Long John Nebel

by Way Out World

  Gradually the house lights darkened, the footlights became less and less distinct, lights around the proscenium arch faded, and we now see a pink spotlight focused on the split in the traveler curtain. There isn’t a sound for some twenty or thirty seconds. And then we see the traveler curtain being manually separated by the appearance of Dr. William Neff, elegantly attired in tails that would make the Prince of Wales, when he was looked upon as the standard of sartorial elegance, feel extremely envious.

  Neff is a tall, slender man in his early fifties. Luxurious, closely-cropped gray hair, finely chiseled features make up his face, and in general there is no doubt in my mind that had Dr. William Neff decided to enter the theatre as an actor rather than a prestidigitator he would have no doubt found the going rather rough as he would leave the theatre at the end of any given performance, because of the tremendous number of women fans who would be waiting for autographs or just a glimpse of this charming debonair gentleman, who would, no doubt, be the main character in the dreams of many of these ladies.

  In a voice quality that’s hard to describe, but certainly all would agree that at least this one simple adjective could be employed—interesting—he welcomed the audience and told them in a few well-chosen words what they would be witnessing during the next sixty sensational, mystical minutes.

  To this very day I am still extremely puzzled. For the life of me I can’t tell you what caused it, of whether it was just a good illusion. But this I’ll say without fear of contradiction—it happened.

  As Neff was making his opening pitch, the area illuminated by the spot gradually became larger and larger as the technician controlled its diameter. And then the footlights were gradually coming up from a faint glow to a rather modified…possibly better described as a subtle different amount of illumination to add mystery and yet sufficient light for those fortunate few to witness the many effects that were to be presented by the master illusionist, Dr. William Neff. As I watched and listened, for a moment I lost confidence in what I thought my eyes were seeing and yet my heart could not believe. I tried to rationalize this phenomenon in the seconds that I know I saw it happen. It seemed that Neff’s body was becoming minutely translucent.

  I felt that his clothed body was turning to frosted glass or some form of plastic that was not transparent, but would permit light areas to be seen through it. It gave me an uncanny—or should I say unreal—feeling that something was happening that afternoon that possibly many members of the audience had not yet become aware of. And as the seconds ticked away—and they actually didn’t seem to be seconds, they were possibly hours, maybe even days—I lost complete track of time. Because the body was now undergoing a complete change. It now appeared that it was no longer translucent, but completely transparent. The black tails were not made of translucent black plastic. The white dress shirt was not milky glass. The small area of human skin—the hands, the head—were not made of flesh-toned translucent plastic. All of the material that made up this body was now gradually becoming transparent. The black, the white, the flesh-toned areas, could all be seen through clearly. You could see the traveler curtain clearly behind this transparent figure. And now it seemed that it was taking a very, very long time. Yes, slowly it was no longer transparent; it was disappearing completely.

  Again let me emphasize the point that I saw this with my own eyes. The voice of William Neff continued to be audible. It was coming through the speakers connected with the public address system. The stand that supported the microphone that Dr. William Neff was speaking his opening remarks into continued to remain in its material state. Even the wire that dangled from the microphone until it touched the floor and gradually snaked its way under the traveler curtain until it presumably was connected to the theatre’s public address system remained. At no time did it become translucent and then transparent and then disappear. Although Neff had disappeared, I know that his larynx and other organs that make up the auditory, physical equipment of the human being were still functioning.

  Gradually a rather faint outline, like a very fine pencil sketch of Neff, appeared again. And then, as if after the artist had made his outline he quickly replaced the pencil with charcoal and filled in the dark areas that formed the evening attire. And yet it was not a dense black at that moment. It had a translucent, and at times transparent, quality. And then, as if our artist were a lightning sketch artist, with bold strokes he added more charcoal to this gray area so that it became a dense black solid material again—and all of a sudden our imaginary artist added the flesh tones to this quick sketch and we had appear before us a fine, realistic, full-length in all of its dimensions, a portrait of William Neff—life size. And then, as if our imaginary artist was even a superior magician to the great Dr. Neff, with some mystical movement he was able to take away the canvas-like portrait quality of this life-size portrait and to replace it with a sort of reality. And then it appeared to have all the quality of a fine piece of Arnold Bergiere sculpture, and then I realized that this was not a stone-like substance, but once again I was seeing the real, live, activated body of Dr. William Neff.

  If you’ve ever listened to me on radio or if you’ve ever seen me on television, you know I have a favorite expression that has now become a cliché: I don’t buy it. I’m considered by many to be one of the most sceptical men in the business. Many of my former guests have even used obscenities to describe my ignorance and closed-mindedness. But I’m giving you a square count—I know this actually happened. I saw it with my own eyes.

  I could go into great details at this time to tell you how I rushed backstage afterwards to talk with Bill about this. But I’m going to be brief and to the point. I spoke to Bill; he told me that if I actually witnessed what I claimed, he was unaware of its happening. It is not an illusion that’s a part of his performance. In fact, when I pressed him to discuss, it with me at greater length he became slightly perturbed.

  I wrote a report of this occurrence for Fate Magazine and, about a year later, for the Psychic Observer. And both times I received considerable mail from readers. I’m going to take paragraphs from certain letters that I received to give you an idea of the interpretation and analysis given to this, and I think we should put the word in quotes, “phenomenon”—by a metaphysician, a radiesthesiast, a student of the occult, and a nonbeliever:

  H. V. L., a student of the occult from Honolulu, Hawaii, wrote:

  “I believe that I have an answer as to how he did it. Mr. Neff, in my opinion, should pass his knowledge of this to the scientific research. Mr. Neff is able to harmonize his body and mind simultaneously to meet the elements of the air. This is a form of Yogi meditation and this fact is known to Father Pio of Rome.

  “I sincerely believe that Mr. Neff is afraid of his knowledge and of what he performed on that said date.

  “If this act has not been repeated by Mr. Neff, I am of the opinion that it is purely fear on his part.”

  And from a well-known New York radiesthesiast, Dr. H. B. M. I received a letter that read, in part:

  “…Mr. William Neff is a Spiritualist medium for physical phenomena, whether he admits it or even knows it himself; and the unusual things that happen because of, or around him, are the doings of his band of Spirit Helpers, consciously or even unconsciously directed by him….

  “…a person becoming invisible…(is) well recognized by psychic science. This phenomenon is called Dematerialization, and it is accomplished by Spirit Entities around the medium, who speed up all the vibrations in every cell of his body until the rate is so high as to render them invisible. But the person’s Etheric Body remains intact, and when the Spirits slow down the vibrations again the cells rematerialize in their original positions, and the person’s physical body is whole once more. This is what happened to Mr. Neff on the stage.”

  The following excerpt from a letter sent by H. W. G. of San Francisco, a gentleman who claims to be a metaphysician, is spelled, punctuated and capitalized exactly—and I do mean exactly—as we r
eceived it:

  “So You Been Playing Araund in Several Branches Of Mratphysics Including Hypnotissm Eh, Have You Got Any Idea What Youre Playing Araund With, Plenty People Read Something Abaut Such Mybe Successful Experiments An Think Thy Know All Abaut It And Start Experimenting, An A Lot End In The Nuthouse, Jes My Dear Sir, Metaphysics Means, Manipulation And Application Of Natural Laws,…

  “…Another Thing, If Your Paal Jeff Should Praktice His Disapearing Ackt Openly On The Stages, I Bet, He’LL Get Some Nice Blackcoated Longfacet Gentlemen Visitors Tonsuret Or And Others, An Thy’ll Verry Kindly Sugesting Th Him To Please Cease An Resist From Farther Demonstration Of His Trik, OR ELSE, An Believe Me There Are And Have Been Quite A Few Who Choose To Ignore Thet Or Else An Mow Wish Thy Had, The Nuthouses Ore Good Storagebins, An Justtyy To Get Aut, Of Course, if Your Friend Jeff Has By That Time Fully Developet His Pover To Dematerialize His Body An Transport It At Will At The Instant, He Could Make A Laughing stok Of The Whole Caboddle, An Believe Me Something Similar To That Is Likely To Happen Repeatedly Not So Faar Ahead, Jeff Is Not The Only Student of E,S,P,”

  Of course, we also got letters from “nonbelievers,” like S.M. of Darlington, Wisconsin:

  “It just seems to me that Neff did not do anything, and that if this happened at all it happened to you, not to Neff. Your friend seeing it would not alter this anymore than the seeing of a collective hallucination would mean that two people seeing what they claim is the same phenomena would alter the fact that others would not see it.”

  In writing a book, you don’t sit down and do it all in one night. Since I last sat in front of this typewriter, I’ve been in touch with Dr. Neff by phone, and I told him that I’d come to the point in my book where I’d described in minute detail his appearance at the Paramount Theatre, and that I’d also taken excerpts from the letters I had received after the two published reports I’d written on his disappearance at the Paramount Theatre.

  I said, “Bill, this happened a few years ago, and you may not remember it, but I think you got a little hot under the collar in your dressing room that afternoon when I pushed you a little bit to try to get more information about that disappearance. Can you add anything to it at this point…in other words, is it a gaff? And if it is I won’t hesitate to admit to you that I don’t want to know it. And…after all, you’ll admit that when you’re sawing a girl in half it’s a trick—and you admit it’s a trick, although you don’t tell how it’s done. Bill, what happened at the Paramount Theatre that afternoon?”

  Bill’s reply to my questions—and may I add that my questions and his answers during that telephone conversation that afternoon a couple of days ago are recorded so I’m giving it to you verbatim—

  “John, I don’t .know what you hope to gain by rehashing that. When you first came backstage that afternoon I was a little hot under the collar. A situation almost identical to what happened at the Paramount Theatre happened to me about three years prior to that Paramount date, when I was playing in Chicago. And since then I’ve always been a trifle concerned.”

  “Well, Bill, are you saying that people saw you disappear in Chicago a few years ago?”

  “John, let me answer you this way. I don’t remember all of the details because, frankly, if there ever was anything that I wanted to erase from my memory it was the stories that I heard after my fourth day at a theatre in Chicago.

  “The other day, Evelyn was sitting watching TV in our apartment (Evelyn is Mrs. William Neff) and I was sitting in a rather comfortable over-stuffed chair, reading Robbins’ book on witchcraft and demonology. Evelyn started to say something to me, but evidently she was continuing to watch the TV fare for that particular time, and all of a sudden she screamed. And I looked at her. I became very concerned. She looked to me like a woman in a trance. She stared at me. A moment later tears started to flow from her eyes. She said, ‘Bill, where are you?’

  “John, I was in that chair! I closed the book, I got out of the chair. I went over to her. When I touched her to offer her some form of consolation she let out a piercing scream and said, ‘Who’s touching me?’”

  “Bill, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’ve got to get this straight. You were actually sitting in that chair? You didn’t leave the room or anything?”

  “John, it’s just the way I told you. Evelyn was watching TV. For the life of me I don’t know what she said, or anything, because I was interested in what I was reading in Robbins’ book…”

  “Bill, let me ask you this. Assuming that you disappeared, as far as Evelyn was concerned. She screamed. And then you left your chair, to go over and touch her. Did you then reappear? Or maybe I’m assuming something, but…well…at least, do you feel that you were invisible, or visible, at that time?” “John, I guess that’s the best way to explain it. I walked away from her to go to the bathroom, to get her a glass of water. All of a sudden she jumped up. She threw her arms around me…and I quickly unlaced her fingers and quickly turned around so that I’d be facing her, and again she put her arms around me. I don’t remember what she said—I mean her exact words or anything—but she said something about, I think she said, ‘Oh, Bill, I was so frightened. I couldn’t see you for a few minutes.’”

  “I guess this is a stupid question, Bill, because man, you’ve told a fantastic story—but, is there any more to it?”

  “John, I guess that’s about all there was to it.”

  “Bill, I know you’re always in favor of publicity, but I know your great reluctance to have anything in print about your family or your personal life, but would you permit your number one fan—yours truly, L. J.—to use this in my book? No doubt you’ve heard the beeps, because I’ve been recording this call.” “John, in answer to your request, I’ll do it under this one condition: that any mail that you receive about this I want you to promise me that you will not send it to me, and if Evelyn comes over to your studio one night you’ll not show her any of it.”

  “Bill, that’s a deal. I’m not going to ask you why, because I think I know the answer myself. Give my best to Ev, and maybe in a week or so we can get together and break a little bread.” “Thanks for calling, John.”

  “See you around, Bill.”

  And that, neighbors, I think will bring you up to date. I saw him disappear. To this day I say that without hesitation. Yes, I saw him disappear. And now, you too know the whole story.

  Actually, when I look back over the years, it’s amazing how many strange, almost unbelievable things have happened during the show. Unfortunately, it seems that the most interesting ones had no ending—that is, explanation—at least, not for me. One that comes to my mind at the moment is an experiment in astral projection conducted by the well-known hypnotist John Kolisch.

  To be accurate, this one didn’t actually happen in the studio. It took place in an apartment I had for a number of years in midtown Manhattan. John Kolisch had been on my half-hour show two or three times. This show preceded the long all-night show that I’m doing at the present time. It was on from 11:30 to 12:00 for about a year and a half. John Kolisch contacted me by phone and told me that he had an excellent hypnotic subject, a young man around 17 years of age. And Kolisch wanted to know whether I’d be interested in witnessing an experiment in astral projection. Kolisch had a theory that a person in a deep hypnotic state could be given a suggestion to permit the psychic body to separate from the physical body…well, wait a moment. I’m getting a little too far into the story.

  I told Kolisch on the phone that day that he could come up the following Thursday night. He arrived and introduced me to the young man—and for the sake of losing all identity I’ll refer to this young man as “Tommy.”

  Tommy was attending a parochial school. His parents, I was told, were under the impression that these experiments in “astral projection” were possibly sacrilegious and no doubt would not be condoned by the hierarchy of the Catholic Church. Evidently John was not only a good hypnotist, but a rather persuasive individual, because he was
able—at least John told me—to get Tommy’s parents to agree to continue the experiments providing he would not regress the boy to a pre-natal period. You think that’s wild? Wait’ll you hear this story.

  My apartment was located on the sixth floor of a 32-story building on Manhattan’s east side. The windows of my apartment faced the rear windows of the apartment on the next street. I think this is important to point out because there’s a possibility that some readers may feel that a view of the street below may have been of value to the hypnotist and his subject in reference to this experiment.

  Kolisch is a very smooth and competent hypnotist. He’s not a bellowing, theatrical type. In giving the induction phrases he almost whispers the words into the ear of the subject. Standing a distance of three or four feet away, it’s virtually impossible to hear the phrases. Of course, Tommy had been hypnotized many times, so it required no great effort on the part of Kolisch to get him into what’s known in the hypnotic field as a deep, deep hypnotic state. After Tommy was in this hypnotic state, John Kolisch made the necessary tests to make certain that this was not a light, surface hypnotic condition. And he proceeded to give the boy instructions and then to ask him questions in a regression experiment where the boy was regressed from his then current age of seventeen down to twelve, ten, seven….and then at the age of five we could notice a definite change in the voice quality and the range.

  Oh, and let me add something at this point. Prior to regressing the boy, but at the point where he was already hypnotized, Kolisch asked him to write a sentence and to sign his name—which the boy did with the pen and pad given to him. Now, at the age of “five,” Kolisch gave him the pad and pen again and asked him to write his name. In a sort of childish combination of writing and printing, he was able to write “Tommy”—but with little legibility. Upon questioning, he described some of his toys; a favorite one was a teddy bear.