“At the same time I spent my childhood in a haunted house, I attended Catholic school. I was hardly the most religious kid in class, in fact I didn’t even like to go to church because I had to dress-up,” Ed continues. “Still, when the good priests and nuns in school spoke about spirits and the devil I—more than others in my class—had reason to listen. Even at an early age, I was trying to figure out the weird incidents of psychic phenomena I saw go on in my own home. My early education, therefore, supplied me with a general metaphysical overview of the world. I didn’t know whether that information was true or false, of course, but I remembered it nonetheless.
“At the same time, other things happened to me as a child. My father was a very devout man who never missed going to Mass a day in his life—perhaps it was because he saw the uglier side of life every day as a policeman. I do know, however, that my grandfather had a strong influence on my father. My grandfather was a very pious, very devout man; when he died, he bequeathed his life savings to the church we attended to buy a stained-glass window with the figure of St. Michael in the center. As a child, I used to go into the church and look at that big, beautiful window with the sun streaming through it and wonder who St. Michael was. Today, of course, I know it was St. Michael the Archangel who drove Satan from heaven and is the patron saint of the exorcist.
“One of the most perplexing things to happen to me as a child,” Ed resumes, “was that I would have dreams of a nun coming to speak to me. It got to the point I told my father about this woman, and described her in detail. ‘That woman,’ my father said one night, dumbfounded, ‘was your aunt’ I’d never met my aunt; she died before I was born. I was told she had been a nun who had gone through incredible physical sufferings. My father often called her a saint, for want of a better term. During one of my dreams, she told me something that took on meaning only when I grew up: ‘Edward,’ she said, ‘you will tell many priests the right road to go down, but you yourself will never be a priest.’ Well, I am not a priest today, but I do work closely with them, and tutor those who have been assigned to work in the area of demonology and exorcism. So, in all honesty, my work is not a calling. Instead, I’d say I’m simply living out my destiny."
Meanwhile, barely three blocks away from her future husband, Lorraine Moran was growing up as an intelligent, precocious young daughter in a dignified Irish family. Yet, she was a girl with a true sense of the beyond, for Lorraine was born with the gift of clairvoyance—the ability to see beyond physical time and place.
“I didn’t know I had an additional sense ability," Lorraine recalls. “I simply thought everyone had the same God-given senses—you know,” she jokes, “all six of them. Well, I found out differently when I was about twelve. I was attending a private all-girls school then. It was Arbor Day, and we were all on the front lawn, standing in a circle around a shovel-hole in the ground. Well, just as soon as they put the sapling in the ground, I saw it as a fully grown tree. I looked up into its massive branches, filled with leaves blowing in the wind, with no idea I was experiencing second-sight. The nun standing beside me prodded my arm and said in her usual stern way, ‘Miss Moran, why are you looking up at the sky?’ I told her I was just looking up into the tree.… ‘Are you seeing into the future?’ she asked me, just as sternly. ‘Yes,’ I admitted, ‘I guess I am.’
“Well, that did it—I was immediately sent off to a retreat home for the weekend. I couldn’t talk or play or do anything, just sit there all day long in church and pray. That taught me. After that, when it came to things involving clairvoyance, I kept my mouth shut.”
In retrospect, Lorraine’s experience that Arbor Day served to channel her abilities toward the good, toward becoming a tool that would eventually help many thousands of others. Although Ed, like most people, possessed no overt psychic abilities, the continuous input of psychic data during the late 1940s and early 1950s (garnered during the Warrens’ “ghost-hunting” period) caused Lorraine’s clairvoyance to develop significantly. Later, in the 1970s, Lorraine was tested at UCLA, where her clairvoyance was judged as being “far above average.”
One might be inclined to call it fate how the Warrens came together. Ed and Lorraine did not originally set out to make the supernatural their vocation. Instead, as Lorraine explains, it was a vocation that found them.
“Ed and I got married—both at the age of eighteen—while he was in the Navy. In fact, our only child, Judy, was six months old before Ed came back from the Pacific Theater and saw her for the first time. Once World War II was over, we had to find a livelihood like everyone else. Each of us had skills as landscape artists, and we each harbored a desire to paint. Ed had already attended art school in New Haven before the war, so we began our marriage under the assumption we were going to be artists.”
The art, however, turned out to be a steppingstone to psychic research. “You see,” Lorraine continues, “we needed a subject to paint—a good subject, something people could relate to. Well, haunted houses proved to be that subject. Ed would find a haunted house written up in the newspaper, or get a lead on one from the locals in town. Then we’d drive to the site in our old Chevy. Ed would do up a complete sketch of the house and grounds. All the while, of course, the owner of the place would be peeking out the window wondering what the heck was going on. We were just kids then, so one of us would knock on the door, show them the sketch of the house, then offer it in exchange for information about the haunting. If the story was engrossing enough, we’d paint up the house for our collection, then sell it later at an art show.
"All in all, we spent five years traveling around the country painting and investigating haunted houses—and not exactly by coincidence, I might add. Before we were married, Ed had already devoured all the available books on the supernatural, although I didn’t know it at the time. So in addition to painting he was fully engaged in field research, all the while making notes on where the books were wrong.”
In a very real way, the Warrens used the world for their university, acquiring a wealth of information in the process. Often they were the first, and sometimes the only researchers to investigate the site of a haunting. Although as a child, Ed had seen phenomena go on around him that would make other people’s hair stand on end, Lorraine had no experience at all with ghosts and hauntings. As an adult, therefore, she remained naturally skeptical.
“In the beginning,” Lorraine remembers “I was more than a bit wary of the people with whom we spoke. I thought they were kind of suffering from overactive imaginations or were just making things up to get attention. In fact, some of the things people told us sounded completely outlandish—back then. Over the course of time, though, I began to become convinced. We would be in vastly different places, one week in Iowa and the next in Texas, but there was often a similarity, sometimes even an exactness, to the stories these people would tell. And there Ed and I would be, paint all over our hands and arms, offering consolation to folks who were often twice our age, telling them what we knew about the workings of the spirit realm.”
What did the Warrens learn about ghosts during that period? Is the phenomenon real? And if so, they were asked to answer, how does the spirit manifest?
“Most people seem to think ghosts lurk around in the upstairs of old homes in a misty, vaporous state,” says Ed in reply. “This is not so: in order to be seen with the physical eye, the ghost or apparition needs physical energy to manifest. We learned there are two basic processes a human spirit can go through to bring about its own materialization. One way requires a human presence; the other does not.
“When an earthbound spirit needs a human presence to manifest, then it engages in a complex process of energy transference to give itself substance,” explains Ed. “And the Adam’s rib of most ghostly manifestations is nothing other than the human aura. Surrounding the body of every living being is a bioluminescent glow caused by a natural discharge of energy from the body. Clairvoyants like Lorraine can see and ‘read’ the human aura, which appears i
n three layers, reflecting the physical, emotional, and spiritual status of the person. Spirits read auras too,” he notes, “and an individual’s aura may either repel or attract a particular spirit presence. Nevertheless, from this bioluminescent glow or aura, the ghost draws small amounts of energy which collect as an orb, or else as small pinpoints of light. This light energy, combined with heat and electromagnetic energy in the room, is what the human spirit uses to manifest.”
Asked for a simpler explanation, Lorraine says, “Imagine you are staying overnight in your friend’s home. The place is so nice and cheerful that the thought of a ghost would never enter your mind. That night, you’re shown to the guest room, and in a little while you’re sound asleep. Sometime in the middle of the night you wake up. Perhaps the spirit has psychically projected the sound of breaking glass, or the slamming of a door to get your attention. Sitting up in bed, you have an eerie feeling—you know something’s not right. Glancing around the dark room, you see two bluish orbs of light, roughly the size of golf balls, floating near each other about five feet off the floor. As you watch, you might also see streaks of light flash away from your body—this is electromagnetic energy being drawn from your aura. In no time at all, these two balls of light come together and merge into one larger ball, about the size of a grapefruit. The ball will then elongate into a tall cigar-shape of human size.
“Instead of the orbs of light, other people report seeing hundreds of tiny pinpoints of light in a cluster that—like the orbsblend into a larger cylindrical glow. In either case, within this tall, bioluminescent glow, the definable features of a person will begin to emerge until the spirit has manifested as much as it possibly can. To be accurate, by the way, it’s called a ghost if the features are not recognizable to the viewer; if the features are recognizable to the viewer, it’s an apparition. Either way, though, you’ve got a visitor.”
“The other way a ghost will come up,” Ed explains, “is essentially different—and a bit theatrical. On very humid days with a lot of rain or fog, or on stormy nights when there is electrical energy in the air from lightning discharges, a ghost is able to build itself from the energy in the atmosphere. When a ghost or apparition manifests in this way, there tends to be an intense smell of ozone in the room, and the resulting materialization comes across with a bluish glow—quite a spectacle, I assure you. All in all, though, the spirit is liable to manifest before you are aware of its presence, or as you watch. The important point is that in one case the spirit requires a human presence to materialize, while in the other, only Mother Nature is needed. But a ghost certainly does not have to manifest in order to be there, because it is not intrinsically a material entity. The ghost will already be there; it manifests simply to verify its presence to those in the physical realm.”
How a ghost manifests is one thing—but how it looks to the individual is something else again. Why are some ghosts headless, or disfigured?
“The spirit’s appearance,” Ed states, “depends entirely on how that particular spirit determines to project itself, or how it sees itself in its own mind. This is why encounters with earthbound spirits are not always easygoing, passive affairs. Tragedy comes in many forms, often accompanied by violence, and an individual’s last thoughts tend to dominate the mind of his spirit after physical death. Thus the ghost will often manifest as a grotesque spectacle, representative of the manner in which it died. Furthermore, a person who meets a tragic end often carries a negative attitude into the afterlife, many times blaming God for his troubles. Consequently, some spirits are mean, and—contrary to what people may think—a spiteful ghost can bring about physical and psychological effects that can lead to illness, injury, or even death. Psychologically, oppression by human spirits can result in unshakeable depression, unpleasant habits like drinking or insomnia, even impulses toward suicide. Physical effects can range from lingering illnesses to jabs of acute pain that have no medical origin in the body.”
At least half the people who call on Ed and Lorraine Warren each year have never had anything to do with spirits or the occult. Rather, they tend to be normal, everyday people who inadvertently walk into situations where spirits were active before they arrived. This happened in Amityville, where the Lutz family lost a good deal of money and suffered emotional catastrophe as well. Some buy haunted cars, and then find themselves being oppressed to re-create tragic accidents. Still others find themselves being uncontrollably possessed by a spirit of someone or something that is distinctly not them. And often the most unsuspecting of people will fall prey to spirit phenomena. This is precisely what happened at West Point.
It was October 1972. An officer at the United States Military Academy telephoned the Warrens a day before they were scheduled to present a general lecture to the cadets there. Though the officer’s comments were deliberately vague, he nonetheless told the Warrens that a curious security problem had arisen, and he wanted to know if they’d be willing to help—in a professional capacity—before they lectured the next day at the Point. Without probing, the Warrens agreed to lend assistance. “Good,” the relieved officer said, “I’ll send a car for you tomorrow at three P.M.”
The following afternoon a shiny black limousine bearing government plates pulled up outside the Warrens’ front door. Ed and Lorraine, dressed in evening clothes for the lecture, slid into the roomy back seat. The chauffeur, an Army staff sergeant, told them the drive would take about one hour, but volunteered no other information.
Moving north along the Taconic Parkway through occasional snow showers, the limousine nevertheless kept up a steady pace of sixty miles per hour. Travelers along the highway peered into the car while the Warrens wondered what kind of “security matter” had led the government to call them in.
A little past four P.M., they entered the gates of the United States Military Academy. The sergeant pulled the car up to the entrance of the headquarters offices, swung open the rear door, and escorted the Warrens to a head officer of West Point.
Major Donald Wilson, an orderly, good-natured man, offered Ed and Lorraine a seat in his office. He then briefed them on an already prepared schedule: dinner with the officers of the faculty at six, followed by a general lecture to all classes at eight.
“One more thing...” For the next few minutes, Major Wilson went on to explain how an unaccountable breach of security was occurring in the home of West Point’s Superintendent—the commanding general. Naturally, the military police had already been over the problem, but to no avail, he conceded. Matters had only gotten worse. Therefore, it had been decided to get an outside opinion on a problem that appeared to have no natural explanation. “So if there’s no objection, the Superintendent would like to speak with you before dinner.”
“We’ll be glad to help,” Ed replied. “Do you know the nature of the problem?”
“Between us...” the major almost broke into a grin, “there’s a ghost in the general’s quarters.”
Switching off the lights, the officer took his cap, escorted the Warrens out the office door and introduced them to an Army photographer who sat waiting in the hallway. Strict limits had been placed on the collection of information that day—all documentary records would be the property of the U.S. government.
Outside, the call of cadences broke the silence as cadets marched through the gray stillness of the afternoon. The group took a leisurely stroll to the officer’s quarters, an impressive brick structure.
A general staff aide answered the front door to the mansion and showed the group inside. Within moments, the commanding general and his wife entered the foyer and the officer introduced them to the Warrens. The general impressed Lorraine as being a kind, compassionate man of great wisdom and intelligence.
The general’s wife directed everyone into a sitting room that was beautifully furnished with period antiques by previous generals over the course of two centuries.
“Nothing macabre has happened here,” the general said, sitting in what appeared to be his favorite c
hair. “Nevertheless, a number of incidents have gone on in this house that, so far, no one has been able to explain to my satisfaction. Some background: in the basement there is a private study; that room is kept locked and secure. But no matter how many times the bunk in there is made up, it’s always found ripped apart later. Upstairs, ghosts have been seen flitting about the house. These I haven’t seen, but they’ve been reported for years, and apparently they go with the billet. Now, I wouldn’t mention any of this except that we have an unusual, persistent problem: personal belongings and other important articles are regularly found missing. Not stolen.” he emphasized, “but missing temporarily.”
The general stopped for a moment to put on his glasses. “I grant you, none of this is terribly important unless put into perspective. One of the responsibilities of the commanding officer here is social protocol. In this house, we receive our fair share of government leaders and Army brass. Recently, on special occasions, some potentially serious events have occurred. Wallets have been stolen, pockets have been picked, money and personal mementos have been taken from eminent dignitaries and their wives. Later, all the stolen items are found upstairs, neatly laid out on the dresser in our master bedroom.” The Warrens sat mum, taking in the unique nature of the problem.
“This foolishness cannot continue,” the general said forcefully. “Yet we know that no person has committed these actions. So my question to you (Mr. Warren, Mrs. Warren) is the following: if this is a ghost—and I stress, if it is—then you tell me: can a ghost manipulate physical objects?”
“Yes,” Ed answered, “it can. Providing the objects are of no significant weight, such as the ones you describe.”
The Demonologist: The Extraordinary Career of Ed and Lorraine Warren Page 3