In December 1965 photographic footage was caught of a walking stick performing amazing – and apparently paranormal – tricks.
Fourteen-year-old Barnsley schoolboy Michael Collindridge who lived at The Cranberry public house on Dodworth Road, Barnsley, had taken to bed with tonsilitis. Michael’s auntie, Annie Wooffinden, had broken her leg in 1953 and had used a walking cane to get around. On the day that Michael took to his own bed, this Malacca-cane stick was hung on the headboard.
Michael’s mother, Dorothy Collindridge later recounted how, from that point on: ‘The stick went mad. It danced about on the bed-head as if it had come to life and scared us all stiff.’
Michael was perplexed. His mother rushed out of the room to telephone the brewery. She later said: ‘I thought they would think I was going round the bend when I rang, but after I had explained it all they sent an official round to have a look. He was astounded when he saw the stick moving on its own. We invited other people to come and witness the spectacle and local councillor Gordon Jepson was one such spectator.’
Councillor Jepson set about making an examination of the stick. He suspected that the stick was a mechanical piece of magical apparatus (Michael was an amateur conjuror), and asked the lad to put his hands on the top of the bed to prove that there was no sleight-of-hand in play. But the stick was hovering above the bed. He looked under the mattress and checked the walls and the floor to see if there were any hidden strings or mechanical devices which Michael could have used to fake the stick’s behaviour, but the councillor drew a blank each time. He told a newspaper: ‘I didn’t believe it at first, but I had to believe it when I saw it, but I am still baffled by it.’
Visitors including members of the media came clamouring to the Cranberry, and it was all certainly good for business. Two magicians, Paul Denver and Alexandre Forbes, visited and thoroughly examined the bed and the room and still left baffled. Mr Denver said: ‘The only way this could be done as a conjuring trick would be by radio control; and I have found no evidence of the necessary equipment in this room.’
At that time the most famous magician on TV was David Nixon and, although he didn’t visit the Cranberry Hotel he said: ‘If the boy is controlling this stick as part of a conjuring trick, he has a great future ahead of him. I have done levitation tricks, but I doubt if I could fool the number of people who have seen this at such close range.’
When sceptics discovered that Michael was an amateur conjuror and a member of the Barnsley Circle of Magicians, Michael told them: ‘I do conjuring tricks for children’s parties and I am interested in conjuring. I only wish I could work a trick like this.’
Initially Michael was scared of the stick’s antics, but eventually overcame his fears and started asking the stick to perform various tricks. He said: ‘I got used to it after a while and began trying to make it do things. I asked it to jump, and it left the bed and went into the air and landed back on the bed.’
Then he asked questions and the stick answered by tapping the floor and it even tapped out the rhythm of various well-known songs such as Jingle Bells, Auld Lang Syne and Rule Britannia.
Dorothy Collindridge began to get worried and left the stick on the landing one evening, but the next morning she found it stuck on the outside of the bedroom door as if glue had been used.
A reporter from the Sunday edition of national newspaper The People wrote: ‘There was no metal connection through which the stick could be manipulated. I examined it carefully. It was a very light stick and worn with years of use. There is nothing to indicate what made it perform. I don’t believe it, but I saw it happen.’
The Sheffield Morning Telegraph published photographs of the stick in the air with no strings or wires attached. One magician suggested it could be performed if the stick had metal magnets hidden inside the wood itself, but this theory was disproven when the stick was taken to the local hospital for an X-ray. The photo of this process was published in a newspaper at the time.
Four further visitors arrived one Sunday evening, including two sceptical newspaper reporters, one of whom examined the stick and found nothing suspicious about it. He later wrote up his article thus:
‘There was nothing as far as I could see which might make the stick move. I handled the stick and searched it from top to bottom to see if it had been tampered with in any way, but the only marks I could find were those made by constant use. The bed is about four or five inches away from the wall and it has a perfectly normal bed head. The only ‘foreign body’ behind the bed was an electric cable leading to Michael’s bedside. The wall is plainly papered and did not appear to have been tampered with in any way which might have made it possible to conceal any machinery. Satisfied that there was nothing mechanical which could make the stick move, I questioned Michael and his grandmother about it. Both were extremely sincere, and I cannot believe that either of them would attempt to make up a story such as they told me.’
‘Michael seemed to be enjoying showing the stick off to visitors, but in my opinion if there had been any trickery on his part he would have made the stick perform for every single visitor, whereas many people stayed in the room without seeing a single performance. Mrs Shepherd told us how a photographer had tried to take photographs but was unsuccessful. He was asked to take his camera outside and as soon as he did so the stick began dancing. She told how he crept slowly out of the room and returned equally slowly with his camera only to see the stick drop to its resting place and remain there unmoving.’
The reporter quoted Michael’s mother: “The same thing happened when certain other people have been in the room. I don’t know why this is, but the stick has started dancing when they have left and always stops when they return.”
The reporter continued: ‘This appeared to be the case while the four of us were in the room, so to find if any one of us was the “bad influence”, we left the room one at a time but still the stick remained motionless. Eventually two of the visitors left, leaving myself and another reporter in the room. We were determined to see for ourselves even if it meant staying there for an hour, and we remained talking to Michael and Mrs Shepherd. We had almost given up hope and had nearly forgotten that the stick was there when suddenly two raps drew our attention to the bed head. There we saw the stick slither along one side of the head of the bed completely from one side to the other. Then without any signal from anyone it began to tap out the rhythm of “Jingle Bells”. By raising itself about an inch above the bed and returning, the tapping sound was produced. The rhythm was at apparently correct tempo and even had we not been told the tune we could have recognised it. We stood speechless for a while, not believing our eyes and ears but when we (had) recovered we asked Michael to put the stick through its paces.’
‘He knocked three times on the bed head and the stick replied three times. We asked him to ask the stick if there would be a war within the next twelve months and for the stick to answer one knock for “Yes” and two knocks for “No”. The stick replied with two knocks – much to our relief. Michael then asked the stick to rise from the bed head. At first it did not move but after some pleading from him it rose slowly to about 12 inches above the bed, but the bottom of the stick was never visible. Michael then asked the stick to jump, and it rose sharply from the bed to a distance of about 12 inches. When it dropped it failed to hook itself over the bed and fell down behind. Michael asked: “Are you alright?”, but there was no response. He asked: “Are you stuck?”, at which the stick rattled itself against the leg of the bed.’
‘While the stick was in this position, I leaned back from my chair and peered under the bed. I could see the whole stick plainly moving with nothing else near it. The stick did not rise back to the bed, although Michael says that it usually does, although sometimes coming up the wrong way.’
‘We returned the stick to the bed and awaited further antics, but none came. Michael asked: “Are you alright?” but the stick remained motionless. He picked up the stick and examined it. Returning it he said: “You are alright, you’re not hurt”, but the stick did not move. He then asked: “You don’t think I would tell fibs do you?”, and to our amazement the crook of the stick moved from side to side as if shaking its head to say “No”. We watched for another minute or so as the stick pranced about on the bed head. Then a young lady came up to see the stick and no sooner had she entered the door and seen it move once, than it stopped and refused to move.’
‘I do not believe in ghosts, but I left the room convinced that no human power could have been responsible for moving the stick. I have always been of the firm belief that there must be a reasonable explanation for everything which happens, but as yet, I have not heard one for this.’
The Society for Psychical Research stated that: ‘Disturbances of the type described here occur at a certain stage in the development of an adolescent. Some parapsychologists believe that the manifestations can be the effect of psychokinesis, or the influence of mind over matter…’
The story featured in the TV series Arthur C. Clarke’s World of Strange Powers, in an episode entitled ‘Things That Go Bump in the Night’ (currently available on YouTube – fast-forward the footage to ten minutes into the episode). Click on the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=adEXWsZUhow
Len Markham featured the case in his book Ten Yorkshire Mysteries (Countryside Books, 1995) and located Michael Collindridge, who had since changed his surname to Shepherd, and the author went to meet him. Michael still had the walking stick, and he recounted the whole history of the episode, but the stick never returned to its old tricks.
I will leave the final paragraph of this chapter to Len Markham who wrote: ‘The phenomenon of the dancing stick was explained by some people as a very clever hoax. All I can say on the subject is, where was the motive? Such was the degree of sophistication in this unparalleled exposition of the conjuror’s craft that Mrs Shepherd could have charged a substantial entry fee to the Cranberry Hotel and Michael Collindridge could have gone on to become a considerable star. So, was it a poltergeist? And if it was, why did it manifest itself through a length of wood in an ordinary public house with no history of psychic activity?’
Thanks to Len Markham for permission to quote him.
