by James Randi
He called many times over the period of a week, but I purposely did not call him back, so that he would he a bit more anxious to see me. He was told by conjuror Billy McComb that I was “being tested at a lab” and would call him when I was free.
Finally, on a Wednesday, I was “free,” and called Jones. He was ready to see me almost right away, but I again put him off till that afternoon. Finally I showed up—mounting several sets of stairs to Jones’s office—dressed in blue jeans, bright yellow shirt, and bat-shaped belt buckle. Such a costume is bound to throw anyone off.
The miracles began. In all, I made his own teaspoon get plastic and finally break while he held both ends, I bent another spoon while a woman in the next office had it beside her teacup, made a paper-knife in the other room assume an S shape, ran two clocks ahead two hours, made two keys in filing cabinets bend some 30 degrees, bowed a steel fork; and finally we discovered that one piece of the broken teaspoon had adopted a severe 40-degree bend while we weren’t looking. Jones was impressed, as were the women in the next office.
I filled their heads with all manner of appropriate stories about my wonderful childhood. They ate it up. To clinch matters, in case there was any doubt about my authenticity, I left behind on the floor a half-sealed letter directed home. It contained drivel about the wonders the British scientists were discovering about me and how pleased I was to be going to an interview with Psychic News. I figured that if it were found and peeked at, it would put the final nail (a bent one, of course!) into the coffin.
Psychic News’s press deadline was Tuesday. I wanted to keep my identity under wraps until the article saw print, since I had several other persons to see while still “in disguise” as either a psychic or a reporter. David Berglas could of course have done this whole swindle himself, except that he would be instantly recognized in his own country, whereas I had changed so much in appearance since my last professional visit to Britain that I could get away with it easily.
The article did not appear the following Tuesday, and when I called Mr. Jones, as Zwinge, he explained that there had been heavy coverage of some sort of spiritualist conclave or other and that he would probably run it a week later. I worried that perhaps Bastin, now well aware that the Enemy was at the gates, might inform Psychic News I was in the area—and that they would put it all together. In that case, I risked never seeing the piece in print. Feeling that there was little chance of the imposture running full course, I returned to the United States to continue work on this manuscript.
Then, on the morning of July 24, I called home routinely and Jim, my assistant, was in a flap. Dr. Christopher Evans had called from London to announce that a new psychic star had been born. Zwinge had bamboozled Psychic News!
I waited until the following Monday for the paper to reach me in the mail. When it finally arrived, I was stunned. I was featured, grotesque picture and all, smack on the front page! The headline announced, “Sceptic Sends Psychic to Put PN in a Twist.”
Jones began with a description of how the “archsceptic” Joe Hanlon had brought me to his attention as Zwinge, saying that Jones was probably better suited to handle these matters. He suspected what he called a “send-up” (we’d say “put-on”) but was reassured when called by another magazine, as well, about my mysterious powers. He continued:
Having established the ground to my satisfaction I then sought Jim Zwinge. It was not easy. He too proved elusive. After several phone calls calls and messages left round town I waited.
Again my patience was rewarded. Zwinge called. I invited him to my office to be “investigated.” He agreed.
An engaging extrovert, with grey beard and intense eyes, he seemed to radiate a magnetic aura.
Before asking him to demonstrate his power, I asked about his background. A freelance writer for “Time” magazine, he lives in New Jersey, U.S.
Poltergeist disturbances happened at his home near Toronto when he was 15 Wine bottles exploded mysteriously, alarming his family.
“My father used to make his own wine. These bottles would explode spectacularly. A piece would break off into a long slice.”
Prof. T. K. Lawson of Toronto University investigated the phenomenon. He took Zwinge to his laboratory for scientific tests.
Breaks in Two
Now Zwinge is making his own investigation. He approached Hanlon in London “and bent a couple of things for him, mostly keys. He was busy and mentioned PN as being my best bet for testing this ability.”
The action then began. I did not realize what PN and “Two Worlds” offices were in for!
I collected a teaspoon from “Two Worlds.” As he stroked it lightly Zwinge told me he “gets a sticky feeling. It’s like running your finger over clear glass.”
I touched the spoon ends as he stroked it. Suddenly it seemed to shudder. Then it broke cleanly in two.
I was impressed. Next we were summoned into the adjoining “Two Worlds” office. We found the occupants, Lilian and Mary, excitedly proclaiming, “Look at the paper knife.”
Lilian had used it that morning to open the mail. It was perfectly straight then. Now its handle had curved an astonishing 45 degrees.
All could vouch Zwinge had not been near it. Up to that point he had not entered their office.
Later another “Two Worlds” employee, Mona Bethune, announced, “My tea spoon has bent!”
It was perfect when she stirred the tea a few moments earlier.
By now the excitement was growing. These supernormal incidents seemed to galvanize Zwinge. He leapt enthusiastically round the office seeking articles to bend.
We became alarmed. Would our typewriters suddenly cease to function? Could he snarl up the PN production line?
A colleague hastened to the editor to declare, “They are going great guns upstairs!”
An explosive remark of some validity!
By now further malfunctions were discovered. Mary noticed her clock had suddenly gained two hours. It had been correct earlier.
A glance at my office clock showed it fast by 2 ½ hours! Certainly Zwinge had no opportunity to interfere with them. He had been under constant surveillance.
Twist Is Delayed
I had not left his side, or taken my eyes from him, for one second. I was determined to be an objective reporter. I was fully alert to any suspicious moves. But Zwinge made none.
At one stage he stroked a fork. He seemed unable to make any impression. But after he left I discovered it had twisted noticeably.
Mary also found a filing cabinet key had bent in the lock.
Zwinge told me: “This supernormality doesn’t happen in my home. It’s always elsewhere.”
I will not attempt to list the gross errors in this account, except to mention that Mr. Jones did not invite me to his office—he asked me if we could meet somewhere, and I suggested his office! You may think this a small point to make, but it is only an indication of how he did things my way after I’d made it so difficult for him to reach me; he was very anxious to interview me, and I had agreed to a meeting in spite of my very busy schedule.
Why was this imposture so readily accomplished? Peter Jones is a man of intelligence, one not apt to fall for such a “send-up,” we would imagine. But it is just such a person who falls for the confidence man, given good enough reasons to believe in the bona fides of the perpetrator. When I sat down to be interviewed by Jones, I knew that I would have to give him ample evidence, not only of my paranormal abilities, but also of my past history.
I combined just about every acceptable story I’d ever heard and came up with poltergeist beginnings, followed by my own bewilderment at these wonderful happenings. I differed just enough from the standard stories to make it sound original and threw in just enough new stuff (the metal felt “sticky” when it was preparing to bend) to freshen it all and make it appealing.
So what now, believers? If you had read that issue of Psychic News, you’d have snapped up this new discovery easily! And you’d have used t
he account as glowing, incontrovertible proof of psychic powers! What makes this evidence any less valid than other similar evidence? Simply the fact that I tell you all these wonders were done under those “rigid” conditions by sheer fakery! It was tricks and nothing more.
At this point I want to assure my reader that, in my opinion, Mr. Jones is a thoroughly honest and honorable gentleman. I should feel badly if anyone got any other idea from this account. He accepted what he thought was a forthright account from a genuine psychic and had ample reason for doing so. I happen to be rather good at my business. And I am assured of this opinion of his honesty when I observe the letter that I had planted in which eventually arrived at my home in the United States, with correct postage affixed. I had prepared it in such a way that I could tell if it had been opened. It had not been opened, and it would have been easy for Jones to have done a bit of snooping. He is as honest a man as I’ve ever met. I doubt that / would have resisted the temptation to peek. But then I’ve never claimed to be honest either.
Consider, then, how easy it had been for Uri Geller to flimflam reporters in similar circumstances! He arrives thoroughly authenticated by the press and a few minor scientists, or so it seems. The rest is a piece of cake, since he is an experienced conjuror. The conclusion is inescapable: any person with conjuring ability and any sort of a good story or reputation can become a “psychic” overnight. It is evident that I myself could have launched a career as a genuine psychic marvel on the strength of this front-page article in Psychic News. Of course I’d not intended to do so, but it was certainly within my grasp at that point.
I was flattered to appear in this particular issue of Psychic News, which also revealed to us the wonderful empty overcoat that walks the streets of Cairo, advertised the highly useful “thought bricks,” and celebrated the happy circumstance that such messages are being brought to “those who live in darkness.” Thank you, I’ll take darkness.
My apologies, Mr. Jones, and to the ladies as well. Perhaps the next time someone tells or shows you something impossible, you will all think more than twice. There is no Santa Claus.
I refer my reader to the Appendix of this book. There are two newspaper articles reproduced there that date from 1950. The “psychic” referred to is myself, and I was twenty-two years old at the time. I was to drop the entire pretense of being the real thing shortly after this run of articles appeared (there were dozens more), because I could not picture myself becoming a religious figure, as was bound to happen. In these interviews, I followed the same procedure that I did in England for Psychic News, the same method used by Geller and Shipi to confound news people today. As you can see, it is very successful.
I, too, could have become a Geller. But I have too much respect for myself and for my fellow human beings to assume divine airs.
1 This is not his real same. I have changed it to save him embarrassment.
A CENTURY AGO: SAME GAME, DIFFERENT PERSONNEL
Glendower: I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
Hotspur: Why, so can I, or so can any man; But will they come when you do call for them?
—Shakespeare: Henry IV, Part I
Uri Geller is anything but unique. His kind have flashed on and off the world scene for centuries. But the Cagliostros of recent history are more easily discussed than those who held forth previously, since their impact on mankind has been better documented. Certainly no practitioner of the elusive arts has been better recorded than Geller, however. Every trivial feat he has ever performed is carefully set down by his admirers, though not every exposure is so carefully noted.
Let us consider his antecedents. Back in the 1870s, a sensation was being created by one “Dr.” Henry Slade, an American whose career runs such a very striking parallel with that of Uri Geller that it will serve us well to look into it for research purposes. We will discover a score of rather remarkable similarities between the trickster of a century ago and the space-age Israeli of today.
Henry Slade was a “spirit-medium.” For those of you not versed in the very specialized jargon of spooky stuff, this denotes a person who is able, through “divine dispensation,” to act as a conductor, or medium, between this humdrum world and the next (much more exciting) sphere of existence. Much sitting about in darkened rooms holding hands and singing “Rock of Ages” is usually required to conjure up shades of departed loved ones through these channels.
But old Henry had a somewhat different gimmick. He claimed (though he was not unique in these claims) that he could cause the ghosts to write their thoughts and messages upon common school slates. It was found necessary to have the slates in such a position that they could not be seen (spirits being such shy critters, as you may have suspected) and usually Slade would hold them beneath a table, from where scratching noises could be heard. When the slate was then exposed, lo! there were inspiring messages from beyond to be seen and marveled at.
Slade attracted the attention of more than one prominent scientist of the day, and these men fully supported his claims in the face of damning proof against the medium that only a simpleton could deny. Slade was so very convincing to one scientist, a very respected Austrian astrophysicist named J. C. F. Zollner, that the man wrote an entire book, Transcendental Physics, about the Slade tricks. In it, he declared Slade to be absolutely genuine.
The medium eventually was caught red-handed several times at his business, and finally signed a confession. He died in disgrace—that is, in disgrace to all but the woolly-brained confirmed believers, for nothing will serve to convince them that such a performer is without special powers. Nevertheless, I feel that my reader is beginning to recognize the territory, if not the story, so let us consider the many points of close similarity between the careers of “Dr.” Henry Slade (deceased) and Mr. Uri Geller (very much with us).
I will outline the parallels individually, discussing Geller’s case along with the Slade details.
A group of scientists working as the Seybert Commission was organized by the University of Pennsylvania, following the Zollner book, to look into the Slade matter. It turned in findings that damned Slade as an outright impostor and fraud. They found not one of his tricks that they could not solve. In the book The Supernatural?, by Dr. Lionel A. Weatherly and J. N. Maskelyne (the famous British conjuror) the details of the exposure are outlined. The account goes on to say:
They also went to the expense of sending the Secretary of the Commission, Mr. George S. Fullerton, to Germany, to inquire into the real facts of the famous investigation made by Professor Zoellner of Slade and his slate-writing, and of which so much has been made by the Spiritualists. In summarizing the conclusions at which he arrived, Mr. Fullerton says:—
“Thus it would appear that of the four eminent men whose names have made famous the investigation, there is reason to believe one, “Zoellner,” was of unsound mind at the time, and anxious for experimental verification of an already accepted hypothesis; another, “Fechner,” was partly blind, and believed because of Zoellner’s observations; a third, “Scheibner,” was also afflicted with defective vision, and not entirely satisfied in his own mind as to the phenomena; and a fourth, “Weber,” was advanced in age, and did not even recognize the disabilities of his associates. No one of these men had ever had experiences of this sort before, nor was any one of them acquainted with the ordinary possibilities of deception. The experience of our Commission with Dr. Slade would suggest that the lack of such knowledge on their part was unfortunate.”
Thus exit the celebrated Zoellner investigation.
Slade turned to drink following a full confession of his chicanery. The English Illustrated Magazine of January 1895 reported, “The famous ‘Dr. Slade,’ who created such excitement in London in 1876 and made so much money with his slate-writing, was recently taken to a workhouse in America, penniless, friendless, and a lunatic.” He died there, in 1905.
There are sixteen points about the Slade case that agree with Geller’s case; the seventeenth has
as yet no equivalent with Geller. I will list these points for comparison:
1. THE EXPERIMENT IS NOT PERFORMED WHEN PRESENTED. IT IS SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETED ONLY AFTER SEVERAL TRIES. Zollner mentions frequently throughout Transcendental Physics that Slade seems seldom to have performed the tests planned when first presented with them.
One classic test involved knots in strings. Zollner had postulated a simple but beautiful idea to account for all of the Slade miracles. He outlined a fourth-dimensional theory that need not concern us here, but which required that the performer be able to do such things as tie a simple knot in a piece of string while both ends were under control. Zollner set out to arrange for such a test.
He cut some lengths of string and in each he formed a closed loop by tying the ends together. Each knot was then encased in a blob of sealing wax and Zollner’s personal seal was impressed therein. He proposed that Slade attempt to tie knots in the body of the string, leaving the wax intact.