Walter Carrithers James Irwin (or Erwin) Pneuman was born 8 January 1889 in Meshoppen, Pennsylvania, the third child of William and Crissie Pneuman. William was a miller. James seems to have dropped out of high school after his second year. At the time of World War I, he was married, with a child, and lived in Montana, where he worked as a farm laborer, I believe, at least according to a draft card, but it does not fit exactly with later census data. In 1930, he was back in Pennsylvania with his family; his father had died, and a brother was now the family head. James worked as a toolmaker, which was also the job of two brothers. His son also lived with him, but there is no wife listed on the census.
Pneuman also seems to have had some connection to New York. His obituary said he’d been in central New York since the early 1910s, which I do not have evidence for, but in 1931 he had an address in Camillus, New York. It was there, on 29 May, that he applied for a patent on an animal trap. In 1940, according to the census, he was in Oneida with a sister and his mother; he was still listed as married, but there was no wife enumerated. Pneuman was a machinist. He owned his home. In 1949, Pneuman (with James Foote) applied for another patent, this one a machine for printing on spherical objects.
Pneuman’s connection to Forteanism is slender. I can find only two points of contact, though one suggests the connection might have been more meaningful than the available evidence records. The name Pneuman appeared once in Doubt, issue 27, in late 1949. This reference is what put me on the track. He sent in a report from Outdoor Life that mentioned a rain of salamanders in North Dakota—salamanders that locals did not recognize. Although Pneuman is a relatively unusual spelling, that wasn’t enough to identify the sender of the clipping, and so this Fortean name was filed away by me.
Pneuman also seems to have had some connection to New York. His obituary said he’d been in central New York since the early 1910s, which I do not have evidence for, but in 1931 he had an address in Camillus, New York. It was there, on 29 May, that he applied for a patent on an animal trap. In 1940, according to the census, he was in Oneida with a sister and his mother; he was still listed as married, but there was no wife enumerated. Pneuman was a machinist. He owned his home. In 1949, Pneuman (with James Foote) applied for another patent, this one a machine for printing on spherical objects.
Pneuman’s connection to Forteanism is slender. I can find only two points of contact, though one suggests the connection might have been more meaningful than the available evidence records. The name Pneuman appeared once in Doubt, issue 27, in late 1949. This reference is what put me on the track. He sent in a report from Outdoor Life that mentioned a rain of salamanders in North Dakota—salamanders that locals did not recognize. Although Pneuman is a relatively unusual spelling, that wasn’t enough to identify the sender of the clipping, and so this Fortean name was filed away by me.
According to social security documents, Pneuman applied for a claim on 7 April 1954—he had turned 65 a few months before, and likely retired. He died five years later, 24 September 1959; he was 70.
A small obituary for him ran the next day in the Rome, New York, Daily Sentinel. It mentioned that he was a member of the Oneida Moose Lodge, the National Rifle Association—as well as two more relevant organizations: N. Meade Layne’s metaphysically-inclined Borderlands Science Research Association and the Fortean Society.
It was the last reference that allowed for the connection between the “Pneuman” in Doubt and the biographical data I was then able to compile. It also suggested that, though he appeared in Doubt only once and I cannot find reference to him in other Fortean-related publications, being a Fortean was important to him.
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Walter Adley Carrithers, Jr., was born 14 August 1924 in Fresno, California, to Walter Carrithers and Mabel E. Fletcher. He was the eldest of two sons. The Carrithers had moved to California in 1923, by reports; the older Carrithers was from Kansas. He worked for the city parks and was also pastor of the Pilgrim Holiness Church, doing rescue work in the city jail. The younger Carrithers attended Fresno Tech High School, where he wrote and did art for school publications. He seems to have found science fiction around 1941; he wrote his first letter to “Famous Fantastic Mysteries,” which appeared in its April issue, introducing himself, pining for guides for new collectors, and praising A. Merritt’s “The Moon Pool,” an old story that the magazine had just reprinted.
Apparently, once enraptured, Carrithers became passionate about science fiction. Two years later, he wrote in to Astounding Science Fiction. He had read ten years’ worth of the magazine, gone through the letter columns of every issue, and tabulated comments on every story to find the most liked tales of every year and throughout the decade. It was a lot of work. Carrithers was of the opinion that science fiction was going through a lean period, with so many writers involved in war work, but would burst forth with creativity in a few years. A month later, Famous Fantastic Mysteries printed a related letter from Carrithers: he said he preferred FFM to any other magazine because it printed the classics, while science fiction relied on hackwork. He noted FFM, which was struggling to come out on a regular basis, was considering running new works, and Carrithers wanted them only to rely on the top-rated authors from his Astounding tabulation (whom he listed in the letter).
He had another brief letter in FFM, later in the 1940s, but Carrithers also seems to have found a new interest, Theosophy. In 1947, he wrote a full-throated defense of Madame Blavatsky “The Truth about Blavatsky,” a response to Gertrude Williams’s “Priestess of the Occult,” which rated a notice in N. Meade Layne’s “Round Robin.” He would join the American Society for Psychical Research, the (British) Society for Psychical Research, and the American Federation of Astrologers. He wrote a number of works on Theosophy, though dating them is difficult.
At some point, he took on the issue of Borley Rectory, a British haunting that had been investigated by Harry Price and then exposed by Eric J. Dingwall (both Forteans). Carrithers wrote to dissect and oppose Dingwall’s skepticism. At least once, he used the pseudonym Adlai E. Waterman. Carrithers also wrote for Fate magazine, on metaphysical and occult topics. He had another letter in Astounding, blasting P. Schuyler Miller for his skeptical take on the UFO phenomenon.
By accounts, Carrithers was an outsider in the various metaphysical groups to which he belonged; the Theosophical Society had moved on from Blavatsky, and the Society for Psychical Research had vested in debunking her. N. Meade Layne pointed out that Carrithers was not a Theosophist, because—it would seem—he had a more positive view of Theosophy than it; and a friend reported he was considered a “nuisance” by the SPR. According to another friend, his Theosophical work took so much of his time that he neglected his health, and was in bad shape during his last years.
Walter A. Carrithers died of heart failure in Fresno some time around 21 August 1994, just a week after his 70th birthday. Police found him after he’d been dead for three years.
I do not know exactly how or when Carrithers came to Fort and Forteanism, but it seems likely to have come out of his reading of Astounding. In his letter to the magazine, he noted that “Lo!” was the 6th highest rated piece of 1934—Astounding had serialized Lo!—and prompted a lot of commentary. His move toward parapsychological topics would have only increased his exposure to Fort. He used his membership as a an attribution in some of his articles—the one on Price and Dingwall, for example, all of them Forteans, and the point may have been to show how objective he was. It was that attribution that allowed me to identify Carrithers.
Because he did appear once in Doubt, but I could not figure out who he was, and so I filed it away until I found his Theosophical work. He must have remained a member for a long time, though, for his name appeared in the very last issue of Doubt, 61, from the summer of 1959. Unfortunately from the attribution, it is impossible to tell what report or reports Carrithers sent to the magazine.
A small obituary for him ran the next day in the Rome, New York, Daily Sentinel. It mentioned that he was a member of the Oneida Moose Lodge, the National Rifle Association—as well as two more relevant organizations: N. Meade Layne’s metaphysically-inclined Borderlands Science Research Association and the Fortean Society.
It was the last reference that allowed for the connection between the “Pneuman” in Doubt and the biographical data I was then able to compile. It also suggested that, though he appeared in Doubt only once and I cannot find reference to him in other Fortean-related publications, being a Fortean was important to him.
****************************
Walter Adley Carrithers, Jr., was born 14 August 1924 in Fresno, California, to Walter Carrithers and Mabel E. Fletcher. He was the eldest of two sons. The Carrithers had moved to California in 1923, by reports; the older Carrithers was from Kansas. He worked for the city parks and was also pastor of the Pilgrim Holiness Church, doing rescue work in the city jail. The younger Carrithers attended Fresno Tech High School, where he wrote and did art for school publications. He seems to have found science fiction around 1941; he wrote his first letter to “Famous Fantastic Mysteries,” which appeared in its April issue, introducing himself, pining for guides for new collectors, and praising A. Merritt’s “The Moon Pool,” an old story that the magazine had just reprinted.
Apparently, once enraptured, Carrithers became passionate about science fiction. Two years later, he wrote in to Astounding Science Fiction. He had read ten years’ worth of the magazine, gone through the letter columns of every issue, and tabulated comments on every story to find the most liked tales of every year and throughout the decade. It was a lot of work. Carrithers was of the opinion that science fiction was going through a lean period, with so many writers involved in war work, but would burst forth with creativity in a few years. A month later, Famous Fantastic Mysteries printed a related letter from Carrithers: he said he preferred FFM to any other magazine because it printed the classics, while science fiction relied on hackwork. He noted FFM, which was struggling to come out on a regular basis, was considering running new works, and Carrithers wanted them only to rely on the top-rated authors from his Astounding tabulation (whom he listed in the letter).
He had another brief letter in FFM, later in the 1940s, but Carrithers also seems to have found a new interest, Theosophy. In 1947, he wrote a full-throated defense of Madame Blavatsky “The Truth about Blavatsky,” a response to Gertrude Williams’s “Priestess of the Occult,” which rated a notice in N. Meade Layne’s “Round Robin.” He would join the American Society for Psychical Research, the (British) Society for Psychical Research, and the American Federation of Astrologers. He wrote a number of works on Theosophy, though dating them is difficult.
At some point, he took on the issue of Borley Rectory, a British haunting that had been investigated by Harry Price and then exposed by Eric J. Dingwall (both Forteans). Carrithers wrote to dissect and oppose Dingwall’s skepticism. At least once, he used the pseudonym Adlai E. Waterman. Carrithers also wrote for Fate magazine, on metaphysical and occult topics. He had another letter in Astounding, blasting P. Schuyler Miller for his skeptical take on the UFO phenomenon.
By accounts, Carrithers was an outsider in the various metaphysical groups to which he belonged; the Theosophical Society had moved on from Blavatsky, and the Society for Psychical Research had vested in debunking her. N. Meade Layne pointed out that Carrithers was not a Theosophist, because—it would seem—he had a more positive view of Theosophy than it; and a friend reported he was considered a “nuisance” by the SPR. According to another friend, his Theosophical work took so much of his time that he neglected his health, and was in bad shape during his last years.
Walter A. Carrithers died of heart failure in Fresno some time around 21 August 1994, just a week after his 70th birthday. Police found him after he’d been dead for three years.
I do not know exactly how or when Carrithers came to Fort and Forteanism, but it seems likely to have come out of his reading of Astounding. In his letter to the magazine, he noted that “Lo!” was the 6th highest rated piece of 1934—Astounding had serialized Lo!—and prompted a lot of commentary. His move toward parapsychological topics would have only increased his exposure to Fort. He used his membership as a an attribution in some of his articles—the one on Price and Dingwall, for example, all of them Forteans, and the point may have been to show how objective he was. It was that attribution that allowed me to identify Carrithers.
Because he did appear once in Doubt, but I could not figure out who he was, and so I filed it away until I found his Theosophical work. He must have remained a member for a long time, though, for his name appeared in the very last issue of Doubt, 61, from the summer of 1959. Unfortunately from the attribution, it is impossible to tell what report or reports Carrithers sent to the magazine.
