Harold Chibbett, 1943 An important and persistent English Fortean, if only vaguely and generically interpretable.
Harold Stanley Walter Chibbett was born 19 February 1900 in Islington, London, England. His father, James, worked in a school attendance office according to the 1901 census; his mother, Florence (née Brasnett), some nine years her spouse’s junior, did not work outside the home. Married since 1887, or thereabouts, James and Florence had at least three children: Ernest, born around 1889; Annie, born around 1891; and Harold. The large gap between Annie and Harold is notable. Ten years later, in 1911, the family was still in Islington, in the same house at 73 Marquess Road, but the number living there had increased. Florence’s mother Anne had moved in, and they had taken on a servant.
During World War I, Chibbett, just old enough to join, served in the Royal Air Force. His father died in 1919 and, according to a city directory from 1922, Harold was living at home with his mother (and another woman, probably a servant). His brother and sister seem to have established their own homes. Perhaps Chibbett was attending university—I have no information on his education. In December of 1922, his mother remarried (becoming Florence Nicholson) and Harold followed his brother into the tax service, taking a civil service position in which he would remain for the rest of his working career. The 1923 city directory had Harold living alone, although it doesn’t give his occupation. He lived at 183 Tudor Mansion, Hampstead, Camden, London.
Harold Stanley Walter Chibbett was born 19 February 1900 in Islington, London, England. His father, James, worked in a school attendance office according to the 1901 census; his mother, Florence (née Brasnett), some nine years her spouse’s junior, did not work outside the home. Married since 1887, or thereabouts, James and Florence had at least three children: Ernest, born around 1889; Annie, born around 1891; and Harold. The large gap between Annie and Harold is notable. Ten years later, in 1911, the family was still in Islington, in the same house at 73 Marquess Road, but the number living there had increased. Florence’s mother Anne had moved in, and they had taken on a servant.
During World War I, Chibbett, just old enough to join, served in the Royal Air Force. His father died in 1919 and, according to a city directory from 1922, Harold was living at home with his mother (and another woman, probably a servant). His brother and sister seem to have established their own homes. Perhaps Chibbett was attending university—I have no information on his education. In December of 1922, his mother remarried (becoming Florence Nicholson) and Harold followed his brother into the tax service, taking a civil service position in which he would remain for the rest of his working career. The 1923 city directory had Harold living alone, although it doesn’t give his occupation. He lived at 183 Tudor Mansion, Hampstead, Camden, London.
Harold was still there the next year, after which I lose track of him for five years. In the middle of 1929, Harold married Lily M. Walters. The wedding was registered in his old stomping grounds, Islington. Lily was three years younger than Harold, the daughter of a postman. By the late 1930s, they had settled into Bowes Park, London, where they lived at least from 1937-1940. (Those are the dates for which I have seen the British Phone Books.)
During this period, Chibbett became fascinated by spiritualism and claims of contact with the dead. The whole field was having a renaissance after the millions killed during the Great War, particularly in Britain. Apparently, some of his notes from this time exist, but I have not seen them. In their book “The Poltergeist Prince of London,” Shirley Hitchings and James Clark (who have seen the notes) write, “His interest deepened as the years passed, and he began attending séances. His surviving papers show a willingness—perhaps even eagerness—to believe that spirits of the departed could appear to the living, yet this did not mean he accepted claims of the paranormal uncritically.”
Chibbett made contact with Britain’s spiritualist community and its allies, accompanying ghost-hunter Harry Price as early as the mid-1930s (when they saw a fire-walking display in London). His friend—and another Fortean—Sid Birchby wrote after his death, “[I]n the course of about 50 years he met and often worked with nearly every one in the British occult field. Crowley, Harry Price, Kuda Bux the fire-walker, Sammy Soal, Mrs Goldney and many others were amongst his acquaintances.” Some time in the 1930s he formed a group called “The Probe”—which had a namesake newsletter—for the investigation of the paranormal. Steady work with the civil service gave him a foundation for his explorations.
It becomes easier to follow Chibbett in the late 1930s, when he became associated with the first stirrings of British science fiction fandom. As early as 1938, he attended the London branch meeting of the (British) Science Fiction Association, and regaled other attendants with tales of his investigations. Nova Terra, the British fanzine, wrote, “Mr. Harold Chibbett, spook-hunter of "The Probe," thrilled the company with seasonable ghost stories, which had the invaluable quality of being true: they were three of Harold's own experiences. (It was late now, and very dark, and the wind howled more loudly over the roof.) The first concerned the raising of an Elemental, the second an encounter with an evil spirit (the Devil?) one night on Hampstead Heath (H. solemnly exhibited the seat of his trousers, scorched and brimstoned), and the third, adventures in an old cottage haunted by a monk. He passed round an infra-red photo taken in the dark during the latter manifestations, and this showed a curious object apparently being thumped against the wall by a black hand with out a body. No one hitherto knew what it was, but Mr. Passingham recognized it as a vessel of religious significance, and. H. was highly, excited at this. "Are you sure?" he kept repeating. "Why, this bears out the story of the monk!" The company broke up soon after, and dispersed in twos and threes, hurrying down the shadowy stairs in a not-too-easy state of mind.”
Through science fiction, Chibbett came to know Birchby and Arthur C. Clarke, Ted Carnell, Sam Youd, and Joyce Fairbairn (who would marry Youd) and Eric Frank Russell, as well as many others. (Clarke would memorialize him in the character “Harry Purvis” who holds together the various stories in his book “The White Hart”—itself modeled on “The White Horse,” where the British science fiction fans met.) He met Russell, the head of Britain’s Fortean Society, in 1942, when Russell was in the Royal Air Force. Russell was five years younger—just too young for World War I—and was stationed in London for four months; already a well-established writer, he made a point of hanging out with science fiction fans. Birchby wrote,
“Henry [sic] Chibbett’s fire-watching nights have by now become a synonym for S.F.A. meetings. Last week a motley audience listed [sic] to Eric Frank Russell's salacious adventures and the horrors of Forteana. Among other things we learnt with regret of the first rationing casualty, namely, author Maurice Hugi's stomach. Gone the sobriquet "Tubby"; there's room for two Hugis inside his suit. ---- Wearing a black band (round the neck) to mourn the call-up of Ken Bulmer, we dolefully greeted his sidekick, Art Williams, but cheered considerably to recieve "Unique" 2 from him, complete with glossy cover, and a first rate one. Free advt. ---- The day before we had gone with Eric Hopkins and seen a Movietone "Magic Camera" travelogue about S. America. Now this magic camera is a telephoto lens job, and what should it discover, in a sequence of aerial shots of the Andes, but a hidden plateau, as inaccessible as Everest, covered vith criss-cross markings like swathes and lines, obviously artificial, but also inexplicable. We saw and were impressed. Any explanations, readers?”
Apparently inspired by the literary types around him, Chibbett started doing some writing of his own in this period; he would never be prolific, though, and while his explorations of the paranormal continued, as did his community-building, his writing was always only a trickle. (I’ve only read one of his short stories.) He told Eric Frank Russell, in late 1946, “I still haven’t regained the urge to write. I think it is because of the long delay between writing, acceptance, and publication. Enough to grow cat whiskers upon one, ain’t it? Sooner fill up tax forms at the price.”
“See?” appeared in “Jinn & Jitters,” 1946; “Bottled Spirit,” in the same publication, 1948; “Turnabout,” in “Fantasy Book 3,” also 1948; “They Worked the Oracle,” “Weird Tales,” 1950 (about dog ghosts that transform some humans into their dog slaves—this when “Weird Tales” was on its last legs); and, many years later, “They That Wait,” in “Magazine of Horror,” 1964. (Chibbett told Russell that its publication surprised him—he’d sent the manuscript to Forest Ackerman years before and forgot all about it until a check showed up.)
Chibbett also published essays, starting the same year. Eventually, he would become associated with two American science fictionists of Fortean bent, Ray Palmer and N. Meade Layne. “Psychic Scents,” appeared in “Outlands,” 1946. In 1950, Palmer’s “Fate,” printed an article under the same title, though with specific references to “Fate.”. “Shapes of Being,” appeared in “Round Robin” (1954); That same year saw “UFOs and Parapsychology” in Ouranos and “Strange Interlude” in “Round Robin.” (“Round Robin” was N. Meade Layne’s magazine.) “Aboard a Flying Saucer by Hypnosis” appeared in a magazine Palmer started after he left “Fate,” “Mystic Magazine.” Chibbett’s “The Poltergeist That Can Write,” ran in “Fate” in 1959. (“Flying Saucer Review” reprinted “UFOs and Parapsychology” in 1969.)
The version of “Psychic Scents” appearing in Fate doesn’t paint Chibbett as particularly hard-headed. The short article is about odd scents that sometimes occur during séances. Chibbett admits it is easy enough to fake, then goes on to recount a couple of ambiguous examples—including one medium he visited with his sister. The first case he recounts had a medium whose hands smelled like soap but whose handkerchief, for a time, smelled of lavender, which he thought worth pondering. In the other case, the medium commented that one of her hands had a strange scent, and the other didn’t—which was explained by the entity that took her over when she went into a trance. Earlier in the evening, they had contacted spirits to spell out words; what had earlier seemed nonsense now—with Chibbett adding a few additional letters—made sense: “Do Nostril Now. It is Tar.” Meaning, the odd scent was from tar.
It is worth noting that this article appeared under a pseudonym, A. Hastwa, which was a play on his name: Ha from Harold; st from Stanley; wa from Walter. It was under his own name that he appeared in “Mystic Magazine,” recounting experiments he had done with N. Meade Layne’s preferred medium, Mark Probert—who was featured on the cover—although Chibbett comes across just as credulous. Apparently, back in the late 1940s he had hypnotized a woman whose consciousness somehow ended up on a flying saucer—he felt that her mind had tuned in to the correct frequency to perceive it, which fit with Layne’s etheric interpretation of the crafts. Most of the article is a transcription of his notes. At the end, he admits it reads like science fiction, but dismisses that possibility because the woman in question—she only went by the name Mrs. X—did not read much and when she did, shied from science fiction. From what I can tell, this article overlaps with “UFOs and Parapsychology.”
The October 1959 “Fate” article—“The Poltergeist That Can Write” (credited to H.S.W. Chibbett) referred to a fairly famous poltergeist case with which he became involved a few years earlier—the haunting of Battersea, the case that forms the basis of “The Poltergeist Prince of London.” In this case, a poltergeist first named Donald started bumping around—and lighting fires—to bother the family of 18-year-old Shirley Hitchings. Chibbett made a few quick remarks early in the article that implicitly referenced the ideas of Nandor Fodor—that poltergeists were the working out of subconscious problems, especially among adolescents—before going on to do a blow-by-blow account. He noted that Donald objected to his name and insisted he was the Dauphin of France—which occasioned a long historical digression, before returning to the main narrative. Chibbett ended the article as he did the three others I have seen, expressing his confusion. He received a postcard on 1 November 1956 that purported to be from the poltergeist, the first of many such mailings. “And I am puzzled, now as then. Am I the recipient, through Her Majesty’s Mail, of letters from a poltergeist, from a clever Shirley Hitching, or from His Royal Highness, Prince Louis Charles Philippe, Duc de Bourbon?”
During the very end of 1959 and the first two years of the 1960s, much of Chibbett’s free time was taken up by his sister. Annie, unmarried, came down with leukemia that slowly ate away at her body for two-and-a-half years, until she finally passed two days before Christmas, 1962. Lily and Harold spent a lot of their spare moments at the hospital with her, and then had to wrap up her affairs. In the meantime, Chibbett himself was dealing with a “frozen shoulder joint.” He wrote a book on the Battersea Poltergeist—still around, only quieter—but could not find a publisher.
Chibbett retired from civil service in 1965 and seems to have drifted from his paranormal investigations for a time. In 1967, he received a letter from Vincent Gaddis—another Fortean, also associated with N. Meade Layne—which mentioned Russell’s own book of Forteana, “Great World Mysteries.” Published a full decade before, Chibbet nonetheless had not heard of it. He tried to write another book—“Know Thine Enemy”—but gave it up when a publisher lost part of the manuscript. He was attending monthly meetings of a UFO group in Kent, though.
Some time around 1969, he restarted a newsletter that he had originally published in 1944. He explained to Russell, “I restarted the NL in order to keep in more or less regular touch with all my friends—a task otherwise impossible. They are a mostly collection, with all sorts of antagonistic views, and consequently the correspondence is likely to become very heated—a possibility which amuses me greatly! I’m being slanged from all angles, but as I now have a hide like a rhinoceros and the mind of a moron, it doesn’t hurt me greatly!” The NL was actually more of a chain letter, with various correspondents adding comments and stories and notes before sending it on. At any one time, there were several issues going about—180 in two years. There were about forty people on the list of recipients. In addition to keeping in contact with friends, Chibbett—nearing 70—was interested in connecting the older generation of science fiction fans and paranormalists (such as himself) with up-and-comers.
Russell, no longer writing, refused to sign up with the NL, to Chibbett’s chagrin: “The only thing it lacks is a sprinkling of good old-fashioned rudely, and I was depending on you!” In time, though, Russell did join. Otherwise Chibbett enjoyed the NLs and was kept quite busy with them, despite creeping arthritis. By 1974, he was slowing quite a bit, not going to meetings any longer because he couldn’t hear well nor could he be too far from a restroom. Lily was afflicted with a bad case of arthritis. He was rather set on edge by the demographic changes in his neighborhood. Inflation made it difficult to continue sending out the NL. HE tried shutting it down, but met protests—from Birchby and a relatively new but enthusiastic Fortean, Bob Rickard. Eventually, Birchby took over the newsletter altogether.
Harold Chibbett died 23 February 1978. He had turned 78 four days before. Lily continued on for 16 years, dying just shy of her 91st birthday.
Forteanism was well known among the British science fiction fans by the late 1930s—Birchby was mentioning it in fanzines in 1938. Chibbett would thus have heard of Fort then, if he had not come across him earlier in his research—that era of his life is too dimly known to guess. This would have been before Russell wrote “Sinister Barrier,” before he had traveled to North America, before, even, he became Thayer’s British representative. Chibbett’s “Probe,” which I have not seen, made reference to Fortean material supposedly, and when he restarted the NL in 1969 he told Russell it was being mostly devoted to Fortean phenomena. (Later, in addition to science fiction fans and parapsychologists, Chibbett opened the NL to flying saucer buffs and other occultists.) He was, in short, a dedicated Fortean throughout his life. In Fortean Times 25, Rickard tipped his hat to Chibbett for keeping Forteans in touch during the late 1960s and early 1970s, before he co-founded “The News” (which evolved into “The Fortean Times”).
Understanding exactly what that means is harder to figure, though; indeed, it’s had to get a hold of Chibbett’s ideas as a whole. The articles of his I have read are draped in skepticism, but they clearly lean toward the mystical—Chibbett doesn’t seem to have been informed by theology, like his friend Vincent Gaddis, nor the etheric speculations of his friend N. Meade Layne. Rather, his beliefs seemed rooted in spiritualism. In his letters to Russell, though, he wears this belief lightly, and was prone to joke about it. For all that, he spent years of his life devoted to the minutiae of poltergeists, ghosts, hypnosis, and flying saucers, which would indicate a rather deep commitment.
Some support for the idea that Chibbett’s interest mainly ran in the line of spiritualism comes from a letter he wrote to Eric Russell in December 1946. He’s just been to see Havelock Ellis’s longtime mistress, who was also a Fortean, and reported the meeting to Russell:
“I have at long last called upon our fellow Fortean, Mme Francoise Delisle. She resides not far from Tally Ho. A very interesting lady, with no inhibitions. Enthralled by my descriptions of your worthy self, which were worth at least a guinea a box. I’ve even lent her SINISTER BARRIER to read. Aged 61, and with a French accent you can cut with a knife, although she has lived in this country for thirty years. Married twice before she commenced her association with H.E. Has two sons by her earlier husbands, one a psychologist and divorced. The other still happily married. Apparently quite amused at her psychologist son’s attempts to convert her to Christianity. Is very grateful to you for your favourable review of her forthcoming book, which I have not yet seen. Has shelves and shelves full of H.E.’s sex books, which I am borrowing and reading with much avidity. I’ll extract all the juicy bits and send them to you. She is very interested in psychic research, and is a member of the S.P.R. Rather deaf, and speaks in the loud voice so common to such afflicted persons. Altogether an interesting personality. Thanks for the intro.”
It’s worth noting, as well, that the letterhead he used gave his profession as “psychical research.” A later iteration had him down as investigating “psychic research and UFOs.”
However we assess Chibbett’s Forteanism, it is far greater than was represented in Thayer’s Doubt. His name only appeared there twice, in 1947 and 1948—but obviously his interest in Fort and anomalies began before that and lasted much longer. Indeed, his study of the poltergeist echoed not only Fort’s “Wild Talents” but Thayer’s one Fortean law: Cherchez la Femme. Poltergeist phenomena seemed closely associated with girls and young women, for whatever reason. A letter to Russell in 1946—the same one that mentioned his meeting with Delisle—implies that he did not receive Doubt at the time. (And had just come in contact with Vincent Gaddis, who was reading Doubt and telling Chibbett about what was in it.)
The first notice was in Doubt 18 (July 1947). On page 267, after writing about brown snow that fell in Oregon (in 1904) and more recent _falls_ (important!) of yellow snow in Chicago and Russia—both from February 1947—Thayer credited for Forteans, among them Chibbett and Russell. In this case, then, Chibbett’s Fortean data was classic: weird rains are the most well-known of Fortean phenomena.
Chibbett’s next—and final—appearance in Doubt came the next year, issue 23, dated December 1948. It dealt with another Fortean staple—out of place animals. In July, nine penguins were found walking in the street of North Adelaide, Australia, twelve miles from the sea.
Beyond that, Chibbett had one more interaction with the Society, though it is recorded only in letters, and is a bit cryptic. Fred Weiss, a science fiction aficionado, wanted to make a movie of Fort’s books—and approached Russell and Chibbett both. Chibbett thought it was hilarious—how would one make a movie of Fort’s books?—but also that the Society should help: it wouldn’t cost anything and may bring good publicity. Russell seems to have advised Chibbett to put Weiss off—without brining up Fortean topics at all, which confused Chibbett. (“If I am not to mention Fortean subjects, how the heliotrope am I going to contact him?”) In the end, Thayer told the Brits he would take care of the matter himself.
Chibbett’s remained a Fortean imagination throughout his life. In the 1970s, as he was dealing with all the indignities of age and a changing world, his mind turned to Russell, and his Fortean book “Sinister Barrier.” It still seemed germane—even if he had to downplay the relevance with some humor. He told Russell, “Your Pitons are still with us, judging by the state of the world today. Nasty critters! Why didn’t you bring ‘em up better?”
During this period, Chibbett became fascinated by spiritualism and claims of contact with the dead. The whole field was having a renaissance after the millions killed during the Great War, particularly in Britain. Apparently, some of his notes from this time exist, but I have not seen them. In their book “The Poltergeist Prince of London,” Shirley Hitchings and James Clark (who have seen the notes) write, “His interest deepened as the years passed, and he began attending séances. His surviving papers show a willingness—perhaps even eagerness—to believe that spirits of the departed could appear to the living, yet this did not mean he accepted claims of the paranormal uncritically.”
Chibbett made contact with Britain’s spiritualist community and its allies, accompanying ghost-hunter Harry Price as early as the mid-1930s (when they saw a fire-walking display in London). His friend—and another Fortean—Sid Birchby wrote after his death, “[I]n the course of about 50 years he met and often worked with nearly every one in the British occult field. Crowley, Harry Price, Kuda Bux the fire-walker, Sammy Soal, Mrs Goldney and many others were amongst his acquaintances.” Some time in the 1930s he formed a group called “The Probe”—which had a namesake newsletter—for the investigation of the paranormal. Steady work with the civil service gave him a foundation for his explorations.
It becomes easier to follow Chibbett in the late 1930s, when he became associated with the first stirrings of British science fiction fandom. As early as 1938, he attended the London branch meeting of the (British) Science Fiction Association, and regaled other attendants with tales of his investigations. Nova Terra, the British fanzine, wrote, “Mr. Harold Chibbett, spook-hunter of "The Probe," thrilled the company with seasonable ghost stories, which had the invaluable quality of being true: they were three of Harold's own experiences. (It was late now, and very dark, and the wind howled more loudly over the roof.) The first concerned the raising of an Elemental, the second an encounter with an evil spirit (the Devil?) one night on Hampstead Heath (H. solemnly exhibited the seat of his trousers, scorched and brimstoned), and the third, adventures in an old cottage haunted by a monk. He passed round an infra-red photo taken in the dark during the latter manifestations, and this showed a curious object apparently being thumped against the wall by a black hand with out a body. No one hitherto knew what it was, but Mr. Passingham recognized it as a vessel of religious significance, and. H. was highly, excited at this. "Are you sure?" he kept repeating. "Why, this bears out the story of the monk!" The company broke up soon after, and dispersed in twos and threes, hurrying down the shadowy stairs in a not-too-easy state of mind.”
Through science fiction, Chibbett came to know Birchby and Arthur C. Clarke, Ted Carnell, Sam Youd, and Joyce Fairbairn (who would marry Youd) and Eric Frank Russell, as well as many others. (Clarke would memorialize him in the character “Harry Purvis” who holds together the various stories in his book “The White Hart”—itself modeled on “The White Horse,” where the British science fiction fans met.) He met Russell, the head of Britain’s Fortean Society, in 1942, when Russell was in the Royal Air Force. Russell was five years younger—just too young for World War I—and was stationed in London for four months; already a well-established writer, he made a point of hanging out with science fiction fans. Birchby wrote,
“Henry [sic] Chibbett’s fire-watching nights have by now become a synonym for S.F.A. meetings. Last week a motley audience listed [sic] to Eric Frank Russell's salacious adventures and the horrors of Forteana. Among other things we learnt with regret of the first rationing casualty, namely, author Maurice Hugi's stomach. Gone the sobriquet "Tubby"; there's room for two Hugis inside his suit. ---- Wearing a black band (round the neck) to mourn the call-up of Ken Bulmer, we dolefully greeted his sidekick, Art Williams, but cheered considerably to recieve "Unique" 2 from him, complete with glossy cover, and a first rate one. Free advt. ---- The day before we had gone with Eric Hopkins and seen a Movietone "Magic Camera" travelogue about S. America. Now this magic camera is a telephoto lens job, and what should it discover, in a sequence of aerial shots of the Andes, but a hidden plateau, as inaccessible as Everest, covered vith criss-cross markings like swathes and lines, obviously artificial, but also inexplicable. We saw and were impressed. Any explanations, readers?”
Apparently inspired by the literary types around him, Chibbett started doing some writing of his own in this period; he would never be prolific, though, and while his explorations of the paranormal continued, as did his community-building, his writing was always only a trickle. (I’ve only read one of his short stories.) He told Eric Frank Russell, in late 1946, “I still haven’t regained the urge to write. I think it is because of the long delay between writing, acceptance, and publication. Enough to grow cat whiskers upon one, ain’t it? Sooner fill up tax forms at the price.”
“See?” appeared in “Jinn & Jitters,” 1946; “Bottled Spirit,” in the same publication, 1948; “Turnabout,” in “Fantasy Book 3,” also 1948; “They Worked the Oracle,” “Weird Tales,” 1950 (about dog ghosts that transform some humans into their dog slaves—this when “Weird Tales” was on its last legs); and, many years later, “They That Wait,” in “Magazine of Horror,” 1964. (Chibbett told Russell that its publication surprised him—he’d sent the manuscript to Forest Ackerman years before and forgot all about it until a check showed up.)
Chibbett also published essays, starting the same year. Eventually, he would become associated with two American science fictionists of Fortean bent, Ray Palmer and N. Meade Layne. “Psychic Scents,” appeared in “Outlands,” 1946. In 1950, Palmer’s “Fate,” printed an article under the same title, though with specific references to “Fate.”. “Shapes of Being,” appeared in “Round Robin” (1954); That same year saw “UFOs and Parapsychology” in Ouranos and “Strange Interlude” in “Round Robin.” (“Round Robin” was N. Meade Layne’s magazine.) “Aboard a Flying Saucer by Hypnosis” appeared in a magazine Palmer started after he left “Fate,” “Mystic Magazine.” Chibbett’s “The Poltergeist That Can Write,” ran in “Fate” in 1959. (“Flying Saucer Review” reprinted “UFOs and Parapsychology” in 1969.)
The version of “Psychic Scents” appearing in Fate doesn’t paint Chibbett as particularly hard-headed. The short article is about odd scents that sometimes occur during séances. Chibbett admits it is easy enough to fake, then goes on to recount a couple of ambiguous examples—including one medium he visited with his sister. The first case he recounts had a medium whose hands smelled like soap but whose handkerchief, for a time, smelled of lavender, which he thought worth pondering. In the other case, the medium commented that one of her hands had a strange scent, and the other didn’t—which was explained by the entity that took her over when she went into a trance. Earlier in the evening, they had contacted spirits to spell out words; what had earlier seemed nonsense now—with Chibbett adding a few additional letters—made sense: “Do Nostril Now. It is Tar.” Meaning, the odd scent was from tar.
It is worth noting that this article appeared under a pseudonym, A. Hastwa, which was a play on his name: Ha from Harold; st from Stanley; wa from Walter. It was under his own name that he appeared in “Mystic Magazine,” recounting experiments he had done with N. Meade Layne’s preferred medium, Mark Probert—who was featured on the cover—although Chibbett comes across just as credulous. Apparently, back in the late 1940s he had hypnotized a woman whose consciousness somehow ended up on a flying saucer—he felt that her mind had tuned in to the correct frequency to perceive it, which fit with Layne’s etheric interpretation of the crafts. Most of the article is a transcription of his notes. At the end, he admits it reads like science fiction, but dismisses that possibility because the woman in question—she only went by the name Mrs. X—did not read much and when she did, shied from science fiction. From what I can tell, this article overlaps with “UFOs and Parapsychology.”
The October 1959 “Fate” article—“The Poltergeist That Can Write” (credited to H.S.W. Chibbett) referred to a fairly famous poltergeist case with which he became involved a few years earlier—the haunting of Battersea, the case that forms the basis of “The Poltergeist Prince of London.” In this case, a poltergeist first named Donald started bumping around—and lighting fires—to bother the family of 18-year-old Shirley Hitchings. Chibbett made a few quick remarks early in the article that implicitly referenced the ideas of Nandor Fodor—that poltergeists were the working out of subconscious problems, especially among adolescents—before going on to do a blow-by-blow account. He noted that Donald objected to his name and insisted he was the Dauphin of France—which occasioned a long historical digression, before returning to the main narrative. Chibbett ended the article as he did the three others I have seen, expressing his confusion. He received a postcard on 1 November 1956 that purported to be from the poltergeist, the first of many such mailings. “And I am puzzled, now as then. Am I the recipient, through Her Majesty’s Mail, of letters from a poltergeist, from a clever Shirley Hitching, or from His Royal Highness, Prince Louis Charles Philippe, Duc de Bourbon?”
During the very end of 1959 and the first two years of the 1960s, much of Chibbett’s free time was taken up by his sister. Annie, unmarried, came down with leukemia that slowly ate away at her body for two-and-a-half years, until she finally passed two days before Christmas, 1962. Lily and Harold spent a lot of their spare moments at the hospital with her, and then had to wrap up her affairs. In the meantime, Chibbett himself was dealing with a “frozen shoulder joint.” He wrote a book on the Battersea Poltergeist—still around, only quieter—but could not find a publisher.
Chibbett retired from civil service in 1965 and seems to have drifted from his paranormal investigations for a time. In 1967, he received a letter from Vincent Gaddis—another Fortean, also associated with N. Meade Layne—which mentioned Russell’s own book of Forteana, “Great World Mysteries.” Published a full decade before, Chibbet nonetheless had not heard of it. He tried to write another book—“Know Thine Enemy”—but gave it up when a publisher lost part of the manuscript. He was attending monthly meetings of a UFO group in Kent, though.
Some time around 1969, he restarted a newsletter that he had originally published in 1944. He explained to Russell, “I restarted the NL in order to keep in more or less regular touch with all my friends—a task otherwise impossible. They are a mostly collection, with all sorts of antagonistic views, and consequently the correspondence is likely to become very heated—a possibility which amuses me greatly! I’m being slanged from all angles, but as I now have a hide like a rhinoceros and the mind of a moron, it doesn’t hurt me greatly!” The NL was actually more of a chain letter, with various correspondents adding comments and stories and notes before sending it on. At any one time, there were several issues going about—180 in two years. There were about forty people on the list of recipients. In addition to keeping in contact with friends, Chibbett—nearing 70—was interested in connecting the older generation of science fiction fans and paranormalists (such as himself) with up-and-comers.
Russell, no longer writing, refused to sign up with the NL, to Chibbett’s chagrin: “The only thing it lacks is a sprinkling of good old-fashioned rudely, and I was depending on you!” In time, though, Russell did join. Otherwise Chibbett enjoyed the NLs and was kept quite busy with them, despite creeping arthritis. By 1974, he was slowing quite a bit, not going to meetings any longer because he couldn’t hear well nor could he be too far from a restroom. Lily was afflicted with a bad case of arthritis. He was rather set on edge by the demographic changes in his neighborhood. Inflation made it difficult to continue sending out the NL. HE tried shutting it down, but met protests—from Birchby and a relatively new but enthusiastic Fortean, Bob Rickard. Eventually, Birchby took over the newsletter altogether.
Harold Chibbett died 23 February 1978. He had turned 78 four days before. Lily continued on for 16 years, dying just shy of her 91st birthday.
Forteanism was well known among the British science fiction fans by the late 1930s—Birchby was mentioning it in fanzines in 1938. Chibbett would thus have heard of Fort then, if he had not come across him earlier in his research—that era of his life is too dimly known to guess. This would have been before Russell wrote “Sinister Barrier,” before he had traveled to North America, before, even, he became Thayer’s British representative. Chibbett’s “Probe,” which I have not seen, made reference to Fortean material supposedly, and when he restarted the NL in 1969 he told Russell it was being mostly devoted to Fortean phenomena. (Later, in addition to science fiction fans and parapsychologists, Chibbett opened the NL to flying saucer buffs and other occultists.) He was, in short, a dedicated Fortean throughout his life. In Fortean Times 25, Rickard tipped his hat to Chibbett for keeping Forteans in touch during the late 1960s and early 1970s, before he co-founded “The News” (which evolved into “The Fortean Times”).
Understanding exactly what that means is harder to figure, though; indeed, it’s had to get a hold of Chibbett’s ideas as a whole. The articles of his I have read are draped in skepticism, but they clearly lean toward the mystical—Chibbett doesn’t seem to have been informed by theology, like his friend Vincent Gaddis, nor the etheric speculations of his friend N. Meade Layne. Rather, his beliefs seemed rooted in spiritualism. In his letters to Russell, though, he wears this belief lightly, and was prone to joke about it. For all that, he spent years of his life devoted to the minutiae of poltergeists, ghosts, hypnosis, and flying saucers, which would indicate a rather deep commitment.
Some support for the idea that Chibbett’s interest mainly ran in the line of spiritualism comes from a letter he wrote to Eric Russell in December 1946. He’s just been to see Havelock Ellis’s longtime mistress, who was also a Fortean, and reported the meeting to Russell:
“I have at long last called upon our fellow Fortean, Mme Francoise Delisle. She resides not far from Tally Ho. A very interesting lady, with no inhibitions. Enthralled by my descriptions of your worthy self, which were worth at least a guinea a box. I’ve even lent her SINISTER BARRIER to read. Aged 61, and with a French accent you can cut with a knife, although she has lived in this country for thirty years. Married twice before she commenced her association with H.E. Has two sons by her earlier husbands, one a psychologist and divorced. The other still happily married. Apparently quite amused at her psychologist son’s attempts to convert her to Christianity. Is very grateful to you for your favourable review of her forthcoming book, which I have not yet seen. Has shelves and shelves full of H.E.’s sex books, which I am borrowing and reading with much avidity. I’ll extract all the juicy bits and send them to you. She is very interested in psychic research, and is a member of the S.P.R. Rather deaf, and speaks in the loud voice so common to such afflicted persons. Altogether an interesting personality. Thanks for the intro.”
It’s worth noting, as well, that the letterhead he used gave his profession as “psychical research.” A later iteration had him down as investigating “psychic research and UFOs.”
However we assess Chibbett’s Forteanism, it is far greater than was represented in Thayer’s Doubt. His name only appeared there twice, in 1947 and 1948—but obviously his interest in Fort and anomalies began before that and lasted much longer. Indeed, his study of the poltergeist echoed not only Fort’s “Wild Talents” but Thayer’s one Fortean law: Cherchez la Femme. Poltergeist phenomena seemed closely associated with girls and young women, for whatever reason. A letter to Russell in 1946—the same one that mentioned his meeting with Delisle—implies that he did not receive Doubt at the time. (And had just come in contact with Vincent Gaddis, who was reading Doubt and telling Chibbett about what was in it.)
The first notice was in Doubt 18 (July 1947). On page 267, after writing about brown snow that fell in Oregon (in 1904) and more recent _falls_ (important!) of yellow snow in Chicago and Russia—both from February 1947—Thayer credited for Forteans, among them Chibbett and Russell. In this case, then, Chibbett’s Fortean data was classic: weird rains are the most well-known of Fortean phenomena.
Chibbett’s next—and final—appearance in Doubt came the next year, issue 23, dated December 1948. It dealt with another Fortean staple—out of place animals. In July, nine penguins were found walking in the street of North Adelaide, Australia, twelve miles from the sea.
Beyond that, Chibbett had one more interaction with the Society, though it is recorded only in letters, and is a bit cryptic. Fred Weiss, a science fiction aficionado, wanted to make a movie of Fort’s books—and approached Russell and Chibbett both. Chibbett thought it was hilarious—how would one make a movie of Fort’s books?—but also that the Society should help: it wouldn’t cost anything and may bring good publicity. Russell seems to have advised Chibbett to put Weiss off—without brining up Fortean topics at all, which confused Chibbett. (“If I am not to mention Fortean subjects, how the heliotrope am I going to contact him?”) In the end, Thayer told the Brits he would take care of the matter himself.
Chibbett’s remained a Fortean imagination throughout his life. In the 1970s, as he was dealing with all the indignities of age and a changing world, his mind turned to Russell, and his Fortean book “Sinister Barrier.” It still seemed germane—even if he had to downplay the relevance with some humor. He told Russell, “Your Pitons are still with us, judging by the state of the world today. Nasty critters! Why didn’t you bring ‘em up better?”
