A Biography of T.J.Grab

As a lifelong friend of Theodore, I was asked to pen a few words about the man. There is much to say and my anecdotes could well fill a whole book. So there I am sure I will add further insights here in the future; that is if Teddy get to paying me for my work on this piece.

Cornelius Golde.

One word of warning….

It is difficult to sometimes distinguish between fact and fiction in the life of such an enigmatic figure.

The authors first encounter with Grab.

It was, if my memory serves, a rather dull day. The rain lashed outside and the sea was audible through the flimsy looking floorboards. Somehow this made the run down end-of-the pier venue  all the more inviting and, well…..  rather cosy.

My memory of that evening is enriched by all of my senses. The sight of flickering gas lamp on red and tobacco stained wood, the smell of damp clothes drying out in the musty air, the faint aroma of kerosene, the sound of the sea and the roaring wind worrying the creaking old pier.

The small crowd had gathered in refuge from the foul weather. However there was a sense of expectancy as the heavy red velvet curtain was raised to reveal a simple bare stage.

The anticipation was expertly built up as the increasingly focused  audience of bedraggled holidaymakers stared into the mysterious darkness of the empty stage.

Except for a solitary cough and shifting of uncomfortably damp clothing, a rather odd silence descended. This silence was broken with expert timing by the paced footfalls of Theodore J Grab as he took the stage.

This was clearly a man at the very top of his profession, in terms of stature, if not of venue. Grab lifted his head as if he were some forgotten piece of royalty and surveyed his audience with what can only be described as mild disdain tempered by disinterest. An imposingly tall, dark and gaunt man, Grab would stand out from any crowd, but not always in an agreeable manner. Grab focused his dark eyes and threw back his head. One could tell that the audience he fabricated in his imagination was quite different to the small ramshackle group assembled before his contemptuous gaze.

‘Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen’, he began ‘I am Theodore J Grab, Doctor of Metaphysics. You have travelled many miles to see this performance, of that I am aware. I do not intend to let you down.’

Grab fixed his penetrating eyes on the audience members one by one, each time being met by a look of discomfort and unease.

‘Tonight we are going to investigate the mysteries of the human mind, of which so little in known…..’

It would be false of me to claim I can remember more that these few opening words, all I can say is that most of what he said went far over the heads of the largely illiterate audience, and yet they were clearly mesmerised and held onto every unfathomable word.

Grab started the act by explaining that all life is linked on a subtle, etheric level. That, although we may sometime wish it to be otherwise; we are all inexplicably bound in one holistic reality. Grab asked for five members from the audience to help him demonstrate his claim.

Exactly five people rose from their seats, as if bidden by an unseen force (had I have seen it now, with all of my experience, I would never have suspected anything so low as the common stooge).

Lined up before him, Grab would pass his hands around and up and down their bodies. Never touching, but (depending on the individual) about three to four inches away from them. His hands seemed to me to ‘bounce’ off an invisible force field. This made no sense to me then, but it does now.

As he worked, he would ask questions, demanding that the participant replied only in their mind. At the start, they were simple yes of no questions, later they became more complex. Always, he was right.

On this occasion, this routine was his whole act. Although I had seen him levitate, turn himself invisible and pass solid objects through his body, this was more than sufficient to totally absorb the incredulous audience for what turned out to be over forty five minutes. Due to an early fascination with magic, I had seen many, many clever and convoluted deceptions, more than a handful of which gave me the illusion of reality. However, this was clearly and utterly for real. By what ever means, Grab was entering the thoughts of the audience and stealing away accurate and precise information.

And so here I am many years later, an old man myself, sifting through Grab’s most secret files. My hands tremble through strong mixtures of conflicting emotions; fear and excitement, disbelief and confusion, awe and discomfort. Above all, I feel the onus of responsibility. This may not be classified as an emotion as such, but the realisation of the great responsibility I had, both to Grab and to prosperity, certainly was experienced through complex emotional channels. These feeling were made the more difficult by an inner conviction that the old cantankerous magician was still watching me with his disdaining eye!