The Demonologist: The Extraordinary Career of Ed and Lorraine Warren (2 page)

“Then it got worse,” Lorraine continues. “I felt myself being drawn
into
that raging black thing. And there was nothing I could do to prevent it! Mechanically, I did the only thing I could think of: I called out in the name of God for protection. Then, somehow, I got the ability to make a cross—a great
big
cross—in the air between it and me. That stopped the thing. But it wouldn’t go away! I didn’t know what to do next. At that point, thank God, Ed came running into the house. As he did, this thing swirled into the next room, went right through the bricks and up the chimney. Then it was over. Nothing was broken; nothing was smashed afterwards. Nevertheless, this was not
out first
physical encounter with an inhuman spirit!”

What confronted Ed and Lorraine Warren in those early morning hours was not a ghost. (Nor was it something seen only by them. The same swirling black mass has been reported by others.) Rather, this was the appearance of something far more ominous than a ghost could ever be: the manifestation of a comparatively rare phenomenon known as an inhuman demonic spirit. A preternatural entity, the inhuman spirit is considered to be possessed of a negative, diabolical intelligence fixed in a perpetual rage against both man and God.

What this spirit is, what it can do, and what its existence ultimately portends is the work and concern of the demonologist.

Until recently, few except other professionals and the exorcist clergy knew much about Ed and Lorraine Warren. Their work, by necessity, was not public. Instead, the Warrens remained in the background, either working privately with individuals experiencing
true
spirit-related problems, or as investigators, performing on-site research where strange or unusual phenomena were in progress.

The Warrens began investigating spirit phenomena in the mid-1940s, but not until the 1970s did they really come into public view. Wherever bizarre or ominous activity took place, it seemed the Warrens were always there. In 1972, for example, the ghost of a nineteenth-century manservant became active in the superintendent’s mansion at West Point—and began harassing guests of the commanding general! It was the Warrens, the New York papers later reported, whom the Army called in to confront this rogue spirit and put a stop to its antics.

Early in 1974, the Warrens were again in the public eye. This time they were briefly seen at the conclusion of a case where exorcism by a Roman Catholic priest had to be performed in a home that was being plundered by invisible vandals that were even attacking people! Later in the year, the Warrens were again in the news, this time on network television, when a home in southern New England was being rocked by some of the most incredible “poltergeist” activity on record. “The cause of the disturbances in both cases,” Ed says knowingly, “was
demonic.”

But not until 1976, when they were brought in to investigate reports of yet another outbreak of “demoniacal activity” in Amityville, was national attention fully trained on Ed and Lorraine Warren, and their extraordinary work in the field of supernatural phenomena.

Who are these two people seen in the background of news photographs, but hardly ever identified? What are they like? And why do they do the kind of work they do?

Although one would think that people who involve themselves in demonology must necessarily be caught up in the macabre, Ed and Lorraine Warren are not occultists or eccentrics, nor are they engaged in some kind of religious crusade. On the contrary, the Warrens’ perception of life is anything but negative. Indeed, the Warrens are effective in their work only
because
they are such positive people.

Ed Warren was born in Connecticut in September 1926. Burly, barrel-chested, and good-natured, Ed looks more like the corner grocer than a demonologist. Distinctly unpretentious, Ed gives no clue to the mysterious knowledge—and power—he carries with him. Calm and easygoing, he exudes the air of competence one finds in people who have learned what they know the hard way.

Lorraine Warren, born a scant few miles from her future husband in January 1927, is slim and attractive, with an ever-ready smile. Judging from her appearance—that of a fashionable New England housewife—one would never assume that she is a penetrating clairvoyant and light-trance medium. Yet, Lorraine is endowed with the Biblical gift of discernment of spirits, which St. Paul spoke of in his First Epistle to the Corinthians.

Together, Ed and Lorraine Warren are a cordial, happy couple in their mid-fifties who have a unique friendship in marriage, and a distinctly positive outlook on life. What the Warrens have seen, however, and what they have learned over the course of their extraordinary combined career, has given them wisdom way beyond their years.

Today, not surprisingly, the question most frequently asked of Ed and Lorraine Warren is, “What
really
happened in the Amityville case?” Although no brief reply could answer that question, perhaps the most comprehensive explanation the Warrens have so far given was at a benefit lecture held in their hometown of Monroe, Connecticut, during the summer of 1978.

The lecture was held in the town’s tidy brick municipal building on a pleasant, balmy evening in late August. Ten minutes before Ed and Lorraine are scheduled to speak, the seats in the new, well-appointed auditorium are already filled to capacity. Those who can’t find seats wander down the aisle and sit cross-legged in front. There
is
great bustle and chatter in the crowd. Words like
ghost, spirit,
and
exorcism
pop up in conversations all around. It seems like everybody, at least this night, has a ghost story to tell his neighbor.

On stage are two lecture platforms, a slender chrome microphone attached to each. At eight o’clock the house lights dim, a hush sweeps over the audience, and a moment later the Warrens walk out on stage. Lorraine is dressed in a long tartan skirt, ruffled blouse, and black velvet waistcoat Ed wears a blue blazer and matching tartan tie.

“This evening, ladies and gentlemen, Ed and I would like to share with you some of our experiences inside a number of haunted houses that have recently been in the newspapers. We’d like to show you what we discovered in those houses, as well as discuss some of the information that came through in cases where communication with the haunting spirits was possible.”

Ed nods to the projectionist who switches off the stage lights. A swell of anxious voices rise in the room. “Oh, no, they’re going to show pictures!” exclaims a young girl who promptly slides down in her seat.

“Here we have a
real
haunted house,” Ed declares, once the first slide comes up. “I say the house is haunted because that kindly-looking lady you see there standing by the window on the ground floor is a ghost.”

And so it begins.... This is why the Warrens lecture: not to tell ghost stories, but to present valid case histories showing that supernatural phenomena exist, in order to explain how and why it occurs.

As Ed explains it, “The existence of spirits is not a matter of belief; it’s a matter of evidence. In fact, the question is not so much a matter of
whether
the phenomena is there, but
why
is it there. And why is it so incredibly meddlesome in human affairs?”

The reason why the Warrens present public lectures goes back a decade or so, to the late 1960s. Then, amidst experimentation with alternate lifestyles, a sudden renewed interest in the occult sprang up. Closed for almost a century, the door to the “underworld” was suddenly thrown open, followed by a drastic upswing in reported incidents of negative spirit phenomena. Almost immediately, the Warrens were inundated with what proved to be genuine cases of negative spirit oppression and possession.

Most of those affected at the time were persons of college age. Concerned about this grave development, the Warrens embarked on a program of campus lectures, wherein they warned students around the country about the dangers of the occult Supporting their statements with documentary evidence—slides, photographs, tape recordings, and physical artifacts—Ed and Lorraine Warren made an indelible impression on those to whom they spoke. The general public soon became fascinated with their firsthand experiences and ongoing research.

Although nowadays they lecture primarily to college audiences, the Warrens also speak to community groups and appear on radio and television when time allows. It is their honesty and experience that have made them popular. Their relaxed, informative, matter-of-fact style has changed many a skeptic into a believer. Yet although Ed and Lorraine offer an articulate explanation of spirit phenomena, they are aware of the gravity of their statements. Thus, the Warrens say nothing they cannot substantiate with credible evidence and documented case histories.

During the slide lecture, the Connecticut audience sits silently as Ed and Lorraine detail case after case of spirit phenomena, illustrating their comments with slides of ghosts, psychic lights, levitations, and materialized objects. (Dan Greenburg says in his book,
Something’s There,
that if the Warrens said they saw a ghost, they saw a ghost!) When the auditorium lights come back on, dozens of hands immediately shoot up in the air.

An integral part of the Warrens’ public lectures is the question-and-answer session that follows their talk. Here, people can sort out the whole strange topic of spirits for themselves, because it is possible to ask the Warrens a question and get a straight answer in reply. For Ed and Lorraine, this is neighbor talking to neighbor now.

“Now that you’re all ready to move into a haunted house,” Ed kids the audience, “let’s take the first question!” An older man with gold-rimmed glasses stands up.

“I’m old enough to be your father, Ed Warren, but in my whole life I’ve never seen any of this sort of
phenomena,
as you call it. Have you seen a ghost yourself? Have you ever
seen
these objects levitate?” He sits back down.

“In my lifetime, I have seen many, many materialized ghosts,” Ed tells him over the microphone. “The ghosts you saw on these slides tonight were photographed by me, or by psychic-photographers working with me on investigations. Later this year, in fact, we’re going to England to try to get a photograph of the Brown Lady of Raynham Hall—Lady Dorothy Walpole, one of the most famous ghosts there is. Not far from there is Borley, the most haunted area in England. Both Lorraine and I have seen the Borley Nun walking along the road, and this time we’ll try to photograph her too.”

Taking a sip from a glass of ice water, Ed continues. “As for levitations—yes, I have seen levitations of all kinds. This case I showed you tonight was demoniacal activity, not ghosts. During the progress of the case, I witnessed a four-hundred pound refrigerator lift off the floor. In another case, I watched a console television set rise slowly in the air, then come down with a deafening, explosive crash. Yet, not one tube was broken! Those are just two instances that come to mind, although levitations occur in many cases where spirits—both human and inhuman—are behind the disturbance. So to answer your question, sir: yes, I
have seen
a ghost; yes, I
have
seen levitations occur.”

Ed points to a tall blonde-haired lady who stands up to speak.

“In
The Amityville Horror,
the author cites an old belief that evil spirits can’t cross over water,” she says. “Is that true?”

“No, that’s just an old superstition,” Ed tells her. “Spirits are not affected by physical boundaries—or by distance, for that matter. Simply by
thinking
about a particular spirit is enough to draw that spirit to your side.”

Lorraine calls on a teenage boy who’d been sitting up front by the stage. “What do you mean by
supernatural?”
he wants to know.

“If you looked the work up in a dictionary, you’d find that ‘supernatural’ means activity caused by God or His angels,” Lorraine tells him. “But most people don’t relate to the term that way. So, instead, we use the word in the way it’s most commonly understood: that
is,
activity caused by any force or agent that is not part of our physical, earthly realm. Technically, the phenomena caused by
in
human spirits are called preternatural activity. To put it another way, the phenomena caused by inhuman spirits could be considered negative miracles.”

Next, Ed points to a woman in the middle of the crowd. “If
I
were to die tomorrow,” she asks, “would
I
become a ghost?”

“It’s possible,” Ed replies, “but not probable. Still, if you died suddenly and unexpectedly—say in an accident—and you refused to accept the fact that you’re physically dead, then quite likely you’d remain earthbound until such time as you realized that you were out of the game; that you were dead. In the meantime, while you’re trying to sort this problem out as a spirit, you’d probably remain earthbound in familiar surroundings—like your home. Nothing would seem different to you: you’d be able to see and hear other members of your family just like before, but they wouldn’t be able to see or hear you. ‘What’s the matter?’ you might ask, ‘why don’t they pay attention to me?’ So, frustrated, you find a way—through mind over matter—to start causing objects to move, or you slam doors in order to get attention. Of course, all you’ll really succeed in doing will be to scare the wits out of your family. At that time, your folks might get hold of Lorraine and me, who would then come to the house and have a little discussion with you as a spirit—so you’d be able to pass over correctly.”

“How did you two originally become involved in the Amityville case?” a tanned gentleman in a rugby shirt asks the Warrens. “Also, what did you
do
during your investigation that the others didn’t?” The questions enliven the audience; it’s apparent they want to hear the answer too.

“Your long question, sir, requires a long answer,” Lorraine warns him graciously.

“That’s okay,” he calls out.

“All right then,” Lorraine begins, “our involvement started the last week of February 1976, when we received a telephone call at our home from a young woman, a television producer in New York City. She wanted to know if we had time to look into a so-called haunted house on Long Island? I told her
maybe—
but said first I’d have to know more details. She then explained about the 1974 DeFeo murders and the Lutzes’ experience in the house. After that, the young woman told me that her TV station was covering the work of parapsychologists and psychic researchers who entered the home right after the Lutz family fled. However, after a month’s time, these investigators hadn’t come up with any concrete answers. So, she wanted to know, could we hold a séance in the house and tell them if spirits were behind the problem?