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Authors: Ralph Sarchie
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further than that, because my dad took me aside one day and said, âIf the cops ever bring you home, Iâll break both your legs!â Being the kind of guy he was, I saw no reason to doubt him. His guidance was more powerful than any peer pressure, so even though my friends and I were a bunch of obnoxious little punks, I never got in any real trouble. In fact, thanks to my fatherâs warning, I was scared witless every time I saw a policeman!
Although I wasnât much of a studentâand certainly was no intellectualâI was an avid reader. When I was thirteen, I found a bookstore where I could get used books for a quarter apiece, and I eagerly devoured everything I could get my hands on about police work and the occult. When I heard the owner of the store telling another customer that he was going to the police academy, I thought he was incredibly lucky to be a cop chasing bad guys, just as Iâd seen in the movies. At night Iâd sit in front of the TV and watch cop shows, but every Saturday night it was Creature Feature and Thriller Theater for me. While I couldnât get enough of these shows, they frightened my little sister Lisa, who always left the room when they were on. Though my young mind didnât understand everything I was reading and seeing, I knew that some of the horror stories must be true.
My favorite books were about a pair of real-life psychic researchers named Ed and Lorraine Warren, who have been investigating the supernatural since the late 1940s. This couple, founders of the New England Society for Psychic Research in Connecticut, became internationally famous in 1972, when they were asked to investigate bizarre phenomena at West Point, the U.S. Military Academy. An Army major there complained that a generalâs residence on the property appeared to be haunted: His family often found that someoneâor somethingâhad rifled through their belongings or stolen valuable objects, yet no intruder could be found. A wet spot on a kitchen cutting board refused to dry, no matter what was done about the dampness; and an invisible force kept tearing the sheets off one of the beds.
Using her psychic ability, Lorraine inspected the building and detected several spirits. In one bedroom, she clairvoyantly felt the presence of President John F. Kennedy, to the amazement of onlookers who knew that he had slept there. In another room, her mindâs eye saw a bossy female ghost that she identified as the culprit in these mysterious happenings. She learned later that General MacArthurâs mother, well known for her extremely dictatorial personality, had ruled as lady of the house between the generalâs marriages.
She also got a mental picture of someone else, a very angry African American man in a nineteenth-century Army uniform, strangely bare of military braid and emblems. This struck the major and his aides as improbable, since they knew of no black man at West Point during that era. The general, however, did some digging and discovered that an African American soldier was tried for murder at West Point around the turn of the century. Although he was acquitted, Lorraine felt sure that his anger and guilt over the trial was what made his ghost linger at West Point.
That was exciting stuff to me, but I was even more mesmerized by another of the Warrensâ cases, which took place in a Long Island suburb. Around Christmas of 1975, a young couple, George and Kathy Lutz, and their three small children, moved into a house theyâd just bought. This house had a lurid history, since the oldest son of the previous owner had gotten up one night, grabbed his .35-caliber rifle, and slaughtered his mother, father, two brothers, and two sisters in their sleep. Within a month of moving in, the Lutzes fled their new home in abject terror, describing a savage supernatural assault that later became infamous as The Amityville Horror.
Although I would have been content to while
Although I wasnât much of a studentâand certainly was no intellectualâI was an avid reader. When I was thirteen, I found a bookstore where I could get used books for a quarter apiece, and I eagerly devoured everything I could get my hands on about police work and the occult. When I heard the owner of the store telling another customer that he was going to the police academy, I thought he was incredibly lucky to be a cop chasing bad guys, just as Iâd seen in the movies. At night Iâd sit in front of the TV and watch cop shows, but every Saturday night it was Creature Feature and Thriller Theater for me. While I couldnât get enough of these shows, they frightened my little sister Lisa, who always left the room when they were on. Though my young mind didnât understand everything I was reading and seeing, I knew that some of the horror stories must be true.
My favorite books were about a pair of real-life psychic researchers named Ed and Lorraine Warren, who have been investigating the supernatural since the late 1940s. This couple, founders of the New England Society for Psychic Research in Connecticut, became internationally famous in 1972, when they were asked to investigate bizarre phenomena at West Point, the U.S. Military Academy. An Army major there complained that a generalâs residence on the property appeared to be haunted: His family often found that someoneâor somethingâhad rifled through their belongings or stolen valuable objects, yet no intruder could be found. A wet spot on a kitchen cutting board refused to dry, no matter what was done about the dampness; and an invisible force kept tearing the sheets off one of the beds.
Using her psychic ability, Lorraine inspected the building and detected several spirits. In one bedroom, she clairvoyantly felt the presence of President John F. Kennedy, to the amazement of onlookers who knew that he had slept there. In another room, her mindâs eye saw a bossy female ghost that she identified as the culprit in these mysterious happenings. She learned later that General MacArthurâs mother, well known for her extremely dictatorial personality, had ruled as lady of the house between the generalâs marriages.
She also got a mental picture of someone else, a very angry African American man in a nineteenth-century Army uniform, strangely bare of military braid and emblems. This struck the major and his aides as improbable, since they knew of no black man at West Point during that era. The general, however, did some digging and discovered that an African American soldier was tried for murder at West Point around the turn of the century. Although he was acquitted, Lorraine felt sure that his anger and guilt over the trial was what made his ghost linger at West Point.
That was exciting stuff to me, but I was even more mesmerized by another of the Warrensâ cases, which took place in a Long Island suburb. Around Christmas of 1975, a young couple, George and Kathy Lutz, and their three small children, moved into a house theyâd just bought. This house had a lurid history, since the oldest son of the previous owner had gotten up one night, grabbed his .35-caliber rifle, and slaughtered his mother, father, two brothers, and two sisters in their sleep. Within a month of moving in, the Lutzes fled their new home in abject terror, describing a savage supernatural assault that later became infamous as The Amityville Horror.
Although I would have been content to while
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