ROANOKE TIMES

                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: FRIDAY, March 25, 1994                   TAG: 9403250210
SECTION: EXTRA                    PAGE: 1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: By MARK MORRISON STAFF WRITER
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Long


POSITIVELY AMAZING

10 a.m.

I concentrated, open-minded, on my telephone.

But he didn't call.

I kept concentrating. Five minutes.

Nothing.

The Amazing Kreskin, "the world's foremost mentalist," was supposed to call me for an interview. I had set it up days before - in my mind, through mental projections. I figured Kreskin would get the message, parapsychologically.

I pictured my telephone number: 703-981-3338. I looked at a picture of Kreskin.

10:05 a.m.

Still nothing.

So, I called Wanda Daniels here in Roanoke, the local promoter for Kreskin's appearance tonight at the Roanoke Civic Center auditorium. Daniels had been after me for a while to write a story on his upcoming visit.

"What gives?" I asked. "He didn't call."

Daniels, confused, tried to apologize, but wasn't sure exactly why she should.

"He was supposed to?" she answered.

I explained. It was a test. I had concentrated. He was supposed to call.

"Through ESP, is that right?" Daniels said. "Give me a break."

She vowed to get him in on the telephone, still after me to do a story. We agreed then, she would set up an interview and get back to me on a time. "Unless he can project it into my mind," I told her.

10:15 a.m.

My telephone rang. It was Daniels.

"Is now convenient?" She explained. She had called his office in New Jersey, and amazingly, Kreskin happened to be there. It was unusual because, as the world's foremost mentalist, he's in high demand. Kreskin logs more than 300 appearances a year.

"OK, get off your line. He'll be calling."

10:18 a.m.

Daniels called again.

There had been a change in plans. Now I was supposed to call Kreskin. He would be waiting.

She gave me the number.

10:20 a.m.

After I was put on hold briefly, the amazing one himself came on the line, the same man who appeared more times (88) than any other guest on "The Tonight Show," when Johnny Carson was host, and who still regularly is a guest with David Letterman.

I asked why he didn't call.

"We didn't even know about it."

I explained. He should have. I had done the whole mental telepathy thing. But no call.

Now, he chuckled.

"What do you think I am? A mind reader or something?"

Kreskin said he was accustomed to such razzing. Letterman, for one, is famous for it. He also recalled a recent trip to London when a man called to him from across a street and asked Kreskin to tell him his wife's name. Kreskin couldn't.

"I guess if people stopped kidding me I would worry," he said.

10:25 a.m.

I asked him to demonstrate something for me, anything. Can he tell me my Social Security number? He has boasted that he can recite a person's Social Security number from across a room.

I asked him about other amazing deeds he supposedly does. Can he tell me the name of a childhood friend of mine? Can he tell me three numbers that I wrote down on a pad of paper? Can he tell me what object I'm focusing on at my desk?

Nothing.

Not on the telephone. He can't.

"On the phone? By God, I'd be working for the CIA," he explained.

His powers only really work in person. "I have to create a rapport."

He explained vaguely that he uses the power of positive thinking and the power of suggestion. He cited a recent show. He couldn't remember where it was. "Now you're gonna chuckle that I'm trying to remember where I was a couple of days ago," he said.

It was in Michigan, he finally decided.

He invited about 80 people on stage from the audience and played the piano to them. He spoke few words. But soon, he said they couldn't recall their own names. They couldn't talk or count or move their hands.

"People, wide awake," he said. Not under any sort of hypnosis. Kreskin has long been an outspoken critic of hypnosis and disputes the phenomenon's existence. He believes it doesn't. "Anything that's remembered under hypnosis is bunk," he said.

In 1980, Kreskin publicly took on a Roanoke psychologist, Charles H. Holland, over the issue. After a Kreskin appearance here, Holland wrote a letter to the editor published in this newspaper that criticized Kreskin for using hypnosis. At the time, state law prohibited anyone other than a doctor, dentist or clinical psychologist from practicing hypnosis.

Kreskin responded with a letter of his own rebutting Holland, and threatened a lawsuit.

"No law has ever been violated by me anywhere at any time," he wrote.

Today, he partly credits the theories of an18th-century Viennese doctor, Mesmer, about animal magnetism and mental suggestion for his abilities. Kreskin said he served as a consultant for an upcoming movie on Mesmer starring Alan Rickman.

He boasted about one of his more amazing stunts with David Letterman, where Letterman and sidekick Paul Shaffer picked a random word out of a Reader's Digest that matched the word Kreskin had written down before the show started.

I was amazed.

I asked how could he do such a trick - yet find himself thwarted by a simple telephone.

"You shouldn't ask these questions," he replied.

10:45 a.m.

The interview concluded, Kreskin invited me to his VIP reception following his show. He told me to introduce myself. Then he changed his mind. He told me not to introduce myself. "I'll find you," he said.



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