HOW THE BIG SPOOF WAS WORKED
Muscle training on novel lines--How not to be blindfolded--
Artificially developed frontal muscles--The advantage of
possessing a prominent proboscis--Following one’s nose--I study
boots--A Sherlock Holmes of footwear--Acting blind--Not so
easy as it sounds--Queer happenings at Halifax--A mishap at
Leeds--Police stop the performance--A curious mischance at Bath
--Ingenious explanations to account for the feat--Invisible
wires--Guided by bugle calls--Following the scent.
The real root secret of the trick, or rather series of tricks,
described in the previous chapter may be summed up in four
words--muscular training and development.
Not the ordinary muscular training of the gymnasiums, however, be it
noted; but muscular training developed along novel and unsuspected
lines.
I have always been fond of experimenting in these directions, with the
result that I have, in the course of years, achieved what I think I may
fairly describe as some rather startling results. I can, for example,
as I have already explained elsewhere, increase or decrease my height
at will by expanding or contracting the muscles of my legs, thighs,
chest, and abdomen. I have taught myself also to move my ears backwards
and forwards, a feat performed constantly and naturally by all the
lower animals, but the practice of which, as regards man, has become
dormant owing to long disuse.
The particular set of muscles I used in my blindfold experiment were
those in front of the forehead, and which ordinarily come into play
whenever the eyes are shut or opened. These are quite unusually
powerful in their action, as the reader can test for himself if he will
take the trouble to close his eyes, cover them tightly with the palm
of his left hand, and then suddenly open them wide to their fullest
extent. He will find that the whole lower portion of the skin of the
forehead is pushed up under his hand by the expansion of the frontal
muscles, no matter how tightly he presses against it.
Now it is, of course, well known that as a result of long or repeated
use all muscles increase in size, and consequently in strength, through
the formation of new fibre. Taking advantage of this fact, I set to
work to train and develop my frontal muscles, in much the same way as
the professional boxer, say, trains and develops his biceps, or the
runner his leg muscles.
I spent an hour or more every day for many months on end practising
shutting and opening my eyes, rolling them from side to side, moving
the scalp up and down, and so on. The result was that I was able
presently to so contract and expand the muscles of my forehead and to
move the skin up and down in such a way that, no matter how closely my
eyes were bound, I could relax the bandage or change its position up or
down in relation to my sight, and this, of course, without touching it
in any way with my hands.
Nor was it possible for anyone to detect the change, for not only was
it quite slight--although always sufficient for my purpose--but if
anyone wanted to examine the bandage while the test was in progress, as
indeed frequently happened, I had only to close my eyes, throw back my
head, and at the same time relax my frontal muscles, when the bandage
would at once fall into its proper position, and even the most critical
examiner would be fain to confess that in his opinion the wearer of
it--that is to say myself--could not possibly see anything whatever,
either through it, over it, or under it.
This much as regards the training preliminary to the trick! The
intelligent reader will no doubt be struck by the fact that in its
inception it bears a certain sort of analogy to that first practised by
the Davenports and their imitators. These people allowed themselves to
be tightly bound about the body, arms, and legs with ropes, while their
muscles were purposely kept by them in a state of extreme tension, and
then when lights were lowered they were able to free themselves from
their bonds by muscular contraction. Substitute “bandage” for “ropes,”
and it will be apparent that I worked my blindfold trick on similar
lines.
“But,” exclaims the reader, “this does not explain how you found
articles previously hidden in places unknown to you, and in localities
miles away from your starting-point. Even if you were able to loosen
your bandage at will in such a way as to permit of your peeping under
it, that would not help you greatly in this respect, seeing that you
had to find your way unaided, and according to your theory, unguided,
through the maze of streets and thoroughfares of a strange city.”
Wait a minute--I am coming to that. But first let me say something
about the preliminary test which I usually insisted on undergoing at
the office of the particular newspaper I had selected to spoof. This,
it will be remembered, consisted in my walking along a chalk line that
had been drawn by a member of the staff from the centre of the floor
in the editorial sanctum to some distant point on the premises. This
line, which was, of course, started and completed after I had been--so
the onlookers were convinced--securely blindfolded, was carried at my
instigation all over the place in a series of zigzags and curves, in
and out and across, up stairs and down, so that it not infrequently
resembled very closely the ground pattern of some new and abnormally
intricate species of maze.
The man who drew the chalk-line would then, as explained in the
previous chapter, hide some small item near the end of the line,
and then, following behind me at a distance of three or four paces,
he would “will” me to go forward along the line, following all its
twisting and turnings, until I had reached the end of it and retrieved
the hidden article. My great aim and object in carrying out these tests
was to impress upon this individual that it was he who was really doing
the finding through me, that I was only the medium, so to speak, and
that it was his will-power that set me in motion and directed me which
way to go.
In order to encourage this delusion I used to tell him beforehand to
draw crosses here and there along the line, explaining that, if he
succeeded in exercising sufficient will-power, I would stop at each
cross to it. This invariably greatly impressed the beholders, and added
considerably to their mystification.
The reader will now be able to form a fairly clear idea of how this
particular trick was worked, bearing in mind my previous explanation
as regards the bandaging, and the contraction and expansion at will
of the artificially developed frontal muscles. I forgot to say that
in addition to the bandage, folded in many thicknesses, I used to
insist, as an extra precaution, on my eyes being covered with pads of
cotton-wool. This, however, made no difference. Nature has fortunately
endowed me with a fairly prominent nose, and by expanding the bandage
and pads, and shifting their position ever so slightly by muscular
effort in the manner already described, I was easily able to see down
each side of it.
True, the range of vision so obtained was extremely limited. I could
see no more than a few inches immediately in front of me. But the
chalk-line was there. I had only to keep along it, stop at the various
cross marks, and, when I came to the end of it, grope about for the
hidden article until I found it--no very difficult task. In fact, it
was no more than a cause of following my nose, literally as well as
metaphorically.
Of course, there was a good deal of play-acting about the performance.
I had to grope and stumble about, for instance, exactly as a
blindfolded man would; and yet I had to be very careful not to overdo
the part, for the great thing, of course, was to avoid rousing the
slightest suspicion in the minds of the onlookers. As a matter of
fact, I am quite convinced that none of them at any time harboured any
such suspicions. The elaborately tight bandaging, the plugging of the
eyes with pads of cotton-wool pressed well down into the sockets, was
sufficient to convince the most sceptical. And, of course, they were
quite right in assuming that I could not see at the time when they were
examining me. It was afterwards, when the frontal muscular expansion
came into play, and I made ready to start on my quest, that the element
of sight came into operation.
This preliminary test, with the chalk line to guide me, was, however,
a comparatively simple matter. It was far otherwise when it came to
working the trick in the open streets, without any line, or in fact
guidance of any sort, save that which was supposed to come from the man
walking behind me, who, moreover, was forbidden to speak to me, and
who, of course, was not in personal contact with me in any shape or
form.
During the months in which I was engaged in working the trick out
in my own mind, and in experimenting privately as regards the best
way of successfully concluding the task I had set myself, I found
that the only moving objects that were at all likely to come within
the extremely limited range of vision allowed me when “blindfolded”
were--boots.
Forthwith I became an enthusiastic and critical student of boots of
all kinds. Not new boots as exhibited in the shop windows, be it
understood; but worn boots--boots on people’s feet. I practised my
powers of observation on men I met, training my memory in this one
direction until I was able mentally to visualize, so to speak, any pair
of boots I had once seen. I could see in my mind’s eye every crease,
each tiny protuberance. Sherlock Holmes himself would simply not have
been in it with me in this particular branch of detective science. I
learnt to recognise and know men by their boots, and by their boots
alone. It was a most fascinating study, once I had warmed to my
subject, and fraught with infinite possibilities. Some day I shall
publish a monograph on “The Influence of Character on Footwear.”
Exactly how this laboriously acquired knowledge helped me in my quest
for hidden treasure the reader shall now learn, and I will take as an
illustration the test imposed upon me at Oakland, California, where
two hundred and fifty dollars in gold was actually hidden. The reader
will please imagine me at the office of the _Tribune_ newspaper of that
city. Outside in the street is an immense throng of curious people,
for the affair has been well boomed beforehand. I am introduced to the
person who is to “guide” me, and who alone of all those present knows
where the treasure is hidden--in this case, Mr. A. A. Denison, of the
Oakland Chamber of Commerce.
Prior to being blindfolded by the committee of prominent citizens
appointed for the purpose, I am introduced to this gentleman, and we
shake hands. Meanwhile I take stock of his boots, while addressing him
in some such terms as these: “You will please understand, Mr. Denison,
that my failure or success to-day in the task I have undertaken rests
with you, and you alone. You are the active agent; I am merely the
passive one. In effect it is you who are going to find this treasure,
not I. You must exert all the strength of your will power to guide me
aright. If you do this, I cannot possibly fail; if you fail to do it, I
cannot succeed. Walk behind me, and will me along the right path. If I
am going in the right direction, mentally boost me ahead. If I am going
wrong, stop yourself and mentally tell me to stop also. This is all I
ask--that you shall not will me along the wrong road.”
All this, of course, is the biggest bunkum imaginable. But it impresses
my auditors. And especially it impresses Mr. Denison. Meanwhile, I am
still studying his boots.
Well, I am bandaged to the satisfaction of the committee, who one
and all examine me in turn, while some make suggestions, calculated,
so they imagine, to further the completeness of the blindfolding
business; a little more cotton-wool here, a tightening of the bandage
there, and so on. When all is finished a prominent member of the
committee of investigation solemnly and emphatically pronounces his
opinion as follows: “Gentlemen, if Carlton can see through that bandage
and those pads, he must have the eyes of a catamount.”
Precisely what kind of an animal a catamount is, I do not know, but
I am quite prepared to believe that it possesses abnormally keen
eyesight. Anyway, everybody appears quite satisfied, and I step forth
from the building, groping and stumbling as a blind man would. The
bugles blare, the crowd gives a mighty cheer, and the quest begins. I
circle round like a hound casting for scent, only that my movements, of
course, are slower. I know that in the beginning I must either go one
way or the other; up the street or down, to the right or to the left.
Groping this way and that, with my hands outstretched, but my eyes
carefully directed downwards, I am able presently to bring the boots of
my “guide” within my very limited range of vision. Naturally the toes
are pointing in the direction he is mentally willing me to go. So off I
start in that direction, after a little more groping and circling, done
for effect, and not of any set purpose.
Now, I have previously taken care to make myself thoroughly acquainted
with the topography of the city generally, and more especially with
that of the streets in the immediate vicinity of the newspaper office
from which I set out. Also I am aware that the bag of gold is secreted
somewhere at a point approximately not less than a mile, and not more
than two miles, from the starting-point, for this was the arrangement
made in advance. So the reader will see that I had a certain amount of
data to go upon.
There is, of course, always the kerb to guide me, and in the main
thoroughfares there are tramlines. I could, therefore, walk in a
perfectly straight line as far as the first turning. But this,
naturally, I do not do. Instead, I zigzag from one side to the
other, blunder into pedestrians, finger my way along shop-fronts and
area-railings, and so on.
By and by I come to a side street. I may have to turn down it, or I may
not. In order to find out, I have to grope and circle in such a way
as to be able to bring within my view the boots of the “guide” who is
following me. A single glimpse suffices. But often I pretend to be at
fault.
“You are not exerting sufficient will power,” I tell him. “_Please_,
sir, do your utmost to guide me aright. Will me along the way I am to
go, _please_. I cannot go right without your help.” And so on and so
forth! It is all the veriest humbug, of course; but I have yet to come
across the man whom it does not impress.
In this manner I progress along the route, and at each turning or
doubtful corner the pantomime set forth above is repeated. But never in
quite the same way, or some among the onlookers might get suspicious,
and this is the one thing I have to avoid at all hazards. Everything
has to be done naturally; every movement must be executed exactly as a
blind man might be expected to execute it. It is not an easy matter.
One has to be a good actor. Supposing, for example, I came upon an
open grating, or a hole in the road. It would never do to avoid these
too markedly. In the case of the grating I “feel” it with one foot,
pretending to try and gauge its depth and extent, before circling round
it. As regards the hole, if it is not too deep, I may allow myself the
luxury of falling into it. It must, of course, be done carefully, and
there is even then a certain element of risk, but it adds immensely to
the realism of the performance.
In this way, circling, groping, stumbling, but every minute drawing
nearer and nearer to my objective, I progress along my way, and in time
I am able to locate the hiding-place of the object I am in search of.
Never once have I failed.
There have been some curious mischances, though. One of the queerest
of these unrehearsed incidents occurred at Halifax, in connection
with a test organised at my instigation by the editor and staff of
the _Guardian_. The object I was in search of had been hidden under a
bridge, over which the road I had to traverse was carried. On reaching
the crown of the bridge, I knew, owing to my boot-reading tactics, that
the hiding-place was somewhere beneath it; so I pretended to climb over
the parapet, knowing, of course, that I should be prevented from doing
so, for this would have meant a sheer drop of twenty feet or so.
On being pulled back, and warned of the danger I was supposed to be
unconsciously running, I went round another way, and under the bridge.
Here I located in my usual manner the exact spot where the object was
supposed to be hidden, but, greatly to my chagrin and disappointment,
I could not find it. For fully twenty minutes I fumbled round
unavailingly. Then the man who was “guiding” me approached, and after
himself fumbling about for awhile, he exclaimed: “Mr. Carlton, I am
awfully sorry, but it’s gone.”
[Illustration: CROWD IN BRADFORD WATCHING CARLTON’S SEARCH FOR THE
HIDDEN “TELEGRAPH” BADGE]
[Illustration: CROWD AT OAKLAND (CALIFORNIA) WATCHING CARLTON’S SEARCH
FOR HIDDEN TREASURE]
This proved to be the fact. Somebody had discovered the object, and
removed it for safe keeping, and it was returned to the _Guardian_
office the next day. On this occasion I may be said in a sense to have
failed, in that I did not find the article. But as the reason I did not
find it was because it wasn’t there, my reputation naturally did not
suffer on that account. In fact it was rather enhanced, for everybody
recognised that I had correctly located the place where by rights it
ought to have been.
Another time, at Leeds, the crowd was so great that the whole tramcar
service of the city was threatened with disorganisation, and the police
stepped in and stopped the performance. This was one of my most trying
experiences, for the crowd was a somewhat rough one, and some of the
people were in a rather ugly mood, believing the whole affair to have
been a put-up job. However, I made them a speech, and soon got them in
good humour.
One of my roughest experiences was at Bradford, where the object of my
quest was a silver medallion, or badge, the property of the chairman of
the Bradford Cinderella Club. The crowds were immense, and to add to my
difficulties the medallion had been “hidden” by being actually buried
in the ground on a waste plot of land now occupied by the Alhambra
Theatre there. However, after groping among the loose rubble and debris
for a while I found it all right. “Then”--to quote the local report--“a
cheer went up from several thousand throats as Carlton stood aloft with
the silver badge in his hand. For our part we have to congratulate
Carlton upon the feat, which we can testify was performed in a genuine
manner and without any possible chance of collusion.”
At Bath there happened a curious incident, referred to in the account
of the affair published in the _Bath Chronicle_. The bandage became
loose, and slipped down in such a manner as made it impossible for me
to see under it; nor was I able, try as I would, to get it back in its
proper position by working my frontal muscles in the ordinary way.
In this dilemma I was compelled to resort to a pretty little piece
of play-acting. I pretended to blunder into a wall, bumping my head
somewhat severely, and incidentally loosening the bandage--of course,
on purpose--so that it slipped completely down. This necessitated my
being rebandaged, and this time, you may be sure, I took good care to
have it tight enough.
In conclusion I should like to emphasise the fact that no one, so
far as I know, had any inkling at any time of the manner in which
I succeeded in accomplishing what, on the face of it and until the
mystery is explained, strikes the vast majority of people as being a
wholly inexplicable feat. Literally thousands of letters have appeared
in the Press professing to elucidate the way in which I worked it,
but in no single instance were the writers anywhere near the correct
solution.
Nevertheless, some of the suggestions put forward were exceedingly
ingenious, and such as I should certainly never have thought of on my
own account. At Oakland, for instance, where buglers were employed
(without consulting me) to advertise the show, quite a number of people
advanced the theory that I was guided to the left or right, forward or
backward, as the case might be, by the notes they emitted from time to
time in the course of my progress through the streets.
Another theory that found favour with quite a number of people in
various parts of the world was that I was connected with my “guide”
by means of “invisible” wires; although how wires were to be made
invisible nobody took the trouble to explain.
After one of my performances in Egypt--where, by the way, I nearly got
knifed through pretending to blunder into and embrace an Arab woman
in the course of my “blindfold” peregrinations--a grave and dignified
old Sheikh explained to the public, with much volubility, that the
feat was really a quite childishly simple one. Walking in front of me,
he opined, was a confederate strongly scented with a special perfume,
and I simply “followed the scent,” much as if I were some species of
two-legged hound.