United States from Chile torn open along three sides, turned inside-out, and crumpled into a ball.

Over 15 months, the flag faced the continuous threats of customs, security, rain, ink, cigarettes, cancelations, language barriers, and beer. But perhaps the biggest challenge the flag would face was the conflicting philosophies and personalities of those who had sworn to protect it. Including me.

Yet despite disagreements, blunders, and international courier malfunctions, more than 75 volunteers from around the globe banded together to carry the flag to 91 concerts (and one television taping) on five continents. This single green flag traveled more than 100,000 miles to end its journey in the most unlikely of places, just 26 miles from where it had begun.

And along the way—with a nod, a smile, and the flick of a drumstick—this simple show of fan support was transformed into an interactive game between stage and audience, an unconventional variation on Where’s Waldo? operating on a global scale in front of tens of thousands of witnesses each night.

Most concertgoers never even knew.

A crash course in intercontinental logistics and a lesson in fandom, celebrity, and the shifting distances between the two, the green flag, for better or worse, was an example of the unexpected lengths people will go to for an artist they admire—and for friends they’ve never met.

The green flag . . .

• in story: “Our little flag game: A strange tradition of the Police reunion tour” on StewartCopeland.net
• in song: “The Flag of Copelandia” by Russ Feltis (a.k.a. BongoBoy)
• in brief: Strange Things Happen: A Life with The Police, Polo, and Pygmies by Stewart Copeland
• in depth: article on the PoliceWiki
• in photos: The Little Flag That Could hosted by SmugMug
• in video: “La Ballade du Drapeau” on CulturClub.com
• in blog: background and side stories of the flag here on kmwalsh.com
• in Rolling Stone: somewhat; inadvertently

II.

In 2009 I started writing a book about the green flag.

We all do something foolish now and then.

Photos: Ana Krauchik, Dietmar Clös, Uccellina, Donna Sullivan, Julia Niemeyer, Laurie Pizza, Petrina Gattuso

Thanks also to Joe, Fragile, Anna, Miquel, Laz, Midori, Ucce, Shig, and Maggie for permitting me to borrow their faces.