A skeptic’s visit to the Belleville Psychic Expo

By Chloë Ellingson

The Belleville Psychic Expo looks much as I thought it would. Deep blue curtains cover the walls, and draped cloth abounds covered in golden suns and moons, tie dye, and oceanic themes. Booths advertising psychic readings line the perimeter, and large tables of stones and salts for sale fill the centre of the room.

This is my first time at such an event, and the trip is out of character. I don’t think much about spirits or auras, and while I do strongly believe in self-reflection, I’m prone to turn toward more quantifiable ways of exploring myself. All of this said, I really don’t know enough about psychic fairs to dismiss them. Can such conventions have any value to a skeptic? I went to find out.

As I make my way around the room I’m halted by the bright yellow signs surrounding an “Aura Photos” station. “Come have your photo taken with our amazing aura and chakra capturing system,” the brochure reads. Baffled, I strike up conversations with a person manning the booth, Stan Mallow, who starts patiently explaining his work in an unmistakably thick New York accent.

Conversation soon turns to our shared love of New York, especially Brooklyn, where he’s from. For the duration of our conversation I feel a bond with this person based on shared interests and experience.

“How did you get into this?” I ask. “He won’t tell you!” chimes in his business partner, Ray Faucher, from behind the display. Faucher goes on to tell me about how Mallow used to do public relations work for Elizabeth Taylor and Marlene Dietrich, who Faucher says started coming to Mallow for psychic readings because he gave them really good advice.

After this experience, in combination with having a heart attack, Mallow says he started thinking about his life differently and changed career paths. “I came in through the back door,” he admits with a smile. I wonder what the front door looks like.

Asked about how he deals with skeptics, Mallow’s answer is delightfully confident. “Being skeptical is good,” he says, “if the person is a true skeptic, but there are people who have tunnel vision. They’re not skeptics. You should be a skeptic about everything,” he advises. “I would highly recommend it.”

Next stop is the “Electric Psychic” booth at the back of the room. I’m greeted by Linda Fulcher, who organized this expo and, along with her husband, has organized 10 to 15 expos annually around the province for the past 23 years. The couple also runs a publishing business.

From Fulcher I find a way to categorize everything that’s going on around me, which was formerly all clumped into one in my mind. Fulcher divided the spiritualists’ methods into two categories: modality and tool.

“Modality” refers to how spiritualists perceive. One can be clairvoyant (seeing), clairaudiant (hearing), clairsentient (feeling), or clairgustatorial (tasting), which, says Fulcher, is rare. “Tools” are the materials some spiritualists use, such as Tarot cards, crystal balls, or, as I learned, photography. “They amplify energy the same way a mic amplifies sound,” she says.

Fulcher voices a need that is obvious throughout the Expo, where tables feature spiritualist coverage in mainstream newspapers: be seen as legitimate.

“We’re working to gain credibility,” she says, before suggesting that I Google Russell Targ, a physicist whom she insinuates is a well-regarded academic who studies remote viewing (a psychic ability).

I’m surprised to find that some exhibitors have used their foreign origin in their advertising, as though being a psychic wasn’t exotic enough. Sumptuous deep purple material and ornate gold-coloured frames evoke a sense of royalty at the booth of “Maureen Collins, International Psychic.” A small British flag stands on her table. Across the room I see a large white sign with green letters reading “Marc Lewis, Famous Irish Psychic.”

As I head towards the exit I’m stopped by a man sitting in front of a sign reading “Kristena and Peter, Psychic Readings.” The man, who I soon learn is named Peter Linka, asks me if I’ve ever had a psychic reading before, and I say that I haven’t.

He explains that Kristena, the woman with whom he works, who is currently doing a reading behind him, only takes on clients whom she knows she’ll be able to read, and that I would certainly be readable. He goes on to say that I am emotional, sensitive, and passionate, and that gets me into trouble. Fair.

After probing a bit further, he tells me I need a saying to live by, something to keep things in perspective. He writes “How important is it?” on a brochure and hands it to me. In spite of myself, after this mini-reading I notice that I’ve got the same bewildered and bashful smile on my face as so many of the people around me.

Why was I enjoying this? His comments were vague, and could have been describing the person beside me. They’re not necessarily proof that he knows who I am, and even if he did, what would that mean?

The only conclusion I can come up with is this: he gave me fodder for contemplation. I leave with a few ideas about myself, be they true or false, significant or irrelevant, which were mine to consider, and to compare to who I think I am, or who I want to be. That, scientific or not, isn’t such a bad thing.