The 175-Pound Ghost That Fought Back

SEATTLE.—Mr. B. F. Shields, of the Spokane Grain company, 121 Western avenue, broke up a spiritualist meeting in Fremont Sunday night, and at the same time paid dearly for his adventure. Just because he reached out and grabbed the 'female' ghost that had been conjured from the mysterious recesses of the past, and proved beyond question that said female spirit was a true, sure 175-pound man, he was jumped on and beaten until one side of his face resembles an over-ripe tomato, while his left ear was peeled as slick as a potato.

It happened this way. Years ago, when Mr. Shields was a mere youth, he conceived the idea that he would like to go up against a real 'sure 'nuff' spirit. After years of waiting and watching, his weary vigil came to an unexpected end Sunday night and Mr. Shields considers himself lucky to get off with a bumped searchlight and a battered ear.

The Opportunity Came.

Mr. Shields lives out on Capitol Hill, or, to be explicit, at 945 Twelfth avenue, north. Sunday morning a Mrs. McDougal, who lives next door, informed Mrs. Shields that she had tracked a real live medium to his lair, and she suggested that they take in the show that evening. When Mr. Shields was interviewed he not only gave his ready consent, but asked permission to accompany them.

Mr. Shields informed Mrs. McDougal that in all probability he would take a grab at whatever materialized, and she in turn so informed Mrs. Harris, at whose home, 2302 North Fifty-sixth street, the meeting was held. Mrs. Harris met Mr. and Mrs. Shields and Mrs. McDougal at the Fremont station at 7:30 o'clock at night and piloted them to her residence.

When they entered the Harris home the large living room was shrouded in mysterious twilight. Directly off the room was a bedroom, separated from the larger room by Turkish portieres. The medium, a Mr. Kanoust, whose place of business is room 11, Melrose House, Pike street, informed those assembled that each and every one should produce the sum of 50 cents and the show would proceed.

The medium then cautioned those present not to molest anything that might materialize from his trance, because should that be done then he, the medium, would instantly stretch out and die.

An Appropriate Hymn.

While the medium was preparing for his hasty flight across the boundless wastes of the invisible the audience sang 'Nearer, My God, to Thee,' and from the subsequent happenings, Mr. Shields says he believes that hymn was sung for his benefit.

Anyway, the curtains over the bedroom door moved a little and something white was seen standing just within. After a while it grew larger and then a real live man ghost, pale looking and armed with a heavy mustache, stepped into the room. It moved about mysteriously and then disappeared, while those present, sans Shields et al., murmured paeans of praise intermingled with awe at the sight of the spirit presence.

According to Mr. Shields it was some ten minutes after before the curtain again moved, and this time there stood revealed a 'female' ghost, clothed mostly in white flowing gauze. She came out slowly, moved in a circle about the room, waving her gauze into the laps of the people. She might as well have waved a red rag in front of a gentleman cow so far as Mr. Shields was concerned.

Then it was that a Mrs. Fenton who lives in North Seventy-third street, Green Lake, arose and walked up to the presence and said, 'Is this Georgie, my daughter?'

'I didn't hear the presence say anything,' said Mr. Shields, 'but Mrs. Fenton grasped her spirit hand and led her about the room, saying, "This is my daughter Georgie who died three years ago. Don't you remember her?"'

Some one then said, 'Can't you shake hands with me, Georgie?' and the spirit, being a willing worker, shook all around—that is hands, I mean.

Grasped the Ghostly Hand.

'As the presence from the past came over toward me I held out my hand and asked for an introduction. I had paid to see the performance and I wanted the whole show. The ghost held out its hand and I grabbed it.

'And say,' he continued, leaning over and gazing at the reporter from the depths of his tomato eye, 'do you know her fingers were large and strong and as rough as a file? I started to jerk the presence over toward me, but I found a real live ghost is stronger than I am and I found myself sprawling headlong among the chairs. I held on, although the ghost kept jerking and jerking to get away. I thought that was a queer way to acknowledge an introduction.

'Then it was that Mr. Fenton jumped up and yelled "Kill him!" Somebody else said something about spreading brains about from place to place, and then Mr. Fenton fetched me a clip on the ear. But I still held on.

'Then somebody else grabbed me, shoved back my head and struck me in the eye, and at the same time I felt something on the back of my head that felt as though I had been hit with a pile driver.

'Of course, pandemonium reigned. The women present were crying that the medium would be dead, but I knew better. I knew mighty well that he was alive and kicking a moment before, and after a while peace was restored, and then somebody suggested that we sing a hymn, and thus call back the medium to life.

Sang Another Hymn.

'So we sat around, and they sang while I rubbed the back of my head and reflected. By and by the medium appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. He wanted to know what the row was, and when they all had informed him, he said, "Give the infidel his 50 cents and let him go." So they gave me the four bits, but I told them to dig again, as I had paid for my wife, and they accordingly did so. I got back my dollar, and they got about that much worth of skin off my ear, while I had the satisfaction of going up against a real live ghost.

'But, seriously,' continued Mr. Shields, 'it seems to me the city ought to investigate that matter. That medium went out there among those simple people and obtained money from them under false pretenses. I grabbed the ghost for which they paid 50 cents per head and can swear to its flesh and blood. If I am not mistaken it also swore.

'Yes, my head is a little sore, but in getting the injuries I satisfied a life's ambition, so I consider I got off cheap. But really I would like to know what the fellow used who soaked me in the back of the head. It hurt, I tell you.'