With the memory of my Modesto experiences fresh in mind, I decided, when I came upon Dr. Schlesinger in San Francisco, in 1893, to institute a series of daylight seances in the presence of some of the most distinguished citizens of San Francisco. As I was then a writer of the San Francisco Daily Examiner staff I found rare opportunities for enlisting the men desired in the experiments. I was not then, nor am I now, in any manner affiliated with Spiritualists, nor do I set forth the facts of this narrative for the purpose of making converts to any theory of mind or matter.
The manuscript from which this work is printed was written at the time of the matters recorded, on an order from the Examiner. Owing to the fact that Mayor Ellert afterwards regretted that he had allowed a seance to be held in his office, the Examiner was induced to suppress the story, which now appears in detail for the first time. It should be borne in mind that all that follows was written at the time of the events described.
CHAPTER II.
THE “EXAMINER” SEANCE.
That the reader may fully understand the origin of the experiments recorded in the narrative that follows, it is necessary to state again that I was a writer for the Examiner in the autumn of 1893, and that I was on the alert for what newspaper men call “stories,” or special articles—things a little outside of the ordinary run of news.
Ambitious to arrange something of unusual interest, I approached Mr. Hearst and S. S. Chamberlain, who were in charge of the news department of the paper. I told them what I had seen Dr. Schlesinger do in Modesto, and outlined the plans that were afterwards carried out—seances at the office of Mayor Ellert and the Chief of Police, in the presence of prominent citizens. First, however, it was necessary for the editors to see the medium at their offices; for they feared there would be some failure, and that the citizens invited would be disgusted because of their loss of time in useless experiments.
For these reasons, therefore, the first sittings were at the editorial offices of the Examiner, where the editors were as much puzzled as anybody else. They were at once convinced that, however he performed his feats, Dr. Schlesinger was at least not a bungling master of the black art. Several intelligent observers were present, among them one or two of the brightest newspaper men in the city. The experiments were not only carefully noted, but they were viewed with grave suspicion. They were, however, wholly informal and merely preliminary to the more important and prolonged seances that followed at the office of the Mayor of the city, and later at the office of and in the presence of the city’s Chief of Police. A few facts concerning the occurrences at the Examiner office are given that the reader may have the full benefit of the story.
One of the investigators (Managing Editor A. B. Henderson) wrote a number of names on slips of paper, before Dr. Schlesinger arrived. They were not seen or known to any one save the person that prepared them, and the slips on which they were written were carefully folded and clasped in a bundle, by a rubber band or elastic. Great pains was taken by Mr. Henderson to prevent the medium from handling or seeing the slips. Without seeing the writing, Dr. Schlesinger at once gave the names correctly. One of them was that of Thaddeus Stevens, the eminent Pennsylvanian; and when the folded slip on which his name was written was touched by Mr. Henderson, the medium said: “That is the name of Thaddeus Stevens, who knew you well. He calls you Alexander, and sends you his love.”