Episode 70: Story Time with Sandra

Sandra sham Plain. Welcome to our podcast. Please be aware the thoughts and opinions expressed by the host are their thoughts and opinions only and do not reflect those of I Heart Media, I Heart Radio, Coast to Coast, am employees of premier networks, or their sponsors and associates. We would like to encourage you to do your own research and discover the subject matter for yourself. Hi. I'm Sanders Shamplain. For almost twenty five years, I been on a journey

to prove the existence of life after death. On each episode, will discuss the reasons we now know that our loved ones have survived physical death and so will we Welcome to Shades of the Afterlife. I've got a big smile on my face and I was laughing just now. We all have people in our life that love us and support us. But when we start talking about life after death. Sometimes one eyebrow goes up and they think we're a

little crazy. Well I was one of those people beginning my journey, thinking anybody who spoke about this was a little crazy. So picture this. I'm here in my mom's house right now, and she asked me, oh, what are you going to do for your next episode? Of course, she loves and supports me, so I thought i'd tell her. Well, I thought i'd call it story time with Sandra, and I've got three books in front of me, which i'll

tell you about in just a second. But I told her about physical mediumship some of the stories, and when I do, she thinks I'm a little bit out there. So when I described what I want to do this show about today, I got one of those looks. Yes, I certainly did. And I know she loves and supports me, she wants me to be happy. But I just turned around and left her room with a smile. Unless you experience things for yourself, it is so difficult to believe

things are real. So I understand it. You know, I follow some people and what they're up to, and some of it just seems so far out there that I don't give it any credibility. But then there's other stories that I think, you know what, I've got to investigate this. So today the three books I have in front of me. One is on the Edge of the Etheric and it was written in one by Arthur Finlay. And Arthur Finley is someone you may have heard of, the Arthur Finley

College in the UK. It's a place where mediums go to be trained and it's got a really big history, really beautiful old property. Even Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, who gave up writing Sherlock Holmes, got involved and was at this wonderful place and stand stead UK to participate in these physical medium seances is the word now. Seance means meeting, but a lot of us have a spooky connotation with it. People gathered around in a circle holding hands in the

dark and voices come out of nowhere. Well some of that is actually true, believe it or not, and it's not as spooky as it sounds though. Another book I have in front of me is Alec Harris and the full story of his remarkable physical mediumship, and it was written by his wife, Louie Harris. And Alec Harris is some who never ever believed in mediumship and those sort of things, and his wife would go to these meetings,

church meetings. You know, she made light of him and he started wondering, you know, what is she really doing. I don't know if he questioned an affair or not, but he was curious as to what really happens at these meetings. So he tagged along once and he found out it was mediumship. Well, Alec Harris ended up becoming one of the most famous, most well known mediums in the day and probably in history for some of the

things that would happen. The third book I have is called A History of Ghosts, The True Story of Seances, Mediums, Ghosts and Ghostbusters, and it was written by Peter Ackroyd, who is the father of Dan Ackroyd, who wrote the movie Ghostbusters. Now, Peter's grandfather would hold these meetings and I don't know how aware he was as a boy, and so I want to read to you a little

bit from the beginning. But in it, people would become alive again, people would have their voices heard, and so the ackroid family completely believes in spiritualism, which is a religion based on the survival of the afterlife and with

that in their household. There were plenty of stories told of these seances and people becoming alive again, and this substance that was a vapor like substance that would exude from a medium's body and the deceased people could step into it with their etheric body and become real again, while the substance was called ectoplasm. So with that, young Dan had those seeds planted and ended up making the

comedy Ghostbusters. Now. As hard as it is for people to get their mind on some of these things, the basics of mediumship that we know now, which is called evidential mediumship, all started because of this physical mediumship back in the day, back in the late eighteen hundreds. I believe it started maybe mid to late eighteen hundreds and into the nineteen hundreds. On one of the earlier episodes, I've got a clip of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle talking

about what he experienced. We've also talked to physical medium Scott Milligan and although the clips I have for you as part of Shades of the Afterlife are on his trans mediumship, he is one of the top physical mediums in the world. Trans medium ship is when someone quiets their mind and allows someone from the spirit world to speak through them. And we witness that every Friday online and you're always welcome to join. You don't have to

pay a penny. You can come and be my guest as good to we Don't Die dot com and look at the store. You'll find all the details there. I've witnessed physical mediumship myself probably two dozen times. I would say Scott Milligan is the main medium that I have sat with. Also Stuart Alexander, who's always says he's about to retire and never quite does. And another fellow I sat with a couple of times. His name is David Thompson. But Scott is the one that I know the most about.

I've heard so many of his stories and they're really wonderful. And while I myself have not witnessed people with my eyes speaking from the afterlife, I have heard their voices, I have felt their touch, and there's no way somebody's going to convince me that there was trickery going on. So I know, a skeptical mind can say, oh, this is so hard to believe, and a lot of stuff

I agree. When it seems to good to be true, it probably is so I know in this episode, I'm not going to convince you of anything, nor am I trying, But I want you to sit back, relax, and just enjoy some of these stories. So we're going to start out with Peter Ackroyd's book A History of Ghosts, The True Story of Seances, Medium's Ghosts, and Ghostbusters. We're going to start by the foreword by Dan Ackroyd. People often

ask me how I came to write Ghostbusters. The truth is that in the early nineteen hundreds, my family was part of a worldwide cultural and social phenomena driven by a wish to make contact with spirits of the dead, whether the dead wanted it or not. My great grandfather, Samuel Augustus Ackroyd, presided over his home circle, and the sitters had their very own medium, Walter Ashurst, who may believed acted as a conduit to many and varied afterworld personalities.

Whether one believes in this kind of thing or not, my family was then and is now not alone in such pursuits. Thousands of people in Western society regularly hold seances and support mediums. Around the beginning of the twentieth century, mediums and their subsequent investigators became big stars, and spiritualism took on a distinct show business aspect. Were they fakes hoaxes? Many to be sure, and some would say they were

all tricks. But Baron Albert Vaughan shrink not sing. The German ectoplasm Hunter, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, writer of the Sherlock Holmes detective series, and Sir Oliver Lodge, eminent scientist and philosopher, were men who held the hope that someday

natural science might rationally encompassed the supernatural as a proven fact. Levitations, apports, apparitions, limbs complete with hair, skin, and bones instantly growing out of living people, plasmic material molded into real tissue, impressions of faces and bodies. These were things seen by witnesses, skeptics, and believers alike. Were these mere spectacles achieved by artificial devices? Or some of them simply part of a reality that

exists beyond our sensible understanding. Part of Ghostbusters appeal derives from the cold rational acceptance of the phantasmic as routine tone that Bill Murray, Harold Ramos, director Ivan Rittman, and I were able to sustain in the movie. This element originated from my great grandfather's interest in the subject and

from the books he collected. He bequeathed these to his son, My grandfather Maurice, the Bell telephone engineer, who actually queried his colleagues about the possibility of constructing a high vibration crystal radio as a mechanical method for contacting the spirit world. His son, my father, as a child, witnessed seances and kept the family books on the subject. My brother Peter and I read them avidly and became lifelong supporters of

the American Society for Psychical Research. And from all of this ghostbusters got made. My daughters are now up on the subject, and one of them, we have found, seems to affect photographs, glops of light and other shapes surround her when pictures are taken in and around the old family farmhouse. The children will have to make their own decisions about the verity and value of psychic studies. Their grandfather's book, A History of Ghosts will surely assist them.

It is an objective, as any serious seeker of the truth about alleged paranormal activities could wish. Both believers and nonbelievers will first be highly entertained and then surprisingly enlightened by these stories of real empiricists chasing ghosts. And that's written by dan Ackroyd. Before I go into reading the next part, I just want to tell you something. These stories come from people that have been long dead, and it's very easy for us living in the two thousands

to think, will it happened long ago? These things must be fake or didn't really happen. Here's the thing. The people that got involved in this were doctors, scientists, some of the smartest minds at the time, so there was a lot of investigation to make sure that all this is real. So let's take our break and then we'll be back. You're listening to Shades of the Afterlife on the I Heart Radio and Coast to Coast a m Paranormal podcast Network. Don't go anywhere. There's more Shades of

the Afterlife coming right up. The art Bell Vault never disappoints classic audio at your fingertips. Go now to Coast to Coast a UM dot com for full details the best afterlife information you can get. Well your own Shades of the Afterlife with Sander Champlaine. Welcome to Shades of the Afterlife. I'm Sandra Champlain, and we are doing story time with Sandra. Our first is going to be from a History of Ghosts, The True story of Seances, Mediums,

ghosts and Ghostbusters. Now, this first part is the prologue, written by Peter Ackroyd from what he remembered being young, May twelve nine, Sydenham, Ontario, Canada. Four cars, all black, all polished for their trip from town, rolled down the long lane to the farmhouse, the crunch of gravel beneath the tires momentarily silencing the birds. Dust settles on the gleaming finishes of the automobiles and they pull up beside the farmhouse, parking randomly on the grass. There are four

men in three piece suits with well shined shoes. The women four of them as well, all in black with stylish hats. The faces are familiar. I have seen them before at church or in town. These people always have something friendly to say to me. But from here, in my hiding place, among the newly budding lilac bushes, they appear unapproachable. Their minds are on something else. I slipped unobserved, across the lawn to the back of the house and

toward the outside cellar entrance. The cellar stairs are damp, and as I pull open one side of the heavy horizontal doors, I smell the rich, loamy scent of ripened apples. The rest of the family is puzzled by my motive entry, but I am quite content entering the house this way. It gives me access to the experiences I might otherwise miss at a young age. I am curious as they come. I crossed the cellar, which is dimly lit by the

slanting sunlight. Entering through the outside door, I climb up the inside cellar stairs and kneel patiently on the top, waiting. The cellar door is open a crack. From here, I can see the kitchen in one direction, and in the other, the fireplace and the table in the parlor. I can hear the voice emanating from the radio. It is crisp and clear as it delivers the news. I lean forward. I can see the front door and the verandah. I shift my position to see if anyone has entered yet.

But apparently the people in the driveway are enjoying the last rays of the spring sun, the scent of lilacs, and the sounds of bird song. My grandfather is sitting in his usual chair by the fireplace a tent. Upon hearing every last word the newscaster has to say on the radio, Grandpa grunts and snaps the radio dial, silencing it. People these days can't seem to tolerate one moment without entertainment,

he mutters. Moving towards the square table in the center of the room, he adjusts the silk cloth in his center, says something to one of the young, ark haired men, and says, it is time, my dear. He turns and walks out the front door and stands on the veranda, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. The mantle clock is ticking. I can hear the young man soft rhythmic breathing as the grown up scent of cigarettes drifts towards me.

The group with Grandpa bringing up the rear, enters the farmhouse. They are chatting quietly. Once in the parlor, they are greeted by Grandma, a plump, smiling lady. I see that she is also dressed in black, as if for a funeral. As the fresh breeze waffs through the house, it brings another scent to me, the distinct aroma of freshly baked bread and sure enough, through the crack of the door knob, I can see two pans of buns glistening, and the homemade butter warming at the back of the wood stove.

My mouth begins to water, but my attention is drawn away from my already full stomach. Grandpa has invited the guests to be seated, and I must alter my position for a better view. I sense that it is important for me to see, but remain unseen, for I am supposed to be in my bedroom preparing for bed. The unlit coil lamp stands on the sideboard, waiting to do its part. When dusk turns to dark, I wedge myself carefully between the wall and the inside of the cellar door,

sliding silently to a seated position. Comfort will be crucial. It will be a long night. The drapes are drawn, but there is still a faint light in the room. As the guests file into the parlor, they nod significantly to the seated man and take their places, leaving vacant the chairs on either side of the young man. Once the guests are seated, Grandma takes to the chair to the young man's left. Grandpa follows and occupies the last

chair to the young man's right. For the first time I noticed that the young man is dressed differently from the others. His attire is far more casual, an open collar workshirt and a cardigan. Grandpa begins to speak. Please hold hands around the table, try to think positive thoughts. Pray silently if you wish. The young man stubs out his cigarette. He leans back, closes his eyes, and slips into a trance, and the deafening pin drop silence. It is as if some curtain is about to rise. But

the show is an unusual one. These guests have not traveled from town to see a play or concert. This is a meeting of dr Ackroyd's circle. A seance is about to begin, and the people present are here to engage in an unusual form of communication. They have come from town to talk to the dead. Just as we're at the edge of our seat, Peter Ackroyd starts chapter one. It's called Ghosts set Home the Home Circle. I'll just

read a couple of pages. The sights and sounds of that afternoon scene came tumbling back to me one mild winter afternoon. More than fifty years later, my sister Judy and I had taken on the task of clearing out the family home in Toronto, the place where my grandfather, Samuel Ackroyd DDS had spent the last days of his life.

The house at nine Garfield Avenue had been sold, and Judy and I had taken a weekend out of our own busy schedules to decide who would get what, what would go to auction, and what would be donated to the Salvation Army. The rest would go to the dump. We had kept the dark basement for the last Several items that were seen as childhood treasures had been located upstairs, memorabilia and photos, ancient jewelry, original artworks, and a few rare books. We were not terribly excited about what could

possibly be lurking in the dark wasteland below stairs. With the last drops of a Manhattan made from bonded stock rye warming our insides, we had already made several trips up and down the stairs. Next to the furnace. In a corner of what was once the coal storage bin, we came upon our last load. Most of what we found was destined for the landfill. Old suitcases with jagged zippers and broken handles, that proved they had been to

more places than most people. Empty cardboard boxes, a stained mattress from a twin bed, and in the back against a wall, an old blue metal trunk with a dedication of two people who felt duty bound to thoroughly examine everything in their care. Judy and I pride open the rusted metal clasp with a screwdriver. We had expected to

find either junk or emptiness. Instead we found history. Inside were a photo album of black and white prints attached with triangular corner mounts, and yellowed newspapers from decades back, saved for articles Germaine to the family. There was a scrap book of recipes and our father's sheepskin from Queen's University Applied Science nineteen thirteen, and a bundle of notebooks of the type that children used in school. They were bound together with kitchen twine. We untied the bundle and

began to read page after page of penciled handwriting. With no anticipation of doing so. We had come across Grandpa's journals, eighty three of them to be precise written in his own hand, from nineteen o five through nineteen thirty one, containing thoughts, observations, and conjectures that he clearly had hoped might some day be shared with others with in the now fragile pages were handwritten copies of letters to his family and friends and to the editors of local newspapers.

The majority of the words he recorded are actual accounts of seances, most of which took place in the small farmhouse on the north shore of Lowborough Lake, near the village of Sydenham, Ontario. Other passages are his musings over what it's all about. The notes and letters aid my remembrances of the elderly gentleman who lived in that farmhouse

where I spent many gloriously happy days and nights. In my mind's eye, I can still see him in his faded blue shirt and baggy tweed pants, sitting on the bank of the lake, with his feet just over the edge of the dock, jotting his thoughts into a child's notebook with his Dixon H B pencil. My grandfather created in me a lifetime interest in the parent normal, an interest that has proved to be enormously engaging in fun.

I have passed it on to my son's Dan and Peter, and it also resulted in a television series and movies which have been most fun of all. In the year of Ghostbusters release, it became the most successful comedy in film history to date. It has been seen by over a billion people, and it was absolutely and directly derived from the Blue Trunk. I hope Grandpa knows what fun he started. Everything I've read to you thus far is only in the first fourteen pages of the book, so

there's a lot more. But what I want to do in our next segment together is I want to give you some really juicy stories from the Alec Harris book. But before I do, and before I leave you. In the book A History of Ghosts by Peter Ackroyd, he talks about home circles. He talks about the history of mediumship and all of these fascinating pioneers, how it started, what it is more about ectoplasm, all the doctors and the scientists involved, and even what happened within the home

circle of the grandfathers. In fact, it is said that between nine and nineteen thirty three, in the doctor Ackroid's notebooks, there were no fewer than eighty seances held. You'll also be happy to know that the young Peter Ackroyd was able to go into the seance room on one night. Peeking in, he hit a broom that fell and created a whole bunch of noise. The medium was entranced, and a very bemused voice called out in a Bella Legosi style eerieness, would the young gentleman in the cellar way

care to join this circle? And so have to report he did so. When we come back, we're gonna hear about another circle of Alec Harris. You're listening to Shades of the Afterlife on the I Heart Radio and Coast to Coast, a paranormal podcast Network. Don't go anywhere. There's more Shades of the Afterlife coming right up. Hey, it's

the Wizard of Weird Joshua Pee Warren. Don't forget to check out my show Strange Things each week as I bring you the world of the truly amazing and bizarre right here on the I Heart Radio and Coast to Coast, a m paranormal podcast network, and now more Sandra on the Your Heart Radio on Coast to Coast Damn Paranormal podcast Network. Welcome back to Shades of the Afterlife I'm Sander Champlain and we're going to move on to another book. This one's called Alec Harris The Full Story of his

remarkable physical Mediumship by his wife Louie Harris. It's a story about how a young man skeptical of all things psychic, became one of the world's most brilliant materialization mediums. Alec and Louie Harris were married for forty six years, and forty of those years until his passing in four they were devoted to bringing hope, comfort and enlightenment to countless people.

In the book, Louie tells of her husband's development of trance direct voice healing and after six years of work with their spirit team of people solidly materializing in red light. Included in the book are wonderful accounts of families reuniting across the fale of death and old friends coming back in to talk with each other in many languages that were unknown to Alec. I also want to just paint the picture of what one of these home circles looks like.

It's inside a room with lots of curtains or drapes around the windows so that no light shines in typically held at nighttime. The medium, who is Alec Harris in this case, is in a corner of a room and there is a black curtain in front of him, so they call that a cabinet so the energy can build up for the spirit world to use alex energy to produce things. When the medium sits for physical mediumship, their eyes are closed and they're pretty much knocked out. They

are in a trance like state. They most likely have no idea of what is going on because the spirit people are blending with their energies and using them. The first story I'm going to share in our story time here begins in chapter six. Now, the first part of the book was talking about Louie Harris, her beliefs, her interests, falling in love with her husband, how her brother Ted became a spiritualist. He became a medium, and that was really frowned on in the family because you know, people

thought mediums in the afterlife was crazy. But after two years of him being a medium and his sister doing some work to start attending the things he was attending, she herself got wrapped up in spiritualism. She would tell white lies to her husband Alec, that she was going to these meetings, and one day he wanted to attend a meeting and a long story short, he became one

of these mediums. Now where we're going to go. His first story is he is a trance medium, so he knows the spirit world is working through him and talking through him, but the physical manifestations hadn't taken place yet. This is one of the first times where the spirit world actually does some physical things to him. On Christmas night, Phillis and I suggested to Alec that we should have a circle, thinking it would be nice to exchange greetings with many of our friends in the spirit world. To

our surprise, Alec readily agreed. He usually had to be coaxed to give any extra circles. Being an unwilling convert to spiritualism, he was never very keen on spending long periods in trance. Before he could change his mind, we quickly hung a curtain across the room to form a cabinet. Alec was placed inside, and at his request, we tied his hands and feet. My mother had already gone to bed. The fire was very low, and we screened its glow

as best we could. In our haste, we had not darkened the windows completely, and being a moonlight night, the soft beams filtered into the room, so that we were able to see much better than usual. No sooner had Alec lapsed into trance than I. Wonga said, We're going to try and experiment tonight. Please tie string around each of the knots in the cord binding the medium, make

them extra secure. We ask you to do this so that the medium, when he wakes, will have no doubts what had taken place was indeed the work of spirit and no one else. It will be a feat that no human entity could perform. Then, with a note of amusement in his voice, he added, also have your long coat ready. Please secure the knots. Now Puzzled, we set to work on the cord, making a very good job of it. This done, Phillis and I took our places and began to sing carols. I forgot to mention singing

builds energy for manifestations to occur. This done, Phillis and I took our places and began to sing carols. After a moment, Yokum joined us with his beautiful, deep musical voice. Then the spirit children added their voices in beautiful harmony. Then two voices could be heard singing together. We had a lovely Christmas party. Yoakum and the children entertained us throughout the evening, making amusing remarks to keep us in fits of laughter. The moon later became very bright by

its lights. The trumpets were clearly visible in their entirety, not just the luminous areas painted around the edges. The curtains forming the cabinet did not quite reach to the floor. I saw beneath them a white, ami transparent substance billowing along the floor. My stomach constricted with excitement as I realized that a materialization was probably forming. Phyllis was very still. She had also seen this substance, and we waited expectantly

for developments. After a while, two spirit arms projected from the cabinet, holding a shoe in each hand. One shoe was placed on my lap and the other on Phyllis's next. Alex belt and jumper were laid alongside the shoes. As this was taking place, I again experienced a feeling of extreme cold. My body temperature dropped to the point where

I was shivering. Then a deep, droning hum could be heard from the cabinet, and Adula announced himself he was producing the same powerful resonant vibration that he emitted at the healing circles, and I felt much relieved. Suddenly we heard Alec, whom we had bound with cords, rise from his chair. The curtains parted, and he stepped out of the cabinet to be greeted by our shocked exclamations. He

was now also minus his trousers. I promptly jumped up and protectively draped my winter coat around him, as it was cold in the room now and the fire was only an ember's. He came out of trance, and glancing down at his state of undress, no trousers, belt, shoes, or jersey, he wrinkled his brow in puzzlement and exclaimed, what's going on here? What happened? We quickly switched on

the light and drew aside the cabinet curtains. Phyllis, Alec and I stood in shocked silence, unable to believe our eyes. They're sitting in the chair, just as if Alec's body was still inside them, with the ropes still securely binding them. Were his trousers impossible? Alex said, He glan ups down at his lower torso to confirm that he really was without his trousers. It's amazing, he added, I can't understand it. So this shows the spirit world definitely have a sense

of humor. I'm going to fast forward in the book a couple of years, and this is in ninety two, after Alec started having materializations of people stepping into the ectoplasm and in the room with the people with the red light on, here we go in. We were still giving voice circles at our Spiritualist church. On a Friday one night, I felt the presence of a young soldier who was trying very hard to communicate but having no success.

I sensed his bitter disappointment at this failure. When the circle ended, I was drawn to a woman who looked very strained. I felt like she was on the edge of a breakdown. I approached her, asking if she would like to come to our circle on Sunday. At this point, the presence of the young soldier came very close, and I knew that he had come for her. On the night, the lady presented herself, I placed her in the front row. We always sat in two rows close to the cabinet.

Shortly after we began, a young lad stepped from the cabinet. He held out his arms to the woman crying and said, Mum, it's dairy. She gave an anguished cry, jumped from her seat and went to the boy. He put his arms around her. The mother broke down and wept in her dead son's arms, releasing much of her tensions over the past months. The boy gently comforted his mother, saying he was always with her. Then he changed the subject and quite unexpectedly, said, Mum, I want you to be quite

sure that this is really me. Look, I've still got it. See. He took her hand and placed it on his chest. Can you feel it, mum? He asked. He had had a deformed breastbone, which his family had laughingly called his chicken bone. To give his mother positive proof of his identity, he materialized his deformity to convince her. There was not a dry eye among us as we witnessed this beautiful and touching reunion of a lonely grieving mother with her

dead son. I have another short story here, okay. This is a story of a gentleman who was at one of these seances. There appeared to be what seemed to be a white rod, which thrust itself along the floor from under the cabinet curtains. It moved as if it were alive. The end began to enlarge into a ball, until there was a mass of moving, pulsating ectoplasm about the size of a large stone. It became elongated vertically

until it was the height of a human being. Gradually, as if it was being sculptured, there appeared a face, and then ahead, Soon the form was completely human, clothed in ectoplasmic draperies. The materialized spirit began to walk around the room and was able to speak to us. As the power waned, we saw the spirit dissolve and collapse into an empty space. Then occurred the most wonderful and

beautiful manifestation of the entire seance. A charming Spanish girl gracefully glided through the curtains and enthralled us with a dancing display. It was fascinating to watch her elegant movements. As she turned quickly on her toes, the hem of her billowing white dress flicked on my cheek. It felt

as soft as gossamer. Now we have to go into our last break, but you better believe me that I am most definitely going to tell you some more story when we get back all right, you're listening to Shades of the Afterlife on the I Heart Radio and Coast to Coast AM Paranormal Podcast Network. The Coast to Coast a M mobile app is here and waiting for you

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Coast to Coast a UM Paranormal Podcast Network. Okay, folks, we need your music. Hey, it's producer Tom at Coast to Coast AM and every first Sunday of the month we play music from emerging artists just like you. If you're a musician or a singer and have recorded music you'd like to submit, it's very easy. Just go to Coast to Coast a M dot com. Click the Emerging Artists banner in the carousel, follow the instructions, and we

just might play your music on the air. Go now to Coast to Coast am dot com to send us your recording. That's Coast to Coast am dot com. Welcome back to Shades of the Afterlife. I'm Sandra Champlain and we are having story time with Sandra. Currently, I'm reading some things from the book Alec Harris, the full story of his remarkable physical mediumship, probably my top favorite book on physical mediumship. I read it cover to cover many times, and so I'm just reading some snippets out of it

today for you. So let me see where we should go on this particular occasion. All this is nineteen fifty five. Louis and Alec Harris go to visit some friends in the Isle of Man, and she writes it was April, in a delightful time of year to be in the Isle of Man. Our reunion with Sally and John had been a happy one. John informed us that a certain medical man of international repute and one with extraordinary powers of his own, had expressed a wish to meet us.

He wanted to witness spirit materialization through alex mediumship, of which he had heard excellent reports. His name is Dr. Sir Alexander Cannon, said John. He is a great friend of mine. He is the author of several most fascinating books. I'd like you both to me eat him, and perhaps you will give him a sitting. Sir Alexander said, he had long waited to sit with Alec, and so we formed a circle. It proved to be a very good circle.

The highlight of the evening was the materialization of Mahatma Gandhi, who came especially for Sir Alexander. The little Indian holy man was exactly as he had been on earth. He was painfully thin, almost emaciated through many long fasts. Gandhi wore his customary loincloth and the well remembered steel rimmed spectacles. He conversed at length with Sir Alexander in Hindu standing, a language familiar to the doctor but certainly not to Alec.

Our eminent sitter was very impressed with the manifestation, particularly at the accuracy of detail of the materialized form and the timbre of his voice. Sir Alexander knew mahat Gandhi extremely well, Gandhi's conversing in his vernacular tongue was even more convincing evidence as far as he was concerned. But the doctor was to have further indisputable evidence. Two Tibetan monks materialized. They conversed with him in a little known

Tibetan tongue. Sir Alexander was one of the few white people in the world who could understand this Tibetan language. He was highly satisfied with what he had seen and what he had heard. A London Sunday newspaper was investigating the subject of spiritualism. Some disbeliever had written in that newspaper that the whole concept of life after death and the return to Earth of spirits was a lot of rubbish. He had stated categorically that no one ever came back

from the dead. In other words, once you were dead, you stayed dead. Dick was incensed at the bleak picture portrayed by this writer. Mediumship in general had been openly discredited, and he felt that alex work had been denigrated. He promptly took up his pen and wrote to the newspaper vehemently defending spiritualism, which he avowed had proved that life definitely continued after death. He proceeded to give an account of his many experiences in the Alec Harris seance room.

His letter in the Sunday edition painted so realistic a picture of literally hundreds of occasions when he had shaken hands with spirit entities who appeared as if in the flesh, and of how he had intelligent conversations with them, that it immediately brought two reporters to his door at breakfast time the next morning. They wished to investigate this remarkable circle on behalf of their paper, and asked if they might be included in a sitting. Poor Dick was now

on a quandary on joining our circle. He had given an undertaking not to broadcast what took place in our seances for fear of unpleasant repercussions from possible belligerent disbelievers or over enthusiastic investigators. Now you've put me in a fix, he said, This will probably get me thrown out of the circle. That's the last thing I want. When they showed no sign of retreating, he decided that he had

better bring them down to me. After meeting them, I consulted with Alec, who gave consideration and a searching appraisal of the gentleman gave his approval to these two strangers being included among the sitters at the next circle the next evening. I told them it would be our private circle and urged them to refrain from taking any alcohol. I received a firm promise that they would comply with this request. I silently prayed that it would be as

satisfactory circle. One can never guarantee how a circle will turn out. We are entirely in the hands of those on the other side. Fortunately, it was a good seance. My mother came fully materialized and was recognized by the two reporters who had seen her photograph before going into the sanctuary. When Kitty, our saucy little child spirit showed herself with two braids hanging down either side of her face,

one of the gentlemen remarked, you're a pretty girl. How old are you, to which she pertly replied, it's very rude to ask a lady her age, which raised a laugh all around. Alec Dick and I breathed a sigh of relief when a good report of our circle appeared in the next Sunday's edition of the paper. Dick, however, vowed that he would be more careful in the future how he defended spiritualism. Now, this is a short story from March nine fifty seven, when Alec and Louis went

to South Africa. About four weeks after our arrived Full Durban, I suddenly had a depressed feeling about our cat Bobby. I told Alec that I was sure that there was something very wrong with him. I kept seeing his dear little face rise up before me, and I became very anxious about his well being. No amount of soothing on Alex's part made me feel any better. The next Tuesday, when we had our circle, Phillis touched my arms, saying, lou I can see a Persian cat walking around the room.

Phyllis herself was very psychic. Just then, the scientist Guide emerged from the cabinet, carrying something under his robe. He came right up to me, and as he turned I saw a bushy tail protruding from under the arm of his robe. A sudden fear clutched at my heart, and I asked, is that a cat you have there? Sir? He did not answer, but returned with the bundle to the cabinet. Six days later, we had a letter from

Auntie Thomas saying that dear Bobby had passed away. In spite of all the loving care that had been given to him. He apparently pined for us and died of a broken heart on that very Tuesday that the scientist had brought him to the circle. When I asked that spirit at the next circle if it was indeed my cat Bobby he had brought with him, he replied who else he wanted to come see his mother? I suffered terrible pains of guilt at having forsaken him, for he was just like a baby to me, giving me so

much love. But once he went to spirit, I always felt him close to me. There were many instances of animal materialization and our seances. My niece's cat was once placed on her lap and she was able to stroke its soft fur. While a doctor's wife pet Siamese cat ming materialized, giving the characteristic horse Siamese cry, and then proceeded to brush itself against her legs and clod at her shoe. After the seance, the claw marks were still visible on the suede material of the shoe. Our dog

materialized to us in South Africa. He came wagging his tail, barked and licked my hand, at which a spirit voice from somewhere above the cabinet warrant do not touch the dog, to which I replied, I did not touch him. He touched me. Then I saw the little body become transparent and the animal slowly dematerialized. The other sitters in the

room were fascinated by this unusual manifestation. Alec Harris worked for forty years as a physical medium, and over the course of these many years, thousands of loved ones would re materialize, walk out of the cabinet and actually be seen, and their loved ones could hear them to me the story, These are so precious of these reunions. How can you not believe? But living in two as I record this, it's really hard to believe. We're trained to be skeptical,

which is probably a good thing. And in truth, physical mediumship was very, very big back in the day, but the Charlatans and the con artists got involved and started charging huge sums of money saying that they could bring through people's loved ones, and of course with the wars going on, people paid the money hoping to connect these mediums like Alec Harris only charged a very very small fee just so he and Louis could live their life,

you know, pay the bills for me. The physical medium that I'm closest to is Scott Milligan, and for the past couple of years the virus has shut down everything. But just prior to we were doing live events and held some seances. And although they happened in the dark, with the occasional red light going on, I didn't see people, but like I said at the beginning, I felt them, and I could hear them, and I could hear them speaking to their loved ones. Nothing I can convince you of,

nor would I try. In this episode, I didn't get an opportunity to get into On the Edge of the Etheric by Arthur Finlay, but it's definitely a good read, and he talks about his medium, Mr John Sloan. I've done several live Q and A sessions with Scott Milligan

and he has some amazing stories of physical mediumship. My favorite is when a young woman came out of the cabinet, introduced herself to him as his older sister Emma, and upon returning to his home, he asked his mom if she had had a child before, and sure enough there was a baby earl named Emma. I have so much more to tell you, but we don't have any time until the next episode. And if this episode has made

a difference for you, let me know, will you. My email is Sandra Champlaine at gmail dot com and come join us on one of our free events that we Don't Die dot com. So in closing, my name is Sander Champlain. I'm always so happy to be your host. You've been listening to Shades of the Afterlife on the I Heart Radio and Coast to Coast, a M paranormal podcast network, and if you like this episode of Shades of the Afterlife, wait until you hear the next one.

Thank you for listening to the I Heart Radio and Coast to Coast, a M paranormal podcast network.