by James Randi
For those of my readers who are not familiar with cameras and their parameters, I must explain that a 17-mm lens is a very wide-angle lens that takes in about as much of an angle as the human eye does. For example, a 50-mm lens (on a 35-mm-format camera) is considered a “normal” lens, since what you see through the viewfinder with that lens is about the same “size” image you see normally. But looking through this 17-mm job, one sees almost out of both sides of the camera as well. And it has tremendous depth of focus; that is to say, objects a few inches away and those across the room are equally sharp under ordinary settings. To continue:
“How about the Pentax?” I suggested. (That lens has a real solid lens cap to protect the somewhat bubbly shape of the front element.)”Okay, tape the lens cap for a secure seal, and load the camera with film,” he answered. As I threaded the Tri-X onto the take-up spool, Uri admitted this would be a tough assignment for him. But he felt Seth and I were sympathetic guys who responded positively to his seemingly amazing powers and therefore, the chances of a successful lens cap penetration were greatly enhanced.
Uri told Seth to choose a large picture book off the shelf and find a poster-like full-page picture. Seth settled on a striking close-up of an eagle. Uri’s idea was for Seth to sit across the room staring at the eagle with maximum concentration, while Uri would try to transmit the eagle through the sealed lens cap onto the film.
So Seth concentrated on the eagle.
I concentrated my Nikon on Uri.
Uri raised the Pentax with cap swathed in black tape, lens practically touching his forehead. His tightened facial muscles and closed eyes testified to his intense effort. He proceeded to click off 12 or so exposures. (I had set the camera for 1/60 sec at f/4, a perfect exposure for pictures in the given light, but without a lens cap.) Along about the fifth or sixth exposure, Uri intimated with a gurgle that he had established contact with the eagle. “I can feel it getting through,” he cried, as he urged the image through the lens cap.
I was busy shooting him with my Nikon, and keeping pace with his exposures. If Uri got a decent image on that film, I could see the Kodak ad . . . “Now you, too, can shoot psychic pictures without a camera or lens—on Kodak film.” I also wondered what mysterious ASA speed he was shooting at. Frankly speaking, I didn’t take this lens-cap photography seriously. Yet, I found myself caught up in the crazy atmosphere that Uri generates when he performs. It’s a kind of frenetic, exciting, child-like “out-of-the-world” nimbleness: bending spoons, fixing watches, busting keys, all presumably accomplished by an enthusiastic, engaging superpsychic.
Meanwhile, Uri set the Pentax on the coffee table, and we flew to the next experiment.
During our luncheon, I could not get Joel to recall that he had ever left Uri alone with the camera, or let him sneak it away. He kept maintaining that it was “in full sight” all the time. Then we asked him to go over the events carefully, and when he began relating the “sealed drawing” test that we are about to hear of, his face paled as it occurred to him just where Uri could have had the opportunity to fiddle about with the camera. This opportunity is about to occur:
Uri said he would attempt to receive telepathically a drawing which we were to make in an adjoining room. At this point, Seth and I went into the bedroom and closed the door. Seth decided to sketch a chair, and I photographed him at work. We placed the drawing inside two envelopes as Uri had instructed us and returned to the living room three to five minutes later, where Uri was waiting for us. Uri had no trouble in duplicating the chair which Seth had drawn.
This is a point in Yale’s article that the believers all jumped on. They had to accept the evidence that Uri had cheated in the “psychic-photo” stunt, but they chortled that the Joel’s had no explanation for the “sealed-picture” test. And Yale was pretty shaken up over that one, until we made him recount in detail every small happening of the session. Then it developed that Uri had asked to have the double envelope placed inside a larger manila envelope, but not sealed, since he wanted to use the larger envelope “to send off some photos” later. They recalled that Uri often handled the package, even allowing the open end to go into his lap occasionally, after which he left the room to visit the bathroom for what seemed like a long time. He returned, sat down, and began fiddling with the envelope again—and suddenly announced that he “got” the picture. And he was right: When they again shook the envelopes out of the manila one, Uri quickly tore open the envelopes (to destroy the evidence of manipulation, do you think?) and showed that the two drawings were identical.
Yale left this analysis out of his article, because it was not pertinent to the photographic theme of the story. But in doing so, he left the believers smugly happy that Uri had triumphed, at least in one direction.
Then I reloaded my Nikon with color for more sealed lens cap pictures. Uri once again held the same Pentax, still with the original roll in it, to his forehead while I shot him in color this time. When he had finally completed the roll, I immediately unloaded the Pentax and placed the film in my pocket to keep it apart from the others. There was no way Uri could have gotten to the film after that point.
As we shall see, it was a bit late by this time. But note the reasoning: Since the film is where the phenomenon is supposed to occur, you control the film and all is well. Now Uri can’t “get to it.”
By this time, I could see that Uri had shot his bolt. In fact, we were all slightly exhausted from the bizarre happenings. Enough was enough. After all, I had Uri’s hot roll of Tri-X in my pocket, and I could hardly wait for Seth and I to get home to develop the psychic film in my workshop darkroom. So off we went.
Next scene is well after midnight at my Photography Workshop. Seth’s faint incredulous voice echoing from downstairs, “Come on down, I see an exposure on the film!” “Is it sharp?” I yelled, grabbing my magnifying glass. Seth was holding the film as though it were radioactive. He was really shook-up. So was I when I put the five-power glass to the one and only exposed frame. The image was well-enough exposed, a bit thin, clear and sharp, except for the empty blob in the center. Not a bad try for an amateur, I mused. Finally, the enormity of what had possibly occurred with the film hit me!
Do I have a transparent lens cap?
Had Uri Geller really accomplished the impossible?
Who the hell would have thought...
This “was” a traumatic moment in the history of photography.
Here am I, a recognized professional photographer, years of experience with lens caps, and Uri one-upsmanships me with my own lens cap, my very own Pentax, even my film. I couldn’t believe it. And yet, there was an image on that crazy roll of Kodak film!
Seth hung the film to dry as I prepared the enlarger for an 11 x 14 print of that mysterious image. Meanwhile, filled with awe (it was well past midnight), I telephoned Uri to tell him the amazing news. Yasha Katz, his manager, answered the phone. I blurted out the earth-shaking news to Yasha, and asked for Uri. Yasha told me that Uri was asleep, and he would not awaken him even for this bombshell event because he had a performance that evening at Town Hall, and besides, even a psychokinetic needs his sleep. I was stunned by Yasha’s blasé acceptance of Uri’s picture of the century, but knowing managers, I told him I would phone Uri at 10 A.M.
Yasha is quite accustomed to “bombshells” with Uri around. He has witnessed a great number of the superman’s miracles, including the teleportation of a 150-pound planter from inside the apartment to the hallway. He had been downstairs getting a newspaper, and left Uri “asleep” upstairs on the sofa. Moments later, as he returned, he was confronted with this monster planter in the hall, and he excitedly burst in on Uri, “waking” him, and saw that Uri was astonished at the event, too! Together they lugged the thing back into the apartment, and Yasha’s “proof “ that Geller had not merely dragged it out there was that though both of them had carried it back inside, Uri had
a “strained back” from his part in the effort. I wonder just when Uri di
d strain his back?
Back to the darkroom. By this time, the film was dry. I examined it critically under the light of the wide-open Focotar lens of my Focomat enlarger. No dust imbedded in the emulsion. Good. Clean negative. Fine. Carefully, I slipped the frame into the film holder. The image on the easel, slightly flat. Needs a No. 4 Polycontrast filter to bring out full contrast, I judged. Seth developed the test strip while we pondered the mysteries of photography. What’s left to explore after this caper? Finally, a print emerged in the developer. Both of us were literally spent. Here it was about 2 A.M. I made an extra print for Uri. and we went to bed. Even photographers need rest.
Promptly at 10 A.M., I was on the phone with Uri. “Uri,” I asked, “what were you thinking about when you did it?” His answer ‘To tell you the truth. I was concentrating on a star in the sun.” I told this pearl to Seth, who promptly remarked, “I guess he was thinking of himself!”
That day, at the Time-Life building, on the 28th floor (where most all the ex-“Life” photographers now rent office space) I showed Uri’s picture to the dean of photo-journalism, the venerable Alfred Eisenstaedt. I asked his opinion of how the picture was taken. He took a quick look at it, and opined that the center blob looked like someone had held a lens cap in front of the lens. 1 then told him how Uri apparently shot it through the taped lens cap, and the picture was therefore the product of a supernatural phenomenon. Eisenstaedt’s eyes blinked like a shutter. “Impossible!” he exploded.
I ran into Ralph More in the Photographer’s Lounge. Now, Ralph is an expert photographer-technician type. He has taken every conceivable technical kind of picture of the astronauts for “Life.” What a fertile, imaginative photographic mind that Ralph has! The only possible picture he may have missed up on is shooting the astronauts through a lens cap. So I showed him the Uri picture. Ralph’s reaction? “How did that lousy lens cap get in that picture?”
George Karas runs what’s left of the old ‘Life” lab. By this time, my euphoria about Uri’s supernatural photographic talent was fading fast. So I asked George, as I showed him the picture, “Who the hell would take such an awful picture, George?” He glanced at it, and offered, “If whoever took that picture had held the lens cap further away from the lens, it might have been a decent photograph.”
Could Uri, or somebody else in the room, have surreptitiously removed the lens cap while I was in the other room photographing Seth? That was the only time when Seth and I were out of sight.
FIGURE 1. The photo that Geller took of himself, supposedly with the lens cap in place. Photo by Geller. Print by Yale Joel.
FIGURE 2. Randi duplicates the effect, admitting that the lens cap is held in his hand. Photo by Randi.Right. And Yale admits that they were out of the room for at least four or five minutes, ample time for Geller to have rewound the film to the fifth or sixth frame, shot the picture after removing the lens cap, and replacing the black tape again, winding forward to the former film position and replacing the camera again in its original position.
It was our feeling that he could have, and perhaps did. Assuming this is the case, Seth and myself and the editors of Popular Photography closely duplicated Uri’s “through-the-lens-cap” pictures without resorting to supernatural means.
Uri, I’m sorry to say, the consensus of expert photographic opinion, including my own (after due reflection), is that your lens cap is showing. (I mean my lens cap.)
You really didn’t reckon with the extreme depth of field of the extreme wide-angle 160-degree 17-mm Takumar f/4 “fisheye” lens.
Besides, what the hell happened to the eagle?
THE PERSONS BEHIND THE GELLER MYTH
Remember, we can’t be responsible for the safety of writers who do hatchet jobs on Uri!
—Connie de Nave, Geller’s publicist
I have felt it necessary to mention certain inconsistencies in the work of Dr. Andrija Puharich, since he was one of the principal persons behind Geller’s arrival in the United States and author of the book Uri, which purported to tell the story of Puharich’s dealings with Geller. Now we turn to some of the others who have put time, money, and talent into making Uri the psychic superstar of the seventies.Judith Skutch, a prominent and wealthy supporter of “psychic” causes, gave a huge amount of money to promote Geller here. She was flabbergasted to see him bend her silverware, and threw a raft of parties at her posh New York home to present the “psychic” to the curious and famous. Presently her interest in Geller seems to have faded. She had confided earlier to Dr. Stanley Krippner, of Maimonides Hospital, that, though she became convinced that Geller had real powers, he used trickery when he appeared on television as a performer. It’s the old business (see Rules for Psychics, 2 and 3), as Andrew Tobias said in his excellent article in New York magazine, September 10, 1973, titled, “OK, So He Averted World War III, But Can He Bend a Nail?”. In other words, until a feat is explained, it is done by supernatural means; thereafter, it becomes a regrettable, but excusable, case of showmanship.” Ms. Skutch suspects the television stunts but is persuaded by the personal touch, so accepts the latter as proof of Geller genuine powers.
But Dr. Ray Hymen, of the Psychology Department of the University of Oregon at Eugene, was in the company of Geller with a representative of the Defense Department when that gentleman asked an important question. I quote Hyman: “During lunch, he put the question to Uri directly. ‘Did you ever use trickery during your demonstrations to convince others?’ Uri became very serious and literally oozed sincerity. He said with deep conviction that he never used trickery. He related that during his performing days in Israel many people wanted to sell him secret devices on tricks. But he refused them all. ‘Don’t you see... that if I ever stooped to trickery, I would not be true to myself? And, if I were caught just once using trickery, I would be finished.’
Well, Judith, Uri says he never uses tricks; you say he does-, and that makes him either a trickster or a liar! Or both.
But Ms. Skutch has currently turned to another major discovery in the world of the wonderful. A young chap who makes ball-point pens follow him around the living-room rug, and who had a message tapped out on an electric car-door lock that sent him into the faith-healing business, has captured her fancy, and she is out to reveal his gifts to the afflicted. Incidentally, the tattoo on the car door was signed by none other than God himself. Might as well go to the top right off . . . And it must be so, because the Village Voice newspaper believes it. See Vander Horst’s article in the Village Voice for December 23, 1974.
What of the two Stanford Research Institute scientists—Puthoff and Targ—who have put Geller in the enviable “approved with reservations” category? Their quite inconclusive tests of Geller at SRI have already been dealt with here, but what are the two scientists doing in this particular vineyard, trampling out these particular grapes?
Harold Puthoff is, among other things, a devout believer in the pseudo- science/religion called Scientology. It was formerly known as Dianetics, but when the value of painting it religious became obvious it was redefined as such—and prospered. To go into the postulates of Scientology would insult the reader’s intelligence; I will merely refer you to Dr. Christopher Evans’s excellent handling of it in his book Cults of Unreason.That Puthoff could also as a physicist endorse the Scientologists’ “E-Meter” device (a sort of electronic Ouija board) makes me seriously wonder about his competence. Any high-school senior could work up a test for the meter’s validity, yet Puthoff has failed to see through this modern version of what has been used by water-diviners and chiropractors for longer than either of us has been around.
Describing a report made by Targ and Puthoff about a purported miracle of Uri’s, Ray Hyman has this to say about the attitude of these two scientists:
While the band was resting on the center of the table with no one touching either the table or the band, the band was seen to rise up on end, split in half, and form itself into the letter “S.” That story quickly faded into t
he background and I have not heard anything more about it. My guess is that it got built up through second-hand retelling. When I was at SRI, I tried to pin down the details and/or the origin of the story. As with all my other queries during that fateful day, I found it difficult to obtain satisfactory answers from either Targ or Puthoff. My review of my notes makes it even more striking about how evasive and elusive I found their answers to be. The heart of science, as I was taught, is the ability to deal with phenomena about which precise conditions for occurrence can be specified precisely and communicated unambiguously. Neither Targ nor Puthoff was either willing or able to spell out to me any of the conditions under which many of the alleged phenomena took place.
I asked them about his alleged ability to bend rings . . . They told me Uri had bent the one that was in the form of a figure-8. He apparently had been holding it in his hand at the time it bent. So I asked them if he could bend them without touching them. They told me he could do it either way. I asked Puthoff if he or anyone else at SRI had seen Uri do it without touching the ring. They never did answer me. They simply assured me that he could do it either way.
Randi, we tend to think of the Targs and Puthoffs as dupes and fools. But this is a mistake. It is also tempting to think of the (scientist] as having special skills for detecting trickery. This also is a mistake. Targ and Puthoff have been well trained and have succeeded in a difficult area of science. They have fallen for Geller for two reasons: they do not realize that their training and skills cannot be automatically extended to areas outside of laser and quantum physics, and secondly, let’s give Uri credit—Uri is obviously good at what he does.