As my first step in examining the career of direct-voice medium Leslie Flint, I ordered an out-of-print title called Life After Death, by Neville Randall, originally published in 1975. The book is based exclusively on tape recordings of over 500 conversations carried out by George Woods and Betty Greene in séances with Flint. Woods and Greene worked with Flint on a regular basis over 15 years to produce this large archive of material, which was said to have been transmitted by discarnate spirits using an ectoplasmic voice-box mechanism that materialized in the dark séance room. The voices preserved on these many audio recordings are purportedly those of the deceased persons themselves, as somewhat imperfectly reproduced by the pseudo-voice-box device.
Naturally, the first question that will occur to anyone is whether the whole thing was a fraud. Some people, like our own commenter Amos Oliver Doyle, have suggested that Woods and Greene conspired with Flint to produce the voices themselves. As far as the tape-recorded sessions are concerned, this would probably have been feasible. It appears that most of these sessions involved the three people alone – some of the communicators advised them to avoid adding other people to the circle – which means they could have simply sat in a fully lit room improvising conversations for the benefit of the tape recorder. I can't help but think, though, that the entertainment value of this hoax would have worn thin long before the 15th year and the 500th conversation had been reached.
Besides the question of motivation, there are other reasons to doubt this explanation. For one thing, Woods and Greene seem to have gone out of their way to invite people who knew the various deceased parties to listen to the tapes and judge for themselves whether or not the voices were genuine. For another, Flint was subjected to controlled testing long before he ever met Woods and Greene, and he appears to have passed those tests (though I admit I don't know too much about this phase of his career, which is covered only briefly in Randall's book). Here is what Randall has to say about these early tests:
Before Woods and Betty Greene began their long series of sittings, Leslie Flint had already undergone and passed the most stringent tests that objective psychic investigators could devise .…
One of his investigators was Dr. Louis Young who had worked with Thomas Edison … and had already exposed several doubtful mediums in the States. Flint was made to fill his mouth with colored water. The lights were turned on. Flint returned the water from his mouth to a glass. [That is, Flint apparently kept the water in his mouth throughout the séance, while the voices were heard.]
In 1948 the Rev. Drayton Thomas, then a member of the Council of the Society for Psychical Research, carried out another test. He reported the result in Psychic News of 14 February.
“On five February I placed over his [Flint’s] tightly closed lips a strip of Elastoplast. It was 5½ inches long and 2½ inches wide and very strongly adhesive. This I pressed firmly over and into the crevices of his closed lips. A scarf was then tied tightly over this and the medium’s hands tied firmly to the arms of his chair; another cord was so tied that he would be unable to bend down his head. Thus, supposing he endeavored during trance to loosen the bandage, it would be quite impossible for him to reach it.
"Anyone can discover by tightly closing the lips and trying to speak how muffled and unintelligible are the sounds then produced. My experiment was designed to show that under the above conditions clearly enunciated speech and plenty of it could be produced by the direct voice. The experiment was entirely successful. Voices were soon speaking with their usual clarity and Mickey [Flint’s guide] emphasized his ability several times by shouting loudly. Some twelve persons were present and we all heard more than enough to convince the most obdurate skeptic that the sealing of Mr. Flint’s mouth in no way prevented unseen speakers from saying anything they wished. At the close of the sitting I examined the cords and the plaster, finding all intact and undisturbed. The plaster was so strongly adhering that I had considerable difficulty in removing it without causing pain.”
In another series of tests a microphone wired to an amplifier was attached to Flint’s throat to record any sound he might make. His hands were tied by observers sitting on either side of him and his investigators watched his movement through an infra red telescope.
The voices still spoke. And the investigators actually saw the ectoplasmic voice box forming two feet from his head. [pp. 170-171]
All of this sounds convincing enough, although more information would be needed to flesh out these summaries. When it comes to the more current tests conducted to establish the authenticity of the voices, the results were somewhat mixed. Randall writes:
From the time he began his recordings, Woods has issued an open invitation to anyone who knew the people they claim to be when they were on earth to listen to the tapes and tell them if they sounded genuine.
One of the first voices claimed to be Michael Fearon .… Woods went to the sitting with Michael’s mother, Mrs. Fearon. The voice held a long and lively conversation with them both. Mrs. Fearon was convinced she had been talking to her son ….
On 19 April 1962, a voice claiming to be F. E. Smith, Lord Birkenhead, one time Lord Chancellor, came through to announce that he had changed his mind about capital punishment, and gave his reasons for thinking it did more harm than good.
The tape was played to the late Charles Loseby, M.C., Q.C., who had been a student under Smith at Gray’s Inn. [Loseby later wrote that he was] “satisfied that I have heard the voice of the late F. E. Smith … I listened to the voice of Lord Birkenhead, still living, anxious apparently only to assist humanity.” [p. 172]
A voice claiming to be that of Sir Oliver Lodge, an early psychical researcher and noted chemist, was positively identified by a certain Mr. J. Croft and his wife, both of whom had known Lodge. “We felt that the voice had the qualities which we had associated with the voice of Sir Oliver Lodge, we having heard him speak on a number of occasions. There was a characteristic sibilance, and easy fluency of expression, and a choice of the apt word and phrase which we remembered were a feature of Sir Oliver Lodge’s speech.” (p. 172)
When a voice claiming to be that of Lilian Baylis, founder of the Old Vic, came through, Baylis' goddaughter, who had lived and worked with her, attested to its genuineness. (p. 173)
On the other hand, "the most extensively tested tapes," which involved the Archbishop of Canterbury, Cosmo Lang, could not be definitively authenticated. A certain Rev. John Pierce-Higgins, who had an interest in psychical research, believed that "it bears all the signs of Lang. Those who have heard this tape and Lang say the voices are very similar. It’s just the sort of thing he would say. When you take it in conjunction with a lot of other similar types of communications which can be more accurately corroborated, it seems probably true.” A family friend, Mrs. Herbert Lane, thought the tape was probably genuine: "As far as I could see it felt like him talking.” But when the tape was played along with a broadcast Lang made after the abdication of King Edward VIII in 1936, "the voice of the living Lang was stronger and firmer than the voice from the dead.” One of the listeners on that occasion, a bishop, said, “It might be Cosmo Lang. It might be anyone. I cannot prove or disprove.”
In a later session, Cosmo Lang again supposedly came through and explained why his voice hadn't sounded quite the same and why he had used some expressions foreign to the living Lang. Essentially he blamed it on difficulties in the communication process.
After all this, Randall concludes that "if the voices are not just making excuses," then it would appear the difficulties of using the ectoplasmic voice-box make it impossible to conduct a definitive test. (p. 178)
The book's last chapter, titled "The Final Proof," is a something of a letdown. First we read a transcript of one of the voices describing the death of his ex-wife, which he purportedly witnessed. He says that her astral body rose out of her physical body and met with her mother, who was there in spirit to greet her. This account is then paralleled with the various narratives drawn from Spiritualist literature, including some out-of-body experiences at the point of death – the sort of thing that would now be known as a near-death experience. The implication is that Flint's communicator couldn't have known such details unless he had actually witnessed the dying process, just as he claimed. But of course, it could just as easily be argued that anyone familiar with Spiritualist writings and the works of, say, Robert Crookall, who compiled many such accounts in groundbreaking books in the 1960s, would have known the basic elements of the dying process as described by NDErs and mediums. So this "final proof" falls a bit flat.
The bottom line, for me, is that I need to know more about the conditions under which Flint worked, and especially the conditions of the formal tests that were conducted by qualified researchers. Randall's book, while interesting in its own right, did not settle anything for me.
With that out of the way, I thought I would present some excerpts from the various communications transcribed in the book. As is obvious from what I've just written, I can't say if these communications are genuine or not – or perhaps some mixture of authentic and garbled material. They are pretty reminiscent of certain allegedly channeled books such as Anthony Borgia's Life in the World Unseen. Whether this makes them more or less plausible is a matter for each person to decide.
A man who died in the trenches in World War I tells us:
I don’t know how long I must have been there [in the trench]. Anyway I must have fallen asleep or something, because the next thing I knew was that I remember I was seeing a bright light in front of me.
I couldn’t make this out at all. It was a sort of light I’d never seen before, just as if the whole place was illuminated, and it was so dazzling that, for a moment, I could sort of hardly look at it. I had to keep closing my eyes and having a look. And I thought, “Well, it’s a trick of the light.” I got a bit windy [i.e., scared].
Then, all of a sudden it was just as if I saw an outline – shape or figure appearing. It was the outline of a human being, and it was full of luminosity, and gradually it seemed to take shape.
I was in an absolute sweat. It was an old friend of mine who I knew had been killed some months before, named Smart. Billy Smart! [p. 12]
With regard to this communication, Randall tells us:
There is a record of every British soldier killed and buried in every theater of war. It is kept by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission at Maidenhead in Berkshire.
Pritchett is not a common name. A search through the files turned up only four. One of them was private 9023 A. Pritchett of the Machine Gun Corps (Infantry). He was killed in 1917. And buried in the Potijze Chateau Lawn Cemetery a mile from Ypres .…
Smart is a common name in the British army. There were hundreds of Smarts killed in the Great War and dozens of them had the Christian name of William.
One, and only one, fits the story told by the voice claiming to be Pritchett. Private 20394 William Smart, also of the Machine Gun Corps (Infantry). He was killed near Arras in 1916. [p. 19]
Randall doesn't say that his discovery of matching names proves anything, though I suppose that if no matching names had been found, it would have counted against the credibility of "Pritchett's" narrative. The bright light and appearance of a deceased friend are, of course, common features of NDEs.
Another communicator recounts his first impression upon meeting his guide:
As a matter of fact, quite frankly, I thought at the time that he looked just like Jesus. At least what I’d seen pictures of Jesus. But I realized of course it wasn’t afterwards. [p. 42]
I found this interesting, given the many statements of NDErs about meeting Jesus. How many of them would have "realized of course it wasn't afterwords" if their NDE had become a full-fledged death experience?
Several communicators refer to telepathic communications in the next life:
She was nattering away to me. Funny thing I said she was nattering. It was as if she was nattering, yet she wasn’t opening her mouth. It suddenly dawned on me I could hear her speaking to me, and yet she wasn’t saying anything. That is she wasn’t speaking. So I stopped still.
“Come on,” she said.
“But I don’t understand it. You’re speaking to me, and yet your mouth’s not moving. It’s like a ventriloquist,” I says. “Funny, isn’t it?”
“Oh you’ll soon learn over here to speak by your thoughts, and, after all,” she says. “You’re receiving what I’m saying. You are hearing me aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I says, “but you’re not actually speaking. At least it don’t look as if you are.”
“Oh you’ll get into the habit,” she says. “Come on, don’t let that worry you. You’ll understand a lot of things ere long.” [pp. 54, 55]
Randall notes an annoying gap in the information the voices seem willing or able to convey:
Thanks to Woods’ and Betty Greene’s insistent questioning, the transition from this world to the next is an experience we feel we know from A to Z. The voices can remember it as though it happened yesterday. They seem to have total recall. But when it comes to describing what they’ve been doing ever since, they seem to have lost either their memory or their powers of description. Or it’s also different that they find it impossible to put into words that earthly mortals can understand. [p. 91]
Even something as basic as the layout of a person's house remains vague:
“It’s got four rooms, quite enough for me to look after.”
What are the four rooms? She doesn’t say. The only room that is ever described is the sitting-room. Do they have bedrooms, dining-rooms, kitchen, bathroom and lavatory? Or, if usual offices are unnecessary, library, billiards room or study?
No one ever says. [p. 123]
There is also some confusion, it seems, about such things as weather and daily cycles.
If there is no sun, does it ever get dark, and do you go to sleep?
The voices disagree.
“Do you have night and day there?” asked Woods.
“Yes,” said George Harris. “The same as you do. Night and day. Of course we do. I go to sleep and go to bed, wake up the same as you do on earth.”
So, soon after his arrival, did Mr. Biggs .…
But Mr. Biggs was newly arrived from Earth. And George Harris was at the stage where he still felt compelled to lay celestial bricks. [He had been a bricklayer in his earthly life and continued this occupation, rather pointlessly, for some time after arriving in the next world.]
Rose, who had been in Heaven rather longer, replied differently: “Oh yes, you can sleep if you feel so inclined.”
“But it’s not necessary?”
“It isn’t necessary .… If you’re mentally tired you just sort of mentally relax, close your eyes, and you rest. And you re-open your eyes after a time. You don’t feel tired no more.”
Ellen Terry, a more advanced old inhabitant, explained: “There is never darkness. There is a kind of what you might call perhaps a twilight, and yet this is something which is so unlike yours. There is a time for quietude with us, and rest. And yet there is never any need for rest, or sleep, but a peacefulness that comes upon us when we feel the need.” [pp.124, 125]
As for the weather, George Harris – the stubbornly persistent bricklayer – insisted that it does rain, while others said it doesn't. These disputes may have something to do with varying perceptions of the environment on the part of people who have not yet made the adjustment versus people who are fully settled in.
Speaking of night and day, how is the passage of time experienced by those on the other side?
“You say you don’t measure time and space. How do things go by? How do you measure at all?” [asked Betty Greene.]
“Well, I don’t know. There isn’t any measurement of time as I understand it. We are not conscious of time. I know you can’t realize – I mean you think oh well, afternoon, evening and night. Well those things don’t affect us. We don’t have time as you have it, at all. Time after all is only man-made to a point, isn’t it?”
“Do you have night and day over there?”
“No. Although you can have a fall of night, inasmuch that if you feel the need for rest, if you close your eyes, you can sort of go into a condition which, I suppose, you can call a kind of twilight. I don’t know how to put that.” [p. 96]
Famous people purportedly came through Flint. One of them was Lionel Barrymore, one of Hollywood's top actors in the 1930s and 1940s. Barrymore informs us that he is still active in the theater on the other side, as is William Shakespeare.
“Have you met Shakespeare?” asked Woods.
“I have met Shakespeare, and I can settle the argument once and for all. There is no doubt about it. He wrote his own plays. It does not mean to say he didn’t sometimes use old plays and refurbish them. But you can take it from me that when you have a Shakespeare play, it’s Shakespeare’s.” [p 112]
As an anti-Stratfordian myself, I can't say I found this communication particularly convincing. I also can't help wondering why Shakespeare himself couldn't come through, reciting some of the poetry he has allegedly written since shuffling off this mortal coil. According to Barrymore, the Bard's new works, written in a more modern idiom, are even greater than the ones he left behind. Surely old Will ought to be able to recite some of these immortal verses to us; or, if he lacks the power to control the ectoplasmic voice-box, then Barrymore ought to be able to perform the recitation. (He says he is still acting.)
Yet we never hear so much as a smidgen of the remarkable new works produced by departed geniuses. Even when Oscar Wilde or the poet Rupert Brooke is chatting with us, he doesn't recite any passages from the new works that have occupied his time since passing over.
The communicators are capable of passing along thoughts about the nature and progression of life, however. One of them, a Mr. Ohlson, has this to say:
“I mean it’s quite obvious to me that consciousness of an individual was in existence before birth. I mean you only come into awareness of things as you gradually develop. As you become a little older on earth you gradually take a conscious awareness of things going on around you – shapes and forms, and color and sound. And these gradually began to mean something when you’re infant. But there’s no getting away from the fact that life existed before birth.
"I don’t think for instance, I was just born any more than I just died. I mean I was obviously there before birth, not necessarily in quite the same sense. I developed and evolved my own personality, and people called me so-and-so Ohlson. But the point is that it’s infinitesimal in time itself. I mean it’s pretty obvious to me that none of us are what we think we are. The whole thing is so complex I agree, but it’s also fascinating.” [pp. 126, 127]
If there are stages of life before earthly incarnation, there are also untold stages of life beyond the initial phase of postmortem existence. A communicator named Rose, who appears at several different points in the book, was initially content to rest in her modest home and garden. She resisted moving on, even when other discarnates gently suggested that she should. But eventually even she felt the urge to progress:
“No one’s content for long. You give them everything that they want. You give them all the things they thought they needed. And after a time it palls on them, and they want a bit more of something else. They find that it isn’t what they thought it was going to be. I thought I’d be content with all the things that I had, but I soon began to realize that although in a way I was doing things for others I wasn’t doing enough. I was finding that these things didn’t mean as much to me as they did before, and that there was something else I had to strive for. I had to find out what it was.
“It’s like in your world. You go through life. You possess things. You create things and conditions for yourself. You get yourself a nice little house, and you furnish it, and you’re happy. But the point is, that if you lived for centuries, you’d soon get fed up with it.
“The things that really count of course are the things of the mind and the spirit.” [pp. 147, 148]
What does this continuing progress consist of? One communicator recounts a conversation he had with his guide shortly after passing over:
“Well,” she says, “actually of course everybody has many lives. You’re having an extension of your life. But you’ll find you have an extension of this life, and so on.
“You’ll grasp it later,” she says. “You mustn’t think just because you’re dead so called, that you won’t have an extension of life to a degree whereby you will eventually be able to extend it into another condition of life. For the time being don’t let it worry you, son. You’ll find that all life is really an extension of previous life. In other words you go on and on ad infinitum.
“You’ll exhaust this place or this sphere or this condition or of life in which you are now. Eventually you’ll realize that there is nothing more that you can learn here, or nothing more that’s necessary to you here, and you’ll find the urge and the need to extend your experience. And you will pass into a different existence in a higher sphere or place where you’ll be able to appreciate and learn and experience all sorts of things that you couldn’t possibly experience on this. But that may be a long time yet.” [p. 148]
And there's this about the process of materializing on earth:
“There is this idea that persists among Spiritualists that you just think of a dress and you’re clothed in it. Well, that, in a sense, is true. But it’s only true from the point of view when one comes back to earth, and wants to re-create an impression of probably oneself as one was. One would be remembered by perhaps certain wearing [sic] apparel, and so on. And one has the ability to re-create, in a mental thought force or form, oneself in a particular, shall we say, dress. But only temporarily. It’s only for a fleeting second or two of Earth time that we can hold on to that thought sufficiently for it to be impregnated and picked up by a sensitive or a medium.” [p. 131]
A communicator informs us that not all mediums are created equal:
“There are innumerable people in the Spiritualist movement who are not mediums, but who consider themselves as such, and who are accepted unfortunately as such, often by people who one would have given more credit for their intelligence. And the lack of it – the intelligence – in the Spiritualist movement – at times causes us great concern. We do not ask you to accept everything that comes as gospel. We ask you to use your common sense, but more important to use your uncommon sense.
“We ask you to realize that there must be, because of the very nature of communication, some discrepancies, because of the manifold difficulties.” [p. 163]
These difficulties are illustrated in amusing fashion by Alfred Higgins, who fell to his death from a ladder. He recounts his travails in trying to impress a message for his wife on a not-very-talented Spiritualist medium:
“She kept getting a ladder. Of course she got it all mixed up. ‘I don’t know, my dear,’ she says, ‘if you’re going to have a bit of luck, but I see a ladder with you.’ I thought, ‘For crying out loud, this is getting on fine, this is!’
“'Well,’ says my missus, ‘I do place the business of the ladder.’
“Of course the medium got it all confused. ‘I think as how there’s going to be something very good for you, my dear,’ she said. ‘I see you rising, going up this ladder towards success.’
“Of course this wasn’t what I was telling the damn silly medium, but it’s her interpretation. I thought, ‘Oh blimey!’ But eventually I was able to get a few bits over.” [pp. 164, 165]
The direct-voice communications courtesy of Leslie Flint, we are assured by one of the communicators, are far more precise and reliable than those of garden-variety mediums, because Flint's communicators are able to control the ectoplasmic voice-box themselves, rather than relying on a medium's dubious interpretations. In other words, his communications are basically the gold standard of postmortem messaging.
I'm not quite ready to accept this conclusion, but I'm sufficiently intrigued to read on.
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