by James Randi
(11) The Bending and Breaking of Metal
Geller used to exploit, whenever he could, the great strength in his hands, so that he would bend the key or spoon before it was examined. When the object was given to him before he could prepare it, he used a special chemical that he could smear on it after he put his fingers into his pocket. After one of his appearances, in a town called Naharia, Geller invited his cohorts to supper in a restaurant called Fin John, and when the waiter presented him with the bill Geller said he was known as a “cheapskate” and if he could bend the fork without touching it, would they forego the bill? The waiter agreed, and Geller, who had the chemical already in his hand, bent the fork. But because this was not done in an open place, his friends who were sitting close discovered the funny chemical smell from the fork.
(12) The Prick of a Needle
(Here is described an unclear trick in which it is claimed Geller used “hypnotism” to cause a spectator to be insensitive to the stab of a needle. I have no idea what is referred to, nor can any one of my translators solve the description.)
1 This conflicts with information from other sources, who say that his name was Hermann Steinschneider. But it is obviously the same man, regardless of what name he used.
2 An Israeli intelligence-gathering organization like the CIA.
3 This is the article wording provided me by the translator. It appears that a better translation here might be: “He was dismissed from an officer’s training course.. . .” There is no suggestion that he was cashiered.
4 Here’s Rule #1 again!
5 See the end of this chapter, trick number 8.
ALAN SPRAGGETT THROWS DOWN THE GAUNTLET, THEN THE TOWEL
Homo vult decipi; decipiatur.
I first met Alan Spraggett some years ago on the “Long John Nebel Show” when it was on NBC radio. Spraggett had just written a book titled The Unexplained and I had appeared to counter some of the claims he was putting forth for various wonder-workers. Spraggett seemed to believe, as do most psychic investigators, that he was quite qualified to detect any trickery performed in his presence. By the end of the radio program, we each understood that there was a wide gulf between us when it came to judging these phenomena, and the qualifications necessary to judge them.
Spraggett authors a newspaper column that is syndicated throughout the United States and Canada; it is entitled “The Unexplained” as well. He is well-known in Canada and conducts a television show on the Global Television Network, “E.S.P.—Extra Special People.” I was invited to be his guest during a visit to Canada in November 1974. Since my friend Walter Gibson—a confidant of Houdini who, under the nom de plume Maxwell Grant, created “The Shadow”—was to be a guest as well, I gladly accepted. But I expected that I would come under some considerable fire.
Spraggett had, a few days before, attended the annual Houdini séance at the Houdini Magical Hall of Fame Museum in Niagara Falls. At that (as usual, fruitless) attempt to recall the spirit of the famous magician, some rather strange events had occurred. A vase of flowers on a bookshelf had toppled over and a book had fallen open at a page displaying a poster of Houdini asking, “Do Spirits Return?” Spraggett had been less than enthusiastic over the occurrence, evidently suspecting that I’d had something to do with the event. He was right, and this is the first time that I’ve admitted it. But he was wrong as well. I had “seen him coming,” as they say, and really gave him a demonstration of how a victim is pulled into the net.
My good friend Moses Figueroa was with me, as he has been for many important events in my life, and between us we set out to put Alan in a position where he had to arrive at certain conclusions.
Early in the day, we spirited away (if you will pardon the expression) a vase that held a huge bouquet of gardenias and carnations. In our motel room, we prepared it with a plasticine partition down the middle, so that water could be retained in either section. A matchstick “plug” was inserted near the bottom of the plasticine, so that if water were in one side, removal of the plug would allow the water to leak slowly from that side to the other, changing the balance. We placed the vase back into its original position, balancing it carefully with water in the back section, with a book opened and perched in the flowers out of sight. A small string was fastened to the plug and thence to a bead hanging beside the vase.
As the television lights were being set up, we put the master plan into action. Moses obtained a length of thread and we made sure that one of the technicians saw him trailing it behind him. I figured that everyone would be questioned afterward in order to dig up evidence, and I preferred that a false solution (all laymen think tricks are done with threads, anyway) would be easily available. It worked to perfection.
At the start of the séance, I was scheduled to perform one of the Houdini tricks—the escape from a sealed can full of water. I used the original equipment Houdini used, and Moses and I figured that the audience would be so captivated by the show that he would have time to remove the plug in the vase via the bead and string. That’s exactly how it happened. As I was emerging, to applause, from the curtained cabinet, Moses reached for my robe and pulled the plug. We knew we had at least fifteen minutes before the vase would topple. It proved to be much longer. As I sat at the table and listened to the medium drone on, I felt the stupid thing would never tumble. Reporters kept on getting in front of it, though they had been specifically asked not to, and Moses had a heck of a time keeping them clear. Finally I saw it begin to tilt, and Moses gave me the high sign. A minute after the medium asked for the third time for a sign from the departed, there was a gasp from the crowd as the entire thing leaned forward majestically and fell to the floor. It was a beauty of a trick, if I do say so myself.
But Spraggett was outraged, and on radio that night he mentioned my battle with Uri Geller, challenging me to “put up or shut up.” If I could do the act, then I had better do it, he said. And he invited me to appear on the show; I accepted, but said I would not give a performance.
That Sunday, I arrived at the Global studio soaking wet from a heavy rain and met Mr. George Owen, a parapsychological “researcher,” there. He astonished me with an accusation.
“We caught you, Mr. Randi! We saw what you did on that Mike Douglas TV show. You made a big mistake!”
I asked him what in the world he was talking about.
He explained. “When you did the trick with the film cans [he was referring to the bit using ten aluminum film cans in which the performer identifies the one can that contains a hidden object] you used that chap, your assistant that you came to Canada with the last time! We recognized him! He was your stooge!”
I got Owen a bit calmed down, and found he was claiming that the man who had sealed up the hidden object in the film can was the same person I’d visited him with about a year before! I was stunned. The person I had visited Canada with was my foster son, who was about five foot eight, had a mop of curly hair, and was seventeen years old! The person who appeared with me on the Douglas show was Roger Miller, who is hardly seventeen, is much taller and heavier, and does not any more resemble the kid than Charlie Chaplin resembles Robert Redford! (And I’d never met Roger Miller before in my life!) Yet George Owen had come up with this fantastic solution to my performance and was convinced of it.
A bit shaken by all this, I was welcomed to the control room at Global and dried off a bit. An interview was already under way and I watched it on the monitors. I was not particularly apprehensive, since I was not under any pressure to perform, and was there only to be interviewed.
Spraggett finished that show (they were taping for later playback) and, upon being told I’d arrived, said that he would take me next. I entered the studio, and we started in. Spraggett began by giving me a big build-up, and then headed into the Geller matter. Though I’d said that I wasn’t there to perform, but might do a demonstration of something Gellerish, he tried to high pressure me into the whole act. I was angry. He had no right to expect me to produce the
same as Geller when I was not given the option of “passing” and when he was obviously out to trap me—since with Geller he had approached the matter already believing. I decided to pull some of the real goods out of the hat.
Now, there is a technique to the “con” game that involves winning a little, then losing, then seeming to be ready to lose very big, in order to reel in the victim. I launched the attack.
First, Spraggett took from his desk two large silver soup spoons. They appeared to have been well worn at the tips, and they were antiques. He challenged me to bend them.
While he held on the handles, I stroked the bowls. He discarded one, and we concentrated on the other. He agreed that at no time did I put undue pressure on them. After a moment, the spoon suddenly became plastic, sheared off, and broke into two pieces. But Spraggett was not amused.
He “explained”: “The spoon was bent as you were picking it up—uh—and—uh—this is a phenomenon of course of—in previously bending it so that there is a stress point, and then with a little bit of leverage, it separates quite neatly.”
FIGURE 1 (left). On the “ESP” show, Randi holds a carefully guarded spoon supplied by Alan Spraggett, the host. Note no fractures or kinks are visible in the spoon.
FIGURE 2 (right). The spoon is lightly held by both persons; Spraggett’s hand is on the left.
FIGURE 3 (left). Rocked up and down and stroked lightly, the spoon is about to break.
FIGURE 4 (right). The spoon begins to “melt” just above the bowl.
FIGURE 5 (left). The spoon continues to bend plastically, held between thumb and forefinger.
FIGURE 6 (right). The spoon finally parts, revealing a jagged fracture.
Me: “You mean, that’s the way Geller does it?”
Alan: “No, but that’s the way you did it!”
Me: “Oh, you say Geller doesn’t do it that way?”
Alan: “Geller may—Well, let me put it this way, I have seen Geller... bend spoons and knives, and I said I was quite sure at the time, and have been ever since, that that was fraudulent....”
Then why, may I ask, if Spraggett was so convinced that the Geller thing was a fraud, did he ask me to try this “Geller test”? He said (see above) that Geller does not use the method he described, but that whatever thing he does do to the spoons is “fraudulent”! Pardon me if I’m confused at this point. Besides, Spraggett’s description of the spoon trick I’d just done doesn’t hold up when you examine the stills taken from the tape. (See Figures 1-6.) It would have been impossible to do what Spraggett described while he was holding the spoon, and he kept the spoons under strict control before and during the performance, of course.
I was ready now for Step 2.
Spraggett produced a nail from his pocket. Now those who have seen me on any number of television shows bending huge spikes and such will be confident that I could have easily done the same with the small nail Spraggett presented to me. It was a flimsy finishing nail about three inches long. But I had to swallow and look worried in order to get the hook in deeper. And it went in deep!
Spraggett explained that he had gone to a great deal of trouble “to protect myself, against people like you, who imply that all psychical researchers are nitwits. . . .
He said it, not me!
But I refused the nail, and he began to get back a bit of his color. He reached into his inner jacket-pocket and extracted what appeared to be a pre-stamped envelope, sealed with transparent tape. He described to me and to the viewers what he had done “to protect himself concerning Geller.
“I went to great pains that he could not be aware of what was in the sealed envelope. I posted a guard at the door . . . He asked me to go away, anywhere I chose, use my own paper and draw something, put it in a sealed envelope and bring it back with me, which I did.
“Now, I’ve done the same here. He did not have any opportunity to eavesdrop. I posted a guard at the door. I used my own paper. I didn’t even write on the desk surface for fear of some secret carbon. I was almost paranoid.”
I commented, “Very good thinking!”
Spraggett continued, “I put it up against the wall and made the drawing. I put it in an opaque envelope and held the envelope up to the light [he demonstrated with the sealed envelope] to be sure it was opaque—and it was. Then, Geller took it—and I’m going to allow you to—and held it between his palms for ten seconds. Then I took it and put it in my pocket [he did this] and Geller reproduced the drawing virtually exactly.”
Me: “In other words, you’re saying that these conditions cover all the possibilities, and that your conclusion, therefore, is that—“
Alan: “No! No, what I’m saying is, let’s see you do that. That’s all I’m saying.”
Me: “And if I could do it, what would you say?”
Alan: “I would be very impressed. I’d be extremely impressed.”
Me: “But would you be impressed enough to say that I’m a psychic?”
Alan: “I don’t know. I would have to consider that. But I would certainly say that you’re a hell of a lot better magician than I think you are!”
Me: “Wait a minute. You say that Uri Geller is a psychic because he did this?”
Alan: “Well, let’s see you do it!”
Me: “Now, wait a minute. I want to get a conclusion from you. You say that Uri Geller is a psychic because he did this. Now if / were able to do it, would you say I’m a psychic?”
Alan: “You do it, and I’ll say that the Amazing Randi has amazed me.”
Me: “But you know, if I were able to do it, I would like to have a confession from you—that / have done as well as any psychic you’ve seen.”
Alan: “Well, let’s put it this way. Go away and think about it, and if you can come up with a modus operandi, I’d like to know about it.”
Me: “How much time have we left?”
Alan: “If Geller duped me, I would honestly like to know how he did this particular trick. Now, I described it to a number of magicians, and they cross-examined me. I showed my awareness of some of the trick methods—“
Me: “Give me ten seconds.”
The victim was impaled. He had evaded all my questions, was unwilling to allow that this test was capable of proving whether I was really a psychic, or whether he would have to rethink a lot of his decisions about the so-called wonders he’d witnessed. He simply could not believe that I could tell him the contents of an envelope that he had concealed in his inner pocket, drawn twenty-four hours before in the privacy of his own home, the only persons knowing the secret being himself and his wife. By his own admission, the security was as tight as it could be. He had brought to bear all the skill he could muster to be sure I would fail the test—unless I was really a psychic, and could divine the secret by supernormal means.
He now removed the envelope from his pocket and placed it upon my hand. I covered it with my other hand for ten seconds, and handed it aside. I asked for a pad and felt-tip marker. In full view of a television camera, I made a drawing, turned it face down, and asked, “Would you like to open the envelope, Alan?”
He did so, unfolded a small sheet of blue paper, and revealed a drawing of a tugboat with two decks, in the waves, with a single smokestack pouring smoke to the right.
FIGURE 7. Randi holds the Spraggett sealed envelope between his hands for ten seconds. The envelope had been prepared twenty four hours before in Spraggett’s home and kept under tight security.
I asked: “Am I a psychic if I’ve reproduced that, Alan? Yes, or no?”
Alan: “If you’ve reproduced it, you’re quite extraordinary.”
Me: “But I’m not a psychic?”
Alan: “You’re extraordinary. I’d have to consider . . .”
I showed the drawing. It was identical in every respect to the one he’d drawn twenty-four hours before.
Me: “Am I extraordinary, Alan?”
Alan: “That’s—quite extraordinary, Randi.”
Me: “I feel so.”
Alan: “Quite extraordinary.”
Me: “Have I proved anything to you?”
Alan: “Look, we have to take a break . . .”
We took a commercial break, and when we returned, Spraggett finally answered a direct question.
Said he: “One thing I have learned is that it is a mistake to underestimate the prowess and ingenuity of a magician.”
Later, he added, “I remain unrepentantly skeptical about your writing off Geller immediately. And give me two days and I’ll drop you a line and tell you how you did this. Okay? It might take me that long to figure it out, although I think—I think I will have figured it out—probably in an hour. I did the numbers trick that you did at the séance. It fooled me for a moment. . .” Spraggett then commenced to give me an incorrect version of a prediction trick that I had performed in Niagara Falls. He was wrong, but I’m sure he is convinced he has the solution.