“I received hundreds of replies. They all said the same thing. They urged me to continue the work, to form a new organization, to carry on the program that was begun and abandoned.
“A reading was taken, and the same question was asked. The reading said to leave it to those who had been helped or benefited; if they thought the work was worth continuing, they would continue it.
“That is why this meeting was called. That is why you are here. You have been helped or benefited by the work. You want to see it continue. You want to form a new organization.”
He paused, as if there were nothing more to say. Then, slowly, he went on:
“All my life I’ve wondered what it is that comes through me. It could be of the devil; it could be of God; it could be just foolishness.
“If it were of the devil it would produce evil. To my knowledge it never has produced evil; I know that at times it has refused to do this.
“If it were of God it would produce good. I know that it has done some good; people have told me so. I have seen good come of it for members of my family. You people have seen good come of it, I’m sure, or you wouldn’t be here.
“Is it just foolishness then? Would foolishness make a man well if he were sick? Would foolishness make a child walk straight if he were lame?
“I have many memories of the hospital. I saw two men come in on stretchers. I saw them both walk out. I saw a girl come in on crutches. I saw her walk out without them.
“But the thing I will always remember is a summer day when I sat on the porch of the hospital with some friends. A man came out to thank me for a reading I had given for his wife.
“He was a Mennonite. You’ve seen them around the beach. They are a religious group; they live down in the country; they dress in simple clothes and the men do not shave their beards.
“Well, this one turned to my friends and asked them if they all knew about me and my work. They said they did. Then he asked each one his religion, and each told him. There was an Episcopalian, a Methodist, a Baptist, a Presbyterian, and a Catholic.
“‘And you all believe in this man?’ he said.
“They said they did. He tapped me on the shoulder and said,
“‘That is a great thing.’
“Some of you here today may feel the same way. I hope so. Because it is for that thing—that great thing—that we are considering forming a new Association.
“I can go on giving readings for those who ask for them. I will do that anyhow. I always will, no matter what happens.
“But if it is ever to be anything else; if it is ever to mean anything to groups and masses of people; if it is ever to add one bit—however small—to the goodness of the world or its wisdom; it is up to you and the others who believe in it.
“I’m ready to do my part, and I’ll do it as well as I can.”
He sat down. Dave got up and told of his sixteen years of experience with the readings.
“They have never let me down. So far as I know they have never let anyone down,” he said. “It’s the people themselves who have failed.”
Others spoke, telling of their interest in the work, the results they had obtained from readings. Dr. Brown suggested a name for the new organization: The Association for Research and Enlightenment. The title was adopted, and officers were elected. The meeting adjourned and a free-for-all pep rally started. Everyone assured Edgar that it wouldn’t be long before either the hospital was reopened or a new one built.
In July the new Association was incorporated, with the same specified purpose as its predecessor. In the same month Edgar legally returned to Morton the house on Thirty-fifth Street. Forced to move in midsummer, when places to rent were few and prices high, the family trekked to a lonely house between the Cavalier and Cape Henry, on the ocean front and in full view of the closed hospital. It was a sad safari. Edgar hired a truck and Hugh Lynn, Gray, and Tommy, who had come from Hopkinsville with his mother for a visit, did the moving. They took the chickens first and put up a yard for them. Lastly they brought the precious readings. Atlantic University meanwhile was conducting a summer session in the high school building at Oceana, a few miles from the beach. Dr. Brown felt that if he could hold some of the students for the summer and keep his movement among the people of Norfolk, Portsmouth, and Princess Anne County active, the idea of getting behind the school as a local project would crystallize and the school could open in the fall.
The summer session was successful. The Atlantic University Association was founded by civic-minded people of the surrounding communities, and the school was able to open. Its football team had a full schedule, there was a school song, a school newspaper—The Atlantic Log—and a dramatic organization. But there was practically no money; the biggest asset was enthusiasm. The professors, unpaid, began to suffer for the necessities of life—food, clothing, rent, heat for their homes. They ran up embarrassing bills at the grocery stores; they were forced to accept charity from the residents of the beach. One day a fish market donated a truckload of mackerel, and the auditor of the university made personal deliveries to the wives of the faculty members. They were glad to get the fish.
Edgar discovered that the new Association was in much the same fix as Atlantic University. Its main asset was enthusiasm. People on the whole were friendly; they wanted to be helpful; but they had no money. Businessmen, harassed by the depression, were in no mood for philanthropy. They had but one question: “What can Cayce do to help me in my business?” When they were told that he gave help to the sick or those in spiritual need, they were not interested.
In October, Edgar, Gertrude, and Gladys went to New York to talk things over with their friends and see what could be done. They stayed at the Victoria Hotel, at Seventh Avenue and Fifty-first Street, and gave readings daily for members of the Association. In the evenings, meetings of strategy were held regarding the hospital. The consensus was that a new building, or a fund to purchase the old building, would have to wait.
“This is going to be a long depression,” one of the men said gloomily. “It may last ten years.”
Edgar shuddered inwardly. He was fifty-four. Would he be alive in ten years?
On November 7th the family was packed and ready to leave for the beach. Two women, residents of the hotel, had for a week been trying to get a reading. All the time had been occupied; Gladys had given them an application blank and told them to fill it out and send it to the Association’s office at the beach. The woman who wanted the reading—the other was her companion—said she needed it badly.
Early in the afternoon the Association member who had the reading appointment canceled it. Gladys telephoned the ladies in the hotel and told them they might have the time, if they still wanted it. They came to the suite, the reading was given, and the Cayces were arrested for fortunetelling. The ladies were policewomen.
For Edgar it seemed the end of the world. The road on which he had started with Layne thirty-one years before had come to the destination he had been afraid from the beginning it might reach. He was headed for jail. With Gertrude and Gladys he blinked at the photographer’s flash bulbs. The judge sealed the papers in the case and seized the plates of the photographs taken in court to prevent prejudgment by the newspapers. But as they stepped into the street, free on bail, the bulbs flashed again, and that night they saw themselves in the tabloids. Reporters haunted the lobby. They stayed in their rooms, listening to friends who tried to cheer them up. Outwardly, Edgar was calm. He even joked about the situation. Inwardly he was inconsolable.
From the beginning the case was thin. The policewomen had no warrant, they had not been solicited for the reading, and one of them had signed an application blank. She was thus a member of the Association when the reading was given. The blank had disappeared, and the reading itself had been confiscated; even so there was little evidence for the charge preferred. But these facts did nothing to alleviate the
misery and worry which settled on the defendants.
Local members of the Association rallied to their support. Lawyers were hired, a postponement was obtained, and when the case finally came to trial in West Side Court on November 16th, an adequate defense had been prepared. Thomas J. Ryan, a brilliant young attorney, appeared to represent them.
The prosecution was prepared for a routine case. Apparently the evidence taken by the policewomen—especially the literature pertaining to the Association—had not even been perused. An assistant from the district attorney’s office appeared to prosecute.
Magistrate Francis I. Erwin heard the testimony. The policewoman for whom the reading had been given said she had not signed an application blank, but she could not produce the blank on which Gladys had written her name and address. On cross-examination she admitted that in giving the suggestion Gertrude had said that the subject for the reading sought, not information, but “advice and counsel.” Her companion, in answer to a question by the court, admitted that she had been absent from the room for a period of time, during which the missing blank might have been signed.
Gertrude and Gladys testified that the blank had been signed. A statement of the Association’s incorporation, its purpose, and its bylaws, was put in evidence. Dave Kahn, as a trustee, testified to the fact that the Association was a philanthropic, nonprofit organization, which was formed to study the readings, and which employed Edgar to work for it. Edgar testified that all money received for readings was paid to the Association. “You claim you are a psychic?” Magistrate Erwin asked.
“No, sir, I make no claims whatsoever,” Edgar said. “May I tell my story?”
“Yes,” the magistrate said. “I would like to hear it.”
“For thirty-one years,” Edgar said, “I have been called or told that I was psychic. It first began as a child. I didn’t know what it was. When many people, who had asked me to do things for them, asked for advice and counsel, after it had gone for years, it was investigated by individuals.”
“And then the company was formed?” the judge asked.
“This company was formed to study the work,” Edgar said.
“And they pay you a salary?”
“They pay me a salary.”
“Do you go into a trance?”
“I do not know. I am unconscious.”
“You are unconscious?”
“Unconscious. It has been investigated by some scientists. Some call it hypnotic influence, some call it a trance.”
There was cross-examination. Then Magistrate Erwin, who had been watching Edgar closely, said, “Step down.
“Put this on the record. After seeing the people’s witnesses and the three defendants and their witness on the stand and observing their manner of testifying, and after reading the exhibits in the case, I find as a fact that Mr. Cayce and his codefendants were not pretending to tell fortunes, and that to hold these defendants guilty of a violation of Section 899 of the Code of Criminal Procedure, Subdivision 3, would be an interference with the belief, practice, or usage of an incorporated ecclesiastical governing body, or the duly licensed teachers thereof, and they are discharged.”
Gertrude and Gladys wept. Edgar stumbled out of the courtroom listening to Dave say, “I told you they’d never find you guilty!”
That afternoon Hugh Lynn, who had come up from the beach, bundled them into a car and started for home. They drove through the dusk in silence. Gertrude spoke once.
“Edgar, what is an incorporated ecclesiastical governing body?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Edgar said, “but it’s wonderful.”
—
Back at the beach the family held a council of war. Edgar felt hunted. He was bewildered, uncertain, wondering where the next blow would strike. He didn’t understand Morton’s attitude; he didn’t believe it possible for a man to believe so deeply in a thing and abandon it so casually. He had been stunned by his arrest. Was it another test of his faith in himself or had he in some way offended God? Should he go on, in spite of all obstacles, or cease before he destroyed himself and those he loved? Somehow he felt that he must go on. But toward what goal, now that a new hospital was out of the question?
“I don’t seem to understand anything,” he said, “or anybody.”
Hugh Lynn made a suggestion.
“Maybe there’s something wrong with us,” he said. “Suppose we stop expecting people to do things for us and start doing them for ourselves. The world doesn’t owe us a living because we have a psychic medium in the family; we ought to work for what we get just as everyone else does.
“In the first place, we don’t know anything about the thing we’re trying to sell. We look at the information as if it were a faucet. Just turn the tap and whatever we want flows out. We were going to give the world our wisdom—the wisdom that came out of the faucet when we turned the tap. We figured that it was our wisdom because we had the faucet.
“We don’t know anything about psychic phenomena. We have our own experiences, but we don’t know what else has been done in the field.
“What do we know about the Life Readings? Do we know history well enough to check the periods mentioned for people and give them a bibliography—a list of books and articles—with each reading? Certainly not!
“Do we know enough about philosophy, metaphysics, and comparative religion to check the readings on what is said in these fields?
“When a reading makes a statement and says it is a philosophical truth, do we know what philosophers believed the same thing, and what religions have it in their dogma?
“When a statement about anatomy, or about a disease, or about the use of a medicine or herb is made, do we know whether medical authorities believe the same thing, or condemn it, or know nothing of the matter?
“If a person asked us for everything the readings have said about appendicitis, or ulcers of the stomach, or migraine, or the common cold, or epilepsy, or marriage, or forgiveness of sin, or love, could we produce it? Certainly not. That work was barely begun when the hospital closed.
“I think it would be wise if we stopped looking for large donations, stopped dreaming of another hospital, and concentrated on developing a little stock-in-trade. Then, when the next chance comes, we’ll be better prepared, and we won’t muff it.”
“I don’t know how to do that sort of work—” Edgar began.
“You don’t have to do it,” Hugh Lynn said. “I’ll do it. Atlantic University is finished. I’ll take over the job of manager of the Association. We’ll keep it small; we’ll have a modest budget and a modest program.
“We’ll work quietly, by ourselves, with the help of the local people who are interested. We’ll start study groups. We’ll take series of readings on various subjects. We’ll build up a library on psychic phenomena.
“Then when people come and ask what we do, we can say something other than that we take two readings a day, send them to people who pay for them, and put copies in our files. That isn’t much for an organization that goes around under the name of The Association for Research and Enlightenment.”
“It’s all yours,” Edgar said. “You take it over. I’ll just give the readings.”
“And worry,” Gertrude said.
“I won’t worry.” A wave of relief swept over him. Not only was he glad to have a burden lifted from him; he was happy that Hugh Lynn had decided to give himself to the work. More than anything else that proved to Edgar that the thing was worthwhile. His son could not be wrong.
He walked out to the dunes, happy for the first time in many months. It meant so much more than anything in the world to have the people he loved believe in him. And their way was the best way. Not with ostentation, or show, or fanfare, to serve God; but with charity, humility, and grace.
Hugh Lynn was right. They had nothing to offer that would keep a person interested aft
er his wound was healed or his problem solved. They had no knowledge of their own profession; they had never taken inventory of their stock-in-trade. They had better do that. It would keep them busy, so that they could forget the past, and it would give them a future toward which they might work. He returned to the house feeling peaceful, content.
The program was begun right away. By Christmas it was producing results. Hugh Lynn came home waving a book and smiling.
“I’ve discovered that you’re a legitimate child,” he said to Edgar. “This is a book on hypnotism. I was reading about Mesmer’s experiments. Mesmer didn’t actually hypnotize his subjects, you know. Hypnotism was discovered by a follower of Mesmer, the Marquis de Puysegur. He discovered it accidentally in 1784, when he was trying Mesmer’s magnetizing procedure on a young shepherd named Victor.
“Victor went into a trance, a sleeping trance, and remained in it for some time. De Puysegur then found that the boy was apparently clairvoyant. He seemed able to diagnose the physical ailments of other people while in this trance! A whole fad was started, and people began to go to somnambulists instead of doctors. The writer of this book says it was a ‘wholly erroneous belief’ that the somnambulists could diagnose diseases, and the fad died out after the eighteen-twenties.
“But do you realize what that means? The first person ever hypnotized showed the same ability which you have!”
Edgar nodded, half pleased, half puzzled.
“What sort of fellow was he, this Victor?” he asked.
Hugh Lynn referred to the book. “Ordinarily,” he said, “he was a dull fellow.”
Edgar nodded again. “That would check with me,” he said.
Hugh Lynn went on, explaining:
“Hypnotism hasn’t advanced any since then. It is continually being investigated, damned, and exploited. Apparently the boys missed the boat over a hundred years ago; they abandoned the kind of things you do, and it’s been lost ever since. But we’ll show them! We’ve got records to prove that we’re right and they’re wrong!”
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