Audio on book,
Poland - Home of Mediums.
Also much on medium kluski. of
Zofia Weaver, Ph.D.

Abstract: The paper discusses Polish psychics and psychical researchers of the first half
of the 20th century. It sketches in the background against which psychical research
developed in Poland, and goes on to discuss in some detail the professional medium Jan
Guzik, and the two outstanding psychics of the period, Franek Kluski and Stefan
Ossowiecki.

Historical Background.

Harry Price, who referred to Poland as "home of mediums" (Price, 1939.) in a
chapter describing his visit there in August 1923, was not exaggerating unduly. Some
truly remarkable reports of psychic phenomena came out of Poland in the first half of
the 20th century, in the period preceding the Second World War. At the time they
attracted a great deal of interest from Western psychical researchers but, by now, for a
variety of reasons, they have been largely forgotten. Tales of days gone by, featuring
spectacular psychokinetic, materialising and clairvoyant feats such as never seem to
happen these days, may quite naturally be regarded by many as part of
parapsychology's folkore, rather than as evidence to be taken seriously. Yet, re-
examined within their cultural context, with due regard to the methods, beliefs and
personalities of both the investigators and the subjects, they are not quite so easy to
dismiss. This paper attempts to provide a wider background to what might be called
the golden age of Polish psychics.

Tracing the history of psychical research in Poland is complicated by the fact
that most of its records have been destroyed or fragmented, mainly during the
destruction of Warsaw towards the end of the Second World War. Many private
archives, as well as the archives of the Polish equivalent of the British Society for
Psychical Research, were lost, and even the National Library in Warsaw does not
possess a full set of extant copies of its journal. Primary sources are thus often difficult
to find, but fortunately information about the most interesting Polish psychics and
their investigators, scattered and fragmented though it is, can be gleaned from a
variety of other sources.

The interest in matters psychical in Poland followed a pattern similar to that of
the rest of Europe, and developed on a number of levels. D.D. Home's performances
in Paris were the subject of close interest to a number of members of the Polish émigré
community'. The "table-turning mania" of the second half of 19th century spread to

? The reaction, however, was on the whole one of disappointment in the undignified antics of
the "spirits", with at least one émigré, a famous poet, suspecting Home of having dealings with
the devil. (Krasinski, 1931).



Warsaw and other major centres of Polish culture'; at a more intellectual level there
was interest in the philosophical issues raised by the challenge science posed for
religion and the rising status of the scientific approach in shaping the prevalent world
view.

The Researchers.
Psychical research in Poland, as elsewhere, was not a recognised "scientific"
subject, and its development depended very much on the dedication and drive of a
small number of individuals, who shaped to a significant degree the direction it took.
In Poland's case, the two individuals who had the greatest influence in this area were
Julian Ochorowicz (1850-1917) and Piotr Lebiedzinski (1860-1934). Julian
Ochorowicz was a man of exceptional genius, with degrees and higher degrees in
philology, physics and mathematics, natural sciences, philosophy and psychology, as
well as being a highly successful inventor. He pursued his interest in hypnosis
working with Charcot and Janet during the 1880s. He worked with, and knew, most
of the psychical researchers of the day, such as Myers, Lodge and Richet. Many of the
results of his research with mediums have been published in the Annales des Sciences
Psychiques. His hypothesis of "ideoplasty" (i.e., that images created by suggestion can
be realised by the body, rather the way a blister can form when a person believes s/he
had been burned), first put forward in two papers presented to the Biological Society
in Paris in 1884, was influential among many researchers of the day (Ochorowicz,
1916/1996). Although today he is regarded as one of the founding fathers of Polish
psychology, during his life his interest in psychic phenomena damaged his academic
career and his scientific reputation. The tragic irony is that he was very much a "hard"
scientist (with a good knowledge of conjuring), insisting on experimenting in good
light, in well-controlled conditions; he was also uncompromisingly against
spiritualism and anything occult, rejecting any "supernatural" interpretation of the
mediumistic phenomena. His descriptions of the sittings he attended with fake
mediums and enthusiastic circles make hilarious reading; they also demonstrate that
informed scepticism as a useful research tool is not a modern invention (Ochorowicz,
1913-1915).

Piotr Lebiedzinski was a chemist by education and a great inventor of apparatus,
particularly relating to psychical research. He worked with Ochorowicz and was also
of the same "hard" scientist school. He was the founder of the Polish Society for
Psychical Research, established in 1914 in Warsaw, and one of its most active
members, (Szczepanski, 1936, p.48).

He had vast experience of investigating physical mediums. Neither he nor
Ochorowicz took the attitude "once a cheat, always a cheat" to mediums who were
exposed in fraud, which some of the SPR members adopted at the time'. However,



* Ochorowicz had sittings with Palladino, apparently very successful, in Warsaw in 1893-4, where she
produced phenomena in good light. He regarded attempts to cheat (which did take place in the Warsaw
sittings) as part of the mediumistic process, and would put a stop to them immediately. He disagreed
with the approach taken by some of the SPR investigators, which allowed cheating to go
unchecked and then condemning the medium as a fake (Ochorowicz, 1913-15).


some of Lebiedzinski's pronouncements on the standards one should demand in
researching such mediums clearly point to an uncompromising attitude: never agree to
conduct experiments in which visual control is not possible; never allow the
relaxation of controls already established; if possible, catch your mediums before they
know what they can do and get a chance to be corrupted by spiritualist circles.

In fact, the spiritualist movement was very weak in Poland, and that is the other
important feature of psychical research there. The chattering classes in Warsaw may
have flocked to séances in order to experience the thrill of seeing and being touched
by the not-too-closely-defined "phantoms", but that is not the same as seeking to
communicate with the dead through the mediumship of living persons. This was, and
still is, explicitly forbidden by the Roman Catholic Church whose influence in Poland,
not just on the social level, but also on personal and emotional level, was (and is) very
strong.

For a variety of historical and cultural reasons, the issue of proving "survival", so
prominent in psychical research in Britain, just does not arise in a situation where
survival at a level unreachable by science is taken for granted by the majority. This
does not, of course, preclude individuals from making attempts at communication
sittings, and some members of the Polish SPR did make them, but the most prominent
investigators took the view that they were dealing with human powers not as yet
understood. In so far as a belief influenced them, it seems to have been the belief that
they were on the brink of discovering a new branch of science; thus they set up
experimental conditions as conscientiously and described them as thoroughly as they
could.

This scientific spirit is represented by some of the most active members of the
Polish SPR. There was dr Tadeusz Sokotowski, a medical man, later professor, who
was chief hospital administrator for Warsaw hospitals in the period between the wars;
there was Stefan Rzewuski, whose background I have not been able to trace but who
was ruthless in exposing fraudulent physical mediums', there was the meticulous
Prosper Szmurio, a Treasury inspector and Honorary Editor of the Journal of the
Polish SPR. Ludwik Szczepanski, who was the editor of one of the main national
dailies during the 1930s, did a great deal to popularise a scientific rather than
sensationalist approach to the subject. They, and people like them, did not have the
facilities of a special laboratory, such as the International Metapsychical Institute
(IMI) in Paris where Geley experimented, or the National Laboratory established in
London by Harry Price; everything they did was in their spare time and with limited
resources, but they did have the necessary qualities of insatiable curiosity, lack of
presuppositions and an awareness of scientific methodology - in fact, all the essential
attributes which go to make a sound researcher.

This does not mean of course that they were proof against being fooled by a
sophisticated fraudster, or misplaced trust in a particular psychic, type of control or
line of interpretation. Their experimental work and reporting also varies in quality.
However, even though they may not have lived up to their own standards at all times,



it would hardly be fair to accuse them of naively seeking props for waning religious
beliefs, or lacking awareness of the possibility of their own bias.

The Early Psychics.

The psychics investigated by the researchers mentioned above included some
remarkable mediums. One of these was Stanistawa Tomezyk, the subject of many
reports by Julian Ochorowicz (Szcezepanski undated, Ochorowicz, 1910-1912). In the
years 1909-12 she produced some spectacular telekinetic feats, as well as a number of
secondary personalities, and apparently demonstrated her gifts in front of a scientific
commission. She was not a professional medium, but a girl who acquired her strange
powers after undergoing the trauma of imprisonment (Szczepanski, 1936, pp.34-35).
She went on to marry Everard Feilding, one of the researchers involved in
investigating her case, and a member of the British SPR. It has proved impossible so
far to find out whether she produced further phenomena after this.

Another Stanistawa, Stanistawa Popielska, was the subject of research by
Schrenck-Notzing and by Piotr Lebiedzinski. As a young, simple, barely literate
nineteen-year-old, she produced some impressive sittings for Schrenck-Notzing during
1912-13, involving the production of ectoplasm (although he regarded her phenomena
as less evidential than Eva C.'s, Schrenck-Notzing, 1923, p.252). According to
Szezepanski (1936, p.48), she was the medium from whom Lebiedzinski obtained in
1916 a piece of ectoplasm for the first time. She went on to become a professional
medium but, according to her obituary in 1938 (ilustrowany Kurier Codzienny
[Illustrated Daily Courier], 29/03/1938), her credibility was damaged after being
caught cheating by Osty in 1931. The psychic career of these ladies certainly deserves
re-examination but new material about them is difficult to obtain, and one can only
hope that further evidence might come to light even after all these years. They share
with many mediums a degree of anonymity, their only claim to our interest being the
phenomena they supposedly produced. Another medium who shares this characteristic
but belongs to a later period is Jan Guzik. He was investigated in detail by, among
others, Gustave Geley (Geley, 1924, pp.304-375), and his case history seems to follow
a pattern fairly typical of many physical mediums of the day.

Jan Guzik.
Jan Guzik (1876-1928) was a professional materialising medium. He came from
a poor working class background. In his childhood he was allegedly the source of
strange phenomena, with knocks, raps and movement of objects (effects often
described in poltergeist cases) following him about. He was taken up by enthusiastic
and naive followers of the paranormal, even going to St Petersburg to be studied by
Aksakov. He tried to make an honest living as a tanner, setting up a workshop in a
partnership outside Warsaw. This enterprise failed, so he returned to Warsaw and set
himself up as a professional medium (Szczepanski, 1936, pp.95-100). In his séances
(for which he had a professional manager) he produced raps, lights, apparitions,
apports, voices and automatic writing. Although he was frequently exposed for fraud



by both Polish and foreign investigators, and even ordinary visitors, he was a great
commercial success. Going to see Guzik was regarded by many as a fashionable form
of entertainment which he exploited. In the early 1920s he was giving two to three
séances a day, but would not submit to systematic studies or proper controls.
According to Szezepariski, Guzik seemed slow mentally and uninterested in anything
but money and his family (he was an excellent husband and father), but in fact he had
great powers of observation and self-control if one watched him carefully.

Ochorowicz refused to investigate Guzik, because he would not submit to the
required controls. Lebiedzifiski did work with Guzik, and while he does not directly
accuse Guzik of cheating, he does say that the early Guzik was much better, and
produced phenomena in a light strong enough to watch the faces and hands of the
medium and the participants (Lebiedzinski, 1924-1925). In December 1923 a
committee of Sorbonne professors declared him fraudulent. According to Wilhelm
Neumann, "From the fact that the actions at a distance produced by Guzik could have
been imitated by means of a leg movement and the fact that there were no phenomena
during four sittings when the controls were particularly severe, the professors have
drawn the remarkable conclusion that the medium had produced the phenomena
fraudulently." (Neumann, 1924/2002). Although in this case Guzik seems to have been
condemned on the basis of inference rather than evidence, Harry Price, who had a
sitting with Guzik in Warsaw in 1923, makes very specific accusations and describes
the medium as "one of the cleverest fakers I have ever met" (especially clever with his
feet), All the phenomena at the Harry Price séance were fraudulent, with the "animal"
apparition being produced with the help of a stocking with luminous spots painted on
for eyes, and the appropriate noises. It is thus hardly surprising that Guzik refused to
be tested in Harry Price's laboratory (Price, 1933, p.275).

It seems clear that, whatever gifts Guzik possessed early on, they were not
available to him on demand, and hardly at all in later life. Yet Gustave Geley describes
experiments with Guzik, both those at IMI and other locations in France, and in
Warsaw, as highly successful. He quotes a report signed by a number of distinguished
persons testifying that they were convinced by the reality of what they experienced.
Unfortunately, I have been unable to trace any accounts of sittings with Guzik by
Polish investigators. Such sittings undoubtedly took place (there are passing
references to them in other contexts) and reports would have been produced, but
presumably no records of them have survived. It is interesting to note that the
available account of sittings in a red light, with sitters controlling the medium's hands
and legs, does not report Guzik's usual phenomena, such as materialised animals or
apparitions (Neumann 1924/2002).

The fact that Guzik's phenomena made such an impression on Geley can be
interpreted in a number of ways. Although one tends to suspect defective experimental
conditions as the most likely cause, Geley himself is adamant that fraud was
impossible at the IMI séances, and indeed it is difficult to see how some of the
phenomena could have been produced under the prevailing conditions (Geley, 1924,
pp. 304-375), even taking into account the fact that the séances took place in total
darkness. It may indeed thus be the case that, when controls were imposed, Guzik
produced genuine phenomena; or that Geley was the kind of experimenter who brings
out the best in his subjects. It is difficult to ascertain from Geley's writing the



sequence of events at particular séances, and the exact state of controls at each stage,
since he tends to summarize effects rather than give point-by-point detailed accounts
of sittings. More importantly, Geley's style of reporting makes it difficult for a reader
without background knowledge to make a significant enough distinction between the
story of Jan Guzik and that of Teofil Modrzejewski, better known to psychical
researchers as Franek Kluski.


Franek Kluski. (1873-1943).

KLUSKI, THE UNIQUE POLISH MEDIUM.
To say Franek Kluski was an exceptional medium is an understatement. In séances while entranced he produced phantoms of hands, globes of light, and fully formed people and animals among other phenomena. In everyday life he exhibited startling wonders such as little "fires" seen inside his mouth or around his head.

For his séances he took the name Kluski, which are very ordinary Polish noodles; the medium who called himself Kluski was actually named Teofil Modrzejewski, a very extraordinary Polish gentleman, a banker, journalist and poet-with unique and outstanding capabilities and gifts.

Kluski in trance. Phantom of soldier behind him
Kluski in trance.
Phantom of soldier behind him.
The séance's organizer tested him and discovered that when Mr. M. held a magnet, violet flashes were seen emanating from both poles (small "p," no pun intended).  "Franek Kluski" was born.

KLUSKI'S PSYCHIC ORIGINS.
Psychic phenomena were always part of Kluski's life. His father was prone to spontaneous phenomena and often felt he was visited by the spirit of his own father who would materialize, scold him for drinking too much, and slap him if he showed any disrespect. His father's brother, a priest, was mediumistic and had telepathic visions.

With this kind of family, no wonder that little boy who would become Kluski began having precognitive visions and seeing phantoms, which he accepted as living beings, at around five or six years old.
ODD PHENOMENA AROUND KLUSKI

This very respectable businessman and scholar lived a very staid and normal life except for a few strange things. He would absorb odors to which he was exposed. For instance, if he walked down a street where lime trees were blossoming he would not only return home reeking of lime blossoms but would give off that aroma for days. He also seemed to absorb people's physical conditions when he was near them.

It was well known that when he came to the editorial office from which he worked, lights would flicker or be unreliable. The needles of compasses would deflect or spin if he was near them.

Little lights would be seen dancing about his head and body. While sharing a hotel room with an associate the man saw little "fires" in Kluski's mouth while he slept. He was also very rattled by electrical storms. He would become very agitated, have tingling in his limbs, and bluish flames could be seen escaping from the ends of his fingers. Storms would exhaust him; just as later he would become exhausted after a séance. He refused to hold séances during storms.

LIGHTS IN THE Séance.
These "electrical" or light phenomena were prominent in his séances, which were unique in the variety and number of lights and electrical effects. Most sessions would begin and end with lights of various sizes and colors flying around the darkened room. Many phantoms appeared lit from within or illuminating themselves with light streaming from their hands, often in shades of green.

Lights were not just spherical but formed various shapes and could be in shades of green, yellow, blue or red. Luminous clouds would often form, sometimes morphing into phantoms.

INVESTIGATING KLUSKI'S PHENOMENA.

At first Kluski demonstrated his abilities only for friends and acquaintances. Later he sat in many European cities for professors, businessmen, physicians, lawyers etc. as well as psychic investigators such as Geley and Richet in France, Fielding in England, and others.

Even the most skeptical witnesses came away convinced of the reality of his phenomena including a well-known magician, Geo Lange, who observed him on three occasions and was satisfied that the effects could not be produced by tricks.

KLUSKI'S WAX MOLDS.

One famous aspect of Kluski's mediumship was the wax molds, mostly of hands, made during his séances. A tub or basin of hot water with paraffin floating on it would be placed in the center of the table. While the medium lay senseless, head on the table, his hands and legs controlled, splashes would be heard, and sitters would often be spattered with the wax. They would hear a soft thump as something was deposited on the table or on their hands, and they could feel the warm, still-soft wax of the fragile molds.

Plaster casts made from wax molds of phantom hands.
Plaster casts made from wax molds of phantom hands.
The molds would cool quickly and once the lights were back on sitters would find hands of different sizes and shapes, some childlike in size. Often the hand would be clenched or in a position from which, if a human would attempt to free his/her hand from the wax, would find it impossible without breaking the mold.

GELEY AND RICHET'S EXPERIMENTS WITH KLUSKI.
Gustave Geley and Charles Richet of the Institut Metapsychique International (IMI) in Paris invited Kluski to participate in a series of séances where they hoped to provide evidence for the reality of his phenomena but also to try to find a "permanent paranormal object," that is, one that could not be created by normal means.

Kluski, in controlled experiments, produced the wax molds, which then were carefully filled with plaster, by the investigators, to preserve the fragile shapes. (They may still be seen at the IMI in Paris.)

To counter any accusations that wax molds were sneaked into the séance room Geley tinted the paraffin blue at the last minute. The molds produced that day were of the same blue-tinted wax. They repeated this procedure another day with cholesterol, with similar positive results.

The scientists asked Kluski to produce hands whose fingers were spread wide. He complied and the molds show hands with fingers splayed far apart. One looks a little like Mr. Spock's greeting with the middle finger separated from the ring finger a little wider than the others.

  
  

KLUSKI'S SIMILARITIES TO D.D.HOME AND INDRIDI INDRIDASON.
Kluski never took payment for his séance work and like D.D. Home and Indridason was never found to be fraudulent. He also produced a great variety of large-scale, indisputably distinct phenomena, which often took place spontaneously, and beyond his reach or at a distance from his person.

Like those other extraordinary mediums, too, he was of delicate health and developed tuberculosis. He was ill as a child and both his brother and sister died at an early age.

All three men produced phantom figures and lights. Kluski's phantoms often, like Cook's Katie King, resembled himself, especially at the beginning of his mediumistic work. Later on they would at times resemble him and then change into a different distinct entity, e.g., soldiers in complete, accurately accessorized uniforms.

However Kluski also produced animals including a large bird of prey and a kind of "ape man" the reports called a "Pithecantropus" or primitive man. This creature was covered with light brown hair and smacked its lips loudly. There were also mongoose-like animals that ran around the table and scrambled up sitters' arms.

SPONTANEOUS PK AROUND KLUSKI.

Like Indridason he caused poltergeist-like occurrences with furniture piling up in precariously balanced stacks. Kluski's typewriter typed rapidly without anyone near it, both in and out of séances. When it typed passages they were done as perfectly as though a good secretary had typed them.

A FINAL WORD AND THANK YOU TO KLUSKI EXPERT DR. ZOFIA WEAVER.

I will give Dr. Weaver the final word. Here is part of her perceptive conclusion to her entry on Klusky in the Psi Encyclopedia:

    The phenomena that took place around Kluski are on a spectacular scale but they are not unique. Like much physical mediumship, they have their echoes in poltergeist reports of raps, levitations, movements of objects, lights and apparitions. What makes Kluski unique is the development of his mediumship and the way it reflects his mental life. It is usual for the medium to be controlled and guided by 'spirits', or experimenters, thus becoming instruments, experimental objects. By contrast, Kluski's attitude was from the beginning that of a detached observer of his own phenomena, and the participants and investigators were his friends and equals, as well as contributors to the formation of the phenomena. In a sense the chief experimenter was Kluski himself, whether he was conscious or not, since the phenomena related in a number of ways directly to his imagination and his creative powers.
    -Psi Encyclopedia.


Here, it means on youtube,  is an interview by Jeffery Mishlove about Franek Kluski with the foremost expert on him, Dr. Zofia Weaver.
Dr. Weaver is British but was born in Poland, is fluent in both languages, and has translated many materials into English that were not available to us prior to her work.

Franek Kluski was never caught in any fraudulent action, although he was
investigated by numerous researchers, and willingly submitted to the conditions they
demanded. The principal foreign investigators of Kluski were Gustave Geley and
Charles Richet, and most of the information available in the West comes from Gustave
Geley's reports. However, there also exists a large number of reports from Polish
researchers and independent witnesses, published contemporaneously in Poland by an
eager researcher and a friend of Kluski, Norbert Okotowicz (Okotowicz, 1926° - not to
be confused with Julian Ochorowicz!). When one comes to discuss Kluski, there is
also another factor so often missing from discussions of mediums - a rounded, multi-
faceted personality of the medium, whose background and functioning within society
is reasonably well documented. Particularly in the case of professional mediums, the
"mediumship dimension" is often the main aspect of their life. In the case of Kluski,
whose real name was Teofil Modrzejewski, the "mediumship episode" was short-lived
and had no profound influence on his life or career.

Franek Kluski's name is usually mentioned in connection with the subject of
paraffin moulds, and whether they were produced fraudulently (Barrington, 1994;
Coleman, 1994a, 1994b; Fontana, 1998; Geley, 1924; Polidoro and Garlaschelli 1997;
Weaver 1992). It is a pity that this has become the only aspect of the whole
phenomenon which attracts attention these days. Paraffin moulds were Geley's "holy
grail", the permanent paranormal object, and he set great store by them. However, if
one looks at the mediumship of Teofil Modrzejewski as a whole, there are many more
amazing phenomena in need of explanation before one starts worrying about the
authenticity of the moulds.

Although the phenomena produced by Kluski fall into the usual categories of
physical mediumship (noises, breezes, smells, lights, apports, apparitions) their scale
and intensity seems to be in a category all on its own. The standard explanations of
physical mediums' tricks (Carrington, 1920; Dawes, 1979; Gaskill, 2001; Price &
Dingwall, 1922) do not provide satisfactory answers. Some of the more elaborate
tricks might fit some of the phenomena on some occasions, but not many. For
example, the use of accomplices could account for life-like interactive apparitions, but
this explanation becomes less likely when the apparitions are observed to pass across
the table and the legs of the participants as if they had no lower body - this in a room
which was searched and locked prior to the sitting (Okotowicz, p.168). Another

(r) Okotowicz's book is of particular value as it reproduces reports from more than one source and. quotes
statements from witnesses, some of them prominent public figures of that time. This does not of course
preclude errors of observation in the statements themselves, but makes it more likely that they were
reported accurately.



problem in discussing Kluski is that it is difficult to find a motive for faking the
phenomena. People's motivations can, of course, be complex, surprising and hidden
from themselves. However, the episode of physical mediumship seems entirely
separate from Kluski's interests, ambitions and ideals. Why should a man who had a
happy family life, high social standing, high principles and a successful career as a
journalist, suddenly decide to play an elaborate and expensive hoax on his friends?
(All his sittings were private, just with friends and researchers and, of course, no
money was involved.) And why should he give it up just at the time it became a
spectacular success, which could have brought him fame and fortune?' Perhaps the
"official" reasons for his participation in sittings - trying to understand his own
condition and to help science - might have been the real ones. As Andrew Lang said
of Stainton Moses, the famous English clergyman and medium, the choice of beliefs is
between "the moral and the physical miracle" (Carrington, 1920, p.15).

Let us then look first of all at the "moral miracle" that the Franek Kluski persona of
Teofil Modrzejewski (1873-1943) represents. A well-educated man from an upper
class family, by the time "Franek Kluski" appeared Teofil Modrzejewski was in his
forties. Harry Price refers to him as a "banker" (Price 1939, pp. 89-90), but that creates
the wrong image; Modrzejewski did work in a number of Warsaw banks but, by the
time of interest to us, journalism was a significant aspect of his career (Polski Stownik
Biograficzny, 1977). It is impossible to go into details, but it seems clear from
Modrzejewski's own writing, and from the comments of those who knew him, that his
achievement as a man of letters was very important to him. His writing was very
much in the public domain; he was an enlightened, patriotic, liberal social
commentator and reformer. His poetry always had a social purpose and was usually
satirical. His output is quite extensive, since he also did translation work and had an
interest in linguistic research. However, one cannot find in it even a trace of a
reference to his mediumistic feats. In fact, he was a very private person generally, and
particularly so on the subject of psychical research, on which he refused to comment.
Friends did try to persuade him to write about his experiences. It would have been
very easy for him to do so, thus achieving popularity and financial success - yet he
always refused. His grounds for doing so were twofold: he wanted literary
appreciation, not notoriety; and he was very doubtful about the value of popularising
such phenomena, claiming that it might do more harm than good. His feelings about
the phenomena are reflected in his choice of contemptuous pseudonym under which
he produced them - "kluski" in Polish refers to a very dull type of pasta, and conveys
an image of someone clumsy and dull.

Modrzejewski's foray into the world of mediumship came about by accident
when he was in his forties, and did not last long, from 1918 to 1925 (with a break in
1920, when he volunteered for army service to fight the Soviet invasion). According
to Okolowicz, he attended a séance for the first time in the winter of 1918, but while

the official medium produced nothing and went home, phenomena, initially in the
form of knocks and raps, developed around Modrzejewski. At the beginning, he was
very enthusiastic and eager to have his abilities investigated, but gradually his
enthusiasm waned. Physical mediumship affected his health very badly: after a séance
he would often suffer from internal and external bleeding, fainting fits, vomiting and
other unpleasant effects. He gave up sittings in 1925.
picture text, 
Kiuski appears to have retained his ability to produce physical phenomena after he gave up sittings.
The 1928 (No.19-20) issue of Zagadnienia Metapsychiczne quotes a letter from Osty, who mentions
being totally convinced by a short séance with Kluski during which two paraffin gloves were formed
very quickly in the bright light of a luminous screen, and expresses regret at Kluski's unwillingness to
participate in mediumship. It should also be noted that Kluski himself was more interested in automatic
writing, which he found much easier to produce.

The list of phenomena produced by Kluski during séances includes the usual
range of physical mediumship claims. We thus have: raps, knocks, the smell of
ozone, cold breezes, apports, changes in temperature, various smells, lights,
apparitions (materialisations) and, of course, the paraffin moulds.

Many investigators remarked that the phenomena produced seemed to shape
themselves to the desires of the participants - even as the séance took place!
However, certain things would happen regularly during the mature phase of Kluski's
mediumship*: a usual séance would start with cool breezes, appearing in waves,
emanating from the medium, always with the smell of ozone. The next materialisation
phase was the appearance of luminous nebulae. Usually they would separate from the
medium and constantly change shape and location. Most of the séances were
controlled through hand and foot control, with participants being assigned particular
tasks (one watching the medium, another observing the sequence of events etc., the
information being discussed and pooled immediately after the séance). As a rule the
séances did not take place in total darkness. A red light would usually be placed
opposite or to the side of the medium. This would often turn itself off about 10-15
minutes into the séance, only coming on towards the end. Another, more reliable
source of light, was provided in the form of phosphorescent screens which could be
used to illuminate the apparitions. Most of the time they were of the shape and size of
hand-held mirrors, but on occasion large standing screens would be used. During the
final phase of Kluski's mediumship the participants would also sometimes sit with the
curtains only partially drawn.

The light phenomena were variously shaped, predominantly pale blue with a
maximum intensity of a 25 watt lamp. These would lead to the materialisation of
human (and other) apparitions. Apart from a variety of shapes, the lights would also be
of different size and consistency; they would disappear as suddenly as they appeared,
and they would also increase and decrease in size. There were very many of them in
different places at the same time. They would move away from the medium so far that
he could not reach them with his hand, because he never left the chair in which he sat.
They seemed to have a purpose, and at times seemed to behave like living beings.

The main methods of achieving fraudulent lights at the time were phosphorus,
brimstone, matches or fluid obtained from matches, flares or ferro-cerium, more
familiar as flints in lighters - and, of course, torches and electrical equipment. Skilled
conjurors might, and did, produce quite impressive effects with them, but the scope of
the Kluski effects places them on an altogether different level because of the variety,
scale, and the distances involved, and the fact that they happened simultaneously.

According to Okotowicz, Kluski's mediumship developed from chaotic activity with violent
movements of objects resembling poltergeist outbreaks, to almost fully controlled final stage
of spectacular apparitions.


However, assuming that the controls were defective enough for these effects to be
faked, it would still be quite difficult to produce such apparitions as those which
supposedly appeared at the later Kluski séances:

Figure 1 "The Assyrian Priest".

Figure 1 shows an artist's impression (reproduced from Okolowicz, 1926) of the
kind of apparition one might expect - the most sophisticated phenomenon being the
apparition that would be completely luminous. It would appear as a column of light,
so strong that it would illuminate the sitters and the room. The one illustrated was one
of the "regulars", known as the Assyrian priest. The apparitions also moved and
spoke. Apart from the light, they also produced an enormous quantity of ozone, so
that the room was full of it long after the séance.

It seems that the only possible fraudulent explanation for such a phenomenon
would be the involvement of an accomplice - or rather, a large number of
accomplices, since in Kluski's séances such materialisations would often appear in
groups (including men and women, young and old, as well as children). Partial
materialisations, of which there were many, could be explained by judicious
application of luminous paint. The fact that the participants claimed to observe
apparitions moving through the medium and across the table, or floating in the air, or
starting with just the head forming above the medium, could be put down to the
psychology of deception, which relies on people inferring a lot more than they actually
see, especially if the right expectations have been set up.

Obviously, if accomplices were involved, there must have been a way for them to
gain access to the room. It is impossible to rule out such a possibility regarding
Modrzejewski's apartment in Warsaw'. However, if we are to interpret the phenomena

° The apartment block where Modrzejewski lived was destroyed during the Second World War. However, it was
possible to locate the plans, which show that there was no space for secret passages to have been built above or below
his apartment. There was a door leading to the outside corridor from the room used for séances, but according to the
reports this was kept locked and chained, curtained off and partially blocked by furniture.

62


WEAVER

as the work of accomplices, we must also take account of the fact that over a quarter
of Kluski's séances, some 92, took place in other locations, 34 of them abroad and 13
out of those in Geley's special room at the IMI. Geley's reports of the experiments in
Paris claim that the séance room was examined and locked on every occasion, thus
excluding the possibility of entry of accomplices - yet apparitions are described,
forming from lights into human faces and busts; this seems difficult to produce
fraudulently without help (Geley, 1924). The same effects were also obtained when
Kluski was on holiday in Italy, away from his usual sitters, in a hotel room, and also at
the Polish Consulate. Okolowicz quotes letters describing in detail the kinds of
apparitions which formed there, and they seem to have the same characteristics as
those produced at home.

Are we today any nearer to understanding what happened in the Kluski séances?
Carrington (1920, p.367) suggests that in genuine cases the sensible course is to look
for the pathological condition of the medium: "It is quite conceivable, at least, that the
nervous force which actuates the body might, under certain exceptional circumstances,
extend beyond the periphery of the bodily frame, and exert an influence over the
external, material world".

These are some of the phenomena confirmed independently by Modrzejewski's
friends and work colleagues which took place outside séances (Boy-Zelenski, 1938,
Jézefowicz, Legiewicz, Dalborowa, 1973; Okotowicz 1926):

Raps and knocks came from furniture when he was around;

The smell of ozone would be emitted spontaneously, for quite long periods;
Electrical equipment would become erratic in his presence; e.g co- workers in
the editorial office noticed that lights failed only on the days when Kluski
came to work;

 Electrical discharges were observed to emanate from his fingers during
storms, which had the appearance of blue flames. Kluski was frightened of
storms, and refused to have a séance if a storm was threatening;

 Smells - according to colleagues, a walk through a lime-tree avenue, an
alcoholic drink, any strong smell would "soak" through Kluski and last for
hours;

 Lights were seen in his mouth, around him, and sometimes light patches
appeared on his body when he was emotionally moved;

Apparitions were supposedly seen around him when he was resting;
He was reported to have been seen in friends' apartments when he was at
home.

Obviously not all of the above anecdotal evidence of is of equal value. However,
some of the phenomena, such as interaction with electrical equipment, as well as the
physical ailments suffered by Kluski, are listed by medical researchers among the
symptoms displayed by patients suffering from electromagnetic hypersensitivity
(Budden, 1998). It has also been suggested (Budden, personal communication) that
the bullet lodged in Kluski's chest after he fought a duel at the age of 27 may be of
great significance, possibly acting as a source of endogenous magnetism. Perhaps
then the anomalies in Kluski's physical make-up provided the conditions which



enabled the highly intelligent, imaginative and powerful personalities of the medium
and the participants to create a unique shared experience. This seems far-fetched, but
since plausible explanations that do not involve fraud are scarce, it might be
worthwhile to look for clues in the modern story of "Philip", an entity invented by a
group of researchers. A number of impressive physical phenomena were produced by
"Philip" and guided by the participants with the full awareness that "he" was the
creation of their own minds (Owen 1975, Owen and Sparrow, 1976). The Kluski
sitters were not consciously setting out to do this, but the phenomena, particularly in
the later phase of his mediumship, seemed to respond to the wishes and instructions of
the participants. Okotowicz describes a situation when the apparition kept changing
from an elderly man to a young woman in accordance with the particular sitter's
wishes (Okotowicz 1926, p.272).

In spite of pressure from researchers, Kluski refused to devote any more time to
mediumship after 1925. Apart from the physical suffering and exhaustion caused by
the séances, Kluski may have been influenced by his religious beliefs. According to
Okotowicz (p.582) Kluski, as a deeply committed Catholic, tried to limit the séances
out of concern that the phenomena should not become associated with some religious
doctrine.

Stefan Ossowiecki.

At the same time as Kluski was producing amazing physical phenomena, another
psychic, Stefan Ossowiecki (1877-1944), provided challenging material for
investigation with his feats of clairvoyance. Although his gifts were mainly mental by
the time Ossowiecki became the subject of research, his autobiography (Ossowiecki,
1933/1990) refers to a period of intense psychokinetic activity in his youth.

It is surprising that so little mention is made of Ossowiecki these days, especially
as in his day he was regarded as the ultimate, living proof that the paranormal exists,
that it can be tapped on demand, and tested under the most rigorous conditions.

He came from a wealthy upper-class Polish family who had been settled in
Russia, in Moscow, for some generations. The Russian revolution of 1917 swept
away their stability, and after a number of traumatic experiences, including a narrow
escape from a death sentence, Ossowiecki settled in Warsaw in 1919. He was active
in numerous business ventures, as well as leading a lively social life which suited his
jovial, expansive personality (Polski Stownik Biograficzny, 1977, Borun and Borun-
Jagodzinska 1990).

It goes without saying that, as a gentleman, he did not accept money for the use
of his psychic abilities. He regarded his strange gift as a form of "trust", a link to
higher consciousness, only to be used for the benefit of mankind, and to be put at the
disposal of science. Fortunately he himself was a member of the Polish SPR and was
aware of the need to obtain written and signed statements, and most of the witnesses
were intelligent people also aware of such need.

Stefan Ossowiecki truly was a legend in his own time. Many stories endowing
him with superhuman powers beyond belief circulated during his lifetime, and after
his death the legends multiplied and took on a life of their own. It therefore takes
some effort to disentangle fact from fiction when considering the non-experimental



evidence. However, even after discarding everything that is not first-hand and not
corroborated, there is enough striking material to provide food for thought.

The range of the well-documented phenomena produced by Ossowiecki falls
within a fairly narrow area of mental mediumship, involving clairvoyance and
psychometry. "Real life" examples of this ability involved, in the main, finding
missing objects and missing people. He would always ask for something that had been
in physical contact with the object or the person he was seeking. For instance, in the
case of missing jewellery, Ossowiecki would handle the box which had contained it,
and then make a mental journey to the place where it was usually kept. He would
often describe the inside of the house, the people he saw in it, and then come out with
a solution. This happened in one well-documented case (Ossowiecki, 1990, pp.122-
124), where Ossowiecki "saw" the missing bracelet being swept onto the rug, which
the servant shook out of the window. The bracelet fell out onto some bushes and it
was found hanging there. The obvious rational explanation, that he may have had
accomplices who removed objects and placed them in an agreed location, becomes
absurd when one is aware of the number and variety of such situations. In any case, in
the other category of "real life" situations, that of finding the missing people, the
necessary knowledge was not available to anybody until after Ossowiecki had made
his statements.

There are a number of confirmed cases before the Second World War, where
Ossowiecki gives correct information about the condition and the whereabouts of
missing people, before there is confirmation from a foreign consulate or some other
trustworthy source (Ossowiecki 1990, pp.13-14). During the war this became his main
- and of course unpaid - occupation. People flocked to him for information about
missing relatives, and he did not turn anyone away. There are a number of first-hand
accounts from reliable sources relating to this period, but it is difficult to judge the
overall accuracy of his statements, since on his own admission he sometimes lied in
order to spare the families the horrific visions which came to him.

The other "real life" categories include examples of providing descriptions of life
histories of strangers, of influencing people mentally, and occasional flashes of
precognition. Of more importance, however, is the experimental evidence for
Ossowiecki's gifts. These involved reading sealed targets (written or drawn),
identifying hidden/wrapped objects, and describing undeveloped photographs.
One of the first formal experiments with Geley, on 21st September 1921,
involved, among other tests successfully completed by Ossowiecki, reproducing a
drawing of a fish enclosed in a sealed opaque envelope, (see Figure 2).



Figure 3, reproduced below, gives the result of an informal experiment
produced on the spur of the moment on 24th July 1924 for M.Charpentier, League of
Nations delegate passing through Warsaw, one of the many witnesses who appear in
the Ossowiecki story only once. He was lunching in town with a military friend and
Ossowiecki, whom he met for the first time on that occasion. Charpentier appeared
quite sceptical, so Ossowiecki suggested that he should go away, draw something and
put it in an envelope, and bring it back.

Figure 3.

Drawing by Charpentier Drawing by Ossowiecki.

When Charpentier brought back the sealed envelope, Ossowiecki held it for a
moment under the table without looking, and then produced his drawing. He also told
Charpentier where he had gone, that he knelt on the stool instead of sitting, and what
he had intended to draw (a cat) at first. All the information was accurate. Throughout
that time Ossowiecki was chatting with the military friend and eating his lunch.

These experiments appear quite convincing, but they have a number of flaws
which become apparent when one confronts them with the list of requirements
compiled on the basis of procedures employed in some of the best experiments
conducted with Ossowiecki using sealed targets. Marks and Kammann discuss sealed
targets in their book Psychology of the Psychic (Marks and Kammann 1980), but they
only draw attention to some of these points, without reference to the work of previous



investigators.
Preparing Experiments with Sealed Targets.

  Do not prepare the target in the presence of the psychic (because the sound
and sight of moving pen or pencil can give it away);

  Hide the target in a number of sheets/envelopes (because envelopes are often
not as opaque as you think, and can stretch with intense handling);
Mark the envelope to detect attempts at unsealing;
Do not leave the envelope alone with the psychic;
Do not use population stereotypes as targets (when asked to draw something,
people will draw a house, a tree, a cat etc. Interestingly enough, research
quoted by Marks and Kammann (1980) showed that a student population,
faced with guessing highly individualized targets, got nil results);

  Do not prepare the target yourself (precludes the possibility of "fishing" and
makes collusion less likely);

  Present the psychic with a random choice of targets unknown to yourself.

An experiment which seems to meet all these conditions was presented at the
Warsaw Conference on Psychical Research in 1923 (reported in Revue Métapsychique
1923, No.5). Eric Dingwall was in charge of preparing the target (or rather, the target
which was eventually chosen from a random selection). He drew the target, placed it
in a number of envelopes and made holes in them in such a way that it should be
impossible to align them again if they were opened. We have his statement that
nobody but himself saw the target and that the envelope was never out of his
possession until he gave it to Schrenck-Notzing to conduct the experiment. Schrenck-
Notzing presented the envelope to Ossowiecki, along with a number of other possible
target envelopes, and Ossowiecki drew this one out at random. (See figure 4). He then
correctly gave the colours of the various envelopes in which the target inside was
hidden, made the drawing, and mentioned the fact that there were some words he
could not read after the date.

The words (not reproduced in Figure.4) were: Les vignobles du Rhin, de la
Moselle et de la Bourgogne donnent un vin excellent. When drawing the target,
Ossowiecki commented that the bottle was leaning slightly, that it did not have a
stopper, and that it was drawn with a number of lines. Schrenck-Notzing took away
the envelope, and Dingwall confirmed that it was intact. The results were presented at
the conference and, understandably, created a furore.


Figure 4.

Drawing by Dingwall Drawing by Ossowiecki.

The final example in this selection of experiments dates back to 29th October
1925. It was published the next day in the press and in the next issue of the Polish
Society's journal (also Ossowiecki 1933/1990). It was organised by the Polish SPR. A
sealed letter, written in Spanish, was sent from Spain by Dr. T. Cobo Martinez to Dr
Sokotowski for the test. This took place after a public lecture attended by over a
hundred people. Ossowiecki sat at a table surrounded by a committee including the
speaker, psychical researchers and journalists, who signed the written record. As
usual, Ossowiecki gave a very full description of persons, places and circumstances
surrounding the creation of the drawing:

  ayellow-white house, two storey, entrance through a small garden, on the
right a lot of greenery, stone stairs ... The house of a man af modest means.
... a Study, he is writing this letter, no, not a letter. A small dark-haired man,
an open forehead, very lively, dressed in black, six o'clock. His wife passes,
he is upset by a terrible tragedy, he has lived through the loss of a child, a
girl. His wife expects another. A boy has been born already, they wanted a
girl. Masses of books around, leather chairs, not new.

A strange child next to them. The wife is 32, dark hair, pointed nose, dressed
in black, something black hanging from the neck - these are dice.

..he has scissors on the table; he is cutting up paper, holding papers. It is
not a letter, only something written down. A man of science, studies a lot, has
a number of degrees ... He has approached the table and begins to write, he is
bent. He is cutting bits of green paper, the seal ready on the table. I see what
and how he draws.

... He wanted to draw a circle within a square, then a face, and he finished
with a point. (Ossowiecki draws) He gets up, lights a cigarette and comes
back to the table, he picks up a pencil or a pen and writes a question, draws
an enormous T. Here he writes something, two questions, questions about the
paranormal. He asks me if I believe in telepathy. At the top there is writing in
French. There is someone else in the room, and older man. The question:
"Croyez-vous ala telepathie?" The second - do I believe in life after death?



When the envelope was cut open, inside was found a sheet of white paper,
folded in two, covered by three rectangular sheets, two of which were green. The
drawings and the sentences written on the white sheet correspond in the smallest detail
to the drawing by Ossowiecki.

Figure 5,

Drawing by Martinez Drawing by Ossowiecki.

The documents were sent to Martinez, who wrote back to Ossowiecki and the
Polish SPR:

"Everything that you saw, apart from a leather armchair, is totally accurate..."

We know very little about Ossowiecki's failures, apart from the "professional"
experiments, where everything is duly recorded. However, in real-life situations
Ossowiecki's "hits" are not the kind many of us experience by chance, however long
the run.

There are many accounts like those related here, with different locations,
situations and witnesses. Their value varies, and would be less impressive without the
"hard core" of well designed and controlled experiments involving both foreign and
Polish researchers. However, when viewed together, they constitute a strong enough
"bundle of sticks" for the argument that it is largely owing to Ossowiecki that the
1920s and 1930s are the golden years as far as psychical research is concerned, and
perhaps not just in Poland.

Dr Weaver may be reached at:
zweaver@pop.clara.net

------
more, on a.o kluski.

introduction.
f you ask most people what they think about what happens in séance rooms-knocks or raps,
levitating tables, ectoplasmic forms, disembodied limbs and so on-they'll tell you it's all bunk
and superstition. Any skeptic will inform you that it's all done by trickery carried out by skilled
magicians to bilk the credulous.
Ectoplasm? Nothing more than regurgitated cheesecloth. Houdini even demonstrated how tables could be
surreptitiously levitated by sly swamis, especially if the sitters were uncritical bereaved families.
On the other extreme are the spiritualists who believe that these phenomena, which defy the laws of
physics, are caused by the spirits of deceased persons who are trying to communicate with the living and
are not bound by earthly physical restraints.
My view in this book lies somewhere between these two extremes. Yes, there have been, and are, frauds
and magicians who produce miraculous seeming effects, but there are also many cases in which the fraud
theory collapses when they are scrutinized more closely and the evidence is examined.
I already subscribed to this middle view when I first met Gilbert Roller in 1973. I enrolled in Gil's course
in "Paramechanics," or physical psychic phenomena, at the New School for Social Research in New
York, and although I thought that I knew a great deal about psychic phenomena I was ignorant of some of
the more spectacular and mind-bending phenomena of which he spoke. We eventually became close
friends and over time I learned that Gil was a multi-talented artist who had had some unusual experiences
as a child and even more extraordinary experiences in his teens.
At the time I knew of the psychiatrist named Montague Ullman but had no idea that it was because of his
participation in Gil's teenage séance explorations that Ullman had become a parapsychologist. Though he
had spoken to other psychic researchers of these early experiences, he had never gone public with them,
fearing, I believe, that he would be ridiculed and ostracized by the medical and scientific community, a
fate suffered by many scientists who dare report on anomalous findings that challenge the established
world-view.
Some of the researchers who knew of Gil's séances, which became known as the "Bindelof Case," felt
that it was incomparable because of the kinds of phenomena produced and because of its careful
documentation. They felt that it should be published for more than just the parapsychological community.
I agreed. Gil and Larry, another member of the original Bindelof group whom you'll meet later, urged me
to write their story for the general public.
I felt it would be more interesting if Gil wrote his own story, but with his usual modesty, he was reluctant
to do so. Consequently I wrote it and then had Gil and Larry, both of them known for their wit and
humor, add details and go over it for accuracy. I think you'll find the result entertaining as well as
fascinating.
In the second part of the book, I will delve into the history of physical phenomena, that is, phenomena
such as psychokinesis (PK), or the moving or otherwise affecting of objects by psychic power, as opposed
to "mental" phenomena or ESP. I have provided this historical background not only to educate the reader
but also to place the Bindelof case within a wider framework and to help clarify what it means in the
I
context of séance research. I hope as well to shed more light on these intriguing manifestations and the
special people who produced them.
You will read here about true instances of levitating tables-- and people-- real organic ectoplasm (not
cheesecloth) exuding from the bodies of entranced mediums and forming hands, limbs, and even
phantoms who speak and walk among observers, all under the controlled conditions and the critical eyes
of competent investigators.
Who or what the source of these mind-boggling occurrences is, however, remains a mystery. Are these
forces the manifestations of discarnate spirits, as believers insist, or are they "merely" manifestations of
certain gifted or extraordinary living people? What indeed are these forces and what implications do
these phenomena have for science?
In the final section of this book I'll concentrate on 20th Century mediums, some of them "secular
mediums," such as Ted Serios, who could imprint his mental images on film; Nina Kulagina, the former
Soviet soldier and housewife whose feats were observed and filmed by Russian scientists; and the
Canadian "Philip" group, who invented their own ghostly communicator.
I'll also provide suggestions for developing you own sitter-group, should you be encouraged to
do so, and give additional sources of information on other mediums and paranormal phenomena so that
you may continue to explore this mysterious and fascinating subject.
PART ONE: THE BINDELOF CASE.
PROLOGUE: GIL'S STORY.
t was a Saturday night in the first week of October 1933. In Mayor Jimmy Walker's Manhattan
people who had labored hard all week splurged on movie tickets to Flying down to Rio featuring
the new dance team of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, while young men put protective arms
around the shoulders of their dates in the dark theaters where Edward G. Robinson menaced the
populace. Six floors above the street at 38 Fort Washington Avenue, behind drawn shades in a small
bedroom, a group of teenage boys also sat in the dark.
I was with them, crowded around a small two-tiered nightstand, our hands resting lightly on top of the
table, fingers touching those of the boy on either side. On the floor our feet touched also so that any
movement by one would be felt by his neighbor.
We listened intently to the sounds of the pencil we had placed on the lower shelf as it raced across a
piece of yellow paper, guided by an unseen hand. The writing stopped abruptly. The pencil was slapped
down sharply. We heard the sound of crumpled paper. Then silence.
One boy sprang up to turn on the lights. Another reached under and retrieved the tightly crumpled ball,
opening it carefully as the others impatiently crowded around to read. Near the end of a long printed
message, written faster in the dark than any of us could have managed in the best of circumstances, we
read the words "MY NAME WAS DR. BINDELOF. WILL
YOU BE THE DISCIPLES OF A DEAD MAN?"
This is not a scene from a Stephen King novel. This is a true story of mind-boggling but actual
occurrences. How did this scene come about? Who was Dr. Bindelof? Who were these intense young
men?
My name is Gil Roller. The first part of this book is my story, a story that may change the way you look
at reality. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's start at the beginning.
CHAPTER 1,
FAMILY AND FRIENDS.
OLGA, LIZ, AND ME.
my mother, Olga, was an unusually beautiful and gifted woman. Her lovely lyric soprano
voice, her dramatic temperament, and her grace contributed to her success
as a singing actress. She appeared in operettas, especially those of Victor Herbert, which
were very popular in the first two decades of the century. She met and married the young scion of a
prominent Argentinean family, who was in the United States to buy battleships for his government, and
after I was born, in 1915, Olga moved to Argentina with her new family.
My mother's idea of marriage clashed with the Argentinean concept of what a wife and mother should be
and it wasn't long before she returned to the U.S., obtained a divorce, and little Gilberto became me,
Gilbert Roller.
I
To support us Olga went back to the theater, traveling all over the United States and Europe. I was cared
for by governesses and later attended private schools here and abroad. My only playmate was my aunt
Ellie, my maternal grandmother's change-of-life baby, who was only a few months younger than I was
and lived with us for a time. We required two governesses because together we were a formidable team
and too much for one poor woman to handle.
My first decade of life is shrouded in a dream-like mystery. I never really had a father, so to speak; I
grew up like Topsy. My mother never spoke of my father and I didn't learn of him until I was seventeen
or eighteen. We didn't live a normal family life. Mother was on the road all the time. I would be sent for,
to join her, so my schooling was pretty well messed up. We went to Europe for a year. I was taken out of
school again. Then when we came back from Europe, we took this apartment on Riverside Drive and I
wondered why, because it was a fairly large apartment. It was all furnished. It was then that I was
informed that the man whom I called Uncle Eddie was to be my father.
My mother was "a mystic." Two of her fellow performers, the Dolly Sisters, international vaudeville
stars in the 1920s, were psychic and held séances in which Olga participated. She had many books on
psychic phenomena, which I read avidly as I grew older. Psychic phenomena just became part of my life,
like any other "normal" experience, resulting in a certain mystical personal philosophy.
My stepfather, Eddie Fink, was a basically warm, charming and lovable guy. He was a brilliant pianist
who would sit at the piano in his pajama bottoms, with his hairy chest exposed and a cigar in his mouth,
singing while he played. He was surrounded by women in his work and Olga was away performing much
of the time: Trouble was bound to develop.
And, of course, Olga was a temperamental artist. My friends thought our home was wonderful, filled
with music and art, and good times, but I remember the earlier times as monstrous and terrible. There was
considerable tension between my parents and violent fights: Mother had a temper that was absolutely
without equal. She'd scream, "Oh, no you don't!" and she would destroy a whole kitchen of china. The
place would look like a battlefield, and Eddie would actually clean it up. I would of course become
panicky. I would scream and yell. It was absolute madness. These scenes were frequent occurrences.
Often, after one of these marital wars, Olga would take me and move out. It became a ritual. I retreated
into my many interests. I had inherited my mother's musical ability and played the piano. I loved to draw,
and developed skill as a photographer. But I had troubling dreams.
One day, in the midst of this tumultuous life, when I was about 12 or 13, odd things began to occur at
home. We would hear a soft "whizzing" sound followed by a "clink." Upon investigating we'd find one
of the hairpins Olga used to do up her long, luxurious tresses. These hairpins would be "thrown" from her
bedroom, when no one was in there. At times the pins would be flung from the dresser at the door as
someone left the otherwise unoccupied bedroom. We would hear them striking the back of the door and
upon reopening it we'd find the pins on the floor behind the door. Wooden knobs from shoe trees would
be "pulled off" and flung across a room. We would enter the living room to find oatmeal scattered evenly
over the rug. I was generally in the apartment during these occurrences but not always in the room where
they took place. When I was not at home the phenomena were less intense.
Olga tried to make light of it. We named whatever this force was "Liz." We'd speak to it
commanding, "Liz, throw something!" And, sure enough, "ping," something would go flying across the
room. It was exciting fun at times, but the manifestations became more violent.
Dishes would come crashing off counters or shelves. We'd return home to find the words "GO, GO"
crayoned in huge--four or five feet tall--printed letters on the walls.
Some of the violence actually seemed directed against me. Once as I was walking in the street a milk
bottle came plummeting down, crashing a few feet in front of me. Another time I heard a commotion
coming from a wooden cabinet in which I kept my most treasured possessions including a shiny blue
Lionel electric engine. The racket stopped abruptly as I opened the cabinet door. To my dismay I
discovered the wreckage of my engine. It had been torn into pieces. Its body had been ripped away from
the wheels; wires were dangling from it as from a disemboweled animal. It looked as if it had been
senselessly attacked with a sledgehammer.
This time Eddie called in the well-known psychical researcher, Hereward Carrington, to investigate the
occurrences. The tall, imposing Carrington regarding me with suspicion, went through my pockets, found
some hairpins and a rubber band among the contents, and concluded that I was responsible for the
outbreaks. What is more, nothing out of the ordinary took place while he was there, strengthening his
opinion that "this highly emotional child" was most likely the cause. I was heartbroken. Not only was my
favorite possession destroyed, but I was being blamed for these things that I hadn't done (as far as I was
aware at the time) as well. My case, however, might have contributed to Carrington's theories
associating poltergeist outbreaks with puberty. In 1930 he was to write: "An energy seems to be radiated
from the body . when the sexual energies are blossoming into maturity.It would almost seem as if
these energies instead of taking the normal course . find this curious means of externalization."
Whatever the researcher's conclusions, relations grew even more strained between my parents. Although
Eddie loved me, he felt that these were mischievous pranks: He couldn't accept the "poltergeist"
explanation. Olga felt, rightly or wrongly, that he had brought Carrington in to discredit her son. Their
violent arguments escalated until Mother took "Liz's" advice to "GO," and went, taking me with her.
We rented rooms from some of my mother's old friends with whom she had had successful séances in
the past with some minor physical occurrences. Once settled, Olga persuaded these people to sit for a
séance. For the first time I was allowed to participate. Following Victorian tradition, we sat in a darkened
room around a table. The room was hushed except for occasional muffled street noises. We waited in the
dark room lighted only by the street lamps that filtered in through the heavy old-fashioned wide slats of
the Venetian blinds. Suddenly the curtains at the closed window began to billow out as though blown by
strong gusts of wind, and furniture began to slide away from the walls. A heavy, overstuffed easy chair
came sliding toward us from a corner of the room. The landlords screamed and fled. That ended my first
séance.
In time my parents reconciled their differences and decided to start again in another location, taking an
apartment on the then upper middleclass Fort Washington Avenue. There we lived somewhat more
peacefully with only sporadic outbreaks of "poltergeistery."
LEONARD AND ME . AND LARRY.
It was late summer, 1929. New Yorkers went busily about their business, blissfully unaware of the great
financial catastrophe about to shake the world. I was new to Washington Heights. I was kind of a loner,
without friends or even acquaintances in this new neighborhood. My only acquisition as a friend was
Leonard Lauer, another teenager nearly a year younger than I was, but advanced beyond me in school.
Leonard was one of the generations of intellectually gifted New York City children who, like human
express trains skipping certain stops, were sped through the school system, starting high school at the age
of 12. At about 15 they were deposited, insecure and often out of emotional sync with their more mature
classmates, at the doorsteps of colleges and universities. Leonard, at 13, was about to begin his second
semester at Townsend-Harris High School, a school for gifted boys.
Lenny was handsome, self-assured to the point of arrogance, and convinced of his scholastic superiority.
He wouldn't associate with anyone who he thought didn't have a sufficiently large brain. For me, I
suppose it was more a matter of desperation than companionship at the beginning. But our chemistry was
similar. It came as rather an emotional shock. Leonard was as much of an extrovert as I was an introvert.
He was attracted to my entire family. I suppose we were quite different from any of the other people he
knew. He was charmed by Eddie, the personable pianist, and enchanted by the beautiful, talented Olga.
As for me, not only was I someone who could match him intellectually, but in his eyes I had talents he
lacked. I was a gifted musician and artist, and, as he told me later, he was in awe of my sensitivity and
creativity.
Our intellectual conflict or rivalry, especially his attitude about his intellectual superiority, would result
in a chain of events that changed our lives. As Lenny later commented about himself, "I was trying to be
smart." And I wasn't about to let him lord it over me.
He had been reading H. L. Mencken and was showing off his information in oratorical fashion one day,
trying to one-up me, so I retaliated by putting down my cerebral friend's knowledge as unimportant,
especially as compared with the profound truths of which I was aware. "Mencken!" That's surface
knowledge. If you want to learn something really important I'll give you a few books that'll educate you
to things you haven't even dreamed of." "Like, what, Oh learned one?"
We went up to my apartment and I grabbed T. J. Hudson's Psychic Phenomena and the Scientific
Demonstration of the Future Life. "Read this, oh smart ass, although I doubt that you've got the brains to
comprehend it."
I started to talk about what seemed to him at first completely "crazy, irrational stuff"-the "occult" is
what he called it. He knew nothing about psychic phenomena. He believed that things like this didn't
happen. Up to that time Len had considered these phenomena and psychical research as fraud,
pseudoscience, and charlatanism. He considered himself a budding young scientist and had a hard-nosed
view of science as "the only source of truth." But he accepted the challenge. The book was so scholarly
that he was willing to give it a go. It smacked of mystery-a sort of adventure that intrigued him.
I didn't reveal what had happened in my own home at first, but started by telling him about things I had
witnessed with my mother at that séance at the boarding house. He trusted my intelligence and I was
pretty sure he believed me.
I supplied him with other books from my own and my mother's library: F. W. H. Myers's Human
Personality and Its Survival of Bodily Death, and books by some of the most respected scientists of their
day. These included the great French physiologist, Charles Richet; the distinguished Italian physician,
psychiatrist, and anthropologist, Cesare Lambroso; and the German physician, psychical researcher, and
hypnotist, A. von Schrenck-Notzing.
Leonard was impressed, as I knew he would be, by the stature of these eminent scientists who had
devoted a considerable portion of their lives to investigating and attempting to understand these
phenomena. They wrote factual accounts of table tiltings and levitations, and of séances in which
messages were seemingly communicated through mediums to the living from "discarnate entities" or
dead people.
Leonard was fascinated and, as I became more at ease with him, I told him about my poltergeist
experiences and of my mother's sittings with the Dolly Sisters and others. Now he was really intrigued.
Well, the two of us decided, if the Dolly Sisters could do it, so could we!
One evening when the Lauers had gone out and Len's younger brother was asleep we took the
opportunity to try our first sitting. We imitated the format traditionally followed in the Victorian séances
we had read about in the books and in copies of the Journal of the Society for Psychical Research that we
had found in the New York Public Library: You darkened the room, everybody was quiet, some person
acted as spokesman, and you talked to thin air as though there were somebody there. And in these things
we had been reading about, something responded.
We started with a light bridge table. We pulled down the shades and turned off the light. Of course this
was New York City where, except in a blackout, the skies are never dark and light filters in and around
drawn shades or blinds. Once the eyes dark-adapt other persons and objects in the room can be seen
relatively well.
We held hands across the table sitting for periods of about 20 minutes with no results. Our arms got tired
and we leaned on the table. We'd break for a glass of water or milk then resume, changing tactics,
experimenting with sitting next to each other so we could just put our finger tips on the table and touch
one another's hands without adding any weight. We rolled back the carpet so the table would be able to
slide over the polished wooden floor-we never doubted that it would-but . no results.
A day or two later we tried again. This time we began to get "threatened movements," that is, creakings
or slight motions. Every strain, every shift that your arms made produced a sound, and there was much
more of that the second night: That was all the encouragement we needed.
In order to determine whether or not there was actual movement we chalked circles on the floor around
the table legs and on the third or fourth evening we got what we thought was a sliding motion. "You feel
it move?"
"You feel it move?"
"It did move, didn't it?"
We jumped up to turn on the lights and, sure enough, there was the ring and here was the leg. Over on
the other side there was the ring and here was the leg!
From then on things began to happen quickly. Instead of waiting forever, we'd sit there and wait for a
little while and all of a sudden you could feel life in the table. We'd say, "Move to the right!" Zhoom, it
would slide. "Move to the left!" Zhoom, the other way. We barely touched the table to insure that neither
of us was exerting the force necessary to move it.
"OK," we said, "Now we're gonna communicate." We informed the table that we were going to call out
letters of the alphabet and that it should move at the letter it wanted. At first the table would "get eager"
and slide at every letter. Then we would recite, "A, B, C, D..." and it would be quiet, as though it were
chastised, and wouldn't move at all.
We decided to try tilting instead of sliding. In a short time we got it to do that too. Two legs would come
up off the floor and the bridge table would take a little bow. We asked it questions using the code of two
tilts for no, one for yes, and tried to get it to spell out messages. Nothing very significant was
communicated. Once in a while we would get a reflection of something that was on our minds, for
example, if it was getting late it might spell out, "your mother," a reminder that Len's mother would be
returning soon and Len was afraid of getting caught doing something
"weird."
With each sitting, however, the table gained in strength and dexterity. At the beginning it tilted rather
feebly or indefinitely. Later it became a smart, military kind of response and we were much encouraged.
One evening I said, "Let's try for levitation."
Now up until this point there was a great deal of distrust.
"Ya sure ya didn't lean on it?"
"You put your hands on top of mine!"
I was just as suspicious of Len as Len was of me.
Suspicions finally evaporated, however, during the levitation trials. We were working with the table on
the bare wooden floor, the rug having been removed. We asked the table to levitate and sat and waited.
Gradually it started to rotate under our hands. We tried to follow it around but this became impossible as
the table slid out from under our fingers. It began to gyrate more rapidly, revolving around the room and
rotating as it revolved, much the same as the earth's simultaneous turning on its axis and around the sun.
There was no sitting down, of course, or keeping in contact with each other's hands. The table was
leading us.
On the second night of this wild movement, the table suddenly came up off the floor. It seemed to rise
about six inches into the air before settling down again. Rather stunned, we switched on the lights and
looked at one another. Had we really done it? We went back and tried again. Before the night was over
we were getting the table up to about shoulder height. There was no mistaking it: Wonder of wonders, we
had got it to levitate! We were bursting with excitement. In our exhilaration we needed to share our
experience, to show others what we had accomplished. But most people would think we were nuts! Len
was afraid to tell his mother: He still felt as if we were doing something she would consider weird or
wrong. And my family was still reeling from the poltergeist-like episodes: I thought my mother would be
upset to know that we were consciously invoking these same phenomena that had created such dissention
in our family.
But there was no sitting on this thing. We had to tell somebody. At the beginning of the new semester, in
January or February of 1930, Len decided to confide in another unusually precocious and talented
schoolmate of his at Townsend-Harris named Larry Levin.
Larry had an extremely unhappy home life, which he was to describe in black humor, many years later:
"I was brought up in a lower middle class family. My father was a professional gambler, unsuccessful,
and as a result, we were prematurely poverty-stricken. We had the distinction of having been
dispossessed from an apartment in 1926 at the height of prosperity. But we had foresight. We knew the
crash was coming and we didn't want to get into the bad habit of living well, so we started early."
This talented thirteen year old, who would leave high school in another few months to become an
apprentice actor in the workshop of the famous actress Eva Le Gallienne, was a kindred spirit with whom
Lenny had had many profound discussions during their first year at Harris. Larry also hung around the
neighborhood because his home life was so depressing. He was part of a group of boys who were
interested in hypnosis. One of them was a good subject and someone would put him in a deep sleep and
put a penny on his arm suggesting it was hot. To their amazement, it left a burn mark on the boy's arm. It
was Larry, therefore, to whom Lenny first entrusted our precious secret.
Larry reacted predictably with skepticism but went along for the ride. He became an instant believer. In
his very first sitting, after a short wait, we got movement of the bridge table at which we sat, and some
rapping sounds. Larry was hooked. By the third sitting we got an extremely powerful levitation. The table
actually rose far above our heads so that we found ourselves in the peculiar position of feeling that we
were holding it down. Larry, who was three or four inches shorter than we were, complained that he
could no longer reach the table top. Leonard said, "Hold on to the legs." Larry grabbed the legs-and
pulled! The table, which usually gentled itself down, came crashing to the floor, fracturing one of its legs
in the process. The three of us met on and off for the next year or so obtaining movements, tiltings,
levitations, and "raps," or knocking sounds that seemed to emanate from the table.
But we saw little or nothing of each other in the summer of 1932. Larry came with my family and me to
Sheepshead Bay where we rented a place for a couple of weeks. Then Larry got a job selling magazines
that took him on a long trip west. He ended up with a friend of his family in Dallas. The friend gave him
the $7.00 to pay a man who spent his time driving paying passengers around the country, and he arrived
back in New York in December. We corresponded regularly during that time, writing nonsense letters
decorated with funny drawings and addressing them with weird titles. Unfortunately, neither of us saved
them for posterity.


End.