Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 62, No. 2, October 3, 1931

Charging $100 a Consultation or Selling 3c Horoscopes for a Dollar Are Some of the Ways the Star Gazers Eke Out a Living

I

On a floor of a great skyscraper in New York City is a vast organization, with hundreds of employees flung to the four corners of the United States. Its ramifications extend to Canada and Europe. It’s a million-dollar business.

Presiding over it all is a high priestess whose name is known wherever people congregate. She is a great accumulator of wealth. Let us call her Portentia Smith. Miss Smith is neither young nor old, and neither modest in her fees nor in her statements. For Portentia is a soothsayer to whom all come.

“Star Gazer” is one name for her business. Reading the future through positions of the stars. Doing all the things the bearded, cone-hatted diviners of the Middle Ages did before her, yet doing them so efficiently and gracefully money flows in streams into her coffers.

Fully in keeping with the building which houses her establishment, her outer office is a model of the interior decorator’s art. It impresses even the wealthy stock brokers who patronize her. Here comes a client. The slim, beautifully gowned young lady at the reception desk glides forward. She is certainly charming.

“I am a broker,” he introduces himself. “I have some inside information on a certain stock, but I might be double crossed in a stock market as uncertain as this. Some men want me to come into a pool with them. I am anxious to go in, and also anxious to stay out. It may be that Miss Smith can help me come to a decision.”

“Certainly,” replies the reception girl with a smile that is charming. “She can do that by reading the stars, by finding out if the planets are in a favorable position for you. Simply let me have your name and address and I’ll arrange an appointment with Miss Smith.

“The fee for a single service is only one hundred dollars, for a consultation. The monthly fee is two hundred dollars, or two thousand four hundred dollars yearly, for which Miss Smith will mail you a complete monthly forecast on the first of every month.”

“Let me see how much Miss Smith tells me on this first visit and I’ll discuss the monthly arrangement later,” the broker visitor smilingly agrees.

“Very well,” the girl says as she picks up a beautiful gold appointment book and runs her blue eyes down the page. “You are lucky. It’s now about nine forty-five and I see Miss Smith has an opening at ten forty-five. If you’ll wait for her, I’ll put your name down.”

The broker agrees to wait and pays over two crisp fifty-dollar bills from a well-filled wallet. He is taken to another office, small, yet luxuriously furnished, is given a comfortable chair and some copies of financial magazines to read. The reception girl returns at the moment of ten forty-five, and ushers the broker into one of the most striking offices he has ever seen.

It is a room almost forty feet long and twenty-five feet wide, with walls magnificently paneled and hand carved. In the center is a table, massive and impressive. On one end of it is a giant globe on a huge swivel. Painted on this globe are the twelve signs of the Zodiac. Suspended over it is a disk on which are arranged planets and stars which can be moved at will.

As the broker enters the room a stately woman of uncertain age rises to greet him. He is introduced to Portentia Smith. He is frankly skeptical. He is asked the month of his birth. He gives it, and Miss Smith arranges her globe and disk. She says, with eyes that never leave his, and in words which never falter:

“According to the stars you are married to a woman named Elizabeth. She is slightly younger than you. Your children are seven and ten, the younger being a boy and the elder a girl. Their names are Harold and Betty. You own a Packard automobile.”

The broker can hardly believe his ears. Every word is true. Miss Smith says that she is now ready for any question he cares to ask, that she has given these facts about himself merely to show she possesses the power to make the stars reveal facts to her.

“Miss Smith,” he commences, “I’d heard a great deal about you, but your reputation does not even do you justice. Before we go any further, let me give you a retainer for the monthly service your assistant suggested.”

Raising her left hand on which reposes a remarkable emerald held in place by a platinum band engraved with the planets, in each of which are inserted star-shaped diamonds of richest blue white brilliance, Miss Smith smilingly rejects his offer, advising him that business matters involving money are not of interest to her and that he should see the cashier on the way out. This further impresses the visitor, who asks:

“Miss Smith, I have a chance to get in a pool by buying five thousand shares of Blank stock three points below the market. I like the stock, but frankly I am afraid of the crowd in the pool with me. I want your advice.”

The star gazer takes a piece of paper on which are drawn stars, makes astronomical designs on it, compares the signs of the Zodiac governing his birth month, and the present month, arranges the planets on the overhanging disk, does what seems to her visitor some higher mathematical problems, and then gives her decision.

“This deal is a bad one for you. The overhanging dark clouds obscure the brighter ones for you just now. The stars are not right for your immediate success, and generally I advise you to leave the deal alone.”

Miss Smith arises, signifying the interview is over.

The pool in which the broker had been invited to participate is formed without him, the European situation grows worse, the market falls and Miss Smith has a “client” who firmly believes her advice because she saved him at least $100,000.

Any one reading the true incident above might have his faith in fortune tellers strengthened or revived, but, wait!

The day prior to the visit of our lucky stock broker friend, Miss Smith had been consulted by another broker. This broker had the same story to tell. He wanted to go in the pool to buy Blank stock, but he, too, was afraid of a double cross.

After her usual rigmarole Miss Smith advised him to go into the pool. One broker had to win — one had to lose!

She would get one steadfast client out of it, no matter what happened.

II

The believer in fortune tellers may say:

“All right; we’ll admit Miss Smith made a mistake on the advice she gave the first broker — but she didn’t make the error. She simply read the stars, and if they gave her the wrong information, and the first broker’s ‘control stars’ indicated success when it didn’t come, you can’t blame Miss Smith. Also, if Miss Smith is not genuinely able to read the stars, how did she know the name of the broker’s wife and children, and their ages?”

Here the believer grins all over. He certainly has the skeptic stopped now.

Let’s ask our friend, John Mulholland, former college professor, who took up magic as a profession and who, as a vice president of the Society of American Magicians, has spent all his spare time in the last ten years investigating fortune tellers, soothsayers, star gazers, and fake mediums.

“Easy,” said Mulholland. “The method Miss Smith used to obtain her information is one that has been in use by fortune tellers since telephones were invented.

“What happened was this. When the broker gave his name to the reception girl he started a chain of investigation into his whole life. The first step the girl took after putting him in a private office was to telephone the broker’s office, explain that she was with such and such a newspaper and wanted Mrs. Broker’s home telephone number. The unsuspecting operator at the other end promptly gave the number.

“The reception girl then phoned Mrs. Blank and stated that she was the such and such photographic studio and that the rotogravure section of a newspaper had requested her to make an appointment to photograph her with her children. She then asked and obtained Mrs. Broker’s maiden name, her children’s names and ages.

“Then she asked Mrs. Broker if she could have the photographer picture them in the family automobile. Obviously the next question brought out the name of the car. This information the assistant gave Miss Smith, who was then ready for the ‘consultation.’

“The following day probably pictures were taken, to avoid the possibility of Mr. Broker even suspecting anything. If he hadn’t signed up for the year’s service, no photographer would call. Miss Smith had the hundred dollar fee, and it wouldn’t make much difference whether Mr. Broker suspected or not.

“There’s another ramification of the picture-making angle. Suppose one of Mr. Broker’s children, or wife, died within a year or two, or while he was a client of the soothsayer. It would be a simple matter to give a fake medium one of the pictures taken (no proof of which was ever shown the family), and later have a ‘spirit photo’ reproduced for Mr. Broker at some huge price.”

III

Ann Tarbell was a pretty widow of twenty-six. She had some money — about six thousand dollars, and was undecided whether she should continue work as a clerk in a Wall Street specialty shop, or marry Charlie Burns, who said he was a cashier of a fairly large printing corporation. While walking in the Bowling Green section of New York on her way to work one morning, she was attracted by an odd sign — neat, dignified, which read: “The Swami knows all. Consultation invited.”

On an impulse she went in.

A long, poorly lighted hall led to an equally dimly lit anteroom. Ann nervously wondered what had possessed her to come, but it was too late to back out, for a well-dressed and dapper young man was greeting her with a cheery “Good morning.”

Ann explained that she’d like a consultation. Without asking her name, or any questions, he requested Ann to give him a glove, a handkerchief, or other piece of wearing apparel, as “the Swami gets the answers from the touch of your personality contained in something personal.”

She gave him a handkerchief and he left the room. Returning a few moments later, he stated that the Swami would see her. He paused to warn her that “the Swami is controlled by the Unknown and Unseen,” and must be permitted to talk without interruption after the consultation has started.

He led her into a chamber fitted up as an Oriental temple, or at least what Ann thought an Oriental temple would be.

A huge bronze brazier in one corner of the room, Joss sticks burning at the feet of a prodigious Buddha, an oilcloth roll on which were painted the signs of the Zodiac, a great chart of a nude form, and a picture of a ghost made up the decorations.

In the center of the room was the table without which no seer or fortune teller operates. There were but two chairs in the room, and the assistant waved Ann into one while the Swami took the other.

“Let me have your hand,” he said, as he sat down.

Ann felt repelled at the touch of his fingers, for his hand was dirty, flabby, moist, almost deathlike in its limpness. She was glad when he dropped her fingers after giving them a tight squeeze.

“He that knows all will now speak,” the assistant intoned. “You say nothing.” He left the room.

Alone with this soothsayer with dirty hands, shabby, kimono-like gown and weird manner, Ann doubly regretted coming to see him, but as he began to talk the fear dropped from her, for his deep monotone was soothing, almost hypnotizing.

“My child,” he commenced, “you come to me in doubt about something. You are uncertain about a love affair. You are wondering if you should marry. I receive from this handkerchief of yours certain impulses that tell me to advise you to wed.

“You were married. You are a widow. You should marry again, and soon.

“I see the shoulders of a man who is neither large nor small, neither stout nor thin. He is not over thirty. You have met him only recently, yet he sways your emotions. Take him for your husband. Your own late husband, from the Other World tells me to bid you do this.

“Bring the boy to me if you still doubt. But that is up to you. You, at least, should return for more advice. The fee is five dollars for this reading. Longer readings are ten dollars. No more now, come again.”

As Ann hesitated, stunned by this apparent power of the seer, the assistant came in the room as though called, although Ann did not see the Swami make a move. He ushered Ann from the Swami’s presence, and before she knew it, had collected the five-dollar fee and had escorted her to the outer door.

Ann could hardly wait to reach a pay station to phone Charlie. She was so unnerved that she tried three times before she got the right number. Ann almost shouted into the phone:

“Charlie! I’ve been to a great fortune teller. He says I should marry you and I never said a word about you. He’s wonderful. Get some time off this lunch hour. I will too, and we can meet. I want you to go to him with me.”

Ann didn’t give Charlie time to think. An engagement was made to meet in front of the Swami’s office. Came noon. As Ann saw him come swinging down the street, she ran to greet him. Her eyes gleamed as she told him of her experiences.

Charlie wanted to have lunch before they went to the Swami, but Ann emphatically stated she “just couldn’t eat” now. So they went at once to the seer’s parlors.

Ann told the assistant that they wanted a ten-dollar reading each. Would the Swami receive them together, telling their fortunes together? This couldn’t be done, the assistant replied. “The control only takes each mind and body separately.”

They arranged for Charlie to enter the Swami’s salon first.

When he came out, obviously amazed, Ami threw her arms about him and kissed him.

“Did he say you should marry?” she excitedly asked.

“He sure did, honey,” Charlie replied. “And better than that he described you to a ‘T.’ He must be guided by spirits or something. Now, you go in and see what happens.”

Ann was ushered back into the office. Dirty and queer looking as the Swami was, Ann could have kissed him, she was so happy. Her consultation was a repetition of his earlier advice, but more elaborate. The Swami even predicted that her first child would be a boy.

So Ann and Charlie were married the following week.

IV

Immediately following the wedding, they went to Atlantic City for a week’s honeymoon. All seemed wonderful until the third day, when Charlie’s money ran out. “Hadn’t had time to go to the bank,” he said.

Ann gave him a three-hundred-dollar draft on her savings bank, and her bank book so the Atlantic City bank could arrange the transfer of the funds. And they had a glorious time.

Back in New York they picked out an ideal little apartment and furnished it on the installment plan. Things seemed to be moving along nicely. Ann blessed the Swami daily.

One evening after they had been married less than a month, Charlie told Ann he didn’t believe in a wife having money in her own name. He pointed out that it should be in their joint names, “so if either died, the other could draw.”

Ann agreed and gave Charlie her bank book to open the joint account.

Once or twice afterwards she mentioned money matters to Charlie, but he kissed her and told her “not to worry her pretty head about money.” Ann worried a little about this, as the collectors from the installment furniture house were calling to tell her that the last two installments were due, but when she mentioned the visits to Charlie, he flew in a rage and left the house.

He never returned!

Ann went to the firm where he was employed as a “cashier” and found that Charlie had been a shipping department clerk. She went to the bank to see about the “joint account,” and found Charlie had never opened one, and that he’d withdrawn all her balance in cash. She went to the office of the Swami with her story, saying she’d never have married unless he’d advised her. The Swami had even forgotten he’d ever talked to her. He wasn’t interested in her.

A child was to be born. Absolutely penniless, heartbroken, and unable to work now, she tried suicide by leaping from Spuyten Duyvil Bridge. The attempt failed. While recovering, Ann told her story to an attorney, who brought the story to the attention of the Society of American Magicians.

Mulholland investigated the Swami’s method of fortune telling. He gave the result to the proper authorities, and the Swami was arrested and fined. He left New York, but probably is back in his nefarious trade in some other city under some other name.

V

Let us learn from Mulholland how the Swami knew that Ann was a widow, that she was in love, and that she had come to him for aid in solving her problems. She had spoken not a word in his presence, or in front of his attendant; she had given no hint of her past.

Mulholland pointed out that all the Swami had to do was rely on his wits when Ann appeared, and he says almost all fortune tellers’ wits are exceedingly sharp.

“When Ann came in,” Mulholland explained, “her costume consisted of a dark dress, a hat of last year’s style, and new shoes. She wore a string of beads and a wedding ring, no other jewelry. From this, the soothsayer told her ‘fortune.’

“The wedding ring showed that she had been married. It was a better kind than the dress or hat she wore. The dress looked as though it was the type worn for ‘second mourning.’ He deduced she was probably a widow in reduced circumstances.

“Her shoes were of a brand widely advertised to help foot troubles; hence she was working at a position that kept her on her feet, obviously something she never had to do when her husband was alive. The beads looked like a gift, they were so new. Naturally he figured a gift of that type had come from a man.

“She would not have come to him if she had not been in doubt about something. What else could it be that worried her than the question, ‘Should I remarry?’ Figuring and partially correct in his surmise, that the widow did want to remarry, he told her to. Why not tell her what she wanted to hear, he reasoned.

“He had no interest in whether she did remarry or not, all he wanted was to tell her something that would convince her he was a marvel. It is in these ways of making deductions and giving advice that the fortune teller, intent on nothing but making money, is a menace to society.

“Even men carry marks of identification that give the seer a chance to make deductions and make statements that puzzle the smartest people.

“Men do not need to wear fraternal order buttons to furnish the fortune teller with clews. Their rings, watch chains, cut of their hair, clothes, shoes, even speech or mannerisms are sufficient to tell him a number of obvious things, which, when translated into his flowery and strange words, make it all seem very impressive. And on these reputations are built his fortune, for as his fame spreads so do his fees go up.”

VI

Helen Nolan was a rabid radio fan. She listened in every spare moment. She was in her early thirties, unmarried, a schoolteacher with much time to herself as she rarely went out, and lived in Los Angeles.

Early in 1930 she heard a certain astrologer give a talk on the radio about the stars and their positions. He invited the listeners to give the date of their births, and mail them to him for a “free reading.” Miss Nolan sent for everything offered on the air, whether it was baby food or literature on the latest automobile. She wrote the astrologer, giving her birthday.

A few days later she received a reply which was most vague, although it did give certain characteristics that Miss Nolan felt were hers. Inclosed with the letter from the astrologer was an offer to send a complete horoscope to her for one dollar. It would give a complete history of all those born on the same day, as well as a complete analysis of a character. As an added inducement, a dream book would be sent free, which would explain in detail anything that the reader ever dreamed.

Miss Nolan hastened to send the dollar. Within a short time the dream book and the horoscope came. Miss Nolan carefully studied it, and found that, according to the book, she was totally unfitted for teaching school. And even though she had been in the school system for thirteen years, because the horoscope told her that she was cut out to be an actress, she resigned her position within a month after receiving the book!

She registered at the casting office which supplies Hollywood motion picture studios as a “type,” and waited over four months before she was even called for a test. Elated at what she called her “success,” she made an appointment to see the astrologist personally. After paying a fee of one hundred dollars she was ushered into his presence.

After studying the signs of the Zodiac, and deliberating for some time, he asked her if she had any inclination to act. Miss Nolan earnestly assured him that she had. The stars were right and the seer began to outline her great future.

Although Miss Nolan did not hear from her screen test she kept going back faithfully to the astrologer for private readings. He continued to tell her that she would be successful, and to have patience.

Several months had passed from the time she had resigned her position as a teacher. The constant drain on her resources had practically beggared her, and the constant strain on her mentality had gradually broken down her health. The principal of her former school saw her on the street one day. Aghast at her apparent ill health, the principal stopped and questioned Miss Nolan.

She poured out the story of her attempt to become an actress and the part the astrologist had played. The principal immediately took action. He reported the case to the district attorney of Los Angeles County, but it brought no action, because astrologists asserted that their predictions are based on absolute science, quoting the fact that the United States Government employs astronomers and that “the work is similar” — a ridiculous claim.

The principal, however, took such an aggressive stand against the broadcasting station that the station banned the astrologer.

Miss Nolan left for the back hills of California, where she stayed several months recuperating. On her return to the city she started a campaign against all seers and soothsayers which proved most successful.

It is a known fact that in the movie settlements on the West Coast fortune tellers find a most fertile field. Cases are being reported to the Society of American Magicians constantly involving film players, and were the names to be made public movie goers would be shocked and amazed.

The author of these stories and Mulholland were talking recently about the broadcasting methods of seers, and the case of Miss Nolan came up. Mulholland stated that there were hundreds of such cases yearly, some worse, in which the victim actually lost all sense of judgment.

“The horoscope ‘racket’,” the magician stated, “is a most profitable source of revenue for the fakers. One astrologer of whom I am thinking, it may not be the one Miss Nolan heard, received over one hundred thousand letters in response to his radio ‘free reading’ offer. To all he sent the same letter referring to the one dollar horoscope book, with the dream book thrown in. Out of this one hundred thousand more than thirty-one thousand letters were received inclosing the dollar! Think of it, thirty per cent of his listeners fell for the proposition!

“The horoscopes for which he gets a dollar cost him in Chicago, at a fortune tellers’ supply house, the huge sum of three cents each. The dream book costs but one cent. As the one who asks for the ‘free reading’ must inclose a self-addressed envelope, it costs nothing for addressing or mailing the dollar offer. The mailing of the dream book and horoscope costs three cents. So for the dollar he receives he has only seven cents expenses. It’s a nice business!

“I saw in this Chicago supply house a list of one thousand fortune tellers who use from fifty to one hundred thousand horoscopes regularly. This dealer handles so-called occult literature and apparatus. Here I learned that fashions in fortune telling change like fashions in hats, but the principle of it all is just the same — ‘Kid the public and get the money.’

“Some clients demand the involved, pseudo-astronomical phraseology of the astrologer, or the pseudo-mathematics and fantastic palaver about ‘name vibrations’ of the numerologist. Others are satisfied with just a lot of blah from the seer. But whatever method is used, the ‘predictions’ are the same bunk, just plain bunk, and many times cause death, misery and poverty!”