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My Geller Notebooks
by John B. Hasted, Ph.D
We had originally planned that only myself, Bohm, O'Regan, Bastin, Nicola, and Birkinshaw be present, but three other people were added to this number: Arthur Koestler, physicist Jack Sarfetti, and composer Mr. K. A. Appiah, who was writing music for Geller's gramophone record. Thus, the fifteen-square-foot room was a little crowded, although with discipline we managed to avoid too many difficulties. I had been fending off the press all day; not that they would have behaved irresponsibly, but because we needed all the peace and quiet we could get. The short periods during which Geller would be available to us must not be wasted. When Geller arrived we showed him the equipment we had setup, and he asked to make a start with the radiation monitor. Thiswas a commercial instrument, made by mini-Instruments, consistingof a Geiger counter enclosed in a stainless steel sheath, andconnected by a cable to a control panel that registered the nuclearradiation pulses both on a ratemeter and as audible clicks ona loud speaker. The counter is sensitive to y-rays through themetal sheath, but for use with b radiation a part of the sheathcould be slid open to allow the less penetrating radiation through.
When there is no radioactive source near the Geiger counter, only a few counts are registered each second; under our laboratory conditions, about one every two seconds. This radiation reaches the earth from extraterrestrial sources and is known as cosmic radiation. Thus, the instrument would record the time variation of the background count rate of cosmic radiation. The pulse counts from the control panel of the Geiger counter were taken to a Harwell 2000 series ratemeter whose output was chart-recorded. When the time constant is set at one second, pulse counts appear as small individual "noise" peaks on the chart, provided that their rate is sufficiently slow. But when the rate count reaches, say, ten or twenty per second, and remains there for several seconds, then much larger peaks appear on the chart as is also shown. The correct operation of this system was checked by exposing this counter close to a radioactive source; readings of the order of twenty counts per seconds were recorded. Care was taken that in the absence of the source the background radiation was not excessive, and that false pulse could not be produced by rough handling of the Geiger counter or it's cable. Twenty minutes of constant background radiation were followed by a test pulse from the radioactive source, then by a further ten minutes of constant background radiation. Then I handed the counter to Geller, who held it in both hands and tried to concentrate. We drew on the blackboard a picture of a mushroom cloud to help him to think of nuclear radiation. All the outward signs indicated that Geller was concentrating as hard as he could. Within two minutes, two count rate pulses, one of about twenty-five counts per second, were recorded. Geller said that he felt some sort of shock, which I thought might have been electrical. But Geller did not see the chart record at this stage; we made no attempt to use "biofeedback," that is, to allow him to learn by watching the chart recorder. I was attempting to watch both Geller and the chart recorder. After sixteen minutes there was another pulse, c, and after a further five minutes a large pulse, d, during which Geller reported feeling a prickly sensation. We then allowed the apparatus to run for a further ten minutes without Geller's holding the counter. There was only background radiation recorded, and the apparatus was switched off. During the experiment the gaussmeter and its chart recorder had been kept running, with the probe fixed to a table about two feet away from Geller. Nicola had been supervising the chart record, but I did not watch it myself. There had been small movements in the gaussmeter chart record, as there often are when people do not keep quite still. But there were two noticeable pulses, which Nicola told me had corresponded exactly in time with the count-rate pulses c and d. I was already beginning to suspect that the origin of the Geiger counter pulses could be electrical rather than nuclear, we conducted further experiments on the following day. During a twenty-five minute session, four count-rate, e, f, g, and h, were recorded, reaching maximum rates of about ten per second. A second Geiger counter was also exposed, but it was not touched by Geller, and it did not register either audibly or visibly during these pulses. Only the counter Geller actually held in his hands registered. A tape record of the loud speaker clicks from the counter was made, and although they were corresponding to the first two chart pulses, there were very few corresponding to the last two. The effects on the Geiger counter were not quite those that nuclear radiation would have produced. After twenty-five minutes, all the witnesses except Arthur Koestler and me left the room, and Geller decided to make an extraordinary effort to produce a large pulse, k, which was well off the scale of the chart, and may have been as high as 200 counts per second. What is interesting about this pulse was that it arrived before Geller intended it to. The transcription of the audio tape reads as follows: Geller "I'm gonna shout!...All right...(knocking)... (deep breath out)...I'm gonna count to ten and on ten it's gonna go one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine" Hasted (simultaneously) "It's going already." Geller (shouting): "ten!" Koestler (shouting simultaneously): "Um-oh...did you see that?" Hasted: "I saw nothing, but it was ten times harder than anything we've had yet." The peak on the chart recorder started when I said, "It's going already." No clicks were audible. The pen stayed off-scale until "did you see that?" at which point it returned to zero, and some clicks were audible. Geller felt some sort of shock, and Koestler also experienced a shock. They both were temporarily exhausted. I verified that the Geiger counter was still, and was still against mechanical effects, such as a pulling of the cable or a knocking of the counter. Everyone came back to the room and Geller relaxed. My conviction was growing that the pulses were electrical in origin, but I did not see how electrical pulses could have entered into the circuit. Next day I realized that the stainless steel case constituted a return path for the circuit; I tried the effect of short-circuiting a 90-volt battery along the screening case. Even though the window was closed so that the screening case completely surrounded the counter, a count-rate pulse was produced every time I passed current through the case. A Geiger counter is essentially a metal cylinder with a fine wire mounted axially. It contains gas at a pressure of about 5 atmospheres, and a steady voltage is maintained between wire and cylinder, just insufficient to cause spontaneous electrical breakdown. The entry of nuclear radiation is sufficient to trigger such a breakdown by collisional ionization. The electrical energy of the breakdown is rapidly dissipated, but the counter produces an electrical pulse, which is registered at a suitable amplifier. The counter quickly returns to pre-breakdown conditions and awaits the next pulse. But when a 90-volt battery is momentarily connected in the circuit, albeit across a piece of stainless steel, spontaneous breakdown occurs, and an electrical pulse will be registered irrespective of whether nuclear radiation enters. It may be that the dissipation of this energy produces secondary electrical effects, such as were heard after the largest chart record pulse. The ratemeter is simply an integrating circuit that would respond to a continuous breakdown much as it would to a series of pulses. The most likely hypothesis to explain these experiments is that Geller's hands produced transient voltages of the order of 50 - 100 volts. These transients are about a million times stronger than normal; typical potential differences that develop, for example, between one human wrist and the other, are several hundred microvolts, but they vary in time with both heartbeat and breath, according to experiments that Dr. Birkinshaw conducted at the time. Presumably they are short-circuited when the body is immersed in a bath containing bath salts. Other areas of the skin do not show these time-varying potentials; there is probably the equivalent of a high impedance separating these areas from the source of the time-varying potentials. But it follows that such a high impedance would protect the source, that is, the interior of the body, against shocks from surface effects. It seems likely that the source of Geller's potentials lies close to the surface of the body. Let us consider the possibility that the effects are due simply to static electricity at the skin's surface. Friction on very good electrical insulators produces a static charge, which can sometimes be discharged with the production of a spark. It would have to be an extremely powerful static charge to produce a voltage along a stainless steel case sufficient for the Geiger counter to break down. Frictional production of static charge acts by moving surface electrons from the insulator or adding them to it. Nevertheless, Geller had no cloth to produce the friction and he was squeezing rather then rubbing the Geiger countercase; he held it quite still in his hands. His feet were not moving on the carpet. Those of us who have tried to produce static on metal surfaces without friction have had no success. There must be some mechanism by which the charge was produced, and since normal subjects cannot produce it one can legitimately call it paranormal. There have been reports from the USSR of subjects who have been able to produce static charge without friction and use it to apply forces to objects without touching them. Geller's Geiger counter pulses seem to have been phenomena of the same sort. But the hypothesis I wish to put forward to explain the source will have have to await the description of even more surprising phenomena that occurred later in the year. At the first Birkbeck session, the Geiger counter experiment was followed by an attempt to record any changes of magnetic field that Geller might be able to produce. We used a Hall-effect gaussmeter with the output signal chart recorded; the full scale of the chart corresponded to a 10-milligauss field. Time variations of magnetic field are constantly occurring normally. The earth's magnetic field is more than 100 milligauss, and the Post Office Underground trains, which use an earth return, produce field variations of more than 1 milligauss when they pass underneath our laboratory. When metal objects are moved around, the balance of local electromagnetic fields can be disturbed sufficiently to register a change of magnetic field, which may also be about 1 milligauss. On one occasion H. M. the Queen Mother visited our laboratory, and I demonstrated how an underground train affected one of our electron spectrometers, which was sensitive to fields rather smaller than 1 milligaus. Suddenly there was an unexplained effect. When she was gone we found a hairpin on the floor. Small changes in magnetic field are so easily produced by normal means that they are not good phenomena for psychic research. Nevertheless, something might be learned from the chart record provided that all present kept fairly still, and provided that Geller himself had no metal on his person. These conditions were secured, except for a small brass buckle on Geller's belt. We fixed the magnetometer probe to a table top, and asked Geller to concentrate on it and attempt to produce a variation of magnetic field. The probe was set at a forty-five degree angle so that the horizontal and vertical components of the field would contribute equally to the signal. For eight minutes the chart recorder trace was reasonably steady, although its response was more sluggish than that of the Geiger counter chart recorder. Then it became apparent to us that Geller had very little idea of what a magnetic field actually was, so we gave him a compass needle and asked him to concentrate on deflecting it toward him. There followed six more minutes of calm, although people were getting restive and producing a few small pulses, which were obviously due to the movements of the metal. Geller held the compass needle flat on the table, between his finger and thumb, and he moved very little on his wooden chair. Suddenly there was a jerk the compass needle and 2-milligauss deflection on the chart, which did not seem to arise from human movements. After seven more minutes, there was another apparently genuine pulse of about 2 milligauss, and the compass spindle jerked out of its bearings. The compass we used was of unusual design; it consisted of a circular metal band with both top and bottom covered with a glass disc. The compass needle was carried on a spindle mounted in holes drilled in the center of the discs. Thus it had no metal base. If Geller's finger and thumb were to produce a voltage transient, then a current would flow through the metal band, and magnetic flux would be produced, essentially perpendicular to the compass needle. The latter might not be deflected strongly, but the vertical couple could well upset the spindle from its bearings. A magnetic field would be produced at the gaussmeter probe, which was about one foot away from Geller's hands. This corresponds to what was observed. Although I cannot be certain that this is the correct interpretation of the experiment, it does confirm the hypothesis that Geller can produce voltage transient at his fingers when he concentrates sufficiently. Encouraged by these early successes, we conducted an experiment to determine whether Geller could remotely exert a mechanical force on a delicate membrane. We used a capacitance manometer, the membrane of which responds to minute differences of pressure between the gas in two tubes. When both tubes are exposed to the atmosphere, as was the case here, the membrane is so sensitive that a wave of the hand several feet from one tube will be registered on the chart recorder. Both Geller and the witness refrained from moving, but several minutes of mental concentration by Geller failed to produce any result. We now switched on a parallel beam right across the room. The position of the tiny spot, which appeared on squared paper four m away, could be measured to better than 1 mm. Geller concentrated for a few minutes on bending the beam of light, but without success. I did not want Geller to get discouraged by too much failure, so did not continue any further. Unexpectedly, Geller was not discouraged; in fact, he seemed to be growing in confidence. We talked about mental bonding and I gave him latch keys, which encouraged him still further. When he reached what is sometimes called a "contact high,"he wanted to attempt to make a bend without touching the specimen. Geller likes to have such specimens on a metal plate, so a sheet of steel was laid on the table, and the following selection of metal objects placed together on it: 1. Two key rings with keys attached to them. 2. Four loose latchkeys. 3. A thin steel tube containing a thermocouple. 4. A stainless steel paper knife. 5. A single crystal ingot of Vanadium carbide. 6. A single crystal disc of molybdenum, 0.22 mm thick and 1cm in diameter. 7. A single crystal bar of silicon. 8. A length of steel rod, one inch in diameter. 9. An annealed copper disc with a hole in the middle. None of these objects had been in Geller's hands, and he did not touch them while they were laid out. Jack Sarfatti stretched his hand out above the objects, and Geller then put his hand on top of Sarfatti's. After a few seconds, Jack reported feeling a sharp tingle in his hand, and when both hands were withdrawn, we examined the objects. The only one showing an obvious change was the molybdenum single crystal disc, which had been perfectly flat beforehand, but was now bent slightly. This single crystal, and some others we have used, had been given to us by Dr. Tony Lee, of the Cavendish Laboratory, Cambridge. It was of high purity, better than 0.99999. Some weeks later, when I showed the crystal to David Rooks, who was going to photograph it, we noticed that it was very slightly attracted to the tweezers he was using. Of course molybdenum should not be ferromagnetic, so I suspended the crystal between the poles of an electromagnet and found it to be quite as ferromagnetic as commercial molybdenum, which contains eighty parts per million of iron. I therefore sent the single crystal for neutron activation analysis to the Scottish Universities Reactor Center. How this impurity got into pure crystal is still a puzzle. The bending of the molybdenum crystal was impressive, and the witnesses became excited. It was difficult for me to maintain "controlled conditions," since Geller had worked very hard and now started to enjoy himself. He bent two latchkeys and my stainless steel paper knife, but not while sitting at the table; he walked into David Bohm's office, and later held the latchkeys under a tap; so I did not see the bendings sufficiently clearly. I weighed the keys, and in my excitement I made a mistake and concluded that one of the keys had lost weight. It was not until the next day that I discovered what I had done wrong at the balance. When I checked, I found that the key was actually unchanged in weight within 0.2 mg. Geller works well when he is excited, but unfortunately scientists do not. The afternoon's session concluded soon afterward; we had made several observations, the validity of which we were reasonably confident of, and everyone regarded the session as a success. |
