ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Thursday, August 1, 1996 TAG: 9608010006
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: ALESSANDRA SOLER STAFF WRITER
The crammed office, which doubles as a 19th-century seance parlor, is dimly lit by the flames of three red candles and a small lamp. It smells of sweet and pungent incense and melted candle wax; the only sound comes from a tape recorder playing soft harpsichord music in the background.
Mark Cline, the designated medium for the evening, invites his 11 guests to sit down at a round table, each of them crowding space previously occupied by piles of loose-leaf drawing papers, faxes and books.
A silver chain, forming a five-pointed star, rests on top of a black cloth that blankets the table. The ornate centerpiece: a synthetic replica of a dismembered hand.
Cline, who sits beneath a life-size, fiberglass vulture flanked on either side by two miniature gargoyles, whisks his thinning, shoulder-length hair behind his ears and begins: "Tonight, we're going to open a portal into another dimension. This is a dimension that doesn't recognize time and sight as we know it. ... Let go of some of the tense energies of the day and focus on a whole different realm - the realm of spirits."
Wearing a black dress shirt stamped with fluorescent pink ankhs, a gray and white pin-striped vest, gray slacks and a long, Victorian-style overcoat, he continues: "If you feel a cold, clammy hand grab you by the throat, you can scream."
Cline, 35, is the owner of Enchanted Castle Productions Studio on U.S. 11 in Natural Bridge, the one-acre warehouse where he and three other artists make monsters and animated figures for amusement parks, restaurants and haunted houses from Virginia Beach to Alabama.
He is a sculptor and entrepreneur who uses his talent and fascination with the bizarre to entertain people and make money. In this area, he's best known for his signs and roadside attractions, such as the rhinoceros in Bedford County and the roller-skating waitress atop Roanoke's Star City Diner. Conducting theatrical seances is one of his increasingly successful business ventures.
In February of last year, Cline attended his first seance performance in Key West, Fla. He liked the idea so much, he decided to try it out in Natural Bridge. He traveled across the country visiting parlors, picking up techniques and ideas from experienced mediums and Friday, Oct. 13,1995, conducted his first two seances - each in front of 13 people.
He's been in business ever since.
"It's a form of personal, up-close theater and people rarely get to experience that type of entertainment," Cline said.
Although advertising for the informal gatherings is strictly through word-of-mouth, Cline said news is traveling steadily. He usually rounds up 10 people for each of the seances, and charges between $13 and $20 for the hour-and-a-half performance.
While he keeps most of the profits, Cline said he occasionally donates his earnings to charity. (Funds from his first seance went to help kids with muscular dystrophy. And the money from his most recent seance went to help a Lexington woman buy an air conditioner.)
In the parlor, Cline stands up, tugs at one of the picture frames hanging on the wall behind him, and the wooden panels separate, revealing a portable compartment where refreshments and glasses are kept.
After serving cold apple cider, a gesture he says is typical of Victorian-style seances, Cline raises his glass for a toast.
"To life," he says. "It's what we have and what they want; that's why we can make that connection."
He reads "Sonnet - Silence" by Edgar Allen Poe, and orders everyone at the table to hold hands, close his or her eyes and take three deep breaths. Thirteen-year-old Matt Ruley, who wears a "No Fear" cap, nervously leans forward as if to get a closer look at Cline who sits diagonally across from him. The boy hesitates, then closes his eyes anyway, only to be startled by the sound of a moth stumbling against the lamp shade.
"I sort of like that scary stuff," said Ruley, who lives in Lexington. "I really wanted to see a spirit or something. I like getting scared out of my wits."
This evening's goal: target Frank Padget, a black slave who died in 1854 while rescuing someone from drowning. Cline places a piece of chalk between two slates and says: "Frank, Frank you've been with me before; you know what these are ... is there a small message that you would like to give us ... some words ... some letters."
Participants listen for a sound. They hear chalk sliding up and down against the two small blackboards. They see a message: "Wil Ent R Somone."
"Does everybody know what this means?" Cline asks. He looks around at the attentive listeners. "The spirit will enter someone tonight. Shall we continue? Are we all right with this?"
No one speaks.
He instructs everyone to grab a section of the chain and places an hourglass, bell, mirror and empty pan in front of him. He grabs the bell, wipes off the beads of sweat trickling down his forehead, and once again takes three deep breaths.
"Give us a sign," he says and orders everyone to repeat the same in unison. The background trance music stops and the bell rings without moving from the table. "I'm very excited about this," he says.
"If you need to leave, now is the time. Are we all ready to go through with this?"
The lights go out, and Cline begins to speak in tongues. His voice grows loud, and he summons Frank to make his presence known to someone or everyone in the room.
Tracy Tolley of Natural Bridge senses someone - or something - standing behind her. She screams.
The table at the center of the room slowly lifts about a foot off the ground, then quickly falls back down.
"I felt someone breathing in my ear and I just totally froze," said Tolley, who heard about the seance last year when her mother and brother visited in October.
"I didn't believe that he was serious, but it was lots of fun," said Courtney Powell, also from Natural Bridge.
Cline stands up to show his guests out. "Thank you for attending the seance, and if nothing else this evening, I hope I've entertained you."
LENGTH: Long : 112 lines ILLUSTRATION: PHOTO: ALAN SPEARMAN/Staff. Mark Cline (center) attempts toby CNBlead his group, including Jan Boyes (left) and Sean Ogren (right),
into contact with the spirit of a man who died in 1854. color.