Creative Inspiration For You

In October 2014, Sweden found itself at the center of international attention.

A sonar image appeared to show an unidentified underwater vessel moving through the Stockholm archipelago. In response, the Swedish military launched its largest submarine search since the Cold War, deploying ships, helicopters, and more than 200 personnel. The week-long operation reportedly cost around £2.2 million, but no submarine was ever found.

Many believed the unidentified vessel was Russian, although Moscow denied any involvement. With tensions in the Baltic already heightened following Russia’s annexation of Crimea earlier that year, Sweden responded by announcing a significant increase in military spending.

The Swedish Peace and Arbitration Society (SPAS), founded in 1883 and among the world's oldest peace organizations, believed there was a different way to respond.

So they created an unusual "defense system" of their own.

On April 27, 2015, the group lowered a waterproof box into the Baltic Sea east of Stockholm. Inside was a neon animated display showing a sailor wearing only a hat and white underwear, dancing with flashing pink hearts behind him. The sign, written in both English and Russian, read: "Welcome to Sweden. Gay since 1944." The date referred to the year Sweden decriminalized homos*xuality—23 years before the UK.

The device also transmitted a continuous Morse code message that read: "This way if you are gay."

They called the installation The Singing Sailor Underwater Defence System.

The idea was simple. Russia had introduced its law banning what it described as "gay propaganda" in 2013. SPAS joked that no Russian submarine crew would want to explain to their superiors why they had spent time near a glowing, dancing sailor in white underpants.

The organization also extended an invitation to any submarine crew that encountered the display, encouraging them to attend Stockholm Pride later that August.

As SPAS president Anna Ek put it: "If military actions and weapons had functioned as conflict-resolution methods, there would be peace in the world a long time ago."

Senator Chuck Schumer criticized President Donald Trump, arguing that the administration is focusing on symbolic issues while Americans continue to face growing financial pressure.

Schumer said many families are struggling with rising housing costs, grocery prices, and household debt. He contrasted these challenges with what he described as the president’s emphasis on cleaning up the Reflecting Pool, calling it a misplaced priority given broader economic concerns.

In 1969, a 20-year-old man named Conrad got a job as a bank teller at Society National Bank.

He had watched the Steve McQueen film The Thomas Crown Affair more than a dozen times, and often told friends that the bank’s security seemed surprisingly weak. He once remarked to his best friend that it would be “so easy to walk out with all kinds of money,” though no one took him seriously.

On Friday, July 11, 1969, at the end of his shift, Conrad entered the vault, placed $215,000 (about $1.9 million today) into a paper bag, and walked out of the bank. Because it was a Friday, he had the entire weekend before the theft was discovered. The missing money was only noticed on Monday morning when he failed to appear for work.

By then, he was already gone.

He later assumed a new identity, becoming Thomas Randele. He settled in Massachusetts, married, built a life as a car salesman and golf professional, and raised a daughter named Ashley. Neither his wife nor his daughter knew his past.

Meanwhile, U.S. Marshals continued searching for him for decades, with a father-and-son investigative team pursuing the case for nearly 50 years.

In March 2021, terminally ill with lung cancer, Conrad finally revealed the truth to Ashley and asked her not to investigate further.

That night, she couldn’t sleep and eventually searched his name online.

“The first thing that came up said vault teller robs bank,” she told CNN. “I was like, oh my God, this is my dad.”

Conrad died in May 2021. No charges were brought against his family, and the $215,000 was never recovered. Investigators believe it was spent early on to establish his new life.

Ashley has since launched a podcast sharing the story.