My Library

Everyone hugged me, even Fanny Knipe, the ASPR business manager with the dragon’s teeth. Janet Mitchell -- my dear, dear Janet -- was in tears. Fanny said there was a call for me from Vy Bennitt. "Can you and Janet come to dinner on Thursday? You will be the guest of honor, of course." WOW! I’d unseated the British at Vy’s table -- and with the exception of the famous spiritualist psychic, Arthur Ford, I was the second and the last American "psychic" ever to do so. Fanny also said, "Some people at NBC have been trying to get hold of you," she whispered. "I didn’t give them your number. Was that all right?" And so, here was the media problem -- now that all my friends had gotten me into step with their drummers. I determined never to talk with media types. Everyone was aghast at this, especially Ruth Hagy Brod so well connected to the Press Corps everywhere. But in this, if nothing else, I held firm. As I explained, "Well, you all prevailed, but in the end I’m now headed straight for TIME magazine’s fucking Fraud Box." I explained further. The only thing I wanted to do was experiments within strict scientific boundaries -- and there was no sensible reason to mix this with media or public. Ruth and Zelda Dear didn’t see how this could be managed, but I said if everyone doesn’t help me in this, I WILL walk, and that time it will be for good. Indeed, when I did next talk to media types, they were from the fucking Fraud Box Beast Itself, TIME magazine, and I agreed to do so only because in November, 1972, his eminence,