The Mtstery Chronicles

by Joe Nickell

  In his note he had referred to Allison only as “an alleged psychic who it was said is consulted by some police departments in connection with unsolved murders, such as the JonBenet case.” I dutifully obtained a video copy of the program, and I was not surprised that the psychic was Allison. On camera, in her typically overstated manner, she insisted that the little girl’s parents were “absolutely not” involved, and that the real killer was a former handyman. She perceived “connections” to Germany and Georgia, the numbers 2-8-9, and the names “Martin” and “Irving”—the latter, she said, being “the one I think that did this” (the murder). Working with a police artist, Allison produced a drawing of the alleged killer.

  Leeza emphasized that Allison had gone far out on the proverbial limb, and some audience members seemed quite skeptical of the clairvoyant’s “clues.” One woman challenged Allison to tell where the alleged murderer was, as Leeza tactfully took the opportunity to go to a commercial break.

  None of this seemed to be of any use to law enforcement. I asked Steve Allen to make a brief statement that I could include in an Internet posting. He wrote:

  The important question, in cases of this sort, is to determine whether a) the alleged psychic is a bare-faced liar or b) honestly self-deluded, in the way that many religious fanatics are. In the meantime television producers must be urged to consult scientists and other authorities who are perfectly aware of the essential absurdity of claims made by psychics, fortunetellers, tarot-card readers, or astrologers. It is relevant to quote here a little quatrain I wrote years ago in an album for children titled “How to Think.”

  Look for the evidence.

  Look for the proof.

  Or else you’re acting

  like an awful goof.

  In my subsequent article, I pointed out that although Allison was billed as a “police psychic who helped solve 5,000 cases,” the truth is quite different. What self-styled psychics like Allison typically do is simply toss out some vague statements that they call “clues.” Those invariably prove meaningless until after the crime is solved or the victim is located, whereupon the psychic interprets the statements in light of the facts. As an unimpressed Georgia police chief summed up a case on which Allison had made pronouncements: “She said a whole lot of things, a whole lot of opinions, partial information and descriptions. She said a lot. If you say enough, there’s got to be something that fits.” Most of her reported successes appeared to be like the one that a New Jersey police captain attributed to her. Her predictions “were difficult to verify when initially given,” he said. “The accuracy usually could not be verified until the investigation had come to a conclusion” (quoted in Dennett 1994, 46). Although Allison convinced many reporters and even police that she had a criminological sixth sense, in fact she used a tried-and-true formula: Arrive on the scene of a high-profile case, make numerous vague pronouncements, and then, after the true facts become known, interpret the statements accordingly—a technique known as retrofitting.

  For example, a 1997 episode of TV’s Crackdown on Crime said of Allison, “Nutley police asked her to find a missing five-year-old boy. She did. He had drowned in a pipe during a storm.” In fact, however, every one of those statements is untrue. It was Allison who approached the police to share a “vision.” Not only did she fail to locate the child’s body, but she also caused police to waste considerable time and resources following up on her hints. The boy’s body was actually discovered later, floating in a pond, by a man seeking a spot to bury his dead cat. But through the technique of retrofitting, Allison converted her failure into a seeming success, mentioning details of the boy’s clothing that she had supposedly “seen” accurately.

  For another instance, consider the case of murder victim Susan Ja-cobson. Jacobson’s body, discovered in 1976 on Staten Island, was found neither by Allison nor by the police, but rather by a 13-year-old boy who had been playing with friends. Allison’s prior statement that she had clairvoyantly seen “horses along a trail” was subsequently interpreted as a “hit” because the cemetery where the victim was finally laid to rest had, Allison stated, “once been a bridle path” (Dennett 1994).

  Psychics have other means of scoring apparent successes, including making exaggerated or false claims about previous cases to uncritical reporters, shrewdly studying local newspaper files and area maps, gleaning information from family members or others associated with a tragedy, and even impersonating police and reportedly attempting to bribe detectives. Some credulous police officers even help the psychic in the reinterpretation necessary to convert a failure into an apparent success. (For example, in one case where there was no nearby church, as had been predicted, property owned by a church was counted as fitting the criterion.) The result is like painting a bull’s-eye around an arrow after the arrow has lodged somewhere (Nickell 1994).

  It is not just that “psychics” are of no help to law enforcement; they actually cause wasted resources, as indicated earlier in the case of the missing five-year-old boy. The Nutley, New Jersey, police spent a whole afternoon digging up a drainage ditch that Dorothy Allison mistakenly thought contained the body of the missing child.

  Psychic shamus or sham? The evidence speaks for itself.

  REFERENCES

  Dennett, Michael R. 1994. America’s most famous psychic sleuth: Dorothy Allison. In Psychic Sleuths: ESP and Sensational Cases, edited by Joe Nickell, 42-59. Buffalo, N.Y.: Prometheus Books.

  Martin, Douglas. 1999. Dorothy Alison, 74, “psychic detective” consulted by police. New York Times, 20 December.

  Nickell, Joe, ed. 1994. Psychic Sleuths: ESP and Sensational Cases. Buffalo, N.Y.:Prometheus Books.

  ———. 2001. Real-life X-files: Investigating the Paranormal. Lexington, Ky.: University Press of Kentucky.

  30

  The Pagan Stone

  A carryover from the past that is finding new expression in today’s Russia is devotion to a certain ancient stone that was a focus of pagan ceremonies and is reputed to have magical properties (“Kolomenskoye” n.d.). In October 2001,1 was able to visit the site with the assistance of a young woman named Nadya Tereshina. (A reception supervisor at my hotel, she was willing to be helpful while at the same time taking the opportunity to practice her English.)

  The stone is in Kolomenskoye, a state museum-reserve in south Moscow. Located on the west bank of the Moskva River, Kolomenskoye was once a royal summer retreat of Czar Ivan the Terrible (1530-1584). A guidebook calls it “one of the most evocative sites in Moscow” (Richardson 1998, 239), for its variety of interesting aspects. It contains an eleventh-century Slavic archaeological site; woods of hoary oaks (one 600 years old); the Church of the Ascension (built 1532), which houses the Great Thaumaturgic Russian Icon of “The Virgin Majestic”; and, among many other treasures, the rustic log cottage of Czar Peter the Great (1672-1725).

  Muscovites flock to Kolomenskoye for festivals, summer sunbathing, and other activities. At one mid-January festival, children dress up as horses, bears, or ghosts to sing carols and give blessings in exchange for gifts. Another festival is based on a pagan spring celebration that later marked the beginning of Lent. Still other celebrations have folkloric, cultural, or religious themes (”Kolomenskoye” n.d.; Richardson 1998, 239-46).

  The purportedly magical stone is actually one of two huge sandstone boulders left by continental glaciation and found a short distance apart in a spring-studded ravine of Kolomenskoye. Reportedly once serving “for pagan tribes’ ritual ceremonies,” they are dubbed the “Goose” and “Girlish Stone” (”Kolomenskoye” n.d.), with the latter reposing on a hillside. As luck would have it, when we arrived on a Sunday afternoon, following a sketchy map provided by one of Nadya’s co-workers, Kirill Boliakiu, there was a ceremony in progress at that stone (FIGURE 30-1).

  The ceremony was not pagan—there were references to the “Christian family”—but it seemed to me to be . . . well, paganesque (to coin a term). The leader of the group, wearing a belted rob
e and sporting long hair and a beard, had a decidedly New-Age appearance. He cleaned the stone and partially covered it with an animal pelt that had been draped over his shoulder, to “warm” the rock. Crusts of bread were scattered on the stone, because it was supposed that when birds carried the offerings away, the scatterer’s wishes would be granted. The supplicants raised their hands skyward, in the ancient attitude of prayer, as the leader gave an invocation. Finally, he strummed his zither and sang a song about “Old Russia.”

  Poignant as such a ceremony may seem, there is no evidence that the stone has any magical power or functions as anything other than a focus for people’s hopes. Petitions, including those for cures of illness, appear to be granted (or not) according to the whim of circumstance and possibly the beseecher’s own subsequent actions. The wishes that are fulfilled are accepted as proof of the stone’s power, whereas those that are not are forgotten or explained away.

  FIGURE 30-1. New-Age religious ceremony at a boulder once used for rituals by pagan tribes.

  Suppressed during the communist era, religion is again flourishing in Russia as part of the new climate of change and tolerance of individual expression. Cults and offbeat groups like the one worshipping at the ancient stone—with its admixture of pagan, vaguely Orthodox, and New-Age elements—are one manifestation of the trend.

  REFERENCES

  “Kolomenskoye: The State Museum Reserve.” N.d. [current 2001]. Brochure. Kruglyakov, Edward. 2001. Personal communication, 6 April and 3-5 October. Richardson, Dan. 1998. Moscow: The Rough Guide. London: Rough Guides, Ltd.

  31

  Benny Hinn

  Healer or Hypnotist?

  Benny Hinn tours the world with his “Miracle Crusade,” drawing thousands to each service, with many hoping for a healing of body, mind, or spirit. A significant number seem to be rewarded and are brought onstage to pour out tearful testimonials. Then, seemingly by the Holy Spirit, they are knocked down at a mere touch or gesture from the charismatic evangelist. Although I had seen clips of Hinn’s services on television, 1 decided to attend and witness his performance live when his crusade came to Buffalo, New York, for June 28-29 of 2001. Donning suitable garb and sporting a cane (left over from a 1997 accident in Spain), 1 limped into my seat at the HSBC Arena in downtown Buffalo.

  Learning the Ropes

  Benny Hinn was born in 1953, the son of an Armenian mother and a Greek father. He grew up in Jaffa, Israel, uin a Greek Orthodox home,” but was “taught by nuns at a Catholic school” (Hinn 1999, 8). Following the Six-Day War in 1967, he emigrated to Canada with his family. When he was 19, he became a born-again Christian. Nearly two years later, in December 1973, he traveled by charter bus from Toronto to Pittsburgh to attend a “miracle service” by Pentecostal faith-healing evangelist Kathryn Kuhlman (1907-1976). At that service he had a profound religious experience, and that very night he was pulled from bed and “began to shake and vibrate all over” with the Holy Spirit (Hinn 1999, 8-14).

  Before long, Hinn began to conduct services sponsored by the Kathryn Kuhlman Foundation. Kuhlman died before Hinn could meet her personally, but her influence on him was extensive, as he acknowledged in a book, Kathryn Kuhlman: Her Spiritual Legacy and Its Impact on My Life (Hinn 1999). Eventually he began preaching elsewhere, including the Full Gospel Tabernacle in Orchard Park, New York (near Buffalo) and later at a church in Orlando, Florida. By 1990, he was receiving national notice for his book Good Morning, Holy Spirit, and in 1999 he moved his ministry headquarters to Dallas, Texas.

  Lacking any biblical or other theological training, Hinn was soon criticized by other Christian ministries. One, Personal Freedom Outreach, labeled his teachings a “theological quagmire emanating from biblical misinterpretation and extra-biblical ’revelation knowledge.’” He admitted to Christianity Today magazine that he had erred theologically and vowed to make changes (Frame 1991), but he remains controversial. Nevertheless, according to a minister friend, “[o]utside of the Billy Graham crusade, he probably draws the largest crowd of any evangelist in America today” (Condren 2001).

  Hinn’s mentor, Kathryn Kuhlman, who performed in flowing white garments trimmed with gold (Spraggett 1971,16), was apparently the inspiration for Hinn’s trademark white suits and gold jewelry. From her he obviously learned the clever “shotgun” technique of faith-healing (also practiced by Pat Robertson and others). This involves announcing to an audience that certain healings are taking place, without specifying just who is being favored (Randi 1987, 228-229).

  Selection Process

  In employing this technique, Hinn first sets the stage with mood music, leading the audience (as did Kuhlman) in a gentle rendering of

  He touched me, oh, He touched me,

  And, oh, the joy that filled my soul!

  Something happened and now I know

  He touched me, and made me whole. . . .

  Spraggett (1971, 17) says that with Kuhlman, as it was sung over and over, the song became “a chant, an incantation, hypnotic in its effect”; the same is true of Hinn’s approach.

  In time, the evangelist announces that miracles are taking place. At the service I attended, he declared that someone was being “healed of witchcraft”; others were having the “demon of suicide” driven out; still others were being cured of cancer. He named various diseases and conditions that were supposedly being alleviated and mentioned different areas of the anatomy—a back, a leg, etc.—that he claimed were being healed. He even stated that he did not need to name every disease or body part, that God’s power was effecting a multitude of cures all over the arena.

  Thus, instead of the afflicted being invited up to be healed (with no guarantee of success), the “shotgun” method encourages receptive, emotional individuals to believe that they have been healed. Only that self-selected group is invited to come forward and testify to their supposedly miraculous transformations. Although I remained seated (seeing no investigative purpose in making a false testimonial), others were more tragically left behind. At one Hinn service, a woman, hearing the evangelist’s anonymously directed command to “stand up out of that wheelchair!,” struggled to do so for almost half an hour before finally sinking back into it, exhausted (Thomas 2001).

  There is even a further step in the selection process: Of those who do make it down the aisles, only a very few will actually be invited onto the stage. They must first undergo what amounts to an audition for the privilege. Those who tell the most interesting stories and show the greatest enthusiasm are the ones most likely to be chosen (Underdown 2001).

  Perhaps not surprisingly, this selection process is virtually identical to that employed by professional stage hypnotists. According to Robert A. Baker, in his definitive book, They Call It Hypnosis (1990, 138-39):

  Stage hypnotists, like successful trial lawyers, have long known their most important task is to carefully pick their subjects—for the stage as for a jury—if they expect to win. Compliance is highly desirable, and to determine this ahead of time, the stage magician will usually give several test suggestions to those who volunteer to come up on the stage. Typically, he may ask the volunteers to clasp their hands together tightly and then suggest that the hands are stuck together so that they can’t pull them apart. The stage hypnotist selects the candidates who go along with the suggestion and cannot get their hands apart until he tells them, “Now, it’s okay to relax and separate them.” If he has too many candidates from the first test, he may then give them a second test by suggesting they cannot open their mouths, move a limb, or open their eyes after closing them. Those volunteers who fail one or more of the tests are sent back to their seats, and those who pass all the tests are kept for the demonstration. Needless to say, not only are they compliant, cooperative, and suggestible, but most have already made up their minds in volunteering to help out and do exactly as they are told.

  Role-Playing

  Once on stage, one of Hinn’s screeners announces each “healed” person in turn, giving a quick
summary of the alleged miracle. At the service I attended, one woman put on a show of jumping up and down to demonstrate that she was free of pain following knee surgery three weeks before. Another was cured of “depression”—caused by “The Demon,” said a screener—that resulted from “an abusive relationship with her husband.” Still another (who admitted to being “an emotional person”) said that her sister-in-law sitting beside her had begun to “speak in tongues,” and that she herself felt she had been healed of various ailments, including high blood pressure and marital trouble. At the mention of her brother, Hinn brought him up, whereupon the healer learned that the brother had been healed of “sixteen demons” two years previously, and expected to be cured of diabetes. Hinn prayed for God to “set him free” of the disease. Another was supposedly cured of being “afraid of the Lord” (although he was carrying the Bible of a friend who had died of AIDS), and one woman stated that she believed she had just been cured of ovarian cancer.

  In each instance—after the person has given a little performance (running about, offering a sobbing testimonial, or the like) and Hinn has responded with some mini-sermon, prayer, or other reaction—the next step in the role-playing is acted out. As one of his official catchers moves into place behind the person, Hinn gives a gesture, touch, or other signal. Most often, while squeezing the person’s face between thumb and finger, he gives a little push, and down the compliant individual goes. Some slump; some stiffen and fall backward; a few reel. Once down, many lie as if entranced, whereas others writhe and seem almost possessed.

  Along with speaking or praying in tongues (glossolalia) and other emotional expressions, this phenomenon of “going under the Power” is a characteristic of the modern charismatic movement (after the Greek charisma, “gift”). Also known as being “slain in the Spirit,” it is often regarded skeptically even by other Christians, who suspect—correctly— that the individuals involved are merely “predisposed to fall” (Benny Hinn: Pros & Cons 2002). That is, they merely engage in a form of role-playing that is prompted by their strong desire to receive divine power and by the influence of suggestion that they do so. Even the less emotionally suggestible people will be unwilling not to comply when those around them expect a certain behavior.