Читать книгу True Tales from the Edgar Cayce Archives - Sidney D. Kirkpatrick - Страница 26

Heightened interest in Edgar Cayce drew the attention and scrutiny of physicians well beyond Hopkinsville. And while Ketchum was proving adept at handling his Kentucky colleagues, he was out of his depth when Dr. Hugo Münsterberg of Harvard University unexpectedly checked into the Latham Hotel and requested to meet with Edgar and his partners.

An imperious and altogether imposing man, who stood six-feet tall and weighed two-hundred-and-fifty pounds, Münsterberg was the most famous academic at the most prestigious institution in the United States. Born and raised in Germany, with an MD from the University of Heidelberg and a PhD from the University of Leipzig, he came to Harvard at the request of William James, the most influential figure in the history of American psychology. He had dined at the White House with two presidents, entertained European royalty in his Boston home, and was the most quoted German intellectual in the world press. He spoke five languages, enjoyed oil painting and portraiture, wrote poetry, played the cello, directed films, authored bestselling books and popular magazine articles, and pioneered technology which would lead to the creation of the modern-day lie detector. Most important to the Cayce story was the joy he took in exposing fraudulent mediums and psychics.

In one highly publicized case in 1909, Münsterberg investigated Eusapia Palladino, an internationally renowned Italian medium who was championed by British psychic researcher Hereward Carrington. Madame Palladino, calling upon her spirit guide John King, could allegedly levitate tables, remotely transport objects from one place to another, spontaneously excite musical instruments to play, and summon otherworldly blasts of wind to blow through rooms with sealed windows and doors. Münsterberg proved otherwise.

Dr. Hugo Münsterberg, seated at center, with his medical students, 1891.

At a séance held in the Manhattan apartment of a wealthy Bostonian, he and two colleagues had joined Palladino around a circular table in a darkened room. At Palladino’s direction, he was seated to the left of the medium with his right foot in contact with her left foot and his right hand in contact with her right hand. Similarly, one of Münsterberg’s colleagues sat to her right with his left hand and left foot touching her right hand and right foot. According to Palladino, investigators seated in this way could be certain that she didn’t move her hands and feet without their knowledge. What Palladino didn’t know was that Münsterberg had an accomplice hidden in the room.

After the séance had begun, Münsterberg’s accomplice, not spirit guide John King, made his presence known. Palladino was caught having stealthily slipped her bare feet out of her shoes and using her toes to raise the table around which they sat. She had also surreptitiously placed Münsterberg’s right hand on top of his colleague’s left hand. With her own hands thus liberated, she was then free to move objects and make the instruments play. The mysterious wind, Münsterberg further revealed, was the result of a rubber bladder secreted into the palm of one of her hands which she used to release sudden jets of air to blow through the room.

Eusapia Palladino, Italian medium, 1898.

Münsterberg’s success in exposing Palladino and the laudatory press that followed surely contributed to his decision to investigate Cayce. The event that triggered the professor’s departure for Hopkinsville was the presentation of a scholarly paper written by Ketchum delivered at Harvard to the American Association of Clinical Research in 1911. The presentation, attended by upwards of four thousand physicians, clinical researchers, and university scientists, reportedly sent Münsterberg into a blind fury. “I will expose Cayce to the world!” he grandly announced.

Fellow faculty members in Cambridge were not so quick to dismiss Ketchum’s report or rally behind their headline-grabbing colleague’s efforts to debunk Cayce. They believed that Münsterberg, who was in the process of rewriting the Harvard curriculum, had betrayed the legacy of his now-deceased mentor William James, who had encouraged the open-minded study of paranormal and extrasensory phenomenon and had been a prominent supporter of the Society for Psychical Research in England. In striking contrast to James, Münsterberg denied the existence of the unconscious mind and any supposed powers associated with it. He bridled at the notion that a psychic could correctly diagnose illness in a hypnotic state and was determined to destroy the careers of physicians and scientists entertaining such claims.

Three months after Ketchum’s presentation, on January 20 after attending a formal state dinner in Washington D.C., Münsterberg arrived in Hopkinsville by train and checked into Cayce partner Albert Noe’s hotel. As Münsterberg’s archived correspondence makes clear, he didn’t alert the press of his visit because he condescendingly believed that his mere presence in Hopkinsville would give credence to the “humbug” he believed to be psychic phenomenon. Rather, he would catch Cayce in an act of fraud, compile his findings, and go public at a time and place of his own choosing—Harvard’s Emerson Hall.

The following day Münsterberg hired a carriage which took him down the Russellville Road to the modest single-bedroom cottage at the furthermost edge of city limits to where the Cayces had now moved. As Münsterberg learned from the carriage driver, Edgar owned no property. Even the cameras in his Hopkinsville photo studio belonged to others in the partnership. Edgar and his wife Gertrude had moved into a cottage near The Hill belonging to his mother-in-law to save money and to make it more convenient for family members to care for bedridden Gertrude recovering from tuberculosis.

The train coming into Hopkinsville.

Münsterberg’s unexpected arrival, his thick German accent, trademark silver-handled cane, and ankle-length beaver coat caught Cayce by surprise. Though taken aback, Edgar was cordial. He invited the forty-eight-year-old professor into his home, introduced him to three-year-old Hugh Lynn, and briefly showed him into the bedroom to meet Gertrude.

The Harvard professor expressed no pleasantries nor excused himself for arriving without an invitation. He immediately asked to see the table, lights, crystal ball, or any of the “modus operandi” that were the accoutrements of psychics such as Palladino. Cayce truthfully said he didn’t know what Münsterberg was talking about. He needed no darkened room to go into trance, could not levitate tables, move objects, or conjure unearthly gusts of wind. He described how he could go into trance whether he was lying on the floor in the living room, outside in the yard, or in the middle of the road. He also informed Münsterberg that his readings were now recorded by a stenographer and that typed transcripts were available from Dr. Ketchum for his inspection. He would be pleased to accommodate.

As an example of Cayce’s trance-induced diagnoses, Münsterberg was shown a transcript of his latest trance session, a follow-up health reading Edgar had given his wife the previous day. Münsterberg studied the reading and with permission, briefly examined Gertrude. He also heard the dramatic story of how, on her deathbed, the Source had recommended she be given the combination of drugs and charred oak keg filled with apple brandy which had saved her life. Unbelievable as it all seemed, Münsterberg could see for himself that Gertrude was on the path to a full recovery.

After further discussion of Gertrude’s case and examining the readings that had been given her, Münsterberg abruptly left without shaking Edgar’s hand or saying goodbye. He would, however, return several days later, this time by appointment and accompanied by Dr. Jackson with whom he had discussed Gertrude’s medical history and conducted a more thorough physical examination.

Münsterberg’s investigation was underway, but it was not Cayce who was being tested. What the Harvard professor hadn’t revealed to Edgar and Gertrude was that he had lost family members to tuberculosis. As a highly trained medical professional he knew the disease as only a specialist did. As the bereft stepson of a mother who had died from it, he also knew the agony of those who had contracted it. He had, as a result of his experience, been inspired to found a tuberculosis institute in Berlin. Until he sat at Gertrude’s beside, he had never personally examined a patient whose dramatic recovery was so miraculous.

Despite what he had seen and heard at the Cayce household, Münsterberg was unwilling or unable to make the creative leap necessary to take the next step: admit the possibility that Edgar’s trance readings had cured his wife of tuberculosis. Pride, not scientific inquiry, was the reason. The same was likely true of Harry Houdini, who would witness and investigate Cayce a decade later in New York. In the case of both men, no evidence would be convincing enough for them to publically call into question assumptions which contributed to their popularity. Houdini would try and fail to prove Cayce a fraud in 1921 at the McAlpin Hotel but would never go on record as having witnessed a Cayce reading, despite evidence otherwise.

Magician Harry Houdini, c. 1905.

The McAlpin Hotel in New York where Houdini performed and Cayce sometimes stayed when in New York.

Unbeknown to Cayce, Münsterberg’s undeclared purpose in exposing Cayce as a fraud was to gather ammunition that would remove the last vestiges of James’ influence on the Harvard curriculum. A sharp-tongued man with a well-deserved reputation for lashing out at his perceived enemies, Münsterberg knew he would have a mutiny on his hands back in Cambridge if he publically changed his position. And yet, here in front of him was a possible cure for one of the world’s most dreaded diseases. He was in a position to save hundreds and thousands of sufferers—perhaps even millions—yet in doing so he would undermine the foundation upon which he had built his career, endanger his Harvard professorship, and expose himself to rebukes from the many colleagues and perceived enemies he had cowed into silence.

Münsterberg was further tested the next day when he met Cayce at his photo studio and witnessed a trance reading. When Edgar arrived in the morning, Cayce’s father Leslie, who was conducting the readings at this point, stenographer Katherine Faxon, and Dr. Wesley Ketchum were already at the studio. Edgar had just finished telling them about Münsterberg’s unannounced visit to his home when the professor arrived. He was shown into a small sitting room adjacent to where the readings were given. After everyone was gathered, Münsterberg then proceeded to interrogate Edgar, his father, and Ketchum. The partners answered his questions, and he was shown a file of readings and accompanying testimonials from patients.

Eventually, Edgar’s morning appointment arrived. August Boehme had come from his home in Newport, Kentucky, and hadn’t told Ketchum or anyone at the office why he had requested the reading. Edgar and Boehme chatted for only a few moments before Edgar lay down on the couch, put himself into trance, and proceeded to give a reading. Leslie stood beside the couch while Ketchum and Boehme sat in chairs adjacent to Cayce. Münsterberg chose a seat beside the door where he could best view the proceedings.

Cayce gave a typical reading. He reported on Boehme’s body from head to toe, pointing out problem areas—he was suffering from a stomach disorder which resulted in chronic malnutrition—and made suggestions for how his condition could be treated. When Cayce came out of the trance, Münsterberg resumed questioning Edgar and Ketchum, and now Boehme. He asked Boehme about how much Edgar knew of his condition before the reading.

“Nothing whatever,” Boehme answered. “I never saw him before in my whole life. I have only read something about him in the paper. I’ve been a sufferer for a long time with no results, so I came to see him, only arrived this morning.”

Münsterberg asked Boehme if he was convinced by the reading. “I certainly am!” Boehme announced.

For the next five days Münsterberg interviewed other recipients of Cayce’s readings. Professor Charles Dietrich, who impressed Münsterberg most, was the former Christian County Superintendent of Schools as well as being the best-educated and most-respected resident of Hopkinsville. In 1902, Cayce’s trance counsel had cured Dietrich’s six-year-old daughter Aime of mental illness. Over tea in the family’s house, Dietrich’s wife Minnie discussed their daughter’s condition and presented Münsterberg with extensive medical records prepared by specialists. Aime herself, who was soon to attend college, may have entertained Münsterberg with a piano recital. Münsterberg also interviewed George Dalton, the wealthy building contractor who had consulted Cayce about his compound leg fracture, and had received the treatment in which nails were used to set the fracture. Dalton not only provided Münsterberg personal witness to the veracity of Cayce’s reading, but he also had X-ray proof of the procedure.

Carrie House, now a hospital nurse, related her equally compelling story of how Edgar had saved her son. Three-year-old Tommy House, who played at Münsterberg’s feet while Carrie related what had happened, was living proof. She also shared with him the story of how Gertrude had resisted the readings and had done all she could to convince Edgar to stop giving them until, on her death bed, a reading had saved her life. Carrie, and now Gertrude, had absolute confidence in Edgar’s ability, though she, and later Gertrude, would confide to Münsterberg that they had doubts about Dr. Ketchum’s integrity and others whom, Carrie said, were prone to take advantage of Edgar. His was a gift from God, not to be exploited or traded upon. Yet increasingly, this was what, after Al Layne’s departure, physician researchers were doing. If they weren’t jabbing needles into Edgar to test that he was, in fact, in trance, they were obtaining horse racing tips and clues to help them find buried treasure. One group had, without permission from the Salter family, dug up the backyard at The Hill. As Edgar couldn’t remember a thing he did or said when in trance, he was as the mercy of the conductor of the readings.