Baker Street Brick House Tenanted by Spirits of the Other World

Detroit News, January 5, 1875

 

Tea Leaf Fortune Are Taboo in Detroit

The Ludington Daily News, September 24, 1930

DETROIT, Mich., Sept. 24. - (AP) - Police and the courts of this city are bearing down on the reading of tea leaves in tea rooms. 

Mrs. Emma Libson, 48, and Miss Margaret King, 31, were before Judge Edward J. Jeffries Tuesday on fortune-telling charges preferred by patrolmen who visited a tea room.

The policemen said that they paid $1 for a cup of tea and a sandwich and that their "fortunes" were read in the cups. 

Judge Jeffries adjourned the case two weeks, and told the women: "If you don't get out of this business it is going to be too bad for you."

Tea rooms where a "reading" is thrown in with the refreshments have been a fad with many persons here for some weeks.

Charges Sorcery in Suit to Regain Her Property: "Augusta," Who Sells Detroit Candy and Flowers, Says Friend Bewitched Her

Detroit Free Press, June 18, 1915

Tales od witchcraft and sorcery were told in Judge Hally's court Thursday, where Augusta Bierwith is suing Mr. and Mrs. George Weston to recover half interest in a house and a lot at 284 Humboldt avenue.

For many years Miss Bierwith, or "Augusta," as she is known, has sold flowers, candy and chewing gum in Detroit. With proceeds of her sales, she says she bought the Humboldt avenue property, deeding half interest to Mr. and Mrs. Weston, with whom she made her home.

Now she alleges that at the time she executed the deed she was under the control of Mrs. Weston, by whome she says she was "sorcerized." Relatives brought suit in probate court recently to have Miss Bierwith declared incompetent of handling her own property. The request was denied. Mr. and Mrs. Weston say they have cared for "Augusta" for several years and that half interest in the property is no more than they deserve.

Voodoo, Witchcraft, Mildly Intrigues Detroit Folks

Detroit Free Press, January 20, 1929 (enlarge)

Anybody need a voodoo love recipe? Here's a January 1929 potion from Papa Jo, a black priest from Detroit, as prescribed from his ramshackled shed at Hastings and Gratiot: 

Take a pint of water and a piece of tar paper and boil together for an hour in the full moon. Then add the left foot of a hen, five drops of turpentine (five being a sacred voodoo number), the tail of a mouse, the tongue out of an old shoe and a spoonful of sour milk. Boil five minutes longer and strain through the left glove of a pallbearer and then feed it to the "Big Boy" in his coffee or gin. 

Of course, the article that this was taken from uses some offensive language that I won't repeat, though the term "Big Boy" is likely disturbing enough to some. One could assume from that phrasing and that the participants were all of African descent that this spell might not work on a Caucasian, Asian, Arab, etc. man but who knows. 

Amid the illustrations and photos included is one of Major John Roehl of the Detroit Health Department and shows confiscated witchcraft and fortune-telling implements. The confiscations came amidst a crackdown on such activities as so-called "hex" and voodoo murders had begun springing up across the country. 

The most egregious slaying was still yet to come as the Benny Evangelista family of Detroit werer butally murdered in July of 1929 with all members either decapitated or bludgeoned to death. The children's ages ranged from 18 months to 7-years-old. Santina lay in bed decapitated with her baby beside her. Mario's skull had been crushed. The other three children lay slaughtered in their beds across the hall. Benny, the preacher and eccentric author of an obscure history of man, sat at his desk with his hands folded as if in prayer and his head at his feet where it had been cleanly severed from the torso. A bizarre altar was found in Evangelista's basement where he frequently held healing sessions and readings. The murder was laid at the hands of a fanatic or the work of the mob outfit known as the Black Hand but nobody was ever convicted of the crimes. 

While some bemoan the archaic laws forbidding fortune telling - Gundella the Witch's own daughter Veronica was an advocate for repealing such statutes in the 1990s - they were not without merit or pointed prosecution of the innocent as people were routinely swindled out of fortunes and cult slayings frequented the news blotter in the 1920s and '30s as immigration increased and the superstitious from the old countries fueled cult members to stave off the evil both therein society and within themselves.

Yes, Dr. Theodore Holds Hands; But For Healing Purposes Only

Detroit Free Press, March 22, 1908

Outside of a queer little abode on Hibbard Avenue near Jefferson in Detroit Dr. Theodore Trombley had booths stationed where at 7 o'clock every morning he would enter for the purposes of healing all ailments with his hands.

He advised the throngs to "come early and avoid the rush" and the women of Detroit would flock to the location and wait hours for a chance to be healed for the price of a quarter. The inside of one booth was said to have "a flaring red wall and faded bunting, a chromo of Daniel in the lions' den, and vari-colored daubs designed to arouse a feeling of piety."

Called the "Hypnotic Hippocrates" he must have been a handsome man or the women, many who were described as "of the elephantine avoirdupois," were simply desperate to hold a man's hand in a more staid time period where such a public coquetry could sully your reputation.

Trombley had come into the Spiritualist realm late in life, at the age of 44, after being a molder at the Michigan Stove Works for years, having had an awakening in 1902 he began to heal people with the laying of hands. The practice evolved into a full-time job and extended into other aspects of the occult including the conjuring of spirits.

One particular seance in 1906 received media attention as Trombley hosted the communication with the dead from his chapel at 230 Hibbard. While normally he talked to the spirit of a Catholic priest, a spirit named "Pat" entertained the audience of 100 with a co-host medium named George Kaiser on hand. Unfortunately for the pair so was their former comrade J. D. Hagaman who came to be the bugbear in their spookfest. Having been a long-time believer Hagaman now sought to expose the fraud being perpetrated.

"Pat" began to speak, through the channeling of Trombley, of Kiser's ability and attacked Hagaman, who had been to a seance at Kiser's home a few days earlier, as an unworthy skeptic who didn't have the gall to show up for the event. Unbeknownst to both psychics Hagaman had indeed shown up and sat in the back of the chapel with two associates just waiting to pounce.

Trombley...err... "Pat," speaking in broken English, besmirched Hagaman while regaling the mediumship of both Trombley and Kiser. After speaking of a murder case and the Detroit police detective bureau he told the audience that they were all mediums though they didn't know it and would be sorry when they got on the other side that they hadn't developed their innate powers.

At this point "Pat" began his farewell but was interrupted by an associate of Hagaman who stated that the man was not only the enemy but was present in the audience. It was requested that Hagaman arise and expose the seance if indeed it were fraudulent. The cohort of Hagaman said that nothing extraordinary had occurred during the presentation but that if "Pat" demonstrated his powers they would be exposed by the three men. "Pat" demurred saying that conditions weren't right at the moment. Other audience member testimonies followed and "Pat" only spoke up again to refute his earlier assertion that Trombley was a medium, but rather was only a healer. Other objections and points of contention were made by the group, including the ever-poignant "Christ worked in the dark," but "Pat" grew more reserved and the conditions demanded his departure.

Hagaman didn't gloat over this shirking away but did seem amused and laughed at the folly that his presence had brought upon the event. He assured the audience that he didn't come to damper the mood but would prove at any time or place the farcical nature of such conjurings.

The Detroit Times, January 11, 1910

In late 1909 Trombley was brought up on charges of practicing without a licence after a complaint by Dr. Beverly D. Harrison. At the court hearing on January 11, 1910 the good doctor failed to show up as the star expert but 150 of Trombley's female followers stormed the court to testify on his behalf.

When the star witness Mr. Pritchard was called to the box to testify on behalf of his daughter, who had sought help from Trombley with no medical remediation, he stumbled without the helping hand of Dr. Harrison. The case was dismissed by Judge Stein and the throng of women jeered and giggled in triumph walking out of court surrounding the healer and his wife.

The latter was quoted as saying, "Dr. Trombley heals as Christ did, by spiritual aid... It has been an uphill battle, and they wanted to down us, but we've shown them that they can't." They had been vindicated after seven long years of persecution but the joy wouldn't last. Prosecutors looked into charging Trombley again but nothing seems to have materialized. At least not on the legal front. On the home front was a different story. Whether it was the gaggle of female admirers or simply an egotism gone awry on one or both of the couple, Mr. and Mrs' Trombley divorced in 1914. This would set up for the swansong in Trombley's career and the familial undoing of a farmer from Nankin Township.

Detroit Free Press, April 27, 1916

While very few men consulted Trombley, one who did wished he hadn't. Charles Outhwaite, a farmer living outside of Wayne, who in 1909 was looking for help in curing his wife's tumor and his own rheumatism had sought out a specialist. Instead he found a faith healer named Theodore Trombley. Even though a laying of hands by this practitioner did nothing to cure Outhwaite's ailment he was so impressed with Trombley that he took him home to meet his wife. There began a multitude of regular treatments both in clinic and at the Outhwaite residence.

But after several years the doctor and patient visits weren't quite enough for the pair and extra therapy sessions at the Victory Hotel were necessitated. While Trombley and Fannie's evident love for one another developed over this duration of years, he later claimed that there was no extracurricular activity involved beyond the drinking of a beer or two, which Mrs. Outhwaite wasn't particularly fond of. After all, malt extract was recommended in her treatment and Trombley had suggested Dublin stout. Mr. Outhwaite began to have reservations and in a letter demanded that Trombley quit coming to his home, lest he sue him.

The visits apparently didn't cease and in 1916 Outhwaite took Trombley to court seeking $10,000 in damages. Trombley testified that his 25-year-old son Benjamin had been present at the hotel treatments and nothing inappropriate had occurred between doctor and patient. Although Fannie had left him Mr. Outhwaite apparently wasn't done with his wife just yet. He sought out the advice of a "spiritualist person" (not to be confused with a fortune teller) in the form of Lillian Wren-Ryan-Kelley, who was using the latter name at the rendering of this article, to win his wife back and as a witness in the trial.

The ruse didn't work, Trombley was found guilty and ordered to pay $500 in restitution but the damage had already been done to Charles Outhwait. Trombley married the former Mrs. Outhwaite in 1917 and in a cruel twist of fate for Mr. Outhwaite - who also remarried in 1917 only to die within two years - he, Trombley and their Fannie are all buried at Glenwood Cemetery in Wayne.