The Spirit Scam: Houdini’s Capitol Hill Showdown

Did the world’s greatest magician take on psychics in Congress? In 1926, Harry Houdini testified in Washington to outlaw spiritualist fraud. What he said—and what happened next—might surprise you. In this episode, we tell the story of Houdini’s efforts and then speak with United States Congressman, Mark Pocan. 

Congressman Mark Pocan was sworn in as the U.S. Representative for Wisconsin’s second congressional district in 2013 following 14 years in the Wisconsin State Assembly. A small business owner, union member, and advocate for progressive causes, Rep. Pocan fights for policies that promote economic and social justice and support the families of south central Wisconsin.

Rep. Pocan is also a magician who uses magic to educate his constituents on what’s going on in Washington with his weekly Magic Mondays.

If you’ve ever seen a late-night commercial for a psychic hotline, or passed a blinking neon sign reading “Palm Readings, $10,” you’ve probably wondered: are there really laws against this? Is it legal to tell someone you can talk to their dead uncle in exchange for cash? And the answer is complicated. Fraud laws exist, yes. But specific laws against fortune-telling, astrology, and mediumship? Well, in some cities, sure. But not many. Which makes what Harry Houdini tried to do in 1926 all the more fascinating.

Before we get into that, let’s take a little side road. Because Houdini wasn’t the only person with a vendetta against psychic frauds. In fact, over the last century, many of the biggest names in magic have also been the loudest voices against spiritualism and psychic trickery. There’s something poetic about that – the people who make a living deceiving you with illusions are often the most passionate defenders of truth. Some people think it’s just harmless fun, and others think that it’s a cruel lie that not only deceives people who are grieving, but also takes their money. Personally, I have a book that’s very hard to get that was once used as a guidebook to teach normal people like you or me to be able to do what’s called “Cold Reading.” Cold reading is a skill that allows you to tell people things about themselves that sound very specific, but can apply to almost anyone. The book I have was supposedly used as a guidebook to teach people how to do this for a very famous “Psychic phone hotline.”

The debunking of psychics goes back throughout history and that includes people like James Randi, who founded the One Million Dollar Paranormal Challenge in the 1960s, offering a million bucks to anyone who could demonstrate supernatural powers under controlled conditions. No one ever collected. Randi spent decades debunking spoon-benders, faith healers, and mediums. And then there’s Penn and Teller, who’ve made exposing fraud part of their act for more than 40 years. IN particular, I highly encourage you to check out the television series they made called “Bullshit.” They tackle a lot of claims, but the very first episode of the first season deals with debunking psychics. It’s a long tradition – one that arguably started with Houdini himself.

Harry Houdini, born Erik Weisz in 1874 in Budapest, immigrated with his family to the United States when he was four. He grew up in Appleton, Wisconsin and later New York City. His first job was as a locksmith. It’s true – and it explains a lot. He got his stage name from the French magician Jean Eugène Robert-Houdin, whom he once admired, but later criticized in a scathing book. He became famous in the 1900s for daring escape acts: being handcuffed and tossed into rivers, hanging upside down in a straightjacket from buildings, and even escaping from a sealed milk can filled with water.

Even now, 100 years later, the name “Houdini” is synonymous with stage magic and escapes. But by the 1920s, Houdini had turned his attention toward something else entirely. After the death of his beloved mother, Cecilia Steiner Weiss in 1913, Houdini became obsessed with the possibility of life after death. He and his wife Bess even developed a secret code – a series of words – that he said he would try to communicate to her if he ever passed on. He desperately wanted to believe. But what he found, time and time again, was that the people claiming to speak to the dead were frauds.

Spiritualism was huge at the time. Séances, table-tipping, ghost photography – it was a booming industry. And not just among the gullible. Highly educated people, including Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, creator of Sherlock Holmes, were devoted believers. Doyle’s own son had died in World War I, and like many grieving parents, he found comfort in the idea of the afterlife. He believed that mediums could serve as a bridge to the spirit world. Doyle and Houdini were actually friends at one point – until Houdini started publicly denouncing spiritualism.

Their friendship fell apart spectacularly after a famous séance in 1922. Doyle’s wife, Jean, who claimed to be a medium, tried to channel Houdini’s deceased mother. Houdini sat patiently, saying nothing. She drew a cross at the top of the paper. But Houdini’s mother had been Jewish. Then the message came – fifteen pages in fluent English. But his mother barely spoke English in life. Houdini thanked them politely, and never spoke to Doyle again.

From then on, Houdini made it his mission to expose the tricks of the trade. He infiltrated séances in disguise, bringing along police officers or newspaper reporters. He’d sit quietly while the medium did their thing – spirit trumpets, ghostly hands, flickering lights – and then, at the end, he’d stand up and reveal the wires, the hidden compartments, the sleight of hand. He exposed dozens of high-profile mediums this way, often embarrassing them publicly.

One of his key investigators was Rose Mackenberg, a private detective who traveled the country attending séances undercover. She was incredibly good at her job – keeping notes, observing tricks, and passing them along to Houdini. Between the two of them, they built a damning case against the spiritualist industry.

Eventually, Houdini took his crusade to the press. In 1924, he published A Magician Among the Spirits, a book that revealed the secrets used by fraudulent mediums. He detailed the mechanics behind spirit rapping, ghost trumpets, phantom hands, and all sorts of other séance paraphernalia. And he named names. This wasn’t just about public education – it was a warning shot.

At the same time, the Scientific American magazine had created a contest: $2,500 to any medium who could prove their abilities under scientific scrutiny. Houdini was one of the judges. Mediums from all over tried – and failed – to pass the test. The most famous of them was Mina “Margery” Crandon, a Boston socialite who had become something of a celebrity medium. Houdini called her out, saying she used tricks like ringing bells with her toes or hiding ectoplasm in her underwear. He even built a special box – a “Margie Box” – that restricted her movements during séances.

So it was no surprise when, in 1926, Houdini took the fight to Congress.

He supported a bill in the House of Representatives introduced by Congressman Sol Bloom of New York. The bill sought to ban fortune telling and spiritualistic practices for profit in the District of Columbia. Houdini testified before the House Committee on the District of Columbia on February 26, 1926. He was joined by Rose Mackenberg and several others who supported anti-fraud measures. Their goal was simple: to make it illegal to charge money for claiming to communicate with the dead.

The hearing grew heated. One spiritualist lawyer tried to challenge Houdini on the spot, only to be sharply rebuked. “I am here as a volunteer, but I will not be insulted,” Houdini barked, drawing cheers and boos from opposite sides of the chamber. The New York Times called the hearing “uproarious.” People fainted. Someone shouted that séances were happening in the White House.

But how close did Houdini really come to banning psychic fraud – and what happened in the final months of his life?

Houdini pressed on. He told the House Committee that spiritualists were not only fooling the grieving, but actively defrauding them of money. He detailed how mediums used hidden trumpets to create ghostly voices, how “ectoplasm” was made from muslin soaked in egg whites, and how cold reading could elicit emotional responses from even the most skeptical participants. Rose Mackenberg backed him up with detailed notes from dozens of séances she attended across the country. They made a compelling case.

But spiritualists pushed back – hard. They accused Houdini of religious persecution. They said he was mocking deeply held beliefs. One lawyer said banning séances was akin to banning prayer. Some accused him of showboating for publicity. But to Houdini, this wasn’t a publicity stunt – it was a public service. He believed no one else could challenge these frauds as effectively as he could.

Ultimately, the committee voted 5 to 3 in favor of the anti-fraud bill. It was a partial victory, but short-lived. The Senate never took it up. The bill died quietly in committee. Washington had moved on. The newspapers did not. Houdini’s testimony was front page news, and the hearing solidified his reputation as more than just a performer – he was a watchdog for truth.

But Houdini would never see the long-term results of his efforts.

That fall, in October of 1926, Houdini was performing in Montreal when a college student asked whether it was true that he could take a punch to the stomach. Houdini said yes, but before he could brace himself, the student delivered a blow to his abdomen. Houdini was in pain for days, but he kept performing. Eventually, he collapsed. Doctors discovered that his appendix had ruptured. He died in Detroit on Halloween at the age of 52.

In the years following his death, Bess Houdini continued to hold séances every October 31, using the secret code they had agreed on. For ten years, she waited for a message from her husband. None came. Eventually, she gave up and stopped the séances. “Ten years is long enough to wait for any man,” she said. Several came close, but no one was ever able to produce the secret code.

The code Bess was waiting on was “Rosabelle, BELIEVE.” Rosabelle was the song that Bess sang in her act when they first met. The word “believe” was to be spelled out with a series of words, “answer- tell- pray, answer- look- tell- answer, answer- tell.” Each word stood for a letter, which Harry and Bess knew how to decipher. 

Houdini’s legacy lives on – not just in magic, but in skepticism. His Congressional testimony is often cited in books and articles about consumer protection, critical thinking, and scientific inquiry. Rose Mackenberg continued her work for decades, exposing fake mediums across the country. While the James Randi Educational Foundation is no longer active, groups like the Committee for Skeptical Inquiry carry on the work of shining light into the darkness of pseudoscience and deception.

Harry Houdini didn’t just escape from chains. He helped others escape from false hope. The Internet Says It’s True.

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