The Haunting At The Dorchester Hotel - Walden Welch Astrologer

"The Haunting at The Dorchester Hotel"

Part 17

"In Touch With His Soul"

The Teenage Years

Gina Cerminara's intimate

Interview with Walden Welch

Continues·

WW: "It was lightly raining when I stepped off my bus at the San Francisco Greyhound station. It was 7:00 PM and the bus terminal was heavily crowded with people. My only traveling companions had been my two suitcases which carried all my worldly belongings, and my wallet which contained eighty-five dollars in cash. It wasn't much to begin a new life with, but it was all that I had and it would have to last me until I could find a job. It felt terribly cold as I stepped out of the heated bus. It had just begun to rain. I had finally arrived in San Francisco and I was anxious, excited and frightened all at the same time. I had dreamed of this move to San Francisco for a very long time. It had finally come to be. I loved the rain and that it should rain on the day of my arrival was for me an omen of good fortune that I had made the right choice and that wonderful things were to come. 'Wally! Wally! Hi! I'm over here!' I heard a familiar voice calling. I looked across the terminal parkway and there behind the exit gate stood my friend, and new roommate Dave.

Dave

He was dressed warmly in a thick gray wool pea jacket. As we hugged each other hello he said, 'Our hotel isn't too far away from here. It would be cheaper if we walked a few blocks up to Sutter Street and caught a bus from there to our hotel. It's between Franklin and Gough Streets on Sutter. It's just a straight line and so we won't have to change buses. Cabs are pretty expensive. We better save the cab money because I didn't get a chance to tell you yet, that I lost my job yesterday.' He 'lost his job?' My heart sank. Dave was supposed to support the two of us until I could find a job and add my contribution to our support. Between the two of us we barely had $120.00 and God only knew how long that would have to last. 'It's not a problem. Don't worry about it,' Dave continued. 'I applied for a job as elevator boy at the St. Francis Drake Hotel today and I think I got it.' It began raining quite hard as we walked our way towards our bus stop. We found shelter from the rain under an awning outside David's Kosher Restaurant on Geary Street. Much to my surprise, young boys strangely dressed in tattered clothes and wearing strange haircuts sporting bangs surrounded us everywhere. 'Who in the world are these kids?' I whispered into Dave's ear. Dave chuckled and whispered back to me, 'Don't freak out! Look across the street. That's the Curran Theatre and these kids are in the cast of "Oliver." They have been having their dinners before curtain goes up at 8:00.' When the rain died down we continued to our bus stop which was just one block away. 'Now I got to warn you. Our hotel isn't much but it's cheap and it's not in a bad section of town. It's called The Dorchester and it's kind of ratty with lots of old people living there, but we will move and get a nicer place just as soon as we can afford to.'

"Dave was right. The Dorchester was not much of a hotel. It was an old brick three-story building painted charcoal black and sat at the far left corner at Sutter and Franklin Streets. Our room was upstairs on the top third floor on the eastern side of the building. It was a depressing room. The moment I stepped inside the doorway I knew I would not like being here. I sensed immediately that this was not a friendly room. There was an unhealthy dampness in the air, and despite the fact Dave had turned on the overhead light the room still remained dark and shadowy. The blue rose patterned wallpaper had faded and yellowed with time. The room was perfectly square and buckling, cracked off-gray linoleum coated the floor. Between us we had one single double bed that the two of us would have to share. Our mattress was worn so thin we could feel the sagging springs beneath us. Everything smelled musky and foul, even the sheets. The bathroom was a curiosity. The tub-shower combination was set horizontally against the far right wall. The shower head was pointed sideways directly facing our living/bedroom combination. If we forgot to close the shower curtain water would shoot directly into our living quarters. It was a horrid room and I would soon come to fear it. I cannot recall how much we paid in rent but whatever the sum was I am sure that we were cheated. 'I think they should pay us to stay here!' Dave said to me. We faced Sutter Street from our front window view. There wasn't much to see except a small neighborhood market across the street, but above its roofline was a limitless view of the sky and the far off hills and homes of Noe Valley. There was a small rickety mahogany desk and chair in front of the window. Whenever Dave was not home I would spend hours sitting alone at that desk, looking outside just watching the fog drift in. Crystal blue skies would suddenly become shrouded with gray, as swift wisps of evening fog would suddenly bellow in from the hills far away. The late afternoon sun would darken as the fog shielded it. It looked like a small lemon trying desperately to be seen from behind the thick shroud. I always left the window slightly cracked open so that I could breath and smell that wondrous fog. Fog was so typically San Francisco and it assured me that I was actually living in that magical city columnist Herb Caen so adequately named Baghdad by the bay.

"One morning I seated myself at that small desk and wrote a short story. I felt compelled to write it, but I did not know why. I had not been sleeping at all well since moving into our hotel room. Dave would complain that I would toss and turn all night, often times kicking him out of bed. There were nights that I would dream of being smothered·like someone was placing a pillow over my face to kill me. I sat down one morning and I began to write. I felt a strange compulsion to do so. I was unaware at that time that I was actually channeling the energies of two spirit entities who had once lived in that very room."

Dr: "How fascinating! You actually feel that spirit entity was directing you to write the story?"

WW: "Yes. I am certain that two spirit entities compelled me to write that story, although I did not know that fact at the time I was writing it. What happened to me was an experience in Automatic Writing."

Dr: "Yes, Automatic Writing is when a spirit takes possession on ones body and mind and then controls and uses that body to convey its messages. What was your story about?"

WW: It was a dark and somber story. It could be compared to something Edgar Allen Poe may have written, I suppose. The story was about a murder and suicide. I named it, 'In Sunny's Shadow'. One character was a retarded teenaged boy named Danny. The other character was his uncle, a Yellow Cab driver named Sunny. My story had the two men sharing this room together, the very room Dave and I were then living in at The Dorchester Hotel. Danny would spend countless hours alone in this room waiting for Sunny to return home from work. He would watch the fog drifting in from over the far away hills from the very same window that I did. He would draw pictures with pencils and crayons on paper, pictures of the people and the buses that would pass by his limited view. I drew these pictures as if a real Danny had sketched them, and I added them to the pages of my book.

They were drawn from his perception from his third floor view, or how he saw himself in the mirror or how he viewed his room. These were strange, bizarre pictures and appeared to be painted by a young child or a mentally incompetent person. The story itself was an extremely haunting and depressing one. It was told through the mind of the retarded boy and it was about the admiration and love he felt towards his Uncle Sunny. Danny's mother had died and Sunny had been given custody of his nephew. The boy so admired his uncle that he lived in his shadow; thus my title, 'In Sunny's Shadow'. My story, when finished, greatly disturbed me for it was very violent and yet there was something simplistically gentle and tender about it too. It was a strange love story of sorts for these two men were in great need and dependency of each other. In my story, Danny, the retarded boy, is smothered to death with a pillow that his uncle places over his face while the boy is asleep. He dies in the very bed that Dave and I shared. After taking the boy's life, his Uncle Sonny commits suicide by shooting himself through the brain on that very same bed. (Laugh) Needless to say, a grizzly story! After I had finished writing it, I let Dave read my story. I believe he was being honest when he said, 'I really like the creative style you used in telling your story - you know·through the mind of the retarded boy. That was really clever! However, I have to be honest in saying that this story really upsets me. It's too grizzly for my taste but despite that I honestly think it's written so well that you could get a publisher of horror stories interested in publishing it. But, why in the world did you have to use our hotel room as the place where these two guys lived and died? I'd be afraid to sleep without the lights on after having read this!'

"It was a relief for me to have finally finished writing the story. I began to relax and feel more at ease for having completed it."

Dr: "Perhaps this was because you had spent all the energy associated with this compulsion."

WW: "Yes, I'm sure it was. However, a couple of days after Dave read 'In Sunny's Shadow', something really bazaar occurred. After a hopeless day of job hunting I returned to our hotel room. Rosalee, our hotel's maid was in our quarters to do house cleaning when I entered the room. I had left the handwritten papers of my story scattered on the desk. When I entered the room I caught her leafing through the papers. 'My Goodness! Where ever did you find these letters and pictures from Mr. Sunny an' Mr. Danny?' she asked. 'I thought we had thrown out all their belongings. I 'pologize 'bout that. I'll throw them in the trash,' she commented nonchalantly. A chill ran up my spine. It was obvious that she wasn't joking with me. Her reference to Sunny and Danny had been matter-of-factly as if they were indeed living persons. 'What do you mean?' I asked. 'Did you know them? Did you know Danny and Sunny in person?' 'Of course I did. I cleaned this room for them the same that I do for you and Mr. Dave. They was nice fellows, but very strange. They both died a year or so ago,' she stated as she plugged the cord from the vacuum cleaner into the wall socket. 'Did they die in this room?' I asked cautiously. Rosalie remained quiet for a moment. It appeared she had chosen not to answer my question. 'Rosalee, answer me. Did Mr. Danny and Mr. Sunny die in this room?' I asked once more. 'Now it's none of my business to be talking about tenants. I could loose my job over that. I'm not supposed to be talking to hotel guests. They is dead. That's all I know about it. Both Mr. Danny 'an Mr. Sunny is dead!' she stated firmly. I knew by her reply that I had answered my own question. Sunny and Danny had both died in this room and Rosalie was well aware of that fact. 'They was both kind'a crazy. The boy was strange in the head. He had a retardation problem. His Uncle Sunny took care of him. He drove a cab during the daytime as I recall so that the boy wouldn't have to spend the nighttimes alone. He said he was the boy's uncle, but I was suspicious 'bout that too. He was a strange man. I was kinda 'spicious he might be one of those sexual perverts you hears about. Anyway, the two of them lived here for a couple of years.' 'Rosalee, how did Danny die? Did Sonny kill Danny?' Rosalee's posture became very rigid. I could tell by her reaction to my questions that I had caught her completely off guard. She stood dead still for a moment looking me straight in the eye. She did not blink her eyes at all. She just stared at me as if she was trying to think of something to say but could not find her thoughts or words. 'Did Sonny smother Danny with a pillow while the boy was sleeping there in that bed? Did he hold a pillow over the boys face until he suffocated and died?' Rosalee nervously began twisting wringing her hands. 'I ain't suppost' to talk about this stuff wid guests of this hotel,' she answered. 'I could loose my job.' 'Please answer my question, Rosalee,' I begged. 'I would never tell your boss that you said anything to me about this. You know you can trust me.' 'Well, truth be known, yes. Yes he did smother the boy with a pillow. After that he went an' shot himself,' she confessed. 'Did he shoot himself through the brain?' I asked bluntly. 'Well I suspect you already know that,' she answered sharply. 'It looks like it's all printed in this letter you found. Where did you find these letters anyways, Mr. Wally?'

"Well, after my conversation with Rosalie I can promise you I could not wait to move from that hotel and I did everything I could to spend as little time as possible in that room from that moment on."

Dr: "I can well see why! (Laugh) My God! You had other encounters with spirits before this occurrence. I don't recall you ever saying you had been frightened of spirits before. In fact, I believe you said the opposite, that spirits had never frightened or threatened you with the exception of the spirit of that little boy named Eugene whom you went to school with in Stockton when you were a child."

WW: "Well, I better correct myself. Let me say that I have had a few scary encounters with spirits in my lifetime, but that was before I came to understand that a spirit is nothing more than a physically un-bodied soul. I would not be afraid of spirit contact nowadays. This was the second spirit encounter I had that un-nerved me. My first fearful encounter was with the spirit of Eugene. I believe that the reason that this second encounter was so upsetting was because of the feeling of depression I felt regarding the contact. These two spirits had not moved on to the other side. Like Eugene they too were earthbound and very much tied to the room that they had died in. Their energy would almost suffocate me at times. They actually controlled my thought processes by making me write about them. That is what frightened me."

Dr: "Did you share the incident that happened between you and Rosalie with your roommate David?"

WW: "No, that would have frightened him too much. Besides, I was afraid he might also become frightened of me if he knew I was communicating with spirits. Anyway, we didn't have enough money to move so there wasn't anything we could do but make the best of our circumstances. I felt he would be better off if he didn't know about the spirits of Sunny and Danny that still inhabited our room. Dave wasn't particularly interested in psychic matters, but I think he believed in ghosts and such. Had he known that what he thought were fictional characters in my story had actually been living people, he would have probably freaked out. Anyway, after that I spent as little time in that room as possible when Dave wasn't there with me.

"To continue with my story· Dave did get the job as elevator boy at the Sir Francis Drake Hotel off Union Square. Believe it or not we did not have an alarm clock, nor could we afford one during the period we were living in The Dorchester Hotel. Dave's job began at 6:00 AM and Dave was a very heavy sleeper. In order to be certain that he would get to work on time I would stay up all night so that I would be certain to awaken him on time. This was also an excuse for me to not have to spend the night in that dreaded room. I would walk about the city all night long. If I had any money to spend I would sit for hours at Foster's Cafeteria on Polk Street. After Dave left for work I would nap for a couple of hours while the sun was out, for the room wasn't as scary in the daytime. On one of my 'wake call' nights I wandered down Polk Street and discovered a small bookshop named 'Fields Bookstore.' It was a metaphysical bookshop. I had never seen this type of bookstore before. In the window was an assortment of books that, considering the circumstances I was going through, could not help but catch my eye; 'Apparitions, Spirits and Ghosts', 'Ghostly Tales', 'The Dead Don't Die.' The following morning I was the first customer to enter the shop. I was hoping that I might meet someone to whom I might be able to tell my ghostly experience to - someone who might be able to advise me as to what to do to get help. The proprietor of the shop was a short, dapperly dressed, elderly white haired. According to the nameplate on his desk his name was Mr. White. I was too shy to walk directly up to him and tell him my story so I slowly walked amongst the shelves of books trying to work my courage up. It was not long before several customers were scouting about the shop. I watched with fascination as they pulled books from the shelves; books titled 'Reincarnation', 'Spirit Possessions', 'Tarot' etc. I was fascinated yet somewhat scared, for this was all very new to me at that time. I was nervously thumbing through a book when I suddenly felt a tap upon my shoulder. It was Mr. White, 'Hello young man. You look very confused. Is there something I might help you with?' 'I need to talk to somebody about something that is happening to me,' I whispered in his ear so that the customers circling about could not hear me. 'But of course. I would be happy to listen should you care to tell me," he replied kindly. He took hold of one of my elbows and coaxed me to follow him to his desk where we could have more privacy. I have these two dead ghosts that keep haunting me and scaring me and I don't know what to do to get rid of them. I was hoping maybe you could help me or find me a book that will tell me what to do.' 'I can do better than that, he replied calmly. Turning away from me he raised both of his arms above his head and clapped the palms of his two hands together. 'Florence? Florence, Dear? Could you come here for a moment please?' He was speaking to a small dark haired woman in a loose black dress who was sitting on a stool at the back of the shop and casually thumbing through a book. 'Yes, what is it Mr. White?, she asked as she walked up to us. 'This young man has been encountering spirit contact and he is frightened and upset about these encounters,' he said to her. She quietly and intently looked into my eyes and then stated, 'Yes, he has the gift of psychic perception. I can see it in his eyes.' I stood there silently as goosebumps covered my arms. 'I'd like you to meet Reverend Florence Becker,' Mr. White said to me. 'Florence is an exceptionally gifted Psychic Medium. She is one of the most gifted Mediums in the world.' 'Hello, Miss Becker,' I said as I extended my hand towards her. 'My name is Wally Welch. I have just recently moved to San Francisco. I'm new here. I'm sorry but I don't know what a Psychic Medium is.' She smiled at me as she took my hand into hers, then said, 'How charming! What a charming boy you are! A Psychic Medium is one who has the ability to contact and communicate with the spirit world.' 'You can speak with ghosts?' I asked. 'Indeed she can!' relied Mr. White. 'Florence is world famous. She is, in the opinion of many, the greatest Psychic Medium living today.' 'Thank you, Mr. White,' she replied. 'Now, share your story with us,' she asked of me. 'Tell us what it is that you are encountering that is upsetting you so.' Mr. White pulled up two stools and placed them around his desk. The three of us sat as I related to them my encounter with the spirits of Sunny and Danny. When I had finished my strange tale Reverend Becker took a deep breath and said to me, 'I would very much like to visit this room in which these two entities inhabit. 'I don't have a car to drive you there, but it's only two blocks up Sutter Street from the corner of Van Ness if you care to walk there with me.' Revered Becker agreed. 'I would like to go with the two of you if you don't mind,' asked Mr. White. 'Of course, Dear,' Florence replied. We waited a few minutes while Mr. White waited on a customer. When business was concluded he put a sign in the shop window stating: 'Will return at noon.' Then he bolted the door behind us. It was chilly and windy that day. Mr. White and I had a difficult time keeping pace with Reverend Becker for she walked quite fast. When we finally caught up with her she was standing on the sidewalk outside the front entrance of The Dorchester Hotel. 'This is the building, isn't it?' she asked as she pointed at the old charcoal black building. 'Yes, it is,' I answered. Pointing her forefinger upward she said, 'And that is the room, is it not?' To my amazement she was correct. She was pointing to the exact room that Dave and I were renting. 'It's the fourth window to the right on the third floor. I feel the haunting even from this distance. There is a young boy sitting there in the window behind the curtains. He watches everything that passes outside of that window. He is watching us now.' Her words caused a chill to run up my spine. She grabbed my arm saying, 'Let us go inside and see what it is we can do to release his spirit into the other world. He is definitely an earth bound entity. Outside the door to my apartment she cautioned, 'When we enter the room I don't want either of you to speak to me unless I request it of you. I must have silence and concentration. Is this understood?' Mr. White and I nodded our heads yes to acknowledge her request. As we entered the room she motioned with her arm for Mr. White and I stop where we were and to stand just inside the doorway. She walked quickly to my bed and sat facing the desk placed before the window over looking Sutter Street. She sat silently for a moment and then inhaled several deep full breaths of air. 'Yes, yes I can see you,' she said to something sitting in the chair at the desk in front of her. 'I know you are there, dear. I must know what it is that troubles you. I must know what it is you are needful of.' She stared intently at the something only she could see which sat in that chair front of her. Suddenly she began patting the chenille bedspread on each side of where she sat, making swirling motions with her hands. 'There is another entity here!' she proclaimed. 'Someone has died in this bed! His presence is still with us! Someone has died in this bed!' I started to panic as she related her finding, for she was confirming the knowledge only Rosalie, the maid, and I had been aware of. As I turned to exit the door Mr. White grabbed me by an arm and motioned me to stay put and stand still. I obeyed his command but kept my eyes closed as Reverend Becker continued with her conversation. 'Why have you done this? Why have you taken your own life?' she asked the spirit of Sunny. 'What has been so awful that could have been driven to such an act of madness?' Several seconds of silence followed before she continued. 'Oh·oh, I see. Yes, I see. Thank you· thank you. Yes, I see. You were desperate, terribly desperate·I see·I understand·I see,' she said to the something she was in contact with. 'And him? Why did you harm him? What could a child have possibly done to warrant his being killed?' she asked as she pointed to the spirit in the chair. 'What was it with him? Why did he die? Why have you murdered him? He was too young to have died.' Miss Becker began moaning. Once again she did not speak for several seconds. She just sat on the side of the bed moaning, nodding her head back and forth, eyes closed and in deep concentration. 'Yes, I see·but that was foolish. There is no death and, therefore, you could never have escaped the wrongfulness of your deeds. What is your name? You haven't given me your name. What? Your name is Sunny, you say? Sunny? Sunny, as in sunshine? And his?' she asked pointing at the empty chair. 'Donny? She cocked her head sideways for a moment as if trying to hear a far off voice. 'Oh! Danny? That's a nice name for such a lovely boy. Tell me, is Danny mentally disabled? I sense there has been a mental retardation.' With her latest statement I sat myself on the floor covering my head with my arms out of fear. The Reverend was being so explicitly correct with her observations that I knew with all certainty the haunting I assumed I was experiencing was indeed real. 'I see. Yes, I do understand. Thank you. There are two young boys who now live in this room and you have frightened one of them very badly. That is not fair for you to do. It is time you moved on. You no longer belong in this room, nor do you belong in this world.' She stood and walked to the window, parted the white-laced curtains and pointed upward to the sky. 'There before you is the tunnel that goes to The Light. Do you see it? Can you see that tunnel? Do you see that great light? You must both look into that tunnel and enter into that light.' As she spoke these words the chilly room in which we shared suddenly began to warm. Still crouched upon the floor I opened my eyes to see what had caused this. To my amazement I saw The Reverend Becker engulfed in a great white light that beamed into our room through the window in front of the desk. Standing beside her were two grayish figures, one of a man, the other a small boy. 'Feel the light! Feel the light!' she said smiling. She turned to look at Mr. White and then walked over to me offering me her hand. I took hold of it and stood beside her as she placed one of her arms over my shoulder. 'Don't be afraid, dear one,' she whispered. 'Experience the wonder and beauty of God. Open your eyes! You must see this wonder!' she demanded. 'Look! Look!' I did as she said, I forced myself to overcome my fear and I opened my eyes to witness the intense light. 'There is nothing to fear here. They are finding their way home. God has sent his source to help them. Enjoy and experience the wonder of God.' The light became so brightly intense that soon I felt blinded and had to again close my eyes. Before having done so, I witnessed the two grayish spirits emerge into the wondrous light, and then along with that light, exit through the window. As the spirits departed the warmth left the room and the chill and the dampness returned. When I opened my eyes again the light had completely disappeared."

Dr: "Once again you have held me spellbound! I am left breathless from having heard your experience. Whatever psychic experiences you failed to encounter in your previous two years was certainly made up for with this one!"

WW: "I have shared my experience with having witnessed this great light to several people, but I do not think that they have believed me. I think they felt it was too incredible and fantastic a story to be true. None-the-less it is; it is true. From the moment I moved to San Francisco the entire world of psychic phenomena opened up to me. Perhaps this is why Jack Dareo's had predicted I was to move there. Florence Becker was the second significantly important psychic to enter my life but there would be several others who would greatly influence my life in the near future."

Dr: " I, too, knew Reverend Florence Becker. I had a couple of Sittings with her in years past and can attest to her remarkable abilities. Florence was a greatly gifted Medium. I doubt that there were, or are, any finer. I had not been aware before now that you had known her."

WW: "Yes. I came to know her well. I became a student of hers and studied under her."

Dr: "How did this come about?"

WW: "After the spirit exorcism she, Mr. White and I walked back to Fields Bookstore. We visited for a while and Florence explained to me that the spirits of Danny and Sunny were good and loving spirits, but had become confused and earth bound after their deaths due to their dependencies upon each other. Sunny was Danny's mother's brother. She had been an unmarried lady who had died from Cancer when Sunny was just two years old."

Dr: "And Danny was mentally retarded? Is this correct?"

WW: "Yes, according to what Florence Becker and I both psychically perceived, he was. Florence stated that Sunny became Danny's legal guardian and was the sole provider for the boy. They had little money and what they did have did not go far. Although Sunny was a taxi cab driver he also suffered from sclerosis of the liver. He was an alcoholic and his liver disease was worsening by the day. His doctor predicted he would, at best, have but six months to live. Due to his physical deterioration and his concern for the future and welfare of his nephew Danny, he took the boy's life. He was in a dilemma as to what to do because the boy had become so dependent upon him that he did not have the heart to let the state put Danny in an institution."

Dr: "In other words, this was a mercy killing of sorts?"

WW: "Yes, according to Reverend Becker's findings this was indeed a mercy killing. According to Florence's account of the information communicated to her from the spirit of Sunny, he related that he felt so overwhelmed and helpless regarding the circumstances that had befallen him that the taking of both of their lives seemed the only thing he could do."

Dr: "And he also died in that bed?"

WW: "Yes, he shot himself through the head and bled to death in that bed. Well, anyway, I became a believer in Florence Becker's psychic abilities that day. Everything she had related to me tallied with the information I had received for myself - both through my own psychic abilities as well as Rosalie's confirmations. I had also witnessed that great white light streaming into that ugly, tiny little hotel room through the window above the desk. I, too, had seen the apparitions of Danny and Sunny emerged within that light. These were facts of which I was certain. This had been an emotionally difficult experience for me, but it had also been a real one. Knowing how upset I had been Florence asked if I could spend more time with her that day. She said she had much yet to say to me and asked if I would join her for lunch. I did not yet have a job and therefore had nothing else much to do so I eagerly agreed. We walked together to her place of work, The Golden Gate Spiritualist Church, located in a majestic old mansion on the corner of Franklin and Clay Streets.

Golden Gate Spiritualist Church

I was not certain whether she lived there or just worked there. I assumed she may have lived in that building because we dined alone together in the kitchen and she mentioned that her daughter Lollie was away for the day and would therefore be unable to join us. While dining, Florence tried to explain to me just exactly what had occurred that morning. She said that she doubted that the souls of Danny and Sunny would return to the hotel room again, but as a precaution I was to put a pinch of table salt in each corner of the room and to place a crystal glass of water on the desk in front of the window. It the morning I was to pour out the water and replace it daily. 'Wherever there are the purities of salt, crystal and water, lower entities cannot pass,' Reverend Becker assured me. 'And surround yourself with the white light of Christ consciousness all the while you are in that room. Imagine a cocoon of spiritual white light enveloped over your body. This will throw out an aura of protection which is as strong as a warrior's shield. No lower vibration will be able to pierce it. I sense that you will be moving to a different apartment house soon, so it will not be long before you are in safer vibrations.' 'I want you to consider studying in my psychic development classes,' she said to me. 'I think you should feel very honored and proud that one as young as yourself has been given this remarkable gift of clairvoyance. Aren't you amazed to have all that you foresaw on your own confirmed but a professional psychic such as myself? I think it's marvelous! You are indeed a true Medium but you need training and guidance. I can help you learn all that you will need to know. You must not waste this talent of yours.' After finishing lunch Reverend Becker rose from her dining chair and said, 'Follow me into the Chapel. I would very much like to do a Reading for you.' 'But Miss Becker, I don't have much money with me. I don't know what you charge,' I answered embarrassedly. 'I am not charging you, dear one. This is a gift I wish to give you. I feel compelled to Read for you. I have since we first met.' I followed her into The Chapel. It looked almost like a funeral parlor.

The Chapel

She pointed to a chair in which she wanted me to be seated. After I did so she walked to the front of the room and stood behind a rostrum. She closed her eyes and stood in silence for several moments. Her breathed deeply and slowly. I watched her breasts heaving inward and outwards as she swallowed huge amounts of air. 'Spirit tells me that you have recently suffered much sorrow and disappointment. I am being told that you have been rejected in love. This rejection has come from two sources, from two different men. Is this true?' Not certain as to whether or not I would be interrupting her by speaking I quietly replied, 'Yes.' 'I am told that one of these men is your father. Is this true?' Again I whispered, 'Yes.' 'You must forget the ugly words he spoke to you. He did not mean what he said. He is heartsick and regretful and ashamed of his words. The other man I see is a blond boy of your age. I cannot hear his name.' 'It's Ronnie,' I answered. 'Shhhh! You need not reply. His name is not important. If it were spirit would have spoken it to me clearly. This blond boy also regrets the hurt he has caused you. He loves you greatly. You two will be reunited in time. Be patient! You have much happiness ahead of you. Let go of where you have been and look forward to your tomorrows. Your destiny will soon be shown to you. Look to a man named Arthur. It is he who will lead the way. You have come into this world to be of help to others and you will soon be given the tools to accomplish your task. A man named Arthur will teach you.' I assumed she was speaking of my father for his first name was Arthur, but I did not verbally reply. 'You have many spirit guides working with you,' she continued. 'But Robert is the one who is closest to you. He stands beside you now in this room. He sends his love and wishes to be recognized. He is your spirit guide, or may be called your Guardian Angel if you choose.' Still confused and uncertain as to whether I should speak I instead nodded my head as if saying hello to the entity she stated was standing beside me. 'Robert wishes me to tell you, "Please allow yourself to be who you are. Do not be ashamed of how God has created you. Do not battle your very nature. All things come from God and He has wisely given you all the tools you will need to perfect your karma. The world is far more than man knows. Follow your instincts and the sincerity of your heart. Be the willow but never the oak tree. The willow can overcome the abuses of all seasons and storms but the oak will surely topple. Trust that God will have all the pebbles and mortar you need to build your pathway. He has placed these objects before you. They are there for your use.' The Reverend paused for a moment then said, 'Thank you, Robert. Your message has been given'. She took several more deep breaths and then continued. 'I see a pearl before you. I cannot quite interpret it's meaning but it comes as a symbol of wisdom and friendship. Perhaps it is a person; another who will guide you. Spirit tells me that you have desperately searched for love. I am being told that love is soon to find you; it is not far away. Be patient for all things come in their season. I am also being told that you are in need of a job. I see you sorting letters·hundreds and hundreds of letters. I am being told you will acquire a job in a very short while. I am also being told to give you a message about ice. However, I cannot quite understand it. That is all for now. Spirit is leaving.'

"I was impressed with The Reverend's Reading. Some of the information she had presented was astoundingly accurate considering the fact she had picked up the problems I had encountered with both my father and Ronnie. However, the information she gave to me stating that my personal spirit guide, an entity named Robert had requested she give, seemed to be very non-concrete and I was not certain it was valid. Of course the concept of spirit guides was relatively new to me then.

"The Reverend was correct with her prediction that I would soon find work. Having no skills of any specific nature I soon gave up searching for a job through the want ads in the newspaper. I decided to apply for work through an employment agency. In a short while I was placed as a mail boy at Schwabacher & Company, a stockbrokerage located in The Equitable Building at 100 Montgomery Street. This was Florence's, 'I see you sorting letters·hundred and hundreds of letters' prediction come to pass. My job could not have come at a more appropriate time, for just as quickly as I got my placement Dave lost his. One afternoon while people were boarding Dave's elevator he called out, 'Closing door! Going Up!' Unfortunately a little old lady was not quite aboard. The elevator door closed on her head! She suffered no serious injuries whatsoever, but sued the hotel anyway and collected a $25,000 out of court settlement. Dave lost his job of course. His job hadn't paid much and, needless to say, neither did mine. We were actually so broke at that time that we had been surviving on soda crackers and jelly. If we happened to have a little extra money we would add peanut butter to our menu. As luck would have it, during this very low period of our lives, we received a letter from Ted, one of our close friends in Bakersfield. He was moving to San Francisco to attend San Francisco State University. He wanted to know if Dave and I would find an apartment that was suitable for the three of us to live in together and thus share expenses. Well, between my first paycheck from Schwabacher's and Ted's first month deposit I found an ideal place for the three of us to live. The trouble was Dave and I didn't have enough money to pay the back rent we owed at The Dorchester and the first month's rent owed for our new apartment as well. 'Screw em'!' Dave said. 'They should pay us to have lived in that dump!' Late one night after the desk clerk retired Dave and I sneaked out of The Dorchester, suitcases and all. I was not one to steal or not pay my bills. However ,we just did not have any other alternative at that time and I would have done almost anything to get away from the ghostly remembrances of Sunny and Danny. Our new apartment was located at 776 Geary Street, only four blocks away from the scene of our crime. It was a wonderful apartment in a beautifully kept old brick and plaster building. Our living quarters seemed enormous compared to our room in The Dorchester. We had a large kitchen with breakfast nook, a large oblong living room with a lovely bay view window overlooking a neighbor's backyard garden and lawn. Surrounding us on all sides were other apartment houses. We lived on the ground floor. Our bedroom was also long and angular with enough room for all three of us to have our own separate beds. Everything was freshly painted white and the carpets too were new and bright. Best of all the apartment house had an indoor swimming pool. Supposedly 776 Geary had the only pool in downtown San Francisco at that time."

Dr: "This place sounds as if it was very expensive?"

WW: (Laugh) "It was all of $150.00 per month, furnished!"

Dr: "Between the three of you?"

WW: "Yes. Amazing, isn't it? It did seem like a great deal of money though in those days. And, I guess that it was. It was located within walking distance to where I worked. I loved the walk. It was exciting to walked passed Gumps, The City Of Paris, The White House, Flax's and all the other famous San Francisco businesses of that period. Downtown San Francisco and The Financial District were really exciting back then. People were so friendly, too. I loved the location of our new home. Not long after we moved into our new apartment we received a letter from Maryann and Sandi saying that they had decided to move to San Francisco too. We reserved a one bedroom studio apartment for them in another wing of our building."

Dr: "And so Bakersfield moved north!"

WW: (Laugh) "You bet! And all of our lives moved forward very quickly from that point on. Those were wonderful days, as I look back on them. We kids certainly did not have much money but the city was our playground and we made the best of it. We went to the beaches on the weekends and stayed as long as the fog would permit. We would stop at Fisherman's Wharf and buy a loaf of French bread and a large bag of prawns and picnic together at Aquatic Park. If we had any extra money we would take in a movie. Somehow or other we managed to find someone who sold us fake IDs. San Francisco was a drinking city. The cool weather did not allow much in the way of outdoor activities. Most people clustered together in neighborhood bars. I became a 21-year-old man named Stuart Englin. Who Maryanne, Ted, Sandi and Dave became I cannot remember. We certainly weren't much into alcohol, but when a beer was affordable we would hang out at a bar named The Rendezvous Room on Sutter Street. The funny thing is the doorman never once asked to see our IDs.

"I studied psychic development courses with Reverend Becker every Wednesday and Friday night at the Golden Gate Spiritualist Church. There were twelve of us in her class. Florence taught me how to read billets. A billet is a piece of paper that someone has written a question on. The reader is not allowed to know what that question is. The writer of the billet marks a personal symbol on the folded paper to identify whom the writer was. These billets are then put into a large bowl and mixed around much like raffle tickets would be. I would have to pick a billet from the bowl, hold it in my hand with eyes closed and verbally communicate whatever information I was sensing from that billet. I was amazingly good at it! For instance, one evening I was holding a billet that was marked with a large star for the writer's identification. The impressions I was receiving were of a house. It was a dark brown ranch style home. There was a six-pane window looking into the kitchen. Hanging over the oak kitchen table was a Tiffany style leaded glass shade. The garage behind the house was also dark brown. It was a two-car garage and what was peculiar about it was that there was a very large hole in the back wall as if a car had driven through it. Red flowers surrounded the house and the garage. They were large bush like plants. I believe they were Rhododendrons. Well, anyway these were the images I perceived when holding that billet. I stood on the stage in front of a roomful of people feeling very foolish stating what I had seen. When I finished my statement a middle-aged couple in the first row stood and said to me, 'Thank you so much. You have just made our choice for us. We have been looking for a home to buy and the one you have just described is the one that we wanted but did not know if we could afford. We have prayed for guidance as to which house to buy and you have described it perfectly. My husband has promised to buy me a Tiffany style lamp for our kitchen, and a round oak dining table once we find our home. We both love red Rhododendrons and have agreed to use mainly that plant in our gardens. Most interesting of all is that the lady who currently owns this brown ranch-style home drove through the back end of the garage and has not yet had time to have it repaired!'"

Dr: "That is amazing!"

WW: "For some reason or other I was good at reading billets. I was also good a psychometry Readings too. It's basically the same thing as Billet Readings except that I would hold a personal object someone owned such as a ring, or a piece of clothing, etc. and relate the information I would get from the vibrations of that object held. Everyone in the church wanted to have me ordained a Spiritualist minister but I did not feel good about that for I would not be comfortable living the life of a minister or priest. Also, as much as I enjoyed the philosophy of The Spiritualist Religion I did not want to limit myself to the joining of one singular religious group. I did agree to accept a Certificate of Mediumship, however. This certificate is awarded to those who pass multiple testing procedures. One must Read for numerous individuals and have the approval of professional psychics and Mediums that the individual was correct with the information given in the readings. This certificate of mediumship is actually a license to practice. It takes several years to be certified, and a great, great deal of work. I received mine three years after I met Reverend Becker. I was the youngest person to ever obtain this certificate in the United States."

Dr: "That is an exemplary achievement!"

WW: "I did not let my friends know I was studying Mediumship, nor did I let them know about my relationship with Reverend Becker and the church. I was afraid they would be uneasy around me if they knew about my interest in the metaphysical world. Instead we just lived our friendly and ordinary lives. Ted and Maryann were in school most of the time. Kert soon followed us to San Francisco. He came to attend court-reporting school and had a very busy class schedule. I was lucky if I got to see him once or twice a month. Sandi got a job as a waitress at 'The Hungry I' a popular North Beach Bistro during that time. One evening in April of 1963 she convinced me that I had to come and see this incredible new singer who was performing there I can get you in free, she said. 'You absolutely must see her! She's better than Garland.' The performers name was Barbra Streisand and Sandi was correct, Streisand was even greater than Garland. Her performance that evening was one I will never forget. Although Sandi's job kept late hours, she and I somehow managed to find the time to join The Gate Theatre Players troupe in Sausalito. While Sandi was winning rave reviews for her performance as Alexandria DeLago in 'Sweet Bird Of Youth,' I was acting in the children's theatre production of 'Hansel and Gretel.' From there I moved on to The Beach Theatre in San Francisco where I understudied the lead in 'Ah, Wilderness.' I also joined The Elizabeth Holloway School of acting. I became so be so busy with my many activities that there was little time to visit with my high school friends anymore. Dave started running with a new circle of friends and, therefore, much to my regret our very close friendship began its decline. As the months passed I dated frequently and even convinced myself I was in love three or four times, but consistent with my past record that did not prove to be true. I was constantly searching for that someone I thought I needed in my life. Some days I would come home from work, have an early dinner and then go to bed and sleep till 1:00 AM. I would then get up and get dressed and spend the rest of the night in an after hours coffee house named 'The Caboose.' It was a popular hangout at that time and was located on Turk Street in a seedy section of town called The Tenderloin District. One night I met a boy from Sacramento there. His name was Buddy Swartz. He was my age, likable and fun and we soon became friends. He spent every weekend he could in San Francisco, 'to escape Sacramento and my parents', whom he still lived with. Once in a while he would bring along his best buddy, a very likable kid by the name of Joe. The three of us got along wonderfully and before long I invited them to spend their weekends at my place as my guests in order to help save them money. On May 3^rd of 1963 Buddy came to spend the weekend with me. Joe couldn't make it that trip."

Dr: "How in the world can you possibly remember the date he cane to spend the weekend with you? That was ages ago!"

WW: "Because that date turned out to be the most important single day of my life."

Dr: "Oh, I see. Please go on."

WW: "Buddy and I decided to go to Chinatown for dinner that evening. Afterwards he wanted me to go with him to a friend's house on Noe Street, across town. His friend Dave who lived there owed Buddy money and they had made arrangements to meet at Dave's apartment so that Buddy could get the money that was owed him. We dined at a reasonable Chinese restaurant and during dinner I told Buddy about the psychic Reading Jack Dareo's had given me - the one in which he predicted my move to 'The Chinatown, North'. Buddy seemed fascinated by my story and asked me, 'Do you really believe in all that psychic stuff?' I admitted to him that I did and told him how accurate Mr. Dareo's Reading had thus far been. 'The only thing that he predicted that hasn't happened is that he said I would meet someone with a name of a spice and that person would be my great love.' 'That kind of stuff in pretty scary,' Buddy answered. 'If I want to know my future I stick to these,' he said as he tossed me a Chinese fortune cookie from the plate the waitress had delivered with our bill. I laughed at his comment as I broke my cookie open. I read the little tea colored paper on which my fortune was written, 'Love is soon to find you'. 'I wish that this would come true,' I commented to Buddy as I handed him my fortune to read. 'Who knows? It probably will,' he answered. 'Here, have another one. Let's see what else the future will bring,' he said as he tossed me another cookie. I broke the cookie open and the same fortune was inside. 'Hey, look at this!' I laughed as I handed him the paper. 'It's the same fortune' 'One last chance" Buddy said while handing me the final cookie. I opened it and covered my face while laughing. 'You won't believe this, Buddy·its another "Love is soon to find you."' Buddy read the fortune paper then said, 'The Hong Kong Noodle Company ought to be sued! They forgot to shake all the different fortunes together before they packaged them.' We paid our bill then walked down to Market Street to catch a streetcar to Noe Street.

"Dave's apartment was located in a three-unit apartment house located at the very top of a steep hill on Noe Street. Buddy and I were breathless from the climb by the time we reached Dave's building. We had to walk up several blocks from Church Street, as that was the closest stop the bus would make. Buddy's friend Dave answered the door and greeted us warmly. He offered us a drink which we accepted and we three sat and chatted for awhile. During our conversation there was a knock at the door. Dave excused himself to answer it. 'Hey, Guys·I'd like you to meet my landlord, Maurey. Maurey is my slum landlord. He lives upstairs in the top apartment and has a view of the city and the Bay Bridge. He charges me a fortune for my little dump down here in the cellar.' We all laughed as we shook hands and were introduced to Maurey. Dave offered him a drink but Maurey said he was in a hurry and couldn't stay. A short while after he left there was another knock at the door. Dave got up to answer it. 'Hey, I'd like you guys to meet Pat,' he said. 'Pat rents a room from Maurey. They live in the same apartment. He and I are going out for dinner tonight.' I stood and turned around to shake hands with the man I was being introduced to. Standing in the doorway was the most incredibly handsome person I had ever seen. He stood 6 feet tall and was wearing tan khaki trousers, a white starched dress shirt and a dark blue nylon jacket. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, had dark brown hair and incredibly beautiful baby blue eyes. His face was model perfect. I only remember saying, 'Hello' I was so intimidated by his good looks that I could not to speak. I tried not to look into his eyes when he spoke to me. I was afraid I would embarrass him by staring for he had that incredible physical beauty that causes people to gawk and to stare. We did not sit down to talk. It was just a brief introduction. Buddy announced we had to leave to catch our bus. He and I were going to The Rendezvous Room that night. 'We can drop you off there,' Dave stated. 'Pat and I are going out to dinner tonight, and The Rendezvous is not out of our way.' I don't remember saying anything during the drive to the club. I did thank Dave and Pat for the ride and said good-bye when they dropped Buddy and I at the curb. As they drove away I said to Buddy, 'My fortune cookie's prediction just came true! I think I have fallen in love with that guy named Pat!' 'Your fortune said, "Love is soon to find you," Dummy; not that you would find it,' Buddy smugly replied. 'It's all the same,' I answered. 'No it's not. Besides, you didn't say more than two words to the guy all evening,' he added. 'All Evening? What do you mean all evening? The moment I met him you said it was time for us to leave! You didn't give me a chance to talk to him,' I answered. 'Well you could have said something to him while we were in the car, Dummy. You just sat there without saying one word!' 'I know. I couldn't help myself,' I replied. 'I couldn't speak because he was so incredibly handsome that I was dumbstruck! My fortune cookie was right,' I insisted. 'Love has definitely found me!'

"The following night was Saturday May 4^th. That evening I was gathered with my group of Bakersfield friends. Sandi, Dave, Ted, Kert, Maryanne·we were all there together seated at a table in The Rendezvous Room. As I was busily chatting with them I felt someone tap me on my shoulder. I turned around to see who it was. 'Hi, I'm Maurey. Do you remember me? We met in Dave's apartment last night.' 'Sure I do. Hi! Would you like to sit with us and I will introduce you to my friends?' 'No. No thanks. I was just delivering this drink to you,' he said as he placed a screwdriver on the table in front of me. My friend who bought it for you is a little shy. He would also like to know if you would like to go to a party with him tonight. I'm throwing a party this evening and he wanted to know if you would care to come with him.' 'Who?' I asked curiously. 'Who's inviting me to a party and bought me this drink?' Maurey turned around and pointed a finger at a tall man who was standing several feet behind us, leaning against a post in the dimly lighted bar. I excused myself from my friends and walked to where the man stood. As I got nearer to where he stood I could see that it was Pat, that incredibly handsome man I had met the night before. 'Thanks for the drink,' I said shyly. 'You're welcome,' he answered. We stood there for several moments in silence, pretending to listen to the music, neither of us knowing quite what to say. It was obvious he was as nervous as I. 'Would you like to come to a party with me tonight?' he asked. 'Sure,' I answered. 'This is a weekend and I don't have to work tomorrow. A party would be fun. I'd love to come. Let me go and tell my friends that I'll be leaving. Do you mind giving me your telephone number and address in case anybody needs to reach me?' Pat took a pencil from the pocket of his jacket and scribbled his name and address in a tiny notebook he was carrying. 'Here, this is my phone number and address. You can give it to one of your friends in case anybody needs to reach you,' he said as he handed me the page he had torn from his notebook. I tried to read what he had written on the small piece of paper but it was so dark in the room that I could barely read his name. 'I can't read your last name,' I said. 'I don't remember asking you. What it is?' 'It's Curry,' he answered. 'C-u-r-i-e, like Madame Curie?' I asked. 'No, it's spelled C-u-r-r-y," he replied. I paused for a moment and then looked up into his eyes. 'Oh, Curry.' I repeated again, 'Curry? Curry like the name of the spice?' 'He looked back at me then smiled and replied, 'That's right·Curry, and it's spelled exactly like the name of the spice.'"

The End

Part 17

Next:

"Mr. Arthur, I Presume"

Part 18 of Gina Cerminara's biographical interview with Walden Welch

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