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who publicly foretold 

President Kennedy's assassination and other 
world-shaking events. These and many fasci- 
nating new predictions are documented here. 


o— : 


The Phenomenal Jeane Dixon 

Other Books by Ruth Montgomery 









D n 






CU u a 

□ D n D D 



NEW YORK, 1965 

Twelfth Printing, December 1965 

Copyright (c) 1965 by Ruth Montgomery and Jeane Dixon 

A condensed version of this book has appeared in 
The Reader's Digest under the title The Crystal Ball 

All rights reserved. 

Published simultaneously in the Dominion of Canada 
by George J. McLeod Limited, Toronto. 

Printed in the United States of America. 

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 65-21204 


All those who seek answers to the eternal mystery of life and 
who, recognizing that there is a Power greater than ourselves, 
find inspiration in the Biblical injunction: ' r Ask, and it shall 
be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be 
opened unto you/' 


We Americans are accustomed to think of visions in terms of 
biblical lore, and to associate the city of Washington with 
power politics and faceless bureaucracy. It seems remarkable, 
therefore, to discover in this bustling New World capital a 
modern-day psychic whose visions apparently lift the curtain 
on tomorrow in much the same manner as did those of Old 
Testament prophets. 

Because of this uncanny gift Jeane Dixon has become al- 
most as much of an institution as the Pentagon, during the 
quarter century in which they have shared the national lime- 
light. Both made their appearance in Washington early in the 
Second World War, and since then they have been approached 
by innumerable foreign dignitaries. From the Pentagon these 
overseas visitors sought dollars and armaments, from Mrs. 
Dixon a glimpse of the future; the foreign-aid money was 
dispensed with certain strings attached, but Jeane Dixon has 
declined to accept any remuneration for a talent which she be- 
lieves God bestowed on her for a purpose. Devoutly religious, 
she will use her strange gift only for the benefit of others. She 
believes that if she were to take money she might lose this 

As a skeptical newspaper reporter I was unimpressed by 
these alleged powers until, as the years passed, the accuracy of 
her many forecasts began to forge an impressive chain of 
evidence. She was naming presidential slates long before dele- 
gates gathered in quadrennial convention to make the nomi- 



nations. With regularity she was picking each White House 
winner a year in advance of his election. She not only foresaw 
death or downfall for certain world leaders but was able to 
pinpoint the time when these would occur. World-shaking 
events were sometimes foretold a decade ahead of time, and 
eventually they came to pass in the precise year that she had 

I first began writing yearly columns about Jeane Dixon's 
forecasts in 1952, simply as a change from the steady dis- 
courses on politics and world affairs. Gradually I became 
sufficiently impressed with the phenomenal accuracy of her 
predictions to be relieved when on occasion she missed. Had 
she always been right, some of her forebodings would have 
seemed too horrific for comfortable contemplation. I did not 
believe that President Kennedy would be assassinated. I re- 
fused to accept her pronouncement that Secretary of State 
Dulles would die in the spring of 1959. I declined to print 
her 1952 prophecy that serious race rioting would bloody our 
American streets in 1963 and 1964. 

Conversely, Jeane made a few forecasts that failed to occur. 
She predicted that Red China would plunge the world into 
war over Quemoy and Matsu in October of 1958; she thought 
that labor leader Walter Reuther would actively seek the 
presidency in 1964. She blames herself for these errors, be- 
lieving that she was shown correct symbols but misinterpreted 
them. A noted psychologist who is an authority on extra- 
sensory perception has an entirely different explanation, 
which is discussed in this book. 

For those who shudder at some of the awesome “coming 
events” that Jeane feels have already cast their shadows before 
them, it is comforting to remember that she is not infallible; 
but her record of accuracy is such that the burden of that 
proof must rest upon future historians. In certain cases the 
names and places have been changed in order to protect the 
people involved, and avoid any possible invasion of privacy. 

i * □ □ □ 

Certainly there is no intent to embarrass anyone, living or 

Since l am without psychic talent and can see only my own 
distorted image reflected in a crystal ball, I have simply at- 
tempted to set forth, with as much reportoria) accuracy as 
possible, the amazing story ot jeane Dixon* 

R* M. 

Washington, D C, 


It was a bright, crisp day in late November. The luncheon 
had been scheduled several weeks in advance, and as the 
three fashionably dressed women entered the Presidential 
Dining Room of the Mayflower Hotel the orchestra leader 
smiled and nodded in recognition. The maitre d'hotel seated 
them at a reserved table and ceremoniously presented the 
menu cards. Mrs. Harley Cope, widow of a rear admiral, and 
Jeane Dixon, Washington's famous seeress, ordered eggs 
Florentine. Mrs. Rebecca Kaufmann, a native Washing- 
tonian, mentally counted calories and searched her con- 
science before choosing the rich lobster salad. 

When the food arrived, Mrs. Cope and Mrs. Kaufmann 
immediately began to eat, while carrying on an animated 
conversation. Mrs. Kaufmann, noticing that Jeane did not 
touch hers, exclaimed, “Child, why aren't you eating? Surely 
you don’t have to watch your weight, with that twenty-two- 
inch waistline of yours!" 

The attractive brunette leaned back against her chair and 
closed her eyes. “Mrs. Kaufmann," she said, “I just can’t. I'm 
too upset. Something dreadful is going to happen to the Pres- 
ident today." 



“Today? What are you saying?” the motherly dowager 

Jeane could only nod miserably, while Mrs. Cope ex- 
plained, “Mrs. Dixon has been foreseeing a tragedy for Presi- 
dent Kennedy very soon. She told me about it day before 

Mrs. Kaufmann, who has witnessed many griefs since she 
was born in turn-of-the-century Georgetown, patted Jeane’s 
hand consolingly. “Don’t worry about it, dear,” she coun- 
seled. “What is going to happen will happen, and it does no 
good to anticipate trouble.” 

Sorrow shone in Jeane’s blue-green eyes, and as she fought 
to maintain self-control she said, “Yes, the will of humanity 
cannot change the will of God.” 

At that moment the music of Sidney Seidenman’s interna- 
tionally celebrated orchestra ceased, and the conductor has- 
tened to their table. Greeting the three women by name, he 
said, “Someone just tried to take a shot at the President!” 
Mrs. Dixon murmured tonelessly, “The President is dead.” 
Sidney, whose dance bands have performed for White 
House soirees and debutante balls since the Herbert Hoover 
era, attempted to reassure the distraught ladies. “No, no, he 
isn’t. He may not even have been struck.” 

“You will learn that he is dead,” Jeane repeated in the 
same oddly detached voice. 

Sidney rushed from the room but returned almost imme- 
diately to report that President Kennedy was only wounded. 
“I heard it on the radio,” he said soothingly. “He’s still alive, 
and they’re giving him a blood transfusion.” 

Jeane gazed at him numbly. “The radio is wrong,” she said 
with quiet finality. “President Kennedy is dead. I tried to 
send a warning to him, but no one would listen. Now it is too 

Recalling her prophetic utterance, the orchestra leader 

3 □□□ 

later told me: “Mrs. Dixon is a very sweet woman. I had 
heard that she sometimes has portents, or whatever you call 
them, but I'm not much of a believer in those things. I just 
felt that she was mistaken . . . but within a half hour we knew 
that she was right.” 

Halfway across Washington another luncheon w r as in 
progress. Lady West had stopped in at Kay Halle’s historic 
red brick house in Georgetown to report on a motor tour of 
America from which she and Sir Michael West, chairman of 
the British Embassy’s defense staff, had just returned. 

“The one thing that most impressed us,” Lady West began 
in clipped accent, “was the violence of feeling in your coun- 
try. In Texas we were received with warmth and hospitality; 
yet everywhere we went we were simply staggered by the 
violent way in which you Americans argue politics. Now in 
England ...” 

The maid interrupted to announce that Mrs. Alice Roose- 
velt Longworth (the daughter of President Theodore Roose- 
velt) would like to speak to the hostess. With an apology, 
Kay stepped to the telephone, called a cheery “Hello,” and 
listened with horror as her friend exclaimed, “Turn on your 
radio quickly. It has happened ... as Jeane Dixon said it 

Her hands beginning to tremble, Miss Halle switched on 
the nearest radio. A voice was booming: “We repeat, the 
President has been shot. We do not yet know how seriously 
he is wounded, but we are standing by at the Parkland Me- 
morial Hospital, here in Dallas.” 

The date was Friday, November 22, 1963. Eleven hundred 
miles southwest as the crow flies, a zing of shots had punctu- 
ated the autumn air and an assassin’s bullet found its mark 
with deadly precision. Kay Halle had reason to be even more 
horrified at the chilling news than most of the rest of Amer- 
ica. A few weeks before the tragic event in Dallas, Kay, who is 


the daughter of Cleveland philanthropist Samuel Halle, had 
answered her doorbell and admitted Mrs. Dixon, who was 
in an agitated state. 

“Please forgive me for running in this way,” Jeane apolo- 
gized, “but I know how close you are to the Kennedys. The 
President has just made a decision to go someplace in the 
South that will be fatal for him. You must get word to him 
not to make that trip.” 

As Kay tried to collect her thoughts, Jeane continued, “For 
a long time I’ve been seeing a black cloud hovering over the 
White House. It kept getting bigger and bigger, and now it’s 
beginning to move downward. That means that the time is 
near. He will be killed while away from the White House.” 

Kay, who had only a casual acquaintanceship with Mrs. 
Dixon, tried to be polite, but stalled by saying, “If these 
things are predestined, there isn’t much that we can do about 
them, is there?” 

Jeane was not to be put off so easily. Curving her thumb 
and forefinger almost together, she said earnestly, “There is 
sometimes one tiny little moment in time when you can tip 
the scales and turn the event aside. You must warn him.” 

Kay Halle knew President Kennedy well. She had served 
on his Inaugural Committee and had conceived the idea of 
inviting the two hundred eminent award winners in the 
fields of art, science, and the humanities as special guests to 
his inauguration. It was she who subsequently persuaded him 
to recommend honorary American citizenship for Sir Win- 
ston Churchill and helped to prod the bill through Congress. 
She had visited Sir Winston many times at his country seat, 
Chartwell, and heard him intone, “I am an English-Speaking 

Now she regarded her caller with embarrassment. She had 
heard that Jeane was psychic, but she knew how foreign such 
interests were to the ebullient Kennedy clan. She also sur- 
mised that Jeane was not infallible. With a nervous laugh she 

5 □□□ 

asked, “How can I carry such a message to the President? 
Until now the people at the White House have considered 
me a reasonably sensible person. What would they think if 
I brought such a mystical warning as this?” 

Jeane understood her reluctance. She had encountered 
such resistance before, but nevertheless she pleaded with Kay 
to convey the message. Kay finally agreed to do what she 
could, and Jeane, thinking that she had won her consent, 
departed in happier mood. 

“I did turn it over in my mind, over and over and over,” 
Kay ruefully told me afterward, “but I simply could not 
bring myself to deliver such a dreadful, nebulous warning. 
Frankly, I couldn’t even convince myself that it was true, and 
knowing how brave and determined President Kennedy was, 
I realized that he would have been the last to give heed to 
such a warning. I subsequently discussed Jeane’s warning 
with Alice Longworth, and we looked somewhat nervously at 
each other, but what could we do? We Americans simply 
haven’t the capacity to embrace something like this. I knew 
that the Kennedys would consider it some kind of mumbo- 
jumbo. The President would have laughed at the mere sug- 
gestion of it.” 

Alice Longworth, musing about it later, said frankly, “I 
don’t really believe in these things, but naturally I listen 
when people tell me about them. Everyone has a certain 
curiosity, I suppose.” 

Shortly after the President’s assassination Kay Halle related 
the strange sequence of events to Ambassador G. Frederick 
Reinhardt during a dinner party at Mrs. Longworth’s home. 
When she had finished, our envoy to Italy exclaimed in a 
shocked tone, “This is an incredible story!” 

Actually the incredible story had its beginning eleven years 
earlier, in 1952. A misty rain was falling as Jeane entered St. 
Matthew’s Cathedral for her morning meditation. For several 


days she had experienced an odd sensation of withdrawal— a 
condition that she had come to recognize as the forerunner of 
an important vision. 

She remembers that she had deposited some coins for can- 
dles, and was preparing to kneel in prayer before a statue of 
the Virgin Mary, when the White House suddenly appeared 
in radiant brilliance before her. Almost immediately the 
numerals “i960” formed above it, and as she watched, a dark 
cloud spread from the numbers and “dripped down like 
chocolate frosting on a cake” over the White House and a 
man standing in front of it. The man, she recalls, was young, 
tall, and blue-eyed, with a shock of thick brown hair. An 
inner voice told her that he was a Democrat, and that the 
President elected in i960 would meet with violent death 
while in office. As suddenly as the vision came it vanished, 
but the sense of worldly detachment remained with Jeane for 
three more days. 

Four years later, while two reporters from Parade magazine 
were interviewing her about predictions, she abruptly 
skipped over the intervening years and declared, “A blue- 
eyed Democratic President elected in i960 will be assassi- 

Startled by the bluntness of her words, the reporters sug- 
gested that they simply say he would “die in office.” 

“Say it as you like, but he will be assassinated,” she replied. 
Her prediction appeared in the Parade issue of March 11, 
1956, and Jeane's friends remembered it when John F. Ken- 
nedy won the upset victory of i960. Her description of the 
man in the vision bore a disquieting resemblance to the Pres- 
ident-elect. Moreover, Jeane continued to “see” the black 
cloud hovering above the White House. 

In the summer of 1963, when little Patrick Kennedy lost 
his brief struggle for life, Jeane Dixon’s telephone began to 
ring frequently. Lorene Mason, a Washington secretary, and 
other friends wanted to know whether the death of the Presi- 

7 □□□ 

dent’s three-day-old son could explain the dark cloud that she 
had for so long seen over the White House. Jeane had to 
reply in the negative. 

“It cannot be,” she explained, “because I still see a large 
coffin being carried into the White House. This means that 
the President will meet death elsewhere and his body will be 
returned there for national mourning.” 

Time passed, and Jeane busied herself with her real estate 
activities. She was also a volunteer worker for the Damon 
Runyon Cancer Fund, and in this capacity had presented 
checks for tens of thousands of dollars to U. S. and foreign 
ambassadors for cancer research abroad. One evening in late 
October 1963 she dined with Dr. F. Regis Riesenman, an 
eminent psychiatrist and researcher in parapsychology, at 
Duke Zeibert’s restaurant, and he recalls, “Mrs. Dixon told 
me that she had had a vision in which she saw Lyndon B. 
Johnson’s name being removed from the vice-presidential 
door. She said she had glimpsed the name of the man who 
would cause this to happen, and that although it had faded 
rapidly she noticed that it was a two-syllable word containing 
five or six letters. She was quite positive that the second letter 
was an s” 

The day before Jeane dined with Dr. Riesenman she had 
telephoned me and breathlessly declared, “I have some in- 
formation which won’t wait for your New Year’s column on 
my predictions. It’s terribly important! May I come right 
over?” She arrived by taxi a few minutes later and, as she 
rushed into the house, said, “I’ve had a vision. As plainly as 
you see me now, I saw someone removing Lyndon Johnson’s 
name from the door of the vice-presidential office. Is there a 
plaque by his door that says ‘Vice-President’? There must be, 
because I saw the sign being removed, but not by him. Then 
I saw an unknown man, and his name flashed past my eyes. It 
was a two-syllable name with five or six letters. The second 
letter was definitely an 5, and the first looked like an o or a 


q , but I couldn't be sure. The last letter ended with a little 
curve that went straight up.” 

Since the name of Billie Sol Estes, the Texas grain specu- 
lator, was then in the headlines, and some anti-Administra- 
tion writers were trying to link him with his fellow Texan, 
Lyndon Johnson, I asked if she thought the name could be 
Estes. That name has two syllables, and the second letter was 
an 5. 

Jeane replied at once, “No, it couldn’t be Estes, because 
the first letter of the name was definitely closed, like an o or a 
q . Besides, I get that the removal of Mr. Johnson’s name from 
the door will not be of his own doing. It will be a circum- 
stance beyond his control. I also see Lady Bird Johnson hav- 
ing some kind of trouble with her business affairs, although it 
will not be her fault. She, too, will be a victim of circum- 

I asked if she had “seen” this curious event in her crystal 
ball, and she said, “No, this was a vision that appeared to me 
early this morning, just after I had risen from saying my 
prayers. As I always do on rising, I was standing at my win- 
dow, facing the east and silently repeating the Twenty-third 
Psalm. I was not even thinking of government. Just as I said 
the words, 'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the 
shadow of death I shall fear no evil, for Thou art with me,’ 
two black hands reached up and removed the plaque from 
the Vice-President’s door. They were the hands of death. As 
the plaque disappeared, I saw the five- or six-letter name flash 
before me and knew that this man was causing it.” 

What Jeane so vividly described made little sense to me, 
but because she was so obviously stirred I tried to get more 
information from her. Reconstructing the vision, she said 
that she saw Lady Bird Johnson’s name in the headlines, and 
that some transaction having to do with her business affairs 
would receive a great deal of unfavorable publicity, casting a 

9 □□□ 

shadow on Mr. Johnson’s personal reputation, although not 
on his wife’s. 

“ I simply wanted to alert you to what is going to happen,” 
Jeane said, “because it will be very soon. It won’t keep until 
you are ready to write the annual New Year’s column about 
my predictions.” 

On Sunday, November 17, 1963, she had an engagement to 
dine with Mr. John Teeter, executive director of the Damon 
Runyon Memorial Fund, the Vicomtesse Fournier de la 
Batre of Paris, and Miss Eleanor Bumgardner at a favorite 
restaurant on the outskirts of Washington. 

“Jeane picked me up in her car,” Miss Bumgardner recalls, 
“and I sensed immediately that something was wrong. She 
seemed way out, as if her mind were elsewhere. She’s usually 
an excellent driver, but that day she was creeping along at 
such a snail’s pace that I finally asked her what was the mat- 

She remembers that Jeane replied, “I just can’t get my 
mind off the White House. Everywhere I go I see the White 
House with a dark cloud moving down on it. Something 
tragic is going to happen very, very soon.” 

Miss Bumgardner noticed that Jeane barely touched her 
food. When Mr. Teeter commented on the fact, Jeane gave 
up all pretense of eating. “I have never had anything over- 
power me like this vision,” she said. “It’s every place I look. 
Something dreadful is going to happen to our President— and 

Eleanor Bumgardner is called “Lady” by her multitude of 
friends. The nickname was originally bestowed by her former 
employer, the late Supreme Court Justice Frank Murphy. 
More recently she had been working as a personal secretary 
to Mrs. Sargent Shriver, the President’s sister Eunice. Three 
years earlier Jeane had told Lady Bumgardner, “It’s very bad 
for Jack Kennedy to be running for President this year. If 
only he would wait eight years, for his own good alone! It will 



be disastrous for him at this time.” Lady could not put that 
remark from her mind, or stop thinking of Jeane’s odd be- 
havior at the Sunday luncheon with Mr. Teeter and the 
vicomtesse, so on Monday she stopped in at the Dixon real 
estate office. 

Jeane, seated at her desk, barely greeted Lady before ex- 
claiming, “Dear God! In a very few days the President will be 
killed. I see his casket coming into the White House. I hope 
that Kay Halle reaches him in time to tell him not to make 
that Texas trip.” 

Miss Bumgardner recalls her own relief on hearing that 
Jeane had arranged for another person to warn the President 
directly, for she had felt as reluctant as Kay Halle to carry 
such a macabre message to a member of the Kennedy fam- 

On Wednesday, November 20, Jeane attended a business 
luncheon with Mrs. Cope and Charles Benter, the organizer 
and long-time leader of the U. S. Navy Band, who had partic- 
ipated in fourteen inaugural parades along Pennsylvania 
Avenue. Now retired from active service, Mr. Benter was 
working at the James L. Dixon Company, and Mrs. Cope was 
listing some of her properties with the realty agency. Jeane, 
ordinarily a keen participant in such real estate transactions, 
seemed not to be listening that day, and after Mr. Benter 
twice repeated something to her, she murmured, "I’m sorry, 
but I just can’t hear what you say, because the President is 
going to be shot.” 

Mrs. Cope, thinking that she had misunderstood, asked, 
“Who did you say was going to be shot?” 

“Our President. President Kennedy,” Jeane lamented. 

“Oh, don’t say such a thing,” admonished the admiral’s 

Thursday Jeane literally paced the floor of her office. 
When David Greene, one of the salesmen, remarked that she 
seemed upset, she told him, “The President is going to be 


Alarmed because he had witnessed other manifestations of 
Jeane's prophetic talents, he cried, “Can't we do something 
about it?” 

Jeane replied that she had asked Kay Halle to get word to 
President Kennedy to cancel his trip, but that he had gone to 
Texas anyway, “And now I see death rocking in his rocking 
chair. If only he could keep himself invulnerable to bullets 
for the next few days!” 

The following morning Jeane went to Mass, as she does 
every morning of her life, and afterward met Mr. Benter for 
breakfast in a coffee shop near the office. As she slid into the 
booth beside the fatherly old veteran, she clasped his hand 
and sighed, “This is the day it will happen!” They looked 
helplessly into each other's eyes. 

John Fitzgerald Kennedy, the vibrant young President, 
had but four more hours to live. 

The death of John F. Kennedy was shattering to me, for he 
had been my long-time personal friend as well as my Presi- 
dent. The full portent of Jeane's mysterious prophecy did 
not strike me, therefore, until I learned that Lee Oswald had 
been apprehended for the murder. Oswald! The name that 
Jeane had fleetingly glimpsed in her vision, as the black 
hands of death removed the vice-presidential plaque from the 
door! Oswald began with an o } and the next letter was s. It 
was a two-syllable name with six letters, and the last letter 
had a curve that “went straight up.” Her eerie forecast con- 
cerning the President had come true in minutest detail. 

But that was not all. A few weeks after Lyndon Baines 
Johnson took the presidential oath of office, a Senate commit- 
tee launched an investigation into the influence peddling of 
Senate majority secretary Robert Baker, Mr. Johnson’s for- 
mer prot£g£. Insurance broker Don Reynolds swore that in 
order to sell a large life insurance policy to majority leader 
Johnson after his heart attack he had been pressured into 
buying useless advertising time on KTBC, the Austin televi- 
sion station owned largely by Lady Bird Johnson. 



Jeane had foreseen that a transaction having to do with 
Mrs. Johnson's business affairs would receive unfavorable 
publicity, although she would not be personally to blame. No 
witness or senator insinuated that Mrs. Johnson had herself 
been a party to the pressure, but the President's own possible 
connection with it became a major issue in the 1964 cam- 

Jeane Dixon had scored correctly on every count. 

Within three months of the assassination of President 
Kennedy Jeane's psychic attunement to unknown forces 
brought further disquieting news. To Kay Halle, Eleanor 
Bumgardner, and me she said, “The tragedies in the Ken- 
nedy family are not yet ended. I see another one soon, for 
another male member of the family." 

On the morning of Friday, June 19, 1964, Mrs. Walter 
Stork telephoned Mrs. Dixon to talk of family problems. Mr. 
Stork, a distinguished government official who has served 
under every President since Calvin Coolidge and been deco- 
rated by Presidents Eisenhower and Kennedy, lay ill of Par- 
kinson's disease. Doctors agreed that his condition was incur- 
able, and although Mrs. Stork had hopefully arranged to have 
him transferred to a different hospital, she was trying to pre- 
pare herself to “accept God's will." 

Her voice breaking, Mary Alice Stork told Jeane, “If any- 
thing happens to my beloved Walter, I'm going to ask that he 
be buried as close to President Kennedy in Arlington as pos- 
sible, because he loved him so much." 

Jeane said with a sigh, “Mary Alice, the tragedies in the 
Kennedy family are not ended. I see another one almost im- 

“You mean the President’s father?" Mrs Stork asked, think- 
ing of the incapacitating stroke that the patriarch of the clan 
had suffered nearly three years before. 

“No, no,” Jeane replied. “This is the young senator. Mary 

*3 □□□ 

Alice, if you love the Kennedys so much, please warn them 
that Teddy simply must stay out of private planes for the 
next two weeks. Otherwise, something very, very serious will 

The next morning Mrs. Stork picked up the newspaper at 
her door and read the glaring headline. Senator Edward 
Kennedy had been gravely injured in the crash of a chartered 
plane which took the lives of his closest assistant and the 
pilot. Senator and Mrs. Birch Bayh had been less seriously 
injured than Ted Kennedy, whose back was broken. Mrs. 
Stork rushed to the phone and frantically dialed Jeane’s tele- 
phone number. “Jeane, it has happened! Your premonition 
was right, as usual.” 

Jeane, who had not yet heard the news of the plane crash, 
listened quietly while Mrs. Stork read her the details. When 
she had finished, Jeane said only, “It was not a premonition. 
God showed it to me.” 


Through a curious chain of circumstances, it was a gypsy 
who awakened Jeane to the strange potential within herself. 
Borne Jeane Pinckert in a Wisconsin lumbering village 
shortly before the armistice that ended World War I, she 
moved as a child to California with her parents, Emma Von 
Graffee and Frank Pinckert. 

Herr Pinckert, who brought his bride to America on a 
honeymoon, liked the New World so much that he had sold 
out his interests in Germany to return here. At the age of 
forty-five, having amassed a comfortable fortune, he retired 
and moved his family to Santa Rosa, California. He had long 
taken a lively interest in American Indians, and after develop- 
ing a warm friendship with Luther Burbank, the world- 
renowned horticulturist, he also became fascinated by no- 
madic gypsies who roamed the countryside. One day, learning 
that a gypsy woman was encamped on Burbank's estate, he 
suggested that his wife take Jeane to see her. The encounter 
revolutionized the child’s life. Recalling that meeting, Jeane 
still bubbles with excitement. 

“The gypsy lady had a covered wagon with a stovepipe 

15 □□□ 

jutting out of the canvas roof,” she says. “Chickens poked 
their heads out of the wagon door, and a horse that was tied 
to a tree kicked and bounced wildly while we were there. 
The gypsy lived mostly out of doors, but she kept the ground 
spotlessly clean by sweeping it with a broom, and I remember 
that she pared her fingernails with a pocket knife.” 

The gypsy was telling a woman’s fortune with cards as Mrs. 
Pinckert and her eight-year-old daughter arrived at the camp- 
site. When Jeane’s turn came she took the child’s hands, 
turned them over, and gasped. “This little girl is going to 
be very famous. She will be able to foresee world-wide 
changes, because she is blessed with the gift for prophecy. 
Never have I seen such palm lines!” 

The youngster had been taught by Indians who worked for 
her father to ride ponies bareback but had not yet gone to 
school. Tutored at home by her parents and a European 
governess, she spoke German better than English. Neverthe- 
less she understood that the gypsy was warning her mother to 
“protect her from people” because of her unusual sensitiv- 

“Look at her left hand,” the gypsy marveled. “Here is a 
star of David, and with this double head line leading from it, 
she would need no other symbol in order to have the gift 
of prophecy. But look also at this! She has another star on the 
Mount of Jupiter [the mystic name for the hump at the base 
of the index finger], and in her right palm is this tremendous 
star that reaches out in all directions. I’ve never seen such a 
head line. It completely crosses the palm and wraps around 
the hand, with a half-moon on its outer cuff.” 

Noticing for the first time these unusual markings on her 
daughter’s hands— markings which a Hindu mystic later told 
Jeane occur perhaps once in a thousand years— Mrs. Pinckert 
asked the significance of them. 

“They mean,” said the gypsy solemnly, “that this child 
will grow mightily in wisdom. The lines in the left hand are 


the blueprint of one’s dreams and potential. Those in the 
right hand signify what you do with what God has given you. 
She is already developing fast.” 

The gypsy disappeared into her covered wagon and re- 
turned with a crystal ball. Handing it to Jeane, she said: “It’s 
for you to keep. You will be able to meditate on this and see 
wonderful things in it, for the markings on your hands are 
those of a mystic.” Jeane eagerly peered into the shining 
new “toy” and pictures began to form within it. Although 
television was unknown in those days, it was as if she were 
watching a TV screen. 

“I saw great waves of blue water,” she says, “and somehow 
realized that I was seeing the bay in a far-off land from which 
the gypsy originally came. I described what I saw, and she 
said it was just as she remembered it. Cupping my hands 
around the ball, I saw her reaching over a strange kind of 
cooking pot. I sensed danger and cried out that she must be 
careful not to scald herself. The next time that we returned 
for a visit her hands were bandaged. She said they were 
deeply burned from scalding water which she had upset while 

And what was the reaction of Jeane’s gently reared, Ger- 
man-born mother, on being told of her daughter’s strange 
talent? Jeane shrugs. “Mother didn’t seem to consider it un- 
usual. She simply said that if God had given me that gift she 
wanted me to use it only for good on this earth.” 

The Pinckert offspring, reared in the cultured European 
tradition by wealthy parents, had a German nursemaid called 
“Mother Koosey,” who ruled the children with a firm hand. 
But Jeane’s life was most deeply influenced by her soft- 
spoken, aristocratic mother and her dominating father, who 
impressed upon the youngsters the need for having a purpose 
in life. 

“Mother always said that we did not belong to her but to 
God,” Jeane muses. “She felt that we were only entrusted 

n □□□ 

to her care. Although she and Father were devout Catholics, 
Mother often remarked that no soul should be tied to one 
church because, no matter where we worshiped, the same 
Almighty Power guided each of us. She felt that it was her 
responsibility to see that we developed whatever talents were 
given to us at the time of our conception/* 

It was in that spirit that Mrs. Pinckert encouraged Jeane’s 
“sixth sense/’ She had already realized that Jeane was differ- 
ent from her six other children. When barely able to talk, the 
child had toddled to the door one day and asked permission 
to play with “the letter trimmed in black.” Puzzled, Mrs. 
Pinckert replied that there was no such letter, but ten days 
later a black-bordered letter arrived by boat from Germany, 
bringing the sad news that her father, Garhardt Von Graffee, 
was dead. A year later, while Mr. Pinckert was on a business 
trip to Chicago, Jeane told her mother, “Father will bring 
back a great big black and white dog.” When he returned 
with a rare black and white collie, Mrs. Pinckert asked the 
little girl how she had guessed it, and Jeane replied that she 
had “seen” her father buying it. 

One day her older brother Erny tossed Jeane into a hay- 
mow, and suddenly she exclaimed: “Oh, Erny, you’re going 
to be a great athlete. I glimpsed you playing with a ball, and 
throngs of people were cheering.” When their parents tried 
to discourage Erny from playing football, Jeane pleaded: 
“Please, please, let him play, because he’s going to be very 
famous in sports and make you proud of him.” Within the 
decade Erny Pinckert’s name was to be inscribed as an All 
American in football’s Hall of Fame. 

For a time Jeane was inclined to use the crystal ball as a 
plaything. She naturally assumed that everyone could see pic- 
tures in it and that it was merely something to enjoy, like a 
kaleidoscope. It was Mrs. Pinckert who took care of it and 
sought to encourage Jeane’s strange talent. Friends soon dis- 
covered the child’s knack for predicting events, and after the 


Pinckerts moved to Los Angeles even strangers began knock- 
ing on the door. Jeane was only nine years old when a woman 
introduced herself as Marie Dressier and said she was think- 
ing of opening a boardinghouse because she was having no 
success as an actress. She asked Jeane to read for her, and as 
the little girl looked in her crystal ball it “lighted up like a 
Fourth of July sparkler/' Describing what she saw, Jeane 
says: “Shooting off from this sparkler were hundred- and 
thousand-dollar bills, which I interpreted to mean that one 
day she would become a great star and earn a lot of money. I 
told her that she must give up the idea of a boardinghouse 
and devote all of her energies to acting." 

“But I will starve to death if I do,” Miss Dressier objected. 
Jeane, whose parents had forsaken the Old World for the 
New, indignantly retorted: “Oh no! People in America don't 
starve. You must go on with your acting career.” 

After Marie Dressler's name began to flash on movie 
marquees across the nation, she often told people that if it 
had not been for little Jeane Pinckert she would have aban- 
doned the theater. Jeane herself shrugs off the compliment, 
saying: “She would have been famous anyway, because that 
was her destiny. I could see it plainly. The crystal ball merely 
helped to guide her over the rough spots.” 

Years later Jeane had another dramatic encounter with an 
actress. During World War II she was having her hair set 
at Westmore's Beauty Salon in Los Angeles when Carole 
Lombard strolled in. Jeane of course recognized the glam- 
orous movie star whose husband was Clark Gable. An 
operator introduced them and Jeane delightedly reached out 
to shake hands. As she did so she felt a warning vibration. 
Forgetting herself, she exclaimed: “Oh, Miss Lombard, you 
must not go anywhere by plane for the next six weeks.” 

The blonde actress smilingly replied that she was leaving 
almost immediately on tour, to promote the sale of war 
bonds. Jeane, who was also helping with the bond drive, real- 

i9 □ □ □ 

ized the importance of Carole’s mission but cautioned that 
she must travel only by automobile or train during the 
“danger” period. 

The hair stylist who introduced them later told Jeane that 
after she left the salon Miss Lombard tossed a coin to see 
whether she should follow the unsought advice. She called 
heads, and the quarter landed tail up. The screen star flew to 
the Midwest a few days later and died in a plane crash. 

Seeking to explain how she had sensed the impending 
tragedy, Jeane muses: “As I touched her hand I saw the death 
symbol over her. It was high above the ground. I saw life on 
the ground around her, and thus knew that if she would keep 
her feet on the ground she could elude danger. It was a sort 
of inner voice that said, ‘Six weeks.’ This voice comes to me 
frequently, and I always listen to it.” 

Jeane cannot remember when James L. Dixon first entered 
her life, nor can he recall their first meeting. Smiling remi- 
niscently, she says: “It just seems that I have always known 
him. Although my parents were Catholics and Jimmy’s father 
was a Methodist minister, our two families were good friends. 
He is much older than I, but I had secretly been in love with 
him since childhood. He married when I was only twelve 
years old, and it nearly broke my heart. No one knew this, 
least of all Jimmy. If they had, they would have regarded it 
merely as a schoolgirl crush.” 

To Jeane it was much more. Because she loved him so 
deeply she could not bring herself to see him after his mar- 
riage. Once she darted out of the Pig and Whistle, leaving 
her half-finished hot fudge sundae and a dollar bill, because 
she saw him entering the soda shop by another door. If she 
glimpsed him coming down the street she would hastily cross 
to the other side to avoid an encounter. Once a friend, sus- 
pecting her affection, loudly announced to the wealthy group 
summering at Newport Beach, California, that Jimmy Dixon 



had been killed. Her heart in her throat, Jeane went to a pay 
booth at a nearby drugstore and called the Dixon Chevrolet 
agency in Los Angeles. Jimmy himself answered the tele- 
phone. His deep, rich baritone voice was unmistakable, and 
she silently replaced the receiver. The man she loved was still 

On Jeane’s sixteenth birthday Mr. Pinckert bought her an 
automobile, as was his custom with each of his children. As 
she slipped behind the wheel a vision flashed before her eyes, 
and she confided: “Father, when little Evelyn is sixteen she’ll 
ask for an airplane instead of an automobile, and you’ll get it 
for her. I can see her shooting out into the air in some strange 
way, too, without the airplane.” 

Herr Pinckert chuckled at this fantasy. Neither Jeane nor 
any of his other children had evinced any interest in planes. 
Nevertheless, on Evelyn Pinckert’s sixteenth birthday she 
requested and received an airplane of her own. She became 
one of America’s best-known aviatresses; made parachute 
jumps in the manner that her older sister had foreseen; and 
became the only woman ever engaged by U.S. military forces 
to teach aerobatics to army fliers. 


Jeane Dixon fascinates investigators of psychic phenomena 
because her precognition reveals itself through so many 
different channels. Sometimes she merely “tips the fingers'' of 
a person and seems instantly to know what the future holds 
for him. She can often pinpoint events in the past and future 
for people she has never seen, merely by learning the date of 
their birth. Her most frequent revelations come through 
perusal of the crystal ball, but the forecasts to which she her- 
self attaches the greatest significance have come through un- 
sought visions. 

Because I am without psychic ability and these phenomena 
are simply fascinating mysteries to me, I asked Jeane to dis- 
cuss the different approaches and explain how she learned to 
interpret the symbols she so dramatically describes. This is 
her reply: 

“As a small child, seeing visions which were not apparent 
to others, I described them to Mother Koosey, our German 
nursemaid. She would do her best to explain their meaning. 
A Catholic priest added another dimension, saying that 
whenever I saw purple and gold in visions I was tapping a 



highly spiritual realm. Visions are as different from the pic- 
tures in my crystal ball as day and night. When a vision 
begins to form everything changes, including the air around 
me. I seem no longer to be in the same atmosphere. I feel a 
peacefulness and a love that are indescribable. I stand alone, 
and nothing worldly can touch me. I feel that I am looking 
down from a higher plane and wondering why others cannot 
see what I am seeing. 

"Unlike the pictures in the crystal ball, a vision is com- 
plete. The timing is right, for I have usually been prepared 
for it three days in advance. Occasionally I misinterpret the 
symbols in my crystal ball, but I never misinterpret a vision. 
Studying the crystal ball in order to find the answers that I 
seek for others draws a great deal of strength from me. After- 
ward I often feel debilitated. It is never like this with a 
vision. A vision fills you! I can only describe it by saying, 'My 
cup runneth over/ During this experience I’m so filled with 
the glory of God that I want to give everything to everyone. I 
feel that I will never be tired again, because I’m so full of 
strength. At such a time I feel that there is nothing in this 
world that I will ever want for myself. 

"Once you have had a vision like that nothing in this 
world can awe you. You feel that at last you understand the 
word 'love/ You know what it is truly to worship God. You 
yearn to develop the talent that He has assigned you; to do 
His work on this earth. This doesn’t mean that you are neces- 
sarily to go out and preach, but rather that you are to de- 
velop the special talents that He gave you. When you do that 
simple thing, you are thereafter filled with love. You do it 
automatically, and you want everyone else to experience this 
love you have felt. 

"Suddenly you know the meaning of the words, 'Love thy 
neighbor’ and 'Do unto others as you would have them do 
unto you.’ But this does not mean that you can dump your 
problems on the Lord, without effort on your own part. I get 

*3 □ □ □ 

very annoyed with men of the cloth who tell their flock to 
give their problems to the Lord. God gave us our own work 
to do. A janitor at our realty agency constantly neglected his 
work, and when we spoke to him about it, his reply invari- 
ably was that he would give the problem to the Lord. I fi- 
nally told him that in that case I would give the Lord his pay 
check. We are put here to prove our own worth.” 

Describing how the crystal ball works for her, Jeane said: 
“In meditating on the crystal ball, I must try to pull out of it 
the life of another person. This takes a great deal of strength 
from me, because I must find that individual's color channel 
and often take on his ailments before I know that I am on the 
right course. It is the same with tipping the fingers. That 
person's sorrows or physical disabilities frequently become 
my own, and I am therefore depleted.” 

To illustrate, Jeane used several cases with which she knew 
I was familiar. The first incident occurred in my library, 
when I had invited her to tea to meet a beautiful young 
woman with whom I had become casually acquainted on a 
trip abroad. 

When Mona learned that I was from Washington, she 
asked if I knew the Jeane Dixon of whom she had heard so 
much. I told her I was writing a book about Jeane, and she 
begged me to introduce her the next time she visited Wash- 

I knew nothing about Mona except that she was beautiful, 
gay, and intelligent. Jeane had never heard of her, but after 
shaking Mona’s hand she abruptly sank onto my Venetian 
couch and said, “My dear, you have a heart condition that 
could cause you some trouble if you are not careful. You 
must take care not to overstrain or overdo.” Mona said noth- 
ing, and I thought Jeane had made a serious error. Obviously 
this vibrant young woman had nothing wrong with her. The 
ensuing pause was embarrassing for me, but evidently not for 
Jeane, who in a moment continued: “You tire easily. Some- 

times you feel that you simply don’t have the strength to go 



While I was wondering how Jeane could say this about 
such an animated person, Mona said, “Mrs. Dixon, you are 
incredibly right. The doctors have told me that I have a heart 
condition, and sometimes I think that I don’t have the 
strength even to draw the next breath.’’ 

Astonished, I protested: “But, Mona, you are always the 
gayest person in a group. You’re bouncing with energy.’’ 

She shook her head. “It’s an act. As I was riding over here 
today in a car, I wondered whether I could make it without 
lying down in the seat. I never know where the next breath 
of energy is coming from.” 

Concerned at this revelation, I jumped up and said: 
“Here, I’ll get you a pep pill immediately—” 

Jeane almost shouted: “She must never have a pep pill, 
never! If Mona took even one it might be the end for her. 
She must take liquid cod-liver oil every day and conserve her 
energy, but she must never, never take pep pills. For her, 
they could be fatal.” 

Later Jeane said to me: “Remember Mona? The moment I 
shook hands with her, my own heart began skipping beats. I 
felt that the blood was leaving my body, and I was so limp 
that I had to sit down quickly, in the first available spot, 
which was on the sofa beside her. I was utterly drained be- 
cause I had taken on her vibrations. I had no energy and my 
heart was behaving strangely, so it was simple for me to diag- 
nose her trouble.” 

A few weeks after the episode with Mona, another friend 
named Marta spent the evening with me. She seemed in a 
rather desperate state. After a brief period of marriage she 
had left her husband for logical reasons. He was under the 
care of a psychiatrist, and she was leading a successful and 
happy life in another city. Now she was on the brink of re- 
turning to her husband, although she kept saying that she did 
not want to. 

*5 □ □ □ 

“Why do I consider going back to him?” she asked me 
repeatedly. “I know that it will be the same thing all over 
again, yet he keeps begging me to come, and I feel that if I 
don't I will always hate myself for being a coward. But it 
won't work. I know it won't." 

We discussed her problem endlessly. At last, knowing that 
I was unqualified to advise her, I telephoned Jeane to ask if 
she would meditate on Marta. I told her only Marta’s birth- 
day and the fact that she was wondering whether to return to 
the husband whom she had left. Although tired, Jeane agreed 
to do so provided Marta would meditate simultaneously. My 
friend went into the bedroom and knelt beside the bed. In a 
half hour Jeane telephoned to say: 

“Ruth, I have picked up your friend's vibrations. She was 
suffering some pain in the intestinal region a few minutes 
ago, which I believe is a chronic condition caused from ner- 
vous strain. Your friend will go back to her husband no mat- 
ter what you or I say, because she is being drawn like a mag- 
net. It would be better for her if she could break it off now 
and forge a new life for herself, but she is unable to do so at 
this time. This magnet that is drawing her back is stronger 
than she is. She has unfinished business there, and until she 
has satisfied herself that she has done everything she can, no 
logic can stop her from completing that cycle of her life." 

I delivered Jeane’s message, and Marta confirmed that she 
had suffered pain in the intestinal region while she knelt 
beside the bed. This was not unusual, she added, because she 
had similar ones every morning. She also agreed that the pull 
she felt was like a magnet. Shortly afterward she returned to 
her husband and at last report was miserably unhappy. 

The other case that Jeane gave as an example of her use of 
the crystal ball was that of my husband's sister, Rhoda Mont- 
gomery, for whom I had requested a reading, though she was 
a thousand miles away. Jeane was given her birthday but 
seemed stymied in her attempts to find Rhoda in her crystal 
ball. At last she admitted defeat, saying: “In the place where 


she should be, I keep getting a woman who was married 
many years ago— her marriage was chaos— and yet I know that 
your sister-in-law is a maiden lady.” 

I told her, then, that Rhoda had been married many years 
before for a brief period but had resumed her maiden name 
following the divorce. After that, information about Rhoda’s 
past and future, including the fact that she had undergone a 
major operation, poured forth. 

The fact that Jeane seemingly must assume these physical 
sufferings of others in order to pick up their vibrations, is one 
reason why she must refuse the requests of thousands w T ho 
pleadingly write for appointments. It also explains why 
Jimmy Dixon, who is a highly successful businessman, insists 
that his w r ife work in his office. In that way he can keep an eye 
on her activities and provide her with a legitimate excuse 
when overzealous friends and strangers beg for readings. 
Jeane otherwise finds it almost impossible to say no. 

In giving readings Jeane sometimes offers a w T orn deck of 
cards, which she asks the subject to shuffle and cut. Then she 
holds them in her own two hands but does not look at the 
faces of the cards. The deck, in fact, is not even a complete 
one, so I asked her the significance of this. 

Her face relaxed in a soft smile. “The sweet old gypsy gave 
me those cards when I was eight years old, and because she 
blessed them they carry good vibrations. I don't know a sin- 
gle thing about telling fortunes with cards. I simply have a 
person hold them so that I can pick up his vibrations. It 
sometimes helps me to pull out his channels.” After a mo- 
ment she added: “I keep that worn-out old deck carefully 
wrapped in a handkerchief, because I just loved that gypsy!” 

My next question concerned her knowledge of astrology. 
Why did she ask the day of a person's birth but not the 
year? With a whimsical smile, she confessed: “I don’t do as- 
trology. I could if I wanted to, because I was taught it by a 
Jesuit priest while in my teens, but it takes too much time. 

27 □ □ □ 

People sometimes volunteer the hour and the year of their 
birth, but I don't ask for it. I merely want the month and 
day, because it makes it easier to find them in my crystal ball. 
You see, the ball represents the world or the year, depending 
on what I am seeking. 

"It takes much strength and time if I have to look all over 
the crystal ball for the person’s channel, but if I know that he 
was born in January or February, I look toward the front of 
the ball for him. If it was June or July, I will find him to- 
ward the middle; if November or December, toward the back 
of the ball. It’s as simple as that.” 

Simple for Jeane Dixon, perhaps! 

How does she do it? Jeane herself sees nothing eerie or 
uncanny about her talent. As matter-of-factly as if she were 
discussing a soprano’s ability to hit high C, she says: "There 
are many varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit. There are 
varieties of service, but the same Lord over all. There are 
many forms of work, but the same Almighty Power above us, 
no matter what our language or religion. In each of us the 
Spirit is manifested in a particular way, for a purpose which 
He has designed for us. One person has the gift of wise 
speech. Another, by the same Spirit, can put the deepest 
knowledge into writing. Another has faith, another the gift of 
healing, another the gift of prophecy. All of these gifts are the 
work of one and the same Spirit. They are predetermined by 
God at the moment of our conception and are ours to de- 
velop for the good of others.” 

Jeane eats almost no meat. Her diet is composed primarily 
of vegetables, fruits, and juices. She never drinks or smokes, 
and before going to Mass each morning she stands at her 
bedroom window, facing east, while repeating the Twenty- 
third Psalm. 

Such abstemious ways were common to many of the great 
seers and psychics of the ages, but this does not suggest that 
anyone can develop Jeane’s gift by duplicating her habits. As 


she herself stresses, each of us has special talents which are 
ours to utilize to the fullest extent possible. 

Few could hope, for instance, to duplicate the feat that she 
performed late in 1956. During the course of a newspaper 
interview a reporter asked for a forecast about Jawaharlal 
Nehru, who had then been Prime Minister of India since 
1947. Jeane consulted her crystal ball and replied that he 
would be succeeded within approximately seven years by a 
man whose name would begin with the letter s. On May 27, 
1964, death claimed the great Indian leader, and Parliament 
chose as his successor Lai Bahadur Shastri. Shastri’s name, as 
foreseen slightly more than seven years before, did indeed 
begin with an s. 








In the years immediately preceding our entry into World 
War II, James L. Dixon and his partner, Hal Roach, owned 
the largest Chevrolet distributorship in the world. Roach was 
a renowned Hollywood producer, and a picture of the child 
stars in his popular “Our Gang” comedies appeared on the 
reverse side of the firm's business cards. Through his auto- 
motive connections, Jimmy had developed warm friendships 
with such industrial greats as Alfred P. Sloan, Jr., and Wil- 
liam Knudsen. Another of his friends was Arthur Brisbane, 
and whenever the famous Hearst columnist came to Califor- 
nia he wired ahead to Jimmy, who would meet him for 
breakfast at the Biltmore Hotel. After Brisbane finished his 
daily column, he and Dixon would tour the countryside to- 
gether or call on publisher William Randolph Hearst at his 
fabulous estate, San Simeon. 

Jeane Pinckert was meanwhile living in an entirely differ- 
ent world. In addition to her strange mystical talent, she 
combined a lovely mezzo-soprano voice with acting ability. 
At the age of twenty-one she played the supporting role of 
Mary Magdalene in The Life of Christ at the Hollywood 


Bowl. On opening night her backstage dressing room was 
flooded with congratulatory telegrams and flowers, but she 
looked in vain for any word from Jimmy Dixon. She had not 
seen him in several years but she somehow thought that her 
well-publicized stage debut would come to his attention and 
he would remember her. 

Jeane’s next role at the Hollywood Bowl was as a lady-in- 
waiting in a production of Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night's 
Dream . The director was Max Reinhardt, a friend of her 
father’s. Jeane will never forget the costume she wore the day 
that publicity pictures were to be taken. Her gown was of 
gossamer yellow organza, tightly belted at the waist above a 
sunburst-pleated skirt, with which she wore black gloves, 
black high-heeled pumps, and a gold sunburst pin belonging 
to her mother. 

Because she was running behind schedule she did not take 
time to change her frock or remove her make-up before join- 
ing friends in their box at the Hollywood track. The first race 
was already in progress, and when their horse ran out of the 
money the friends asked Jeane to place their bets on the 
second race “for luck.” She had never before been to a bet- 
ting window, but she memorized their choices and was men- 
tally repeating them to herself as she pushed through the 
crowd. Suddenly she bumped headlong into Jimmy Dixon, 
who stared admiringly at the vision in yellow and exclaimed: 
“My, how the little girl has grown up!” 

Intent on her chore, she scarcely nodded at the man who 
had once caused her to dodge across streets. This time it was 
Jimmy whose heart palpitated, and to his companion, Bert 
Northrup, he murmured dazedly: “That is the future Mrs. 
Dixon.” Northrup could only stammer his surprise. 

The same evening he telephoned her at home and after 
mentioning that he was now divorced asked if she woidd have 
dinner with him and his mother the following night. Jeane 
had known and loved Jimmy’s mother since childhood and 

3 1 □ □ □ 

she hesitated only a moment before accepting the invitation. 
Before dinner was half finished Jimmy had made dates with 
Jeane for every evening that week and the next. 

It was a whirlwind courtship, carefully chaperoned by Mrs. 
Dixon. Within five weeks they were married, but not before 
Jeane had twice returned Jimmy’s five-carat diamond en- 
gagement ring and accepted it again at his mother’s urging. It 
was not easy for a devout Catholic like Jeane to marry a 
divorced man, even one whom she had adored for nearly as 
long as she could remember. “Mother loved Jeane like a 
daughter— no, much more than a daughter,” jimmy recalls. 
“When we finally were married, Mother said she had waited a 
long time for such a joyous occasion. She knew that Jeane 
was right for me.” 

The wedding took place in San Diego. Jeane’s girlhood 
chum, Mildred Kadlec, who was later to become her sister-in- 
law by marrying Erny Pinckert, handled the details, including 
purchase of a wedding ring. The marriage was sanctioned by 
an ecclesiastical dispensation from the Catholic Church, and 
a priest performed the ceremony. 

The adjustment to marriage with Jimmy was not an easy 
one. No longer did she have time for daily voice lessons, stage 
roles, polo matches, and horseback riding. Jimmy, a golfer 
and businessman, was a stern taskmaster who expected her to 
be at his beck and call. His mother was still the matriarch of 
the house into which Jeane moved, and she continued to sit 
at the head of the table, with Jimmy opposite her. Jeane, 
finding her own place at one side, frankly liked the idea of a 
mother-in-law who could take the place of Mother Koosey in 
her life. She herself was untrained to manage the household, 
and the two women became so devoted that when the elder 
Mrs. Dixon died she left her estate to Jeane rather than to 
her own children. 

The war in Europe had already begun when Jeane became 
a bride, and America was in a fever of preparedness. Jimmy, a 


specialist in automotive supplies, went to Detroit to work on 
defense projects, and while he and Jeane were living at Dear- 
born Inn she met an elderly blind man, a fellow tenant, to 
whom she began taking fresh-squeezed carrot juice and cod- 
liver oil “for his eyes.” 

Although she was a volunteer worker with Bundles for 
Britain, she also found time each morning to read the news- 
papers to the old gentleman, who was a friend of Henry 
Ford’s. Dearborn Inn was across the road from Greenfield 
Village, the miniature early American town which the auto- 
motive pioneer had reconstructed, and Jeane often strolled 
through its streets with Mr. Ford. On one such excursion, 
when Mr. Ford was worrying aloud about some family strife, 
Jeane told him that he would outlive his only son, Edsel. 
Naturally he did not believe her, but this was to be. Mr. Ford 
chuckled at her absurdity when she said her crystal ball had 
shown her that a several-year gap would occur in Ford’s 
assembly-line production of passenger cars, but within a year 
the tools of war occupied all motor assembly plants and 
private-car production ceased. 

The war was pressing closer to our shores, and Jimmy trav- 
eled frequently between Detroit, Chicago, and New York. 
One morning while Jeane was meditating with her crystal 
ball she “saw” a plane go into a flaming crash. When Jimmy 
came home that afternoon to pack for a flight to Chicago, 
Jeane told him of the vision and warned that he must take 
the train instead. Jimmy demurred, and for the first time in 
her life she stamped her foot in frustration. Recalling that 
long-ago incident, Mr. Dixon says ruefully: “Like most hus- 
bands, I take the advice of my wife even though I don’t like 
to have her think so. Sometimes I walk out of the house, still 
insisting on my own way, but when a man and wife are in 
love, he pays her heed. I did not fly that day.” The plane on 
which he had held a ticket crashed just outside Chicago, kill- 
ing all passengers on board. 

53 □□□ 

December 7, 1941, brought double tragedy to Jeane and 
Jimmy Dixon. Scarcely had they learned of the sneak attack 
on Pearl Harbor when the telephone brought word that 
Jimmy's beloved mother had died of a heart attack on hear- 
ing the news. A few weeks after their return from California, 
Jimmy, who had served overseas with the 13 th Aero Squad- 
ron in World War I and was now beyond military age, volun- 
teered as a dollar-a-year man. Promptly assigned by the War 
Department to handle real estate acquisitions for depots and 
warehouses, he flew on to Washington and Jeane followed. 

By the time Jeane arrived in the nation's capital it was 
bedlam. Long lines formed for restaurant service, and hous- 
ing was at such a premium that hotel rooms could be re- 
tained for only three nights in a row. The Dixons, who had 
left behind their landscaped home and swimming pool in Los 
Angeles, now shuttled back and forth from one hotel to an- 
other. They settled at last in an apartment, and Jeane 
plunged into war work. So acute was her sensitivity that she 
had to turn down an invitation to become a Gray Lady, be- 
cause she invariably took upon herself the sufferings of hos- 
pital patients and became physically ill, but she volunteered 
her services to the Home Hospitality Committee, which had 
been organized by local society women to provide recreation 
for servicemen and convalescents from army and navy hos- 

Mrs. Martin Vogel, the chairman of the committee, gave 
frequent parties in her spacious mansion for the uprooted 
soldiers and sailors. Most of the embassies also opened their 
doors for entertainment of the men in uniform, and wives of 
senators, congressmen, cabinet officers, ambassadors, and gov- 
ernment officials rotated as assistant hostesses. Jeane was a 
sensation from the start. Doing what she knew best, she began 
giving “readings" for servicemen, who eagerly queued up to 
hear what their future held. Mrs. Vogel, in recalling those 
anxious days, says of Jeane: 


‘‘She was always a great asset at the parties. The servicemen 
looked forward to being with her, and she especially inspired 
the amputees, many of whom had given up hope for a normal 
future. Jeane also spent much time at army and navy hospi- 
tals, going from ward to ward to cheer the convalescents. Our 
Home Hospitality parties included many celebrities. I re- 
member honoring General and Mrs. Jimmy Doolittle, Myrna 
Loy, Robert Montgomery, and organist Virgil Fox at one 
gathering, but whenever I asked the servicemen which celeb- 
rities they most wanted to meet, they almost invariably said, 
‘Jeane Dixon/ They felt that Jeane was helping them to 
know themselves.” 

Pretty, blonde Patricia Parker, a junior hostess at the 
parties, remembers that, when soldiers sometimes com- 
plained about being sent to fight on foreign soil, “Jeane 
encouraged them by saying that this was their God-given 
opportunity to show America what they could do for it. They 
invariably sat up a little straighter when she said that, and 
threw their shoulders back.” 

Jeane's ever recurring slogan in those days, according to 
Patricia and others who worked with her, was: “It's not what 
your country can do for you; it’s what you can do for your 
country.” Her slogan found its way into print in the Army 
Journal of 1946, and in only slightly revised form became the 
stirring rallying cry of John F. Kennedy's inaugural address 
in 1961. “Ask not what your country can do for you,” JFK 
phrased it, “but what you can do for your country.” 

Jeane particularly tried to help the amputees and the 
wounded realize that life was worth living. Of a paraplegic 
veteran Patricia Parker says, “He told me he would rather see 
Jeane Dixon than all the famous movie stars put together, 
because she gave so much of herself. Jeane literally helped 
these men come back to life by encouraging them and help- 
ing them to find their niche in life. By touching their finger- 
tips she was able to discover latent talents which they could 

35 □□□ 

develop and utilize. Twenty years later she was still receiving 
letters from many of them, thanking her for instilling them 
with courage when they needed it most/* 

Sometimes at Home Hospitality parties Jeane read for 
legislators, diplomats, and other dignitaries, who to show 
their appreciation would donate money to the committee, 
since Jeane never accepted anything for herself. Before Patri- 
cia married Grayson Headley in 1946, Jeane read for her 
fiance and foresaw that he would have an illness which would 
be extremely difficult to diagnose. She warned them both that 
when this time came he must immediately secure the best 
possible medical attention or it would be too late. 

Eighteen years later Mrs. Headley recalls Jeane’s prophecy 
as if it were yesterday, saying: “About five years before my 
husband’s death, he was told that he had lymphosarcoma, a 
deadly cancer of the glands that takes one’s life more quickly 
than leukemia. The doctors gave him no more than a year 
to live, but they were wrong. Four years later he began com- 
plaining of pain in his throat and visited several physicians. 
Each one sent him home with a prescription for antibiotics 
and the assurance that nothing was seriously wrong. When he 
finally had a biopsy it was too late. He had cancer of the 
larynx, and despite an operation he passed away six months 
later. An autopsy showed that he had never had lymphosar- 
coma, which had been a mistaken diagnosis. Jeane was right.” 

Jeane’s fame as a seeress was spreading throughout Wash- 
ington, and others were clamoring for her services. One eve- 
ning while reading for guests at a charity party at the Sul- 
grave Club, Jeane touched the fingertips of Vice-President 
Harry S. Truman and prophesied: “You will become Presi- 
dent through an act of God.” 

Another guest that evening was Eric Johnston, former 
president of the National Chamber of Commer^. who had 
once been talked about as a possible Republican presidential 
contender. Johnston asked Jeane whether he would receive 


an appointment from President Roosevelt, and after consult- 
ing her crystal ball she replied that though he would not get 
the governmental appointment he sought, he would accept 
another high post having to do with the motion picture in- 
dustry. Mr. Johnston laughed out loud, but a few months 
after FDR's death he was offered the presidency of the Mo- 
tion Picture Association of America, a position which he held 
for eighteen years until his death in 1963. 


Franklin Delano Roosevelt was not the first wartime Pres- 
ident to summon a psychic to the White House at a time of 
national peril. Eighty-two years before petite Jeane Dixon 
took her crystal ball to the presidential office, by invitation, 
Abraham Lincoln had heeded the urgings of his wife and 
sent for a gently reared young medium named Nettie Col- 
burn (later Maynard). 

Like Mrs. Dixon, Miss Colburn was an amateur who dis- 
covered her psychic abilities by chance and accepted no 
money for the talent which she felt that God had bestowed 
on her. However, Jeane is not a trance medium and is there- 
fore acutely aware of what is going on around her when she 
seemingly foresees future events by means of visions, crystal 
ball, or vibrations. 

Miss Colburn’s role as unofficial adviser to the presidential 
family began in December 1862, when Mary Todd Lincoln 
attended a seance at the Georgetown home of Cranston 
Laurie, a statistician with the Post Office Department. Also 
present that evening were the Hon. D. E. Somes, a former 
congressman from Maine; Thomas Gales Foster, an official at 


the War Department; the Rev. John Pierpont; a chief clerk 
in the Treasury Department; Mrs. Elvira M. Depuy of Wash- 
ington; the Lauries and their daughter, Mrs. Belle Miller. 
Mrs. Lincoln was so impressed by what she heard and saw 
that she invited Miss Colburn to hold a seance for the Presi- 
dent, and the first meeting with Abraham Lincoln occurred a 
few days later in the Red Room of the White House. An 
account of this and subsequent seances is to be found in 
several books on file at the Library of Congress, which are 
available for public perusal. Although I naturally cannot 
vouch for the facts about the Lincoln seances, which allegedly 
occurred while President Lincoln was heavily oppressed by 
Civil War decisions, the following material is quoted from 
the testimony of various witnesses as recorded in those 

Mr. Lincoln entered the Red Room after the others had 
assembled, and on being introduced said kindly: “So this is 
our little Nettie, is it, that we have heard so much about?” 

Miss Colburn then went into trance, and another voice 
reportedly talked through her for more than an hour, tracing 
the history of the nation and winding up with an impas- 
sioned plea for the issuance of the Emancipation Proclama- 
tion. A witness recorded: “The President was charged, with 
the utmost solemnity and force of manner, not to abate the 
terms of its issue, and not to delay its enforcement as a law 
beyond the opening of the year; and he was assured that it 
was to be the crowning event of his Administration and his 
life; and that while he was being counselled by strong parties 
to defer the enforcement of it, hoping to supplant it by other 
measures and to delay action, he must in no wise heed such 
counsel, but stand firm to his convictions and fearlessly per- 
form and work and fulfill the mission for which he had been 
raised up by an overruling Providence.” 

Those present spoke of “the majesty of the utterance, the 
strength and force of the language, and the importance; and 
seemed to realize that some strong masculine spirit-force was 

39 □ □ □ 

giving speech to almost Divine commands/’ While standing 
in front of the President, Miss Colburn regained conscious- 
ness and stepped back in confusion, not remembering where 
she was. The President, with folded arms, was regarding her 
intently. A gentleman present asked in a low tone: “Mr. 
President, did you notice anything peculiar in the method of 

Lincoln raised his body as if shaking off a spell, glanced 
significantly at a full-length portrait of Daniel Webster hang- 
ing above the piano, and replied: “Yes, and it is very singu- 
lar; very.” Somes asked whether any pressure had indeed 
been brought to bear on the President to defer enforcement 
of the Emancipation Proclamation, and Lincoln replied: 
“Under these circumstances that question is perfectly proper, 
as we are all friends. It is taking all my nerve and strength to 
withstand such pressure.” 

While the men continued talking, Lincoln laid his hand 
on Nettie’s saying: “My child, you possess a very singular 
gift; that it is of God, I have no doubt. I thank you for 
coming here tonight. It is more important than perhaps any- 
one present can understand.” On January 1, 1863, President 
Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation, 

In early February of that year Mrs. Lincoln sent word that 
she would like to bring some friends to the Lauries’ for an- 
other seance. The President had not expected to go along but 
at the last moment did so. Among others present were Colo- 
nel Simon P. Kase of Philadelphia, ex-Congressman Somes, 
and a major who accompanied the President. 

At the beginning of the trance, while Mrs. Belle Miller 
played the piano, a “spirit force” allegedly lifted it off the 
floor. Lincoln, Somes, Kase, and the major seated themselves 
simultaneously on the piano to try to hold it down, but it 
continued to “rise and fall in time to the music.” When one 
of the men remarked that no one would believe them about 
the piano, Lincoln wittily observed: “You should bring such 
a person here, and when the piano seems to rise, have him 


slip his foot under the leg and be convinced by the weight of 
evidence resting upon his understanding/' 

One of Nettie Colburn's “spirit controls," named Dr. Bam- 
ford, then took over and told Mr. Lincoln that a very pre- 
carious situation existed at the front where General Hooker 
had just taken command. The voice said the army was totally 
demoralized, regiments were stacking their arms, refusing to 
obey orders, and threatening a general retreat to Washing- 
ton. Everyone present seemed surprised by such talk except 
the President, who said to the unconscious form of Miss Col- 
burn: “You seem to understand the situation. Can you point 
out the remedy?" The so-called Dr. Bamford replied: “Yes, if 
you have the courage to use it." “Try me," Lincoln smilingly 

The voice told him to go in person to the front, taking his 
wife and children with him and leaving behind all dignitaries 
and all pomp. He was told to resist the pleas of high officials 
who would want to accompany him, and to take as few aides 
as possible. “Avoid high grade officers, and seek the tents of 
the private soldiers," the trancelike voice of Nettie in- 
structed. “Inquire into their grievances, and show yourself to 
be what you are— the father of your people." 

Lincoln responded quietly: “If that will do any good, it 
is easily done." The “spirit control" assured him that it 
would unite the soldiers as one man, and that in order to 
curb insubordination in the Army of the Potomac he should 
spread the news of his impending trip to the front without 

After Miss Colburn emerged from trance, Laurie asked if 
army morale could possibly be as bad as depicted by the 
“control," and Lincoln replied gravely: “It can hardly be 
exaggerated." Indicating the major who had accompanied 
him, Lincoln said: “He has just brought dispatches from the 
front depicting a state of affairs pretty much as our friend has 
shown it; and we were just having a cabinet meeting regard- 
ing the matter when something, I know not what, induced 

4 1 □ □ □ 

me to leave the room and come downstairs. When I found 
Mrs. Lincoln in the act of coming here, I felt it might be of 
service for me to come; I did not know wherefore/’ 

He added that Miss Colburn “certainly could have no 
knowledge of the facts communicated to me, nor of what 
was transpiring in my cabinet meeting prior to my joining 
this circle, nor of affairs at the front, nor regarding transpir- 
ing events which are known to me only, and which I have not 
imparted to anyone, and which have not been made public/’ 

The next day’s Gazette bore the headlines: “The President 
is about to visit the Army of the Potomac.” The article men- 
tioned that a gunboat was being prepared for the President, 
who would take his family to Fortress Monroe. He went to 
the front and was literally borne on the shoulders of enthusi- 
astic soldiers. All rallied behind him, with grievances forgot- 
ten. Mrs. Lincoln confided to friends that, when her husband 
was besieged by congressmen and cabinet members who 
wanted to accompany the President and his family, she re- 
minded him that if he was going to take the advice of 
spirits he should take all of it. Therefore no high-ranking 
officials were permitted to go along. 

Historians record that Miss Colburn was summoned sev- 
eral times to the White House. On one such visit Mrs. Lin- 
coln exclaimed: “Oh, Miss Nettie, such dreadful newsl They 
are fighting at the front; such terrible slaughter, and all our 
generals are killed and our army is in full retreat.” News of 
the battle had not been made public, but Miss Colburn 
obligingly went into trance so that a control called “Wisdom” 
could report on the situation. “Wisdom” assured Mrs. Lin- 
coln that her fears were groundless. While a great battle was 
indeed in progress, the voice said, Union forces were holding 
their own, and no generals had been injured or slain. 

At that point the President, looking careworn, walked into 
the family quarters. Hearing what had just transpired, he 
asked for a repetition and “listened intently to every word for 
twenty minutes,” while “Wisdom” told exactly how the bat- 


tie was going and what the news would be by nightfall; that 
the battle was not disastrous and, though not decisive, would 
be a gain for the Union cause. Lincoln visibly brightened, 
and the next day’s news confirmed the prediction. 

During some reported seances with the Lincolns no ob- 
servers were present, and therefore nothing is known of what 
took place. One evening, however, former Congressman 
Somes called on Miss Colburn to say that the President had 
asked that he bring her to the White House immediately. 
Lincoln and two military officers were waiting when they 
arrived. She was in trance for one hour. When she awakened 
she was holding a pencil and standing beside the President at 
a long table that contained a map of the Southern states. 

“It is astonishing/* Lincoln was saying, “how every line she 
has drawn conforms to the plan agreed upon/* Then, notic- 
ing that she was now conscious, Lincoln said to Mrs. Lincoln 
and Somes: “Miss Nettie does not seem to require eyes to do 

On the way home from the White House that evening, 
Somes told Miss Colburn that the President had asked him 
and Mrs. Lincoln to remain at the other end of the room, so 
that they could not see the secret war map. Somes could ob- 
serve, however, that Nettie was tracing lines on the map and 
that one of the officers occasionally resharpened her pencil. 

The last time Nettie saw the President he wanted to know 
what her “friends** were saying now. He had just been re- 
elected, and she told him: “What they predicted for you has 
come to pass, and you are to be inaugurated the second time. 
But they also reaffirm that the shadow they have spoken of 
still hangs over you.** 

Lincoln rather impatiently replied that he had received 
letters from mediums throughout the country warning him 
of a dire plot against his life. “But I don’t think the knife is 
made, or the bullet run, that will reach it,** he scoffed. “Be- 
sides, nobody wants to harm me.** 

43 □ □ □ 

Miss Colburn retorted that therein lay his danger— his 
overconfidence in his fellow men. With a sigh he replied: 
“Well, Miss Nettie, I shall live till my work is done, and no 
earthly power can prevent it. And then it doesn't matter, so 
that I am ready; and that I ever mean to be.” Six weeks after 
his inauguration he was assassinated by actor John Wilkes 

By the fall of 1944 articles about Jeane Dixon's prognosti- 
cations had found their way into Washington newspapers, 
and several acquaintances asked her at veterans' parties 
whether she had yet had tea at the White House. When she 
said no they mysteriously hinted, “The President is inter- 
ested in meeting you.” 

The following is her account of what happened. 

One morning in November, shortly after Roosevelt’s 
precedent-shattering re-election to a fourth term, Jeane 
Dixon answered the telephone in her apartment. A woman's 
voice, after assurance that she was speaking to Mrs. Dixon in 
person, said: “I'm calling for the President. We have heard so 
much about you, and the President would enjoy having a 
conversation with you. Are you free next Thursday at 11 
A.M.?” Early on the appointed day a man called to confirm 
Jeane's morning appointment with the President. 

She dressed with care, in a black suit designed for her by 
Adrian; it was trimmed with buttons shaped like crystal 
balls. With it she wore a matching pillbox hat and white 
gloves. The weather was warm for November, but because the 
crystal ball made her purse bulge she draped a silver fox fur 
piece over her arm to conceal it. The doorman hailed a cab 
for her, and in obedience to White House instructions she 
alighted at the northwest gate of the Executive Mansion on 
Pennsylvania Avenue. She gave her name to a guard, who had 
been alerted to expect her and waved her through. She walked 
up the winding driveway to the Executive West Wing and 


into the spacious lobby, where a vast round table caught her 

Tall, gray-haired William D. Simmons advanced to greet 
her, and after she had given her name he escorted her across 
the length of the room past a guard who said, “Hello, Jeane,” 
and through a door behind Mr. Simmons* desk. They walked 
down a short corridor, through an anteroom, and into an 
oval office. 

President Roosevelt, looking up from his desk, half raised 
his torso by his massive arms, flashed a warm smile, and said: 
“Good morning, Jeane. Thank you for coming.’* Wheeling 
himself toward the end of his desk, he shook her hand, and as 
he did so Jeane could almost feel the weight of the world 
pressing down on his broad shoulders. She took a chair at the 
corner of his desk, and they made small talk about the 
weather. Jeane, feeling “a wave of loneliness reaching out 
toward her,” finally said: “Mr. President, it is wise to seek 
guidance sometimes, when one has a question in his mind.” 

Roosevelt sighed as he responded: “One’s time is short, 
even at its longest. How much time do I have to finish the 
work I have to do?” 

“May I touch your fingertips?” she asked. He thrust for- 
ward his big hand, and as she picked up his vibrations, she 
sought desperately to divert the conversation and avoid an 
answer. When he insisted on a direct reply, she said reluc- 
tantly: “Six months or less.” 

The room was still for a long moment. Then the President 
cleared his throat and said: “I’ve heard of some of the things 
you have discussed. I’ve been thinking about my decisions 
concerning Russia. In your discussions, what have you 

Jeane mentally noted how carefully he refrained from 
using the words “readings” or “psychic.” To put him at his 
ease, she replied: “Mr. President, I don’t have to look in my 
crystal ball or touch your fingers to answer that. Since I was 

45 n □ □ 

fourteen years old I have been seeing in visions that America, 
France, England, and Germany must be allies before we will 
have real world peace. Germany should be on our side, help- 
ing to conquer Russia, instead of the other way around.” War 
was then being waged on two fronts, and America, Britain, 
and France were tenuously allied with Russia against Ger- 
many and its Axis partners. 

“Will we remain allies with Russia?” the President asked. 

Shaking her head, Jeane said: “The visions show otherwise, 
but we will become allies again later on, against Red China.” 

The President reacted with a start. “Red China? China is 
not Red! We'll have no trouble with China. But I feel that 
we must be allied with Russia to maintain our world position 
and survive.” 

Looking intently at the pictures now forming in her crystal 
ball, Jeane said: “I see that China will go Communist and 
become our biggest trouble; Africa will be our next biggest 
worry in the foreign field.” 

The President disagreed, saying: “I don't anticipate any 
serious trouble with Africa, but I do with Russia. It is very 
important that we continue our alliance with Russia.” 

They talked a little longer; then, returning to his original 
question, Mr. Roosevelt asked slowly: “How much longer 
would you say, in years, that I have to complete my work?” 

“Not years,” Jeane corrected gently. “You can’t measure it 
in years, Mr. President, but in months. Less than six months.” 

“Oh, that long?” he murmured, as if to himself. He turned 
to stare into space. 

Recalling that uncomfortable pause, Jeane says: “I could 
see exactly what was going on in his mind. He was thinking, 
‘First things first,' and he was seeing files and files, stacks and 
stacks of papers. I could sense that he had felt a premonition 
of his own death. He was only seeking confirmation of the 

To interrupt his lonely thoughts, Jeane admired the figure 


of an American eagle on his desk. Then they shook hands 
and he said in parting: “It was good of you to come.” 

In mid-January 1945, Jeane received a second call from the 
White House. A woman’s voice asked: “Would you like to 
have a visit at the White House with the President?” An 
appointment was made for three days hence, again at 1 1 
A.M., and Jeane arrived as before by cab. This time she no- 
ticed a group of men sitting in the chairs alongside the wall 
of the lobby opposite the round table, but they scarcely 
glanced at her as Mr. Simmons escorted her to the presiden- 
tial office. 

“Did you bring the ball?” President Roosevelt asked. 
There was an impish tilt to his cigarette holder as he greeted 

“He felt as relaxed this time as he had been constrained 
before,” Jeane muses. “But how his physical appearance had 
changed in those two months! His face was thin and haggard, 
and he looked as if fifty pounds had been dropped from his 
frame. But this time we met as old friends and fellow con- 
spirators.” As Jeane slipped the crystal ball from underneath 
the mink coat that Jimmy Dixon had given her for a wedding 
present, she and FDR exchanged knowing smiles. 

“Now how much time do I have?” he asked, like a little 
boy who was impatient for his birthday presents. 

Responding to his jovial mood, Jeane cupped her thumb 
and forefinger, leaving two inches between, and said: “That 

The President, seeming to accept the fact that the end was 
approaching, nodded affably. “The time is short.” 

“Yes,” Jeane reluctantly agreed, “shorter than we’d like to 

Without waiting for an invitation, Mr. Roosevelt thrust 
out his right hand and asked: “How do you feel about some 
decisions I will have to make?” 

“It is not how I feel personally,” she corrected. “It’s what I 

47 □ □ □ 

get spiritually and psychically. Many of the things I get that 
way are not what people want to hear.” 

As she touched his fingertips and closed her eyes, he 
pressed: “Are you sure that we will be allies with Russia in 
the future?” 

Jeane reiterated her previous forecast that after the war’s 
end the alliance would fall apart. “Eventually we will be 
allies with Russia against Red China,” she said, “but that is 
more than a generation off.” 

“Then I’m not wrong about Russia?” he asked eagerly. 
“When all is said and done we will be with Russia, and Rus- 
sia with us?” 

“Yes, we will end up as allies,” Jeane replied, “but our 
government will have changed by then. We are not always 
going to have a two-party system as we know it. But, Mr. 
President, we have a greater problem than Russia. America’s 
far greater problem is our own racial situation. I have been 
shown this in a vision.” He regarded her searchingly as she 
warned: “The White House must not pamper the colored 
people but rather help them to help themselves.” 

“I think the problem can be handled adequately,” he re- 
plied with firmness. 

“No, no,” she contradicted. “We’ll have bloodshed. I have 
seen it! The problem will grow beyond the reach of our 
government’s wisdom. Mr. President, these are not my 
thoughts, they come through channels from another sphere. 
The will of humanity does not change the will of God. The 
racial situation will not be solved before 1980.” 

The President obviously did not agree, and for a time the 
air in the oval office seemed supercharged with tension. FDR 
foresaw no serious racial problem and frankly said so. Finally 
he brought the conversation back to the Soviets, saying: 
“The most important thing in the world is for us to get along 
with Russia and keep her as an ally.” 

At that moment Jeane saw a vision of Uncle Sam reaching 


into another man's pocket, removing something from it, and 
giving it to a third country. “Oh, Mr. President," she ex- 
claimed, “don’t ever give anything away that doesn’t belong 
to America. Don’t give Russia half of anything that isn’t ours 
to give!’’ 

The President clenched both fists on the arms of his chair. 
“His thumbs were on the outside of each fist,’’ Jeane recalls, 
“which I knew intuitively meant that he was sure he knew 
what was best and believed that whatever decision he had 
reached would be for the good of the nation. I felt that he 
was deeply dedicated to his country and that he had intuitive 
powers . . . but he was a sick man.’’ 

He seemed reluctant this time to see her go. When she held 
out her hand to say good-bye he covered it with both of his 
own. With a return of the sparkle to his eye, he told her: 
“Take good care of the ball.’’ 

Jeane returned the crystal ball to her big purse and said, 
“Auf Wiedersehen” 

“God bless you,” he replied. She never saw him again. 
Early in February he went to Yalta on one of the most closely 
guarded missions of the war. Together with Prime Minister 
Winston Churchill and Soviet Dictator Josef Stalin, FDR 
concluded a secret agreement which gave Russia domination 
over half of Germany, and much of its industry as repara- 
tions; the naval base of Port Arthur; the Kurile Islands; the 
northern part of Sakhalin and all islands adjacent thereto. 

Did Jeane Dixon correctly foresee that an American Presi- 
dent would “reach into another man’s pocket” and hand over 
territory to Russia which was not ours to give? Certainly it 
was true that President Roosevelt had no more than six 
months to live after that first meeting with Mrs. Dixon in his 
office. On April 12, 1945, the heavily burdened President 
died of a cerebral hemorrhage in Warm Springs, Georgia. 


Ambassador and Madame Wellington Koo were hosts at a 
large reception at Twin Oaks, the lovely hilltop estate which 
serves as the Chinese Embassy in Washington. It was a crisp 
evening in October 1946. The Western world clung to a 
tenuous peace, although President Truman had not yet is- 
sued a proclamation ending the hostilities, and ten Nazi war 
criminals had just been hanged. Guests clustered in small 
groups, as is their custom at embassy cocktail parties, to talk 
about the news of the day. One man, who considered himself 
something of an expert on world affairs, observed that it was 
a pity we had destroyed Germany while turning Russia loose 
on the free world. 

“You’re so right,” another agreed. “Soviet Russia is even 
more of a menace to the United States than Germany was at 
its worst. We should have let them finish each other off. Mark 
my words, one of these days we’ll have to fight Russia.” 

The wife of Ambassador Loy Henderson remembers the 
conversation particularly, for at that moment Jeane Dixon 
shyly interrupted: “I don’t like to contradict you, sir, but I 
see America fighting Red China in the future, not Red Rus- 



Mrs. Henderson, whose illustrious husband then headed 
Near Eastern and African Affairs for the State Department 
and had previously served as U.S. charge d’affaires in Russia, 
regarded Mrs. Dixon in astonishment. “Why, China isn’t 
Red,” she exclaimed, “and with its rich cultural heritage it 
would never go for an alien ideology like Communism. The 
Chinese always keep to themselves.” 

Jeane’s clear eyes regarded her imperturbably as she re- 
plied: “China will go Communist.” 

They all raised their eyebrows at that, Mrs. Henderson, 
frankly admits, “because not one of us believed her that day.” 
In 1948 Loy Henderson was appointed by President Truman 
as our ambassador to India, and during that tour of duty in 
New Delhi Mrs. Henderson had cause to remember Jeane’s 
prophetic warning. On September 21, 1949, the Communists 
triumphantly proclaimed a People’s Republic in Peiping, 
and in December Chiang Kai-shek evacuated his troops to the 
island of Formosa. The mainland of China was now Red. 

One of the strangest predictions ever made by Jeane 
Dixon, who had never been outside of the continental 
United States, concerned the partition of India. Through 
frequent appearances at embassy parties she had developed 
friendships with numerous ambassadors, their wives and 
aides. One afternoon in 1946, at a reception given by Sir 
Girja Shankar Bajpai, the agent general for India, and Lady 
Bajpai, a man introduced himself as a new member of th 
Indian contingent in Washington, and requested a private 
reading. Jeane received him the next day in her husband’s 
business office and after consulting her crystal ball said that 
a partition of India would be announced within two years. 

Shocked, the official exclaimed: “No, no, Mrs. Dixon. 
There will never be a partition of India.” 

Jeane calmly declared that such a division would be an- 
nounced on February 20, 1947. Further, she said that her 

5 1 □ □ □ 

questioner himself would leave India to join the “other 
side,” and would thereafter advance rapidly in his career. 

“Never!” he shouted. “I will live out my days in an un- 
divided India.” 

The Dixons continued to see the same gentleman from 
time to time at parties, and on the morning of February 20, 
1947, he telephoned to twit her about her mistaken prophecy. 
Jeane confidently retorted that the day was not yet over. The 
next morning’s newspapers headlined the partition announce- 
ment, and the Indian, volunteering to eat crow, invited 
friends to a dinner party in Jeane’s honor at nearby Fort 
Myer, in Virginia. 

Automobiles were difficult to obtain in the early postwar 
years, and when the Indian official learned that an automo- 
bile was to be raffled off for charity at a Fort Myer horse show 
after dinner, he took his guests there, saying: “I am going to 
win it. Then I shall drive you home in style.” 

Uniformed nurses passed up and down the aisles, selling 
chances on the car, but Jeane paid little attention until she 
overheard someone behind her say: “If Mrs. Dixon is so psy- 
chic, why doesn’t she win the Cadillac?” 

Thus challenged, she concentrated with closed eyes while 
holding several of the books of chances in her hand. One 
of the guests, sitting beside Jeane, tried to rush her by jesting: 
“Don’t be so fussy, Jeane. Just take one. They’re all alike.” 
Jeane selected one from the sixth book, wrote her hus- 
band’s name on the ticket, and replied placidly: “You won’t 
need to buy any more tickets, because this one is the winner.” 
Amused, the Indian official taunted: “All right, Jeane, if 
that is the one that will win, will you sell me your present car 
at a bargain?” Jeane promised to sell it for exactly what she 
had paid, although it was then worth considerably more on 
the scarce used-car market. The following Saturday night a 
telephone caller reported that James L. Dixon had won the 


automobile on a 14,000 to 1 chance, but Jimmy thought that 
a friend was teasing him until photographers from a local 
newspaper arrived the next morning to take a picture of him 
receiving the keys. True to her word, Jeane then sold the 
Dixon’s automobile to the Indian official for its purchase 
price, and when he resold it at the close of his American 
tour of duty he realized an eight-hundred-dollar profit. 

Within a short time after his return to his homeland, he 
moved to Pakistan. He rose rapidly in rank and later became 
an important official in his government. Jeane had foreseen 
it all. 

The news of her accurate forecast of India’s partition had 
meanwhile found its way into newspapers here and abroad. 
The Earl of Jellicoe called her on his next visit to the British 
Embassy in Washington and invited her to lunch. How, he 
wanted to know, could she possibly have foreseen the parti- 
tion not only in advance, but on that exact date? After all, he 
marveled, only two days before the event announcement had 
been made that the House of Commons would not consent to 
partition. Jeane matter-of-factly explained that while reading 
for the Indian official the date had been shown to her in her 
crystal ball. The numerals, she amplified, were as clear to her 
as the prices listed on their luncheon menu. 

Shrugging off his astonishment, she said: “People of the 
Far East are much easier to read for than Westerners, because 
they don’t throw barriers in my way and things come through 
more clearly. Asians have the ingrained ability to let them- 
selves go, in psychic matters.” 

After partition, oriental diplomats began beating a track to 
Jeane’s door whenever affairs of state brought them to Amer- 
ica. Once she read for a gentleman who identified himself as 
the astrologer for Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru and his 
sister, Madame Pandit. He came laden with hand-carved 
ivory gifts, but Jeane refused them. She also read for Madame 

53 □ □ □ 

Pandit’s sister, Madame Raja Hutheesing, who came to 
Washington with her economist husband. Pakistan’s first am- 
bassador to the United States after partition was M. A. H. 
Ispahani. He had been in Washington only a few weeks be- 
fore he telephoned Jeane to request an appointment. She 
remembers that his principal question was: “What is going to 
happen to Kashmir? Who will get it?” She told him that the 
thorny problem of Kashmir would continue for many years, 
and that fighting and bloodshed woidcl occur before it was 
eventually solved. 

Curiously enough, when M. Asaf Ali arrived in Washing- 
ton to take over his duties as India’s ambassador he also asked 
about Kashmir. Studying her crystal ball, Jeane told him that 
Kashmir was a province over which his country would fight. 
It is now history that war did break out between Pakistan 
and India over Kashmir, with fighting continuing until the 
United Nations arranged a cease-fire on January 1, 1949. The 
province is still a bone of contention, however, and Jeane 
sees no peaceful settlement “for some time to come.” 

Ambassador Asaf Ali further asked Jeane to tell him about 
the eventual disposition of Hyderabad, and she replied that it 
would go to India. This prediction was fulfilled when the 
state was incorporated into India in September 1948. 

A leading industrialist of Hyderabad named Mir Laik Ali 
had meanwhile consulted Jeane and was also anxious to know 
what would happen to his native state. She told him that it 
would go to India, but not before he himself had been named 
Prime Minister of Hyderabad. Scoffing at her naivete about 
world affairs, he said Hyderabad had never had a Prime Min- 
ister and never would. Undismayed, Jeane insisted that he 
would hold such a position and that shortly thereafter he 
would be taken prisoner. “But you will be rescued,” she as- 
sured him. “You will surely be rescued. Have no doubts 
about that.” 

Suddenly he looked serious and in subdued tones confessed 


that he himself had had a vision that he would be taken 
prisoner. “Why do you come to me,” she asked curiously, 
“when you have the same talent and ability that I have to 
foresee the future? You are the only person for whom I have 
read who also can read a crystal ball.” 

Mir Laik Ali admitted that he could do so but had wished 
to reassure himself that he was right. It was the last time 
Jeane saw the industrialist from Hyderabad but not the last 
that she heard of him. The next year she received word from 
official sources that Mir Laik Ali had become the first and 
only Prime Minister to the Nizam of Hyderabad, that he was 
subsequently imprisoned when India incorporated the state, 
but was later rescued, as Jeane had foreseen. 

Musing about these “readings” for oriental dignitaries, 
Jeane says: “Far Easterners depend a great deal on the lines 
in people’s hands, and of course they believe in astrology. 
The first thing they invariably ask me is for permission to 
look into my hands. When they see a great half-moon and 
tremendous star on the palm of my right hand, they do so 
much bowing and scraping that I am embarrassed. They say 
that perhaps once in a thousand years is a person born with 
such a palm. Many of them seem to revere me as a prophet, 
but that is nonsense. Of course I am not!” 


Jeane’s psychic attunement to her family has always been 
acute. Devoted to her parents, she had never spent a night 
away from home until she married at the age of twenty-one. 
Shortly after her honeymoon, while on a business trip with 
her husband to New York, a strange premonition seized her 
as they walked into their hotel. “Jimmy,” she said, clutching 
his arm for support, “we’re going to have a tragedy in our 
family. Shall I call California?” 

Patting the trembling hand on his sleeve, he soothed: “No, 
honey, it’s just because you’re away for the first time. You’re 
probably homesick. If you’d like some music to cheer you up, 
I’ll take you to Luchow’s for dinner.” 

Accompanied by a friend of Jimmy’s, they went to the 
famous German restaurant, but Jeane was too upset to touch 
her food. “A death is very near me,” she insisted. “It’s either 
my mother or my father.” When the three returned to the 
hotel, a telegram was waiting. Jeane’s mother, who had 
seemed perfectly well when they bade her good-bye earlier in 
the week, was dead. By telephone Jeane learned that her 
mother had accidentally struck her ankle against a chair. Ap- 


parently a leg infection suffered the previous year had not 
entirely cleared up, and she dropped dead of a blood clot that 
prevented circulation to her brain. 

Another family tragedy occurred two years later, when 
Jeane and Jimmy were residing in Washington. Mr. Pinckert 
had begun to lose weight after his wife’s death, and doctors 
diagnosed his disease as cancer of the throat. Little hope was 
offered for his recovery, but the urbane gentleman continued 
to live a reasonably normal life. One night Jeane awakened 
suddenly from an unusually deep sleep. “My father was 
standing beside my bed,” she says, “just as he so often did in 
my childhood. I could hear his voice as clearly as you hear 
mine. He said that he had come to bid me good-bye. He told 
me that I must go on . . . that sometimes I would seem very 
much alone . . . that I would have to work hard . . . but more 
tranquil days eventually lay ahead.” 

Jeane immediately placed a call to her home in California 
and said sadly to her sister, “It has happened, hasn’t it?” 

“Yes, Jeane,” her sister replied tearfully, “we sent you a 
telegram twenty minutes ago. Father is gone.” 

It was wartime and airplane accommodations were almost 
impossible to secure, but by this time Jeane had already 
begun to make a name for herself in Washington, and when a 
friend learned of her difficulty in obtaining passage, she 
pulled a wire or two. By midmorning Jeane received a call 
from the White House. An aide to President Roosevelt told 
her that a passenger had been bumped from his seat on a 
plane to California and the space was reserved in Jeane’s 

Shortly after her return from her father’s funeral, Jeane 
stopped in to see a friend of hers. Supreme Court Justice 
Frank Murphy was there for Sunday brunch with a visiting 
relative and his long-time secretary, Eleanor Bumgardner. 
The latter says: “Jeane had been there no more than a couple 
of minutes when she signaled me to go into the dressing room. 

57 □ □ □ 

As soon as we were alone she said: 'Lady, that relative is driv- 
ing the Justice half crazy/ I knew it was true, but I did not 
understand how she could have known. She had never met 
either of them before, and no strain was apparent while Jeane 
was there/' 

Lady and Jeane became devoted friends. Both were dedi- 
cated to helping the less fortunate; Jeane has helped to sup- 
port an uncounted number of white and Negro families. Miss 
Bumgardner was also busy "adopting." Her first ward was a 
fragile Chinese girl who had been washed ashore in the com- 
bat zone of Guadalcanal during World War II. No one knew 
the child's identity or which shipwreck she might have sur- 
vived, but the U. S. Marines named her Patsy Li, which in 
Chinese means "Plum Blossom." 

After the war, Samuel F. Pryor, Jr., vice-president of Pan 
American Airways, arranged passage to America for Patsy, 
and Lady Bumgardner, who had served in the Philippines 
with Frank Murphy while he was governor general there, 
volunteered to be her American guardian. Lady reared Patsy 
in her own home for twelve years, until the pretty ward mar- 
ried a young Chinese named Joe Buck Lee. Changing her 
name from Li to Lee was much less of a coincidence, how- 
ever, than the fact that shortly before Patsy Li came to Amer- 
ica she was reunited in an oriental orphanage with her 
Chinese parents, who had given her up for dead. By some 
miracle of chance, the lost child's real name turned out to 
have been— Patsy Li. 

Jeane took an immediate interest in Patsy. The day they 
met she touched her little fingertips, picked up the child’s 
vibrations, and said: "She has a strong will of her own. She 
has musical talents which can be developed, but she will be- 
come either a nurse or a doctor." Any of Miss Bumgardner's 
friends can testify to the strong and determined will ex- 
hibited by the Chinese girl in the next dozen years; she did 
well in her music, and became a nurse. 


One day, while lunching privately with Miss Bumgardner 
in Justice Murphy's Supreme Court office, Jeane abruptly 
said: “Lady, you're going to have a new position.” 

Miss Bumgardner firmly replied that she had no intention 
of working for anyone except Justice Murphy, who had been 
her boss since he was mayor of Detroit seventeen years before. 
“And you're going to buy a sweet little house. It looks as if 
it's in Georgetown,” Jeane continued, as if she had not heard 
the interruption. 

Slightly annoyed. Lady snapped: “I don't want a house; I 
want an apartment. I’m tired of living in a hotel room after 
all these years, but I certainly don't intend to take on the 
problems of a house.” 

Jeane continued to stare into space. “Someone very dear to 
you will pass away suddenly in a fetv days,” she said. “He is 
an older man. You must prepare yourself for the shock.” 

Miss Bumgardner recalls that this bothered her enough to 
ask if it were her father. When Jeane replied that the man 
was not a relative. Lady flippantly brought the luncheon to a 
close by saying: “Sorry, Jeane, but you're wrong about every- 
thing.” Looking back on that day. Miss Bumgardner marvels: 
“Within two weeks it all came to pass. I lost my chief. I was 
given the position of roving secretary to all nine justices. I 
bought a little house in Georgetown quite by chance.” 

One reason why the thought of Justice Murphy's possible 
death did not occur to her, when Jeane uttered those pro- 
phetic words, was that Lady knew he was planning to be 
secretly married the following week. The Justice had en- 
trusted Lady with the wedding ring, and she and his fiancee, 
socialite Joan Cuddihy, intended to go to Michigan for the 
Catholic ceremony. Miss Bumgardner wondered afterward 
why she had been so dense about Jeane's prophecy, for when 
she confided to Jeane that her boss and Miss Cuddihy were 
about to be wed, Jeane had contradicted: “Oh no, they’ll 
never be married.” 

With some asperity Lady retorted: “Oh yes, they will. I 

59 □ □ □ 

have the ring in my purse, and I’m taking it to Michigan 
with me. Joan and I are going together.” 

The Supreme Court had adjourned for the summer, and 
Justice Murphy was vacationing in his home state of Michi- 
gan. A few days after the luncheon he was found dead of an 
occlusion, and Miss Bumgardner flew to Michigan for his 
funeral. On her return, the Supreme Court paid her the un- 
usual compliment of making her a roving secretary for all the 
justices who needed extra help. That same week she stopped 
in to see her friend Louise Cromwell Heiberg, who had been 
the first wife of General Douglas MacArthur. Louise was sell- 
ing real estate, and on seeing Lady she exclaimed: “I’ve just 
found a darling little house on O Street. It’s exactly the kind 
you should have.” Miss Bumgardner was not interested, but 
Mrs. Heiberg insisted on her seeing it, the lure proved irre- 
sistible, and she bought it immediately. 

Miss Bumgardner says that she will never forget the first 
visit Jeane paid to her O Street house. “Other guests had 
already arrived, and we were sitting around in a circle talk- 
ing; but as Jeane entered the living room a guest uttered a 
strange little shriek. We all looked toward her in surprise, and 
she apologized to Jeane, saying, Tor a moment I thought 
you were the Madonna/ ” 

It was not the first time that Jeane had had this odd effect 
on strangers. Shortly after the war a friend in her apartment 
building invited the Dixons and several others to a concert, 
and among the guests waiting in the apartment lobby was 
Mrs. Estelle Friedrichs, an assistant to David K. Niles at the 
White House. Mrs. Friedrichs, who had never before met the 
Dixons, relates: “As the elevator door opened I saw what 
looked to be the figure of an angel standing just inside. I 
was dumb-struck, until a beautiful woman wearing a flowing 
white chiffon gown and white fox cape stepped out. Her hair 
seemed to form a halo, and her face was like an angel looking 
at God. The shock of it is still with me.” 

Jimmy Dixon witnessed two other similar events. Shortly 


after their marriage he and Jeane were strolling along Fifth 
Avenue, during a trip to New York, when two young women 
who had passed them suddenly wheeled, followed a few paces, 
and hesitantly touched Jeane on the shoulder. “Please excuse 
me,” one of them said in awe-struck tones, “but you look just 
like the Madonna. Who are you?” Another time, in Detroit, 
Jimmy was giving a little newsboy a lift in the car when he 
stopped to pick up Jeane. “Gee, mister,” the lad exclaimed, 
“she looks like an angel.” 

Lady Bumgardner, musing on these isolated incidents, 
says: “It is understandable. Jeane has the face and the look 
of an angel, there is such sweetness in her composure. An 
angel of mercy she surely is. No one will ever know all of the 
kindnesses that Jeane has performed for strangers and 
friends, because she never speaks of them. If I had not wit- 
nessed many of them I would have had no other way of 
knowing. I often go with Jeane on her jaunts, and her goal is 
nearly always to help someone in need. I have accompanied 
her to the Peace Plantation in Virginia where she is helping 
to support several families who had previously been on relief 
but are now learning to support themselves. I have gone with 
her to visit the sick and the dispirited. She has taken dozens 
of misfits, strays, and immigrants into her house and given 
them a new start in life.” 

A young woman whom I shall call Joan insists that Jeane 
saved her life. Although she does not wish her identity 
known, her eyes glow as she speaks of the gentle woman who 
revolutionized her thinking, gave her a job and renewed con- 
fidence in herself. She is a girl who had had everything, until 
suddenly in her teens her parents deprived her of all but the 
bare essentials. She was desperately unhappy and ran away 
from home several times. Jeane took her into her own home 
and gave her a job in an effort to help her find herself. 

Joan volunteered the information that she was not really 
earning the money Jeane paid her. “I didn't believe in psy- 
chic things, and at first I thought that Jeane was a kook,” she 

6i □□□ 

says. “For instance, one day she suddenly came over to my 
desk and said that I must stop wearing contact lenses or I 
would develop an eye infection. I just laughed at her. After 
all, I had been wearing them for several years without any 
difficulty, but two weeks later I developed abrasions and an 
eye infection. The doctor then found that my lenses were too 
tight/’ Joan eventually returned home, but conditions had 
not improved, and when she stopped in to see Jeane, she was 
dismayed by her appearance. “Mrs. Dixon, you look quite 
ill," she cried in alarm. 

Jeane reached for her hand, saying: “Joan, I have just seen 
a vision of you locked behind bars. If you don’t do as I say 
and .stay at home nights, something terrible will happen to 
you which will not be entirely your own doing.” 

The teen-ager was not about to listen to such preachment 
from adults. She was miserably unhappy with her parents, 
and they were totally unsympathetic to her problems. A few 
days later she went to a party with an older crowd and stayed 
all night with one of the women. The next morning she 
asked to borrow her hostess’ car to keep an appointment with 
the doctor, although she had no driver’s license. As she was 
driving along the street her older brother happened to spot 
her and gave chase in his car, cutting sharply in front of her. 
To avoid hitting him she swerved and struck a detective. 
Almost before she knew it she was in a juvenile detention 
ward. The owner of the car, fearful that she would get in 
trouble for letting Joan drive without a license, claimed that 
it had been taken without her permission. Joan’s parents 
failed to come to her defense, and when she refused to be 
turned over to their custody, the judge sent her to a mental 
institution for disturbed children. Jeane found her there, 
after Joan had tried to take her life with an overdose of sleep- 
ing pills. In her loving way, she pumped new faith into the 
girl and forecast that she would be released on a specific 

“The day after the date that Mrs. Dixon had mentioned,” 


Joan recalls, “a policeman knocked at my door and said that a 
special hearing had been arranged for my case. The new 
judge heard my story and said that I had no business being in 
a mental ward. He set me free.” 

Miss Bumgardner says: “Jeane studied Joan's vibrations 
and found that she could write poetry if she would try. This 
awakened a new interest in her life. After she was released 
from the mental hospital Jeane took her into her home 

During various periods when Joan lived at the Dixons' she 
saw a side of Jeane that is unknown to most of her friends in 
the Washington social whirl. Joan says wonderingly: “After 
the servant went to bed, Jeane would stay up late into the 
night cooking nourishing soups for poor people who were ill. 
I would take the soup to them the next day. Each morning 
Jeane would squeeze carrot juice for several elderly shop- 
keepers along Connecticut Avenue, near the Dixon real estate 
office. I remember one old blind lady who had a flower shop, 
and Jeane faithfully took her fresh carrot juice every morn- 
ing on the way to Mass. 

“There was an eccentric old lady living not far from the 
Dixons, in a house without electricity. Jeane used to send me 
over with baskets of food and have me run errands for the 
woman. You must remember that I was doing all of this on 
time for which Jeane was paying me. Even more amazing 
to me was how much time Jeane personally gave to these 
pathetic people. Sometimes she would be out very late at 
night, if she had a call for help. When the elderly eccentric 
broke her leg, Jeane personally fed her, nursed her, and 
drove her back and forth to the doctor’s office. But the old 
lady was proud and wanted to pay for whatever she could. 
She insisted upon buying two-day-old bread, for instance, be- 
cause it was cheaper. Jeane had the faculty for understanding 
such pride, and she would send me clear across town to a 
bakery to purchase this stale bread with the woman’s money, 

63 □□□ 

even though it cost Jeane many times that amount for my 
time and carfare.” 

Although Joan was a Protestant, she occasionally accom- 
panied Jeane to Mass at St. Matthew’s, and one morning she 
had an unforgettable experience. “I had been there several 
times before with Jeane,” she says wonderingly, “but on this 
particular morning I happened to glance toward her while 
she was praying, and she wasn’t there. This may sound silly, 
but the place beside me was absolutely vacant. All I could see 
was a soft haze of light and the empty pew. In a moment, of 
course, she was back, quietly praying as before. It was a pro- 
found experience. I still don’t believe in psychic things, but I 
believe utterly in Jeane.” 

While Joan was living at the Dixons’ she often took tele- 
phone calls when Jeane was out, from people who would say: 
“Please tell Mrs. Dixon how much we appreciate the food she 
sent,” or “Tell Mrs. Dixon that we want to thank her for the 
clothing.” Jeane had not previously mentioned these favors 
to Joan. “Jeane is not like anyone else I have ever known,” 
Joan says reflectively. “She’s not like those who do volunteer 
work for the Junior League, or Red Cross, or other organized 
groups and get a certain amount of recognition for it. She 
never lets anyone know what she does. When I’ve tried to tell 
her how grateful I am for all she’s done for me, she just says: 
‘Joan, if a person helps someone else, and then that person 
helps another, it sets up a chain reaction. All I ever ask of you 
is that, if the opportunity arises and you are able, you will 
help someone else in need. That’s the only thanks I want.” 

Joan says of Jeane: “People think she’s naive because she’s 
so gentle and kind, but she’s sharp as a tack. No one fools her. 
From time to time she has cautioned me about my friends, 
‘Stay away from that one; her vibrations are bad,’ or ‘That 
one is okay.’ It’s really eerie how she invariably turns out to 
be right.” 

Although James Dixon is one of Washington’s leading 


realtors, who drives shrewd bargains for his clients, his heart 
is apparently as bottomless as Jeane’s. Just as Hollywood di- 
rector Hal Roach gave him his start in the business world, so 
Jimmy has given similar boosts to hundreds who were falter- 
ing and uncertain. Whenever Jeane has asked his permission 
to help support someone, or to take a lonely immigrant into 
their home, he has gladly assented. Of his wife, Jimmy says: 

“One of Jeane’s most remarkable traits is the guidance and 
assistance that she has given to teen-age girls who have 
strayed from the straight and narrow. During the twenty-five 
years of our marriage she has put her protective arm around 
at least a hundred youngsters in trouble— some of them preg- 
nant and unmarried. She has rescued young girls off the street, 
secured the release of many from jails and detention homes, 
and assumed the responsibility for their future conduct. 
Many of these cases we kept in our own home. Jeane and I 
never discuss their situations with a living soul. When we 
leave the house of a morning, we never remember who has 
been there, in order to protect their privacy. We don’t even 
discuss their problems between ourselves. We simply feel that 
it is our duty to assist our fellow men whenever and wherever 
we can do so.” 

Both are pushovers for lost or abandoned animals. They 
have trailed stray dogs and cats all evening in every kind of 
weather, and then taken them to a veterinarian hospital for 
baths and shots. Jeane nurses the sick ones and keeps them 
until she can find good homes for them. 

“Perhaps I shouldn’t teli this,” Jimmy muses, “but Jeane is 
so loaded with kindness that she has been mentioned four 
times in the wills of people I barely know; just token re- 
membrances— like an antique box or a picture— but some- 
thing they treasured and wanted Jeane to have as a remem- 
brance. Often it was all they had to leave.” 

One token was from an elderly crippled woman whom 
Jeane had noticed limping through the lobby of her apart- 

*5 □□□ 

ment building. Hastening to her side, she took the woman's 
elbow and put her into a cab. From then on she did innumer- 
able kindnesses for the old lady, and because of her gracious- 
ness she was mentioned in the woman's will. 

Another time a stranger called to tell Jeane that an old 
man whom she had befriended had passed away and his fu- 
neral was to be held that afternoon. Although it was one of 
her busiest days, she hesitated only a moment before respond- 
ing: “That poor, sweet man. He had so few friends left that 
we may be the only ones there. Of course I will come." She 
canceled several appointments to attend the funeral, and 
only four other mourners were there. A few weeks later a 
banker called to tell her that the old man she thought was 
penniless had left her several thousand dollars. She spent the 
money on others. 


In the crowded hallway of an embassy Jeane shook hands 
with a stunning blonde to whom she had just been intro- 
duced. “Ah, you are of the nobility,” Jeane said, smiling. 
There was nothing in the name or dress to give that fact 
away. The meeting took place at a charity tea. Neither had 
heard of the other, yet Mrs. Kitty Denny was born the 
Baroness Von Ammon; her great-grandfather had been 
Baron Christopher Frederic Von Ammon, a nineteenth- 
century Prime Minister of Saxony; her father, Baron Frank- 
lin Von Ammon, who practiced law in Pittsburgh, dropped 
the title. 

Intrigued by the slim, angelic-looking woman with the 
straightforward approach, Kitty cornered Jeane and poured 
out her heart. She was in the process of getting a divorce, she 
confided, and deeply in love with a young navy commander. 
“We’re going to be married just as soon as my divorce decree 
becomes final,” Kitty rhapsodized. 

Instead of beaming her approval, Jeane touched her fin- 
gertips and said: “This man will never marry you.” 

Irritated by what she thought was a curt remark, Kitty 

61 □□□ 

retorted: “You are wrong, Mrs. Dixon, because nothing on 
earth will prevent me from marrying him— or him me. We 
are in love.” 

Jeane unobtrusively touched her fingertips again and con- 
tinued as if there had been no interruption: “This man will 
go out of your life as suddenly as he came into it. You might 
as well prepare yourself." 

Kitty recalls that when she subsequently told her fiance 
about Jeane's prophecy he snapped: “She may be your 
friend, but she'll never be mine. I don't wish to meet her.’' 
Three weeks later newspapers headlined the crash of a navy 
plane in the Potomac River. Three of the seven passengers 
were saved, and the bodies of three others were quickly re- 
covered. Kitty's fiance was missing, and divers vainly sought 
the body. Jeane kept the lonely vigil with Kitty and coun- 
seled: “There is a coffin for him. I see it in the crystal ball. 
His body will be found." Several days later a fisherman 
pulled the lifeless body ashore. The grief-stricken Mrs. 
Denny paid little attention as Jeane said soothingly: “Kitty, 
there is a wonderful man coming into your life in about 
two years, who will bring you the greatest happiness and 
fulfillment that you have ever known. His front teeth are set 
wide apart, and he has red hair." 

The inconsolable young woman said she knew of no one by 
that description and would not be interested if she did. He 
sounded “ugly," and she liked handsome men. Ignoring her 
protests, Jeane continued: “He isn't even in this country 
now, but you will meet him. If you had married the com- 
mander you’d have wanted to divorce him for this man when 
you ultimately met him.” 

At loose ends, Kitty took a job in the Dixon office. One day 
in 1946 Jeane sent her to accept a listing on a house which an 
army major, who had just returned from Alaska, was putting 
up for sale. When Kitty rang the doorbell of the impressive 
house in northwest Washington a redheaded major answered 


her ring. He smiled, and she noticed that his front teeth were 

Major George Racey Jordan told her that he was selling 
the house because his divorce was pending and he was mov- 
ing to the West Coast. She realized, of course, that he fitted 
Jeane’s description, but she says of that meeting: “It was cer- 
tainly not love at first sight. George began taking me out to 
dinner, and our casual friendship gradually ripened into the 
deepest love that I have ever known. We were married less 
than two years later, on November 5, 1948. Just as Jeane 
foretold, George is the finest man I've ever known.” 

By a previous marriage, Kitty Jordan had two beautiful 
daughters. Before Kitty Junior married, Jeane told her 
mother that it would end in divorce and that the girl would 
marry again. This has already come to pass, as has the proph- 
ecy that she made about the other daughter, Nancy Rogers. 
Kitty Von Ammon Jordan will never forget the morning that 
Jeane warned her to get Nancy out of Washington immedi- 
ately. The beautiful titian-haired young girl had just re- 
turned to the capital, leaving her husband, Robert Dean 
Rogers, on a ranch near Seattle, Washington. He had been 
drinking heavily, and they had not been getting along, so 
Nancy had left him and was now living in an apartment by 

“Jeane told me that unless Nancy left Washington right 
away a terrible tragedy would occur,” Kitty told me with a 
break in her voice. “She said Nancy would either kill herself 
or be murdered.” Because she believed in Jeane’s precognh 
tive powers, Kitty urged her daughter to give up the new 
apartment and leave town. Nancy, who was thoroughly en- 
joying the social whirl with old friends, retorted that she had 
“handled Bob before” and could do so again. 

Major Jordan, author of the postwar best seller, Major 
Jordan* s Diary , was much in demand on the lecture platform, 
and his wife usually accompanied him on out-of-town trips. 

69 □□□ 

They were staying at the Waldorf-Astoria in New York, 
where Jordan was to speak that evening, when the tragic 
news reached them that, three weeks after Jeane’s somber 
forecast, Nancy was dead. Rogers, they learned, had traced his 
estranged wife to the apartment Jeane had wanted Nancy to 
vacate. Failing to talk his wife into a reconciliation, he shot 
her three times and then turned the gun on himself. It was 
both murder and suicide. 

Discussing the tragedy, during a recent visit to Washington 
from her present home in Bel Air, California, Mrs. Jordan 
said: “It was all so unnecessary, but how can you force a 
married daughter to leave town, unless she is willing to go?” 
Kitty Jordan was also deeply attached to her mother, whose 
second husband was Edwin Wright Robinson, a prominent 
Pennsylvania manufacturer of mining cars. In talking with 
Kitty one day in the summer of 1953, Jeane had told her: 
“Within a year your dear mother will leave us, so you must 
prepare yourself to go on without her. She will die of cancer. 
I get a figure 9 around her very clearly, but I don’t know the 
significance of it.” Mrs. Robinson seemed in excellent health 
at that time, but on May 1, 1954, she died of cancer at Adrian 
Hospital in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. Her hospital room 
w r as Number 9. 

Of Jeane, Kitty Jordan says: “If ever there was an angel on 
this earth, she is it. Jeane has never had an unkind thought. 
Her whole spirit is attuned to helping others. If only they 
would listen to what she tells them, so much misery could 
be avoided!” 

In Europe I talked with an extremely wealthy woman who 
acknowledges her deep indebtedness to Jeane Dixon. They 
first met at a luncheon at the Mayflower Hotel in Washing- 
ton. Betty had been planning to return to New York that 
afternoon, but Jeane warned: “Please drive very slowly and 
carefully, or a bad accident will occur.” Betty said she was 


superstitious enough to heed the warning. Instead of racing 
along at her usual clip on the open highway, she was hugging 
the right lane in slow traffic, when without warning the gas 
line in her car suddenly broke in two. She was able to pull 
onto the shoulder of the road without mishap, but in the high- 
speed center lane, she believes, her car would have gone out 
of control and been struck from behind. 

The next time Betty came to Washington she took Jeane 
to lunch and confided that she had decided to leave her hus- 
band. Jeane, touching her fingertips, told her that she must 
not do so. “He needs you very much, Betty,” she cautioned. 
“If you go back to him with love in your heart you'll be 
living in a completely different world within six months, and 
will forever after be glad that you remained with him.” It 
was not the advice that Betty wanted to hear. She neverthe- 
less listened carefully while Jeane accurately described a sis- 
ter of her husband's saying: “She also needs you. You think 
she doesn’t like you, but she does, and you must pour out 
your love to her. You'll never regret it.” 

Two days before the six months elapsed, Betty telephoned 
Jeane from Union Station in Washington, saying that she 
had to see her at once. Jeane, busy with real estate appoint- 
ments, hesitated, but the urgency in Betty's voice was 
strangely compelling. She therefore agreed to meet her friend 
in a restaurant. Betty, dressed in black, embraced her and 
said: “Jeane, I could never have forgiven myself if I had not 
gone back to Howard. We've had six happy months together. 
He died yesterday, and I'm taking him home for burial, on 
the train.” Betty had also made a valiant effort to be kind to 
her sister-in-law, who lived only a short time longer. When 
the two wills were probated, her husband and his sister had 
left Betty over ten million dollars. 

Commenting on her correct forecast, Jeane said: “If Betty 
had not gone back with love in her heart, which she did, it 
would not have turned out this way. That is why I didn't, tell 

7 X □ □ □ 

her that I foresaw both deaths. I did not want her to think of 
them in a mercenary way, and she didn’t/’ 

A year later Betty telephoned Jeane from New York to ask 
whether she should buy “the most beautiful necklace that I 
have ever seen.’’ The price was a hundred and twenty-five 
thousand dollars. Instead of replying directly, Jeane cau- 
tioned: “Betty, if you look out of your window you’ll see a 
man loitering across the street. He is watching to see if you 
are at home. He wants to blackmail you and will be ringing 
your doorbell shortly. Whatever you do, don’t answer the 
door personally. Tell your maid to get his name and phone 
number, and turn it over to your lawyer.’’ 

Although Jeane was speaking from Washington, Betty 
looked out of her New York window and saw a young man 
whom she vaguely recognized. As she watched, he started 
toward her apartment lobby. She had a few minutes to in- 
struct the maid, before he rang the doorbell. His name and 
telephone number were subsequently referred to Betty’s law- 
yer, who contacted him and reported that the young man she 
had once befriended was now trying to blackmail her with 
some letters she had written. He wanted to get married and 
was desperate for funds. Betty reported this to Jeane and 
asked again: “But what about the beautiful necklace?” Jeane 
laughingly told her that she would get it, but that if she 
waited a few more weeks the price would be drastically re- 
duced. A month later Betty acquired it for sixty-five thousand 





On a humid midsummer evening in 1947 a management con- 
sultant named Daniel Magner dropped in at the Dixons* to 
talk over with his friend Jimmy his forthcoming trip to the 
Far East. The drone of an electric fan provided a sleepy ac- 
companiment as he described his itinerary in minute detail. 
Jeane, seated across the room, was following his account with 
somnolent detachment, but just as he mentioned New Delhi 
a vision appeared before her, and she blurted: “Mahatma 
Gandhi will be assassinated.” 

The two men turned to stare at her. “What are you saying, 
Jeane?” Magner asked. 

“It’s true,” she replied, her voice tinged with excitement. 
“Just as you spoke of India I saw a vision of the Prime Minis- 
ter, and he was lifting up his arms to a religion that is too pro- 
Western for some of his people to tolerate. He was actually 
reaching toward God in the Christian sense. He’ll be killed 
within six months by someone they least suspect.” Within six 
months, on January 3, 1948, the great spiritual leader of 
India met an untimely death. His assassin was a Hindu fa- 
natic who belonged to the Mahasabba politico-religious 

73 □ □ □ 

By this time, Jeane's forecasts had been appearing fre- 
quently in newspapers, and people were besieging her for 
private readings. She could no longer go to parties without 
being backed into corners by people who held out their 
palms and pleaded for guidance about personal decisions. 
Her telephone rang at all hours of the night and Jimmy was 
losing sleep. One evening when a military attache of a Far 
Eastern embassy knocked on their door to seek a reading, 
Jimmy Dixon decided that he had had enough. Politely but 
firmly he told the caller that Mrs. Dixon had retired for the 
night and could not be disturbed. Then he had a serious talk 
with his beautiful young wife. 

"Charity begins at home, Jeane," he told her. "These 
people are imposing on your good nature and sapping your 
strength. Since you seem to find it impossible to refuse them, 
I think you'd better come to work in my office. The switch- 
board operator can help to protect your privacy, and you'll 
have a legitimate excuse when people want to take up your 

Jeane conceded the logic of his plan, for she knew the 
constant readings drained her of needed energy. Therefore 
she accompanied Jimmy to his office the next morning and 
accepted the desk assigned to her. She even forced a smile 
when he told the apartment maid and the office receptionist: 
"I don't care who calls Mrs. Dixon, whether it's a king or an 
ambassador; just tell them that she can't be disturbed." 

The pressure lessened somewhat after that, and she 
plunged zestfully into the business of bringing the right 
people and the right houses together in happy merger. She 
made no attempt to utilize her crystal ball to help with realty 
deals, but she could not still her psychic powers entirely. 
Victor Rand, a longtime employe, recalls that Mrs. Dixon 
telephoned him early one morning and said: "Mr. Rand, I 
dreamed that we had a fire in one of our houses. You’d better 
go over and check." Inwardly thinking "what next?" he duti- 
fully stopped on his way to work by the vacant house she had 


mentioned. The moment he turned the key in the lock and 
pushed open the door he smelled smoke. 

“I rushed to throw the light switch and call the fire depart- 
ment/* he says. “Since then, if she tells me that there’s trou- 
ble somewhere, or that we’ll have difficulty with a certain 
deal, I cringe. I know we will have, because she’s invariably 

By 1948 Jeane had become interested enough in houses to 
want one of her own. After six years in Washington apart- 
ment life had begun to pall, and when the Dixons bought a 
house in exclusive Chevy Chase, just off Connecticut Avenue, 
Jeane discovered that she was a frustrated interior decorator 
at heart. She was having a delightful time “doing over” the 
house to meet her exacting specifications, when Jimmy re- 
ceived a telephone call from Mr. Stanley Posner, who asked 
how much he wanted for the Chevy Chase house. Mr. Dixon 
explained why it was not for sale, but the caller would not 
take “no” for an answer. “Just name your price,” he insisted. 
“I want that house.” To Jeane’s consternation, Jimmy sold 

The house hunting began again, finally narrowing down to 
two town houses: one on Sheridan Circle in the heart of Em- 
bassy Row, which Jimmy wanted; the other a slightly less 
pretentious house on Nineteenth Street, nearer the office, of 
which Jeane rhapsodizes: “The moment that I walked into 
that Nineteenth Street house I seemed to feel God putting 
his arms around me. I knew it was for me. All the vibrations 
were right.” 

Jimmy vehemently argued against it. For one thing it was 
grossly overpriced, as Jeane admitted, and when she signed 
the purchase papers anyway, he irately warned that he would 
not live in it. For the first time in their married life Jeane 
had dared to cross her husband, but she serenely set to work 
restoring and redecorating the four-story Victorian row 
house. Three weeks before its completion Jimmy dropped by 

75 □□□ 

to take a grudging look and finally asked: “When are we 
moving in?” 

With a saucy tilt to her chin, she replied: “But I thought 
you weren’t going to.” 

“Well, it!s close to the office,” he conceded. They have 
been living happily ever after in Jeane’s dream house, and 
Jimmy, who adores his wife, never misses a quaint custom 
that he began during their honeymoon. Each night he places 
a fresh sweetheart rose on her pillow; or if he is out of town 
he has a rose delivered to her daily. “Like most husbands, I 
suppose that I don’t say ‘I love you’ as often as I should,” he 
explains, “so I substitute the little sweetheart rose in case I 
fail to do so.” 

Shortly after moving day they dined at the home of Dr. 
Stephen F. Verges and his wife, Evelyn, and Mrs. Verges per- 
suaded Jeane to bring out the cards with which she some- 
times “looks into the future.” No sooner had Evelyn cut the 
pack than Jeane exclaimed: “Evelyn, you’re going to be quite 
ill, and the doctors won’t be able to diagnose the cause. At 
times you’ll be sure that you are dying, but you’ll get well, 
so hold onto that thought when it happens. The illness comes 
and goes in waves like a tide. I want to prepare you, so that 
you won’t be frightened. Just accept this, and hold onto your 
faith.” A short time later Evelyn Verges became desperately 
ill. Since her husband was a physician she had the best avail- 
able medical care, but despite frequent medical consultations 
her condition worsened. 

“No one could diagnose my trouble,” Mrs. Verges says 
with a shudder. “I would be up for a day or two; then bed- 
ridden for ten. There was talk of brain tumor, blindness, and 
other dreadful things, but gradually I became stronger. Some 
time later I became pregnant, and the first month went well. 
Then I became very ill and despite numerous medical con- 
sultations grew steadily worse. In desperation I telephoned 


Jeane and begged her to tell me the truth. I was afraid I was 

Jeane meditated before replying, and then told Evelyn 
that she could never have the child, or it would take her life 
as well as its own. This was devastating news to Evelyn, who 
had two children already and hoped for six, so she decided to 
endure the sickness and try to bear the baby. “I was com- 
pletely bedridden and could take no food,” she recalls. "All 
the top specialists had been called in on my case, but I was 
becoming too weak to care whether I lived or died. One 
morning my husband was shaving, when he heard the death 
rattle in my throat. He rushed to a chest of drawers, grabbed 
a bottle of Pedro Domecq brandy which the Spanish ambas- 
sador had sent, and poured most of it down my throat. I felt 
myself slipping and floating away. My husband frantically 
located a famous gynecologist who rushed me to the hospital 
and operated immediately to take the foetus which was cost- 
ing my life. Just as Jeane had foreseen, the operation re- 
vealed that the child would have had no chance for survival 

Mrs. Verges was present when a beautiful young woman 
showed Jeane a photograph of her fiance. On touching the 
picture, Jeane told the girl that this was not the man she 
should marry and strongly urged her to wait until the right 
one came along. But the marriage occurred almost immedi- 
ately, and by the time a baby had been born a year later, the 
young woman realized her dire mistake in not listening to 

"It was a living nightmare,” Mrs. Verges says. "The details 
are too unspeakable to relate, but she had to flee to save her 
life. If only she had heeded Jeane’s clear warning! But who 
can tell a young girl in love to pull in the reins and turn away 
from danger? Jeane feels that we have to meet these dangers 
in order to grow through them and test our faith. Thank God 
she uses His gift to help, to guide, to give courage and sup- 

77 □ □ □ 

port. She has no malice in her heart toward anyone, even 
those who have deliberately hurt her. She is a religious, pious 
woman who feels that God has tests for each of us— tests for 
courage, love, faith, and endurance/' 

Evelyn Verges bears witness to another of Jeane's pro- 
phetic utterances, which occurred as the two women were 
flying together to New York in the late fall of 1961. Express- 
ing concern about someone close to both of them, Mrs. 
Verges confided that the woman had threatened to commit 
suicide. As she said the word “suicide," Jeane had a psychic 
flash and murmured: “No, she never will; but Marilyn Mon- 
roe will." 

“Marilyn Monroe!" Evelyn exclaimed. “Why, Jeane, what 
makes you say such a thing about that adorable young woman 
who has everything in the world to live for?" 

“I know," she said, “but it will happen within the next 
year. I have just seen it." Evelyn Verges was in Italy nine 
months later when newspapers headlined the shocking news 
that the beautiful blonde movie star who had sung “Happy 
Birthday" greetings at President Kennedy's party in New 
York a short time before had taken her life with sleeping 

Marilyn Monroe's is not the only tragic death of strangers, 
who were merely names in the news to Jeane, that she has 
foreseen. Eleanor Bumgardner recalls that while discussing 
plans for a trip abroad in the late summer of 1961, Jeane 
abruptly exclaimed: “It's all right, Lady, so long as you don’t 
fly in the same plane with Dag Hammarskjold in mid-Septem- 
ber. His plane will crash and he’ll be killed." Lady, who had 
never met the Secretary-General of the United Nations, dryly 
remarked that they had no mutual travel plans. She was in 
Europe on September 18 when she read that Hammarskjold 
had died in a plane crash in Northern Rhodesia, while on a 
mission seeking to establish a cease-fire between UN and 
Katanga forces in the Congo. Jeane was right again, but how 


does she do it? She says only: “I saw it happening while I was 
talking to Lady. It would have done no good to try to warn 
Mr. Hammarskjold. He knew nothing about me and would 
have paid no attention.” 

Many of Jeane’s premonitions are less dramatic but equally 
amazing to friends whose lives they touch. Emma Perley Lin- 
coln, a former newspaper writer who moderated a Washing- 
ton radio program during and after World War II, recalls 
that she first met Jeane at a charity benefit party at the Sul- 
grave Club in 1944. Jeane was giving readings with her 
crystal ball to aid the Red Cross and the waiting line was 
long, but when the chair beside Jeane at last was vacant, 
“Bab” Lincoln slipped into it. She was worried about another 
person, and therefore asked: “What will happen to a close 
friend of mine named Alice?"’ 

Jeane studied her crystal ball before replying: “Your 
friend has been separated from her husband for a long time, 
but she’ll go back to him within two or three months.” 

Bab says of the incident: “Alice and her husband had been 
divorced for nearly fifteen years and the idea of their going 
back together was so ridiculous that I had to laugh. I knew 
the case intimately, and I knew that she had not seen him for 
several years, because he was an alcoholic.” Within a month 
after the party, however, Alice had a telephone call from her 
former husband, who reported that he had been rehabilitated 
through Alcoholics Anonymous and wanted to see her again. 
A month later they were remarried. 

Miss Lincoln was so impressed by Jeane’s psychic power 
that she persuaded her to read for her sister in the spring of 
1952. Jeane told Mrs. Dorothy Hawley that she saw “two 
lovely little grandchildren.” When Mrs. Hawley replied that 
she had only one, Jeane smiled conspiratorially: “Then your 
daughter hasn’t told you that she’s pregnant again, because 
she is.” Her daughter lived in another city, but Dorothy 
immediately telephoned her to ask if she were pregnant. The 

79 □ □ □ 

young woman was astonished. “How did you guess it, 
Mother? I only just found out myself.” 

Jeane was reading publicly at a charity function in June 
1953 when she saw a vision of the Supreme Court, and just 
above the seal of the Chief Justice a chair draped in black. 
“Oh dear,” she wailed, “the Chief Justice will die within a 
few months.” Those who heard her told their friends, and 
when Chief Justice Fred Vinson died unexpectedly in Sep- 
tember, newscaster Hazel Markel related the curious story of 
Jeane’s prophecy on her national radio program. 

Jeane is in constant demand for radio and television inter- 
views, and Mrs. Shirley Peick recalls that once when she ac- 
companied Jeane to a TV studio a disbelieving cameraman 
teased her rather unmercifully. “Mrs. Dixon had never seen 
him before, but as usual she was patience personified,” Mrs. 
Peick says. “She made no attempt to defend herself or to 
argue with the man. Instead, she told him that she saw a 
brand-new baby near him. The man was astounded. With a 
decided change of attitude he said that his wife had given 
birth to a little girl the night before.” 

Helen Rouse, wife of the vice-president of a Washington 
savings and loan association, is another who can attest to 
Jeane’s strange powers of precognition. When she first met 
Jeane in 1949 she was working for a cosmetics firm, and in 
the process of getting a divorce. Sensing her depressed mood, 
Jeane touched her fingers and said: “Don't be disturbed. 
Within two years you will marry a perfectly wonderful man 
who is just right for you. He has blue eyes and light, prema- 
turely graying hair. I see that his initials are G.R. You will 
be happier and more prosperous than ever before.” The 
future Mrs. Rouse must have reflected her disbelief, for Jeane 
added: “You already know him. You have known him since 
you were a teen-ager.” 

Helen vainly racked her brain for anyone she had known 
with the initials G.R., and finally put the prediction out of 
her mind. Shortly after her divorce she entered a savings and 


loan company to open an account and was hailed by Pete 
Rouse from his desk. She had scarcely seen him since they 
were classmates at Central High School, but he told her: 
“You'll be surprised to hear that I’m getting a divorce.” 
Helen mentioned her own recent divorce, and after his de- 
cree became final Pete invited her to dinner. A six-month 
courtship ensued, during which Helen learned for the first 
time that Pete was only a nickname; he had been christened 
Gordon Rouse. Not only had Jeane foreseen the correct ini- 
tials, but the remainder of the description also fitted, and 
Helen has been happily married to the “perfectly wonderful” 
blue-eyed man for fourteen years. 

Mary Goldsmith, an executive at the International Team- 
sters' Union headquarters in Washington, was one of those to 
whom Jeane foretold President Kennedy's assassination a 
week before the tragic event. Mary had previously witnessed 
other manifestations of Jeane’s psychic talent, and she told 
me about a business luncheon which the two of them had 
with a policeman and a civilian who were active in a gov- 
ernment rehabilitation project. 

The men had never met Jeane before, but when Mary men- 
tioned her seeming ability to foresee the future, the elderly 
policeman joshingly asked what he had in store. Instead of 
dipping into the future, Jeane told him: “When you were 
fifty something happened to you that changed all the rest of 
your life for the better.” Touching the younger man's hand, 
she said: “You’re about thirty-seven. When you were sixteen 
something tragic happened to you which changed your life 
for the worse.” 

Jeane left shortly for another appointment, and the two 
men turned to Mrs. Goldsmith in astonishment. The police- 
man spoke first, saying: “I was an alcoholic until I was fifty 
years old. Then I stopped drinking, and because I had been 
rehabilitated through the help of friends, I determined to 
dedicate my life to helping others.” 

The younger man cleared his throat and also decided to 

Si □□□ 

confess, saying: “She said I was about thirty-seven, and I’m 
thirty-eight. I grew up in a very poor but strict Catholic 
family. My father was an alcoholic, and when he was drunk 
he would beat my mother. Finally, when I was sixteen I beat 
him up. It was the first time I ever laid a hand on him, but I 
ran away from home that night and joined the army. I was so 
shocked at what I had done that I started drinking and soon 
became an alcoholic. I finally married, but I was the kind of 
father that my own children ran from. At last I was cured by 
Alcoholics Anonymous, and that’s why I’m in rehabilitation 
work now.” 

Mary Goldsmith recalled that another time, after accom- 
panying Jeane to,a radio station in Virginia, she and Jeane 
went to dinner with a physician unknown to Jeane. The 
conversation turned to the radio interview, and Jeane asked 
the doctor if she could look at his hands. He thrust them out, 
palms up, and Jeane lightly touched his fingertips. “When 
you were thirty-five some terrible tragedy occurred that 
changed the pattern of your life. It had to do with your 

Mrs. Goldsmith noticed that the doctor was unusually re- 
served during the remainder of the meal. Knowing his scien- 
tific turn of mind, she thought that he might be annoyed 
with the conversation, but after paying the check he cornered 
Mary in the foyer. “Listen,” he said, “only three people in 
this whole world know what happened to me when I was 
thirty-five. My wife had a mental breakdown. We gave her 
shock treatment and did everything that the medical profes- 
sion could offer, but it was hopeless. She had to be institu- 
tionalized, and our children sent away to live with relatives. 
Even they don’t know about their mother. I can assure you 
that it drastically changed the pattern of my life. This friend 
of yours must have a rare gift from God.” 

Mary Goldsmith herself believed that Jeane’s was a divine 
gift. She said that four years previously she had been troubled 
by severe abdominal pain and went into George Washington 


hospital for an examination. “Jeane told me that they would 
find something but not to worry, because it would not be 
cancer/’ Mary continued. “Extensive tests turned up noth- 
ing. I was hospitalized for nine days, but each test was nega- 
tive. On a Friday, Jeane said they would find the trouble the 
following Tuesday morning. That Tuesday the doctors told 
me they had finally located an inoperable hernia in the chest 
cavity, which was pressing on my heart. They gave me treat- 
ments for it and sent me home.” 

When I talked to Mrs. Goldsmith in early 1964 she was in 
the hospital again. Before she checked in, Jeane sadly con- 
fided to John Teeter, of the Damon Runyon Cancer Fund: 
“This time Mary’s illness is fatal. They will find cancer, and 
she has but a few months to live.” Jeane’s psychic diagnosis 
was speedily confirmed by medical tests, and in mid-July 
Mary died of cancer. 

One of the more remarkable aspects of Jeane’s strange 
talent is her seeming ability to glimpse yesterday or tomor- 
row with equal ease. When she reads for a person, the movie 
of his life apparently runs both backward and forward 
through her projector. Because of this faculty she was already 
becoming a household name in social and official Washington 
when she announced in January 1948 that President Harry S 
Truman would be re-elected that November. So few others 
thought so that Jeane’s friends began to think she was losing 
her touch. 

Mrs. Walter Maloney, wife of a Washington attorney, re- 
calls that while Jeane was reading for her that January she 
told her to make a wish. Then Jeane studied her crystal ball 
and said: “Your wish is not a particularly personal one, but 
you’re going to get it. It will come true.” Feeling that she 
had tricked her friend, Mrs. Maloney laughingly confessed 
that she had wished for Mr. Truman’s re-election, and the 
odds were heavily against it. Jeane told her that the wish 
would nevertheless come true, because she had seen his vie- 

83 □ □ □ 

tory in the crystal ball. During this same period she tele- 
phoned her friend Estelle Friedrichs and told her not to 
worry about her job at the White House, because “Mr. 
Truman will be elected.” 

Her prediction spread rapidly through official circles, and 
some Washington hostesses irately crossed her from their 
party lists. A social secretary for one of the embassies even 
telephoned to urge that Jeane publicly change her forecast, 
“because you’re making yourself ridiculous with this one.” 
Jeane stuck by her guns. A few weeks later, appearing on Bab 
Lincoln’s local radio program, Jeane forecast that the rival 
nominees would be Thomas E. Dewey and Harry S Truman. 
“I see Mr. Dewey disappearing in a flood of newspapers,” 
Jeane said, “and a laurel wreath of victory descending over 
Mr. Truman’s head.” Political commentator Ray Henle also 
aired her prediction on his national radio program “Three 
Star Extra,” and letters of abuse poured in on Jeane from all 
parts of the country. No one seemed to believe her, not even 
her friend Mrs. Friedrichs. 

The Saturday before election Mrs. Maloney was working 
as a volunteer at Truman headquarters, soliciting donations 
in a last-ditch effort to buy broadcast time for the President’s 
political speeches. Only a day or two before he had been cut 
off the air for lack of funds. Jeane stopped by to leave a 
contribution and complained: “Madeline, everyone thinks 
I’m crazy. Let’s try it again with the cards, to see if I still get 
the same vibrations.” 

Thinking back to that busy day, Mrs. Maloney still smiles. 
“She brought out those worn old cards that she sometimes 
uses, and had me cut them. Then she spread them out. She 
didn’t say anything for a few minutes, but she finally looked 
up and said she just couldn’t see it any other way. Truman 
was going to win.” And win he did, to the surprise of prac- 
tically everyone but the President and Jeane. Four years 
later, during the 1952 campaign, Jeane told Mrs. Maloney 


that she saw a dark cloud over Adlai Stevenson. “He is not 
going to win,” she said, “but his star is ascending, and some- 
day he will take his rightful place in government. He will 
never, however, call the White House home. The Republi- 
cans will be in for two terms, and then the Democrats for 
two terms.” An ardent Democrat, Mrs. Maloney was naturally 
disappointed at this forecast. She remembers that Jeane con- 
tinued: “I have seen Mr. Stevenson in a vision, and he's 
going to be very sick. He will be rushed to the hospital for an 
operation, but he will recover.” She was soon to be proved 
right about this too. 

Shortly before the nominating conventions that summer of 
1952, television moderator Martha Rountree gave a large 
party in her Washington garden. Most of the potential can- 
didates were invited, and Jeane was asked to bring her crystal 
ball. Reading for Averell Harriman and Senator Richard 
Russell, Jeane told them that they would be denied the 
Democratic nomination, and that the nominee's name would 
begin with an s. 

Speaker Sam Rayburn posed for a picture with Jeane, who 
was dressed as a gypsy princess, and appeared visibly upset 
when she told him that he would lose the Speakership. “But 
you will be without your exalted position only for a short 
while,” she reassured. “Then you will get your gavel back, 
and on your seventy-third birthday you will have the greatest 
honor of your entire career.” The rest is history. Adlai Stev- 
enson, whose name begins with s , won the nomination, but 
Republicans, riding the crest of the Eisenhower wave, recap- 
tured control of the House and Senate that fall. GOP Repre- 
sentative Joseph W. Martin, Jr., supplanted “Mr. Sam” as 
Speaker of the House; but two years later the tide turned 
and he regained the Speakership. On his seventy-third birth- 
day the Democrats staged a tremendous “Sam Rayburn din- 
ner” which overflowed the hall, and President Eisenhower 
honored him with a plaque. 

85 □□□ 

The next day Mr. Rayburn gallantly telephoned Jeane to 
say: “My belief in you is very great. The dinner was the 
greatest honor ever paid to me. You keep on doing the work 
that you’re doing for people, because that prediction buoyed 
me up when things looked dark.” 

I first met Jeane the night of Martha Rountree’s party, and 
subsequently wrote a column quoting her prediction that 
General Eisenhower would capture the White House. Jeane 
also told Hope Ridings Miller that the general would defeat 
Adlai Stevenson, and Hope was so disappointed that she 
asked to be notified immediately if the prediction changed. 
Mrs. Miller, now the editor of Diplomat magazine, recalls: “I 
was staying at the Waldorf in New York two weeks before the 
election, when I received a telegram from Jeane Dixon. She 
said it would be Eisenhower by a landslide. And it was.” 

The following spring, on May 14, 1953, Martha Rountree 
invited Jeane to appear with her crystal ball on an NBC 
television program. Before accepting, Jeane asked if it would 
be all right for her to talk about previous forecasts if she 
failed to see anything new in her crystal ball while on the 
program. Miss Rountree agreed, because Jeane solemnly 
pointed out that “you can’t turn it off and on like a water 
spigot.” Jeane also checked the date of the program astrologi- 
cally, to establish that it was one of her “good” days. In doing 
so she used a system taught to her as a child in California by a 
Jesuit priest called Father Henry. By studying her own birth 
chart she had long ago determined that fives and nines were 
her best numbers, and that she should guard against fours 
and eights. May 14, 1953, therefore seemed like an excellent 
date. May is the fifth month, and since in numerology the 
numbers of a date are added together sideways, the one and 
four of the fourteenth day totaled five. By the same token, 
the year 1953 adds to eighteen, and eight and one make 

The show went on the air, and as former Ambassador to 


Russia Joseph E. Davies stepped into camera range, Jeane 
was mentally rehearsing what she would reply about a recent 
vision concerning Nepal. Instead he asked: “How long will 
Malenkov be Prime Minister of Russia?” Everyone was 
uneasy except Jeane, who did not seem in the least perturbed 
at the prospect of fencing before television cameras with the 
famous Russian expert who had written the best-selling book, 
Mission to Moscow . Peering into her crystal ball, Jeane “saw” 
Malenkov being replaced by another man whose image was 
quite plain to her, and she replied, “He will bow out in 
slightly less than two years, to a man with an oval-shaped 
head, wavy gray hair, a little goatee, and greenish eyes.” 

The ambassador uttered a mirthless laugh. Displaying his 
superior knowledge of the Soviet Union, he retorted that 
Russian premiers are not peacefully replaced; they either die 
or are shot. Moreover, he added, Russians do not look like 
the replacement whom she described, so she was wrong on all 
counts. Jeane calmly replied that she was telling what she 
“saw,” not what she “thought,” and that the event would 
definitely transpire shortly before two years had elapsed, be- 
cause she “saw a tiny tail on a two.” 

By now she had the complete attention of the group which 
included former Ambassador to China Patrick J. Hurley and 
his wife. Marine Commandant Lemuel C. Shepherd and Mrs. 
Shepherd, and Mrs. Davies, the former Marjorie Post, heiress 
to a cereal fortune. Jeane, however, seemed oblivious to ev- 
eryone, because another picture was beginning to form in the 
crystal ball. Speaking out eagerly, she said that the goateed 
gentleman would rule only briefly, until a shorter, bald- 
headed man took over. “Shortly afterward,” she continued, 
“a silver ball will go into outer space. It will circle the earth 
and come back to Russia, landing like a dove of peace on the 
bald head of the short, fat man. It will then dig its claws into 
his scalp.” This meant, she explained, that after Russia 
launched the world's first orbiting object the Soviets would 


One Sunday in November 1954 a group of friends met in the 
Dixon realty office to discuss an exhibition that artist Emma 
Ench had arranged in her Paterson, New Jersey, home to 
benefit the Damon Runyon Cancer Fund. Miss Ench was 
seated in a chair near the door, Jeane Dixon sat behind her 
husband’s big desk, and Lorene Mason was perched on a cor- 
ner of the desk between them. Estelle Friedrichs, known to 
her friends as Mike, and Shirley Peick completed the cir- 

Miss Ench had brought with her a stack of eight-by-ten 
photographs of the display; each scene illustrated a nursery 
rhyme such as “The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe.” One 
by one she passed them to Lorene, who exclaimed at their 
artistic quality and handed them to Jeane, who also remarked 
on their beauty, and sent them on around the circle. Lorene 
Mason recalls that the tenth picture showed a cross section of 
the display in Emma’s recreation room, which she considered 
particularly attractive, but as she handed it to Jeane the seer- 
ess dropped it as if her fingers were burned and cried out in 
horror: “Oh, Emma, you’re going to have a terrible fire un- 


less you're very careful!" Those present have reconstructed 
the ensuing conversation in this vein: 

Emma: “Oh, pooh, Jeane, don't try to use that as an excuse 
for not coming up to Paterson to see the exhibit. The fire 
marshal has already been there and approved the arrange- 

Jeane: “Emma, please! I can’t warn you enough to have 
everything fireproofed." 

Emma: “Don't worry, Jeane; everything is fine, I tell 

Jeane: “Emma, Emma, be careful. You must have every- 
thing in that room fireproofed or there will be a terrible 
tragedy. I beg you!" 

Emma: “Jeane, don't keep saying that. I tell you the fire 
marshal says everything is fine." 

Jeane: “Emma, please, please listen to me." 

The meeting broke up in some embarrassment, and Miss 
Ench left with Mrs. Friedrichs. To Miss Mason, who re- 
mained behind, Jeane murmured in a tone of resignation: 
“Poor, poor Emma! Poor Emma!" The exhibit was scheduled 
to close on January 15, and two days later Jeane and Miss 
Mason flew to New York on Runyon fund business. As they 
walked into the office of the director Mr. Teeter’s secretary 
exclaimed: “Isn't it ghastly about Miss Ench?" 

She handed them a copy of the Paterson Morning Call 
dated January 17, 1955, whose eight-column banner headline 
read: PARTY FIRE KILLS MISS ENCH. The news story 
itself began: “The originator of a fairyland display for the 
benefit of the Damon Runyon Cancer Fund died last night in 
the Paterson General Hospital of burns she sustained in a fire 
which gutted the cellar where the display was located. Six 
other persons were burned, one seriously. Dead is Miss Emma 
Ench, 40, who had dedicated the display to her mother who 
had died of cancer. 

“The fairyland dolls and houses, located on a large table in 

<?7 □□□ 

have enormous power. Jeane held out her hands in a circle to 
indicate the shape of the future sputnik. 

At that point Ambassador Davies could contain himself 
no longer. Taking her by the arm, he rasped: “No, no, that 
will never happen. I have been ambassador there, and I know 
that things are not done that way in Russia.” 

Recalling the dramatic incident, Jeane sighs: “Much more 
was coming, but Mr. Davis actually grabbed my arm and 
shook me, saying that I should read his book and learn about 
Russia. I was so engrossed that I had forgotten we were on 
television. Otherwise I would not have said what I did next.” 
Television viewers heard Jeane exclaim: “Oh, Mr. Ambas- 
sador, you’ve just spoiled my whole connection.” 

Mr. Davies was still poking fun at Jeane when the program 
ended, but he lived to see her proven right. One month short 
of two years later, Marshal Bulganin peacefully replaced 
Georgi Malenkov as the Soviet Premier. Gray-haired, goateed 
Bulganin fit Jeane’s description precisely, and roly-poly, bald- 
headed Nikita Khrushchev took over the actual reins of 
power as the Communist party boss. In 1957 the Soviets 
orbited the world's first man-made satellite, and Khrushchev 
deposed Bulganin the following March. Back in 1953, how- 
ever, Jeane’s amused audience could not share her vision of 
the shape of things to come. 

That same year John P. Philpott, an official of the Ameri- 
can Federation of Labor's Retail Clerks Union, was at the 
Dixons’ talking about a trip to California, when Jeane saw “a 
vision of a golden wedding ring” descending over his union 
and the Congress of Industrial Organizations. 

“Oh, Mr. Philpott,” she interrupted, “the AFL and CIO 
are going to merge.” 

“Never,” he scoffed. “Never, never, never. They’re worlds 

Unperturbed, Jeane insisted: “Nevertheless, they are going 
to merge, because I’ve seen a wedding for them. It will come 


within two years.” On December 5, 1955, the CIO merged 
with the AFL. 

Among the most closely guarded secrets of the Eisenhower 
Administration was the President’s golf score. One May eve- 
ning in 1953, Martha Rountree was helping stage a radio 
program for disabled veterans at Bethesda Naval Hospital in 
nearby Maryland, and had invited Jeane to participate in a 
segment of the show with comedian Bob Hope. I was appear- 
ing in another segment, as a panelist on Martha’s TV pro- 
gram, “Leave It To the Girls,” and was backstage when Bob 
Hope bustled in, to the cheers of the veterans. Jeane, wearing 
a long evening dress, was escorted on stage and introduced to 
Hope as Washington’s famous seeress. The comedian cracked 
a few jokes and then teased: “Well, Mrs. Dixon, I’ve been 
playing golf with Ike this afternoon at Burning Tree. If 
you’re so good, tell me what my golf score was.” 

Looking into her crystal ball, she replied serenely: “I’ll tell 
you not only your score but also the President’s. It was a 96 
and a 92. You won.” 

The smile faded from his lips, and for a moment Bob 
seemed in danger of collapse. As soon as the show was over, 
he grabbed his manager-brother backstage and groaned: 
“Jack, this Dixon woman has ruined me. The President will 
never believe I didn’t give out his golf score.” He then or- 
dered the golf score trimmed from the tape that would be 
broadcast nationally on his regular show. He dared not air 
the fact that Ike had shot a 96. 

93 □ □ □ 

impending operation she go abroad for a couple of months as 
a working member of an official conference. Mike relished 
the idea but refrained from committing herself until she had 
asked Jeane for advice. Jeane advised her to go, saying: “It 
will be like a college education for you. You think you will 
be gone only two months, but actually you’ll be gone for 
seven.” Mike didn’t think so, and neither did the White 
House. She sailed August 8, 1951, as a secretary to the U.S. 
delegation to a Radio Administrative Conference which was 
to open August 15 in Geneva and close in October. The 
conference, called to assign international radio wave lengths, 
extended on into early December, after which Mike used two 
weeks of her vacation to visit Rome, Milan, Venice, Florence, 
and Paris. 

As soon as she reached Paris she applied for the first availa- 
ble transportation home, but during the Christmas season 
space was at a premium, and while awaiting government 
orders to sail she performed secretarial work for Mrs. Eleanor 
Roosevelt, who was a United Nations delegate there. At 
Christmas Eve church services in Paris she ran into Paul Hoff- 
man, who upon learning that she was temporarily stranded 
drafted her to work for the Emergency Relief Administra- 
tion. Mike remained with the agency until March 8, when 
she received word that her husband was ill and hastily flew 
home. It had been seven months to the day since she set 

Mrs. Friedrichs’ husband speedily recovered from pneu- 
monia, and shortly afterward they entertained the owner of a 
large New York hosiery mill and the Dixons for dinner. At 
the stranger’s urging Jeane touched his fingers and forecast 
that he would soon be tempted to start another business in a 
somewhat related field, but that he should not do so, because 
it would fail. She also said: “You have two daughters. The 
elder will shortly marry, but it will end in divorce. Later she 
will marry again and be very happy.” Within a few months 


the wealthy manufacturer launched a lingerie business, 
which failed. The second prophecy also came true, and the 
daughter is now happily married for the second time. 

Early in 1954 Mrs. Friedrichs introduced Jeane to an old 
friend, Anne Nichols, author of the highly successful play, 
Abie's Irish Rose. Miss Nichols was then writing another 
play, but when Jeane touched her hand she picked up vibra- 
tions and announced: “Anne, you are hoping to revive a play 
of yours on Broadway. You will do it, too, but it will not be 
successful.” Mike had not known that her friend was even 
considering a revival, but that November she received a 
summons to come to New York and help with the rehearsals 
for Abie's Irish Rose. The play opened in December, flopped, 
and closed three weeks later. 

In reading for Miss Nichols and other strangers, Jeane al- 
most invariably asks their birthday. “I do that for the rising 
and setting signs,” she explains, “because it helps in my med- 
itation to see which direction they're going. I don’t ask for 
the minute of their birth, because I don’t want to be influ- 
enced by what their horoscope charts would say. I just like to 
know their rising and setting signs, so that I can pick up their 
correct vibrations.” 

Jeane marks her own calendar for “good” and “bad” days a 
year in advance, after working out her chart. “If the day, the 
month, and the year add up to a four,” she says, “then I have 
to be very careful on that particular date, because it’s like a 
ship being launched upon the ocean. It could be a wonderful 
ship, but there’s always danger if it gets caught in a storm and 
suffers severe battering. Our lives take the same kind of beat- 
ing as a ship on the seas. People can feel this storm within 
themselves, when they are being buffeted by the wrong signs, 
even if they don’t know why. On a day that adds to four, my 
judgment may not be quite as good as on one that adds to 
five, seven, or nine. Five is my guiding number. Seven is a 
miracle number, and nine signifies the ending of things and 
the beginning of a new cycle.” 

9 1 □ □ n 

the cellar of the home of Richard Ench, had attracted hun- 
dreds of visitors since it was set up about a week before 
Christmas. Men, women and children who had been enjoying 
a party around the display were forced to flee up a flaming 
stairway at the back of the house. Firemen said a flaming 
marshmallow was responsible for the blaze. 

“Witnesses said the marshmallow landed in the display 
called ‘The Land of Let’s Believe/ and within seconds flames 
spread through the dry evergreens and absorbent cotton, cut- 
ting off an exit through the garage/’ 

The article went on to report that Miss Ench, after closing 
the exhibit, had decided to give a final party for the fifteen 
neighborhood children and adults who had helped her with 
the exhibit. She was worried about the dryness of the ever- 
greens and had remarked that she must remove them the 
next day. The next day was too late. A child, toasting marsh- 
mallows in the fireplace, jerked the stick excitedly when the 
confection caught on fire, and it sailed into the powder-dry 
greens festooning the ceiling. Miss Ench, who was known in 
Paterson as “The Santa Claus Lady” because of her charit- 
able endeavors each Christmastime, died after being dragged 
unconscious from the house. 

Lorene Mason, gripping the newspaper which told of the 
catastrophe, stared dazedly at Jeane. “And you told her,” she 
said. In retrospect it seems strange that Emma Ench should 
have so completely disregarded her friend’s warning. She 
knew of Jeane’s reputation as a psychic, and although she 
could not then know how accurate her predictions about 
Russia and the satellite were to prove, she did know about 
the Kentucky Derby of 1953. The year before the tragic fire, 
Jeane had received a telegram from racing friends in New 
York, asking whether they should bet on Native Dancer, the 
favorite in the Derby. Before replying to the wire, Jeane 
called Estelle Friedrichs and said: “I just don’t see Native 
Dancer winning, but I don’t see it losing, either. I’m con- 



fused/’ Mike replied that a horse does not have to come in 
first to be in the money, because it can also place or show. 
'‘That’s it— place,” Jeane ejaculated. “Dancer will come in 
second,” and that is exactly what happened to the previously 
undefeated favorite. 

Mrs. Friedrichs had had innumerable chances to observe 
her friend’s uncanny powers. The Sunday morning following 
their first meeting she invited Jeane to stop by her apartment 
after Mass. When Jeane arrived Mike was wearing an expen- 
sive red silk polka-dot robe which she had purchased in New 
York the month previously after unexpectedly receiving an 
invitation to visit wealthy friends at their estate nearby. Jeane 
seated herself on the sofa but immediately began to shift un- 
comfortably, and finally ventured: “Do you have another robe 
you can put on? I just can’t concentrate with that one around. 
It can bring you bad luck.” 

Although Mike herself considered the robe unusually 
becoming she good-naturedly retired to the dressing room 
and changed into another. When she reappeared, Jeane’s 
voice reflected her relief. “Good,” she said. “Just don’t wear 
that other one any more. Give it away. It may not bring bad 
luck to someone else, but it will to you.” What Mrs. Fried- 
richs could not then know was that bad luck was already 
brewing for her. Because of the weekend spent at the house 
party for which she had bought the robe, she was soon to be- 
come innocently involved in a probe of a money transaction 
to which her hosts were party. Mike had known nothing of 
the deal, but when a government investigation was launched 
she was embarrassingly scrutinized because of her White 
House position. 

The years passed, and as Jeane had predicted Mike stayed 
on at the White House under the Truman as well as the 
Roosevelt Administration. In the late spring of 1951 her boss, 
David K. Niles, told her he was resigning because of ill- 
health. He suggested that during his convalescence from an 

97 □ □ □ 

John F. Kennedy. And Lausche did indeed win election to 
the Senate that November. 

Senator Kefauver was well aware of Jeane’s prediction con- 
cerning himself, before he narrowly won the vice-presidential 
nomination in the convention fight of 1956. In January of 
that year a friend had telephoned Estelle Friedrichs to offer 
her a job with the Kefauver for President Committee. Before 
accepting she consulted Jeane, who studied her crystal ball 
and advised: "Take the job; but Senator Kefauver is not 
going to be President despite all of his campaigning and 
handshaking. He will be the vice-presidential nominee. I can 
tell you right now that the ticket will be Stevenson and 

Mrs. Friedrichs took the position, and later that spring 
gave a reception where Jeane met Senator Kefauver for the 
first time. At Mrs. Friedrichs' suggestion she read for the 
Tennessee presidential hopeful and told him that his timing 
was wrong for a White House try. "You should have waited 
to make your bid until i960, when the Democrats will win," 
she chided. "You will be nominated as Vice-President this 
year, but your party will be defeated." 

Several months later, after Adlai Stevenson had been 
nominated. for the second time as the Democratic standard- 
bearer and the selection of his running mate was thrown 
open to the delegates, Kefauver, Jack Kennedy, and Hubert 
Humphrey launched a free-wheeling scramble for delegate 
support. Recalling Jeane’s prophecy, a member of the Ke- 
fauver staff telephoned her long distance from Chicago to say 
that it looked as if Senator Kennedy would probably win the 
race. What did she foresee? Jeane meditated for a moment 
and replied that Kefauver would definitely get the vice-presi- 
dential nomination. He did, and his party lost. 

When Jeane predicted in December 1955 that President 
Eisenhower would be re-elected the following November, Ike 
himself was not even sure that he would run again. He was 


still convalescing from a heart attack which Mrs. Dixon had 
previously foreseen. Two days before the attack a high official 
in the Administration telephoned Jeane to say that he had 
been invited to the summer White House in Denver but was 
undecided whether to go. “You must go immediately, with- 
out delay,” she responded, “because if you don’t it will be too 
late. The President is going to be taken seriously ill.” 

Jeane had already asked a White House adviser to warn the 
President to stay away from the golf course for a time, but as 
usual no one listened. Two days later, after playing thirty-six 
holes of golf in Denver’s rarefied atmosphere, the President 
suffered a heart attack. When the official telephoned to break 
the news of Ike’s illness, Jeane replied calmly: “It’s all right. 
He will recover and be better than before.” 

In the column of predictions for 1956, Jeane also declared: 
“President Eisenhower will be somewhat less active during 
his second four years of the presidency. He will run the gov- 
ernment as you would a big business, delegating his less im- 
portant powers and enjoying the job much more than he ever 
has before. It will be the most non-partisan four years in 
recent history. I see no atomic warfare in the near future, and 
little danger from Russia. Our big trouble will come from 
Communist China, and the strange thing is that the Red 
Chinese will soon turn on Russia too. We should begin to 
treat Russia simply as a keen competitor, because we will 
need her on our side when Red China becomes a world 
threat in 1964. The Democrats will capture the White House 
in i960.” 

One of the most uncanny forecasts Jeane Dixon has ever 
personally made to me came in December 1958, when I was 
preparing the column of her annual forecasts for the year 
ahead. “John Foster Dulles,” she said, “will not be in the 
Cabinet after the middle of the year.” 

Amused by her lack of political perspicacity, I replied: 
“I’m not going to put that in the column. President Eisen- 

95 □ □ □ 

Mrs. Friedrichs recalls that after Jeane had ascertained 
Margaret Truman's birthday, she said of her: “She is to be 
admired for pursuing a career while living in the White 
House, but she will never make a name for herself as a singer. 
She will not marry while her father is the President. Later 
she will be rather choosy in selecting a husband, and will not 
accept him without the approval of her parents." 

Margaret Truman is now married to Clifton Daniel, a 
newspaperman whom she did not meet until after the Tru- 
mans left the White House. Her mother and father heartily 
approved her choice of a mate. 

By the mid-fifties Jeane Dixon's prowess as a political 
prognosticator was so well established that newspaper and 
radio commentators began telephoning her from all parts of 
the nation to ask how the 1956 campaign was shaping up in 
her crystal ball. She had yet to be wrong in forecasting a 
presidential winner. She was right about Herbert Hoover’s 
election in 1928, when she was still in grammar school, and 
she accurately foretold Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s four vic- 
tories as well as his death. She had foreseen that Harry Tru- 
man would become President “through an act of God,” and 
that he would be re-elected in 1948. She also forecast the 
return of the Republicans to power in 1952 under the ban- 
ner of Dwight Eisenhower. 

Back in 1945, she had even dared to tell Prime Minister 
Winston Churchill that he would be turned out of office by 
the British electorate. This prophecy coincided with the dis- 
tinguished wartime leader’s trip to Washington earlier that 
spring. Lord and Lady Halifax had invited Mrs. Dixon to a 
party in honor of their visiting Prime Minister, and though 
Jeane knew nothing of Britain’s political situation, she “re- 
ceived vibrations” when she shook Mr. Churchill’s hand in 
the receiving line and beseeched him: “Mr. Prime Minister, 
please don’t call an early election or you’ll be defeated.” 

The grand old man of British politics turned to stare at the 
brash young woman. Her clear hazel eyes levelly returned his 


gaze, and after a moment he grunted: “England will never 
let me down.” 

As if she had not heard, Jeane continued: “But never 
mind. You'll be back in power in a few more years.” 

Churchill nevertheless set the elections for June of that 
year, and the Labor party captured control of Parliament. 
Churchill was replaced by Prime Minister Attlee, and six 
years elapsed before the Tories won again. Then Mr. Chur- 
chill reassumed the Prime Minister's mantle, which he 
proudly wore until his voluntary retirement in 1955. 

In 1962, Jeane made another prediction about the great 
statesman. She told Russell P. Riley that Sir Winston would 
die at the end of 1964. She missed by only 26 days. 

After I met Jeane in 1952 I began writing occasional col- 
umns about her forecasts, which gradually developed into an 
annual New Year's tradition. The column that appeared 
under my by-line in the New York Daily News on December 
31, 1955, began as follows: “While dozens of senators and 
governors are confidently scribbling their New Year’s resolu- 
tions— to run for the presidency— Washington's favorite seer- 
ess has been quietly studying her crystal ball. If Jeane 
Dixon's latest predictions prove as amazingly accurate as 
those of the past, presidential hopefuls can put away their 
campaign buttons. Her stars have already decreed that 
Dwight D. Eisenhower will be re-elected.” 

In that same column she forecast that Governor Frank 
Lausche of Ohio would make an important advancement, 
either into the new Administration or to the Senate, and 
added: “Senator Estes Kefauver will fail in his dream of the 
presidency, but is likeliest winner of second-place nomina- 
tion on the Democratic ticket.” Those predictions were pub- 
lished in my column eleven months before President Eisen- 
hower was re-elected, and seven months before Senator 
Kefauver lost the Democratic presidential nomination, but 
won second place on the ticket in a spirited race with Senator 

101 □ □ □ 

the beginning of the strife, only the “glorious ending” of 
the trouble between the races in approximately 1980. 

“I saw the vision for the second time in 1948, while kneel- 
ing in St. Matthew’s Cathedral in Washington,” she con- 
tinues. “This time I was shown the beginning of serious riot- 
ing in 1963, with the situation worsening in 1964. I saw 
colored people walking on the tops of government buildings, 
which were merely the symbols for authority and politics. I 
saw the Negroes being pushed by an underground force- 
shoved upwards before they were ready. They were being 
used by others for selfish ends, and a voice told me that not 
until about 1980 would peace finally come. That is God’s 
will, and we will pay the price if we try to thwart it by 
pushing too fast. The racial issue will continue to dominate 
the decade of the 1960s, with the colored people seeking 
equal powers and jobs before they have the intellectual ca- 
pacity and understanding to accept equal responsibility.” 
When Jeane speaks of the colored race, she does so with 
love in her heart. For the past twenty years she has contrib- 
uted heavily to the support of several generations of Negroes 
who live at Peace Plantation, a charitable venture in Sterling, 
Virginia. She makes frequent trips to the farm, taking cloth- 
ing and food for the men, women, and children; paying their 
medical and dental bills. She has bought the children their 
first dance dresses and suits, driven them personally to Wash- 
ington dentists and eye doctors, given them jobs, and show- 
ered them with affectionate understanding. She says of these 
families: “I’m more indebted to them than they could ever 
be to me, because I have learned so much from them. We 
are all equal in the eyes of God.” 

Jeane is greatly admired by Elder Lightfoot Solomon 
Michaux, the pastor of a tremendous Negro congregation at 
Washington’s Church of God and of six other churches in 
cities from New York to Virginia. He often introduces her as 
“my people’s Joan of Arc.” The Dixons dine occasionally at 



his home, and when business prevented Jimmy Dixon from 
attending one of Elder Michaux’s recent birthday parties 
there, jeane took Eleanor Bumgardner in his stead. During 
dinner the Elder boasted that no one knew his age. “Em 
going to challenge my Washington audience tonight to touch 
their fingers to the floor as many times as I do, without bend- 
ing their knees,” he chuckled. “If anyone can defeat me I’ll 
tell my correct age, but no one ever accepts the challenge.” 

Jeane, thinking he was jesting, said that she would be glad 
to challenge him. Nothing more was said on the subject until 
the group arrived at the church, which was already filled to 
overflowing with Elder Michaux’s devoted flock. Then the 
old man announced from the stage that after some music by 
the choir Mrs. Dixon would challenge him to a contest. Jeane 
was appalled. Turning to Miss Bumgardner, she whispered: 
“Do you suppose Elder Michaux is serious? I don’t know 
whether I can even touch the floor once.” She went out to the 
rest room, kicked off her shoes, and swung forward. To her 
immense relief her fingers touched the floor. She had no 
sooner returned to her seat than the aging dignitary ap- 
pointed a referee and summoned her on stage. He peeled off 
his coat, and Jeane, who was wearing a long black evening 
dress, shed her white lace bolero and black silk pumps. 

The marathon began. Up and down they bent, five times, 
ten times, fifty, seventy, eighty, a hundred times. The elderly 
Negro began missing the floor occasionally with his fingers, 
but he gamely swung on until the count reached one hun- 
dred and thirty-five. Then he pantingly called a halt, ex- 
claiming: “Is she made of rubber?” The referee asked him 
to tell his age, but Elder Michaux laughingly pronounced the 
contest a draw. 

Only once in her life has Jeane Dixon seemingly failed to 
name the correct winner of a presidential race. Oddly enough 
this apparent slip-up occurred in i960, although since 1952 

99 □ □ □ 

hower relies on Mr. Dulles more than on any other member 
of his Cabinet. He would not dream of letting him go.” 

“No,” she said imperturbably, “he won’t discharge him.” 
“Well, Mr. Dulles certainly won’t quit,” I argued. “All of 
his life he has wanted to be Secretary of State.” 

Disregarding my show of irritation, Jeane responded: “No, 
he will not want to quit, but he won’t be living by midyear.” 
Shocked, I said that I could not write such a dire predic- 
tion about a vigorous, healthy man, and in her gentle way she 
replied that it was up to me what I wrote; she merely told me 
what she foresaw. 

I finally compromised. In the syndicated column of 1959 
predictions, dated December 28, 1958, I wrote: “Jeane Dixon 
forecasts that Secretary of State Dulles, reluctantly and 
against his will, will retire from the Cabinet before the year’s 
end.” Before filing the column on the press wires I tele- 
phoned syndicate editor Milton Kaplan in New York, then 
told him what her prediction actually was and asked him to 
remember it in the event that she was correct. A few weeks 
later the State Department announced that Secretary Dulles 
was suffering from cancer. On May 24, 1959, he died. 


When I first met Jeane Dixon I was highly skeptical of her 
alleged prophetic powers. As a trained newspaper writer I 
was accustomed to dealing in facts, and I therefore wrote the 
columns of her predictions lightheartedly, in a spirit of 
whimsey, and paid scant attention when, as I was preparing 
the original column in 1952, she told me: “A racial crisis will 
erupt in America during 1963 and will become so serious in 
1964 that fighting will break out in the streets/’ Because this 
possibility seemed rather remote at the time, and my column 
had wide circulation in New York’s Harlem and other race- 
conscious areas, I deliberately made no mention of that par- 
ticular forecast, except to my editor. Each succeeding year 
Jeane tenaciously repeated the warning, however, and in 
1958 I finally included her forecast that one of the tensest 
periods in American history would come in 1964, but I omit- 
ted the fact that she referred to a struggle between blacks and 

Jeane says that her first vision of future racial strife came 
while she was kneeling in Sacred Heart Cathedral, on Holly- 
wood’s Sunset Strip, as a child. She did not at that time see 

□ □ □ 

The startled salesman pivoted so that he could see Mit- 
chell, who was calmly working at his desk in the adjoining 
room. Was the boss’s wife wacky? Shrugging a bit, he replied: 
“Why, he’s all right, Mrs. Dixon. I can see him from here . . . 
oh, my God, he’s dying!” In that split second Mitchell had 
slumped to the floor unconscious. Struck dumb by shock, 
Miller limply handed the telephone to Patricia Crist, who 
obeyed Jeane’s crisp injunction to “call an ambulance for 
Mr. Mitchell.” 

As soon as Jeane’s pin curls could be undone she hastened 
back to find the office in an uproar and Miller complaining 
that “the doctor , thinks I’m a kook.” The ambulance had 
arrived promptly, and Mr. Mitchell was so near death that an 
oxygen mask had to be put over his face before he could be 
carried out on a stretcher. The doctor asked Miller how long 
he had known that Mitchell was sick before he called an 
ambulance, and the shaken man had responded: “We didn’t 
know it at all. Mrs. Dixon telephoned from the beauty parlor 
to say he was dying.” The doctor looked pityingly at Miller, 
as if he considered him a fit subject for the man with the 

For five days Mitchell lay under an oxygen tent, while the 
hospital was besieged with calls. Jeane’s premonition about 
his heart attack had made the front pages of the Washington 
newspapers, and Mitchell was Man of the Week. When he 
was at last able to receive callers, he humbly took Jeane’s 
hand and confessed: “I want to tell you that I was never sure 
before, but since this happened I know that there is a God.” 
Doctors reported that Mr. Mitchell’s pulse had stopped by the 
time he reached the hospital. Had his attack been discovered 
routinely a few minutes after Jeane’s call, he could not have 
been revived. 

Employees at the Dixon realty office are well aware that 
their boss writes music in his spare time and that one of his 
compositions, “The District of Columbia Is My Home 


Town,” is played frequently at civic events in Washington, 
but few of them know how he happened to develop this 
hobby. As a bride, Jeane had frequently offered to read for 
her husband, but Jimmy was always too busy. At least, that 
was the excuse he gave, but she finally cornered him, brought 
out her crystal ball, and watched with interest as symbols 
formed before her eyes. “Why, Jimmy,” she exclaimed, “you 
can write music! You can write both the melody and the 

Dixon, who had halfheartedly played the violin as a boy, 
scoffed: “Why, I can’t write music, Jeane. People would 

“What difference does that make,” she persisted, “so long 
as you are developing a talent that God gave you? You’re in 
harmony with the universe in this channel, and you can 
bring joy to other people through music. The highest honor 
and greatest satisfaction that you will ever know will come 
through your song writing.” 

It was shortly afterward that Jeane’s father died and she 
flew to California for his funeral. Returning by train, she sat 
in the diner opposite a teen-aged boy who kept brushing 
away tears, and when Jeane sympathetically asked the trou- 
ble, he said that he was en route to Washington to meet his 
father, who was an army colonel. “I’m engaged to a girl back 
home in Omaha,” he blurted, “but because I’m not eighteen 
yet I have to have my parents’ consent to get married, and 
Dad won't give it.” 

To cheer him up, Jeane soothed: “Don’t worry about it. 
My husband will compose a song for you to send to your girl. 
Give me your address in Washington, and I’ll see that you get 
a copy.” The army colonel and Jimmy Dixon both met the 
train, and as the lad followed his father down the platform, 
Jeane could see that he was crying again. Relating the inci- 
dent to Jimmy, she asked him to help her keep the promise. 
That is how he happened to compose, “There’s a Sweetheart 

103 □ □ □ 

she had been correctly forecasting that a blue-eyed Democrat 
would be elected in i960 and would be assassinated. In my 
New Year’s column for that January Jeane said that John F. 
Kennedy would not be elected the following November. She 
still believes that he was not. In August i960 she wrote: 
“The symbol of the presidency is directly over the head of 
Vice-President Nixon, but a small, old-fashioned scale behind 
Nixon in the crystal ball can be interpreted two ways: that 
justice will prevail under divine guidance for Nixon or else, 
like the scale I saw with Mr. Truman in 1948, it means that 
unless the Republican party really gets out and puts forth 
every effort it will be toppled.” 

A few days before the November election Jeane excitedly 
rushed over to tell me that changes were occurring in the 
presidential scene depicted in her crystal ball. “I still see 
Nixon in the right half of the ball, which means victory, and 
Kennedy in the left,” she explained, “but the bisecting line 
between them is not quite closed at the bottom. Through 
that tiny space I see little feelers, like snakes, crawling from 
the left side into the right.” 

Never having seen anything but clear glass in a crystal 
ball myself, I naturally did not understand what she was talk- 
ing about, until she explained: “It means that unless the 
Republicans police every poll the victory will be stolen from 
them.” She took out a pencil, drew a circle to represent her 
crystal ball, and marked a vertical line down the center. On 
the left side she sketched dark clouds completely surrounding 
a small balloon, and within the balloon a star. On the right 
side she drew a chair, with a circle representing Nixon just 
above it. I noticed that she had not brought the vertical line 
quite to the bottom of the circle, and within that small gap 
she indicated five snakes crawling over into the right side of 
the circle. 

“Here is the presidential chair, but I don’t see Nixon sit- 
ting in it,” she said. “The snake heads are dropping off. 

104 A GIFT of prophecy 

which means that Democratic intrigue in five separate poll- 
ing areas will rob Nixon of his rightful victory. This is very 
serious. I can't see Nixon getting it. Kennedy will sit in that 
presidential chair, but something terrible will happen to 
him. He simply cannot break through these dark clouds that 
surround him. Look, he's a shining star inside this balloon, 
but suddenly the balloon will burst and he will be gone." 

The next day Jeane and Jimmy lunched with a top- 
ranking official of the Republican National Committee, for 
whom Jeane drew the same picture and sounded the identical 
warning to “police the polls." The following Tuesday Ken- 
nedy defeated Nixon by the narrowest margin in modern 
history. Election fraud was charged in several precincts, in- 
cluding Cook County, Illinois, and Texas, but Mr. Nixon 
chose not to demand a recount. Therefore we may never 
know whether Jeane Dixon actually erred in i960, but she 
says of that election: “My crystal ball clearly shows that 
Nixon won but that the prize was stolen from him by certain 
dishonest vote counters. The old-fashioned scale of justice 
was on Nixon's side in the crystal ball, and it never disap- 
peared even after the snakes of intrigue crawled through the 


Justice Mitchell returned to work at the James L. Dixon 
Agency, looking tanned and relaxed after a vacation. Jeane, 
bumping into him as she was leaving the office, compli- 
mented him on his appearance, and he heartily responded: “I 
never felt better in my life." Jeane was on her way to a 
beauty salon on Connecticut Avenue and was soon relaxing 
under a drier when a vision appeared before her half-closed 
eyes. The import was clear and imperative. Thrusting aside 
the drier, she rushed to the telephone on the appointment 
desk, dialed her office, and told salesman George Miller: “Do 
as I say immediately and don’t waste time asking questions. 
Call an ambulance and get Mr. Mitchell to the hospital. He's 
having a heart attack." 

*op □ □ □ 

he claimed were necessary to his police work was found in his 

Six weeks after a pretty government employee disappeared 
from her Washington apartment in August of 1964, her dis- 
trait parents appealed to Dr. Riesenman for help in finding 
her. The FBI had already circulated her name and descrip- 
tion as a “missing person,” to no avail. It was as if the earth 
had swallowed the attractive young woman. The noted psy- 
chologist says he asked Hurkos to use his psychic powers to 
help locate her, “but all he could get was that she was still 

On November i6 y 1964, Dr. Riesenman flew to New York 
with Jeane Dixon, who was to be a featured guest on the Les 
Crane TV show. During the flight he mentioned the puzzling 
disappearance of the girl and Jeane asked if he had a picture 
of her. All that he had with him was a negative, but after 
Jeane meditated briefly on that she said: “She is alive. Her 
physical condition is satisfactory, but she is very sick emotion- 
ally and is trying to lose her identity. She is living under an 
assumed name in the New York area.” On December 27, 
1964, the missing girl telephoned her parents, asking if they 
would send her a plane ticket to return home. She was then 
in Los Angeles, but at the family reunion on New Year’s Eve 
she confessed that she had been living in New York until 
early in December under the alias of Smith. Jeane had been 
right on every count. 

Dr. Riesenman told this writer that he considers Mrs. 
Dixon to be “one of the two or three greatest psychics of our 
times, because she keeps her channels clear and never com- 
mercializes her God-given talent.” 


In my New Year’s column of predictions for 1962, Jeane 
sounded a warning that cabinet officers should be “extremely 
careful in their appointments to a lower echelon of govern- 
ment, lest a tragic situation result.” Within a few months 
Congress launched an investigation into the free-wheeling 
activities of Billie Sol Estes, a thirty-seven-year-old Texan 
who was indicted on charges of fraud, conspiracy, and inter- 
state transportation of fraudulent mortgages having to do 
with federal grain storage. 

During the investigation it was charged that Estes had 
bought gifts for three Agriculture Department officials: 
Emery E. Jacobs of the Stabilization and Conservation 
Service; Dr. James T. Ralph, an Assistant Secretary of Agri- 
culture; and William E. Morris, Ralph’s assistant. The Agri- 
culture Department subsequently dismissed Jacobs and 
Ralph. To add to Administration embarrassment, Assistant 
Secretary of Labor, Jerry R. Holleman resigned, after disclos- 
ing that he had received a thousand-dollar gift from Estes. 
Jeane’s prophecy therefore proved correct, and the Billie Sol 
Estes case figured prominently in Senator Barry Goldwater’s 

r<>7 □ n □ 

in Nebraska/’ which was published by Shapiro, Bernstein 
and Company. 

Fired by the immediate success of his first musical venture, 
Jimmy continued to compose songs and to sing them in his 
rich baritone at parties. He became active in musical associa- 
tions and was named co-director and chairman of the John 
Philip Sousa Memorial. More recently he was appointed to 
the executive committee of the John F. Kennedy Cultural 
Center, for which the Sousa memorial fund is endowing the 
shell. On July 26, 1964, the American Bandmasters Associa- 
tion presented James Lamb Dixon with the Edwin Franko 
Goldman Memorial Award, at a Marine Band concert at the 
Watergate, and afterward official and social Washington 
gathered at the home of Mrs. Martin Vogel for a party in his 
honor. Another of Jeane’s prophecies had come true. 

Dr. F. Regis Riesenman, a psychiatrist who for fifteen 
years served on the psychiatric staff at St. Elizabeth’s Hospi- 
tal, is one of Mrs. Dixon’s enthusiastic admirers. Dr. Riesen- 
man’s hobby is exposing phony mediums, and when he 
happened to meet Jeane at a party in May 1961 he was eager 
to question the woman about whom he had heard so much. 

Dr. Riesenman, who performs magic tricks for the amuse- 
ment of friends, staged a demonstration, and Jeane watched 
for a time before going to the kitchen to help their hostess 
with dinner preparations. While she was gone he asked each 
of the others to write something on a piece of paper, fold it 
twice, and hand it to him. He then correctly told what each 
of them had written. The guests were baffled, and when 
Jeane eventually returned to the living room they told her 
that she had missed the best stunt of all. Says Dr. Riesenman: 
'‘To my utter amazement she walked across the room, told 
what I had been doing, and then whispered in my ear the 
explanation of how I did it. No one else had ever guessed that 
trick of mine, and she hadn’t even seen it performed.” 


Dr. Riesenman made the headlines in June i960 when he 
brought Peter Hurkos, a much-publicized Dutch psychic, to 
Washington to help solve the eighteen-month-old murder of 
Mr. and Mrs. Carroll Jackson and their two little daughters. 
Hurkos, after visiting the scene of the crime, led police to a 
trash collector, who was thereupon committed for observa- 
tion at his wife’s request. All Washington was talking of the 
sensational development the next day, and everyone except 
Jeane seemed relieved that a dangerous murderer was no 
longer stalking the countryside. To business acquaintances 
and friends she stoutly insisted: “They’ve picked up the 
wrong man. The murderer is a musician. He’s tall and has 
dark bushy hair.” Ten days later the FBI arrested a young 
jazz musician from Hyattsville, Maryland, whose diary 
seemed to describe how the lurid crime had been committed. 
Jeane was confident that this time the police had the right 
man. He exactly fitted her description, and he has since been 
convicted of the murders. 

Dr. Riesenman and his wife continued to see Jeane from 
time to time after their first encounter. Dining together in 
the summer of 1963, the conversation turned to Peter 
Hurkos, and Jeane sat quietly for a time before pensively 
remarking: “Mr. Hurkos has a wonderful gift from God, but 
I see that he is heading for difficulty. He will get into trouble 
before long and will go through severe emotional trials and 
tribulations before he sees the light.” 

In October 1963 Dr. Riesenman took Jeane to meet 
Hurkos, while he was briefly in Washington. “Hurkos had 
just been divorced and seemed emotionally upset,” the psy- 
chiatrist says. “I drove Jeane home afterward and she told me: 
‘Peter Hurkos is headed for a disaster within the next couple 
of months.’ ” Two months later the Dutch psychic whose life 
had previously been portrayed in a two-part network tele- 
vision series was charged in Wisconsin with impersonating an 
FBI agent. The police reported that an arsenal of guns which 

□ □ □ 

White House executive wing, the Ivy League alumni lost 
their predominance. Furthermore Hubert Humphrey, the 
man whom President Johnson selected as his running mate 
the following year, was an educational product of the Denver 
College of Pharmacy, the University of Minnesota, and the 
University of Louisiana. 

Jeane made another strange prediction for that column, 
saying: “In 1963 my symbol for education is like a fashion 
parade. Therefore I will say that education will be the fash- 
ionable topic of conversation throughout the country/’ 
Whether “fashionable” was the correct word is debatable, 
but the symbol was certainly right, because the year was not 
far advanced before practically everyone in the nation was 
talking about education, thanks to the riots which flared as 
the government sought to enforce the integration of schools. 
Jeane had foreseen the race rioting ten years before, and pin- 
pointed the timing. 

The column for 1963 forecast that U.S. agriculture would 
continue to be the world’s most productive but that our sur- 
pluses would “create a major problem.” Both Russia and Red 
China suffered severe crop failures that year, and controversy 
raged throughout the nation when President Kennedy de- 
cided to sell surplus wheat to Russia and its European satel- 
lites. Jeane foresaw “a great danger signal hanging over the 
European Community” and said that “the Common Market 
paths lead into a dangerous trap.” In mid-January 1963, 
French President Charles de Gaulle rocked the West by 
vetoing British entry into the Common Market. 

“De Gaulle’s France will be a keen competitor instead of 
an ally in 1963,” Jeane warned. “De Gaulle will let America 
know that he and France are not going to be dictated to by 
our country, but he should guard against a personal stubborn 
streak. He will remain the unchallenged leader of France 
throughout the year, and he is moving in a direction more 
and more in opposition to U. S. policy. West Germany will 


make peaceful overtures toward East Germany, after a more 
flexible Chancellor succeeds Adenauer late in 1963. West 
Germany will lean in the same direction with France, and De 
Gaulle will make some headway toward a Franco-Russian 
rapprochement. ,, 

In late January, France and Germany signed a two-power 
treaty of mutual co-operation, and De Gaulle continued 
throughout the year to buck our foreign policies. France and 
Russia refused to pay their share of principal and interest on 
the United Nations bonds, and West Germany arranged with 
East Germany to permit its citizens to visit relatives in East 
Berlin during the Christmas season. This was an unprece- 
dented action. 

Jeane said that 1963 would mark a break between Russia 
and Red China, and that within a few years thereafter Red 
China would invade the Soviet Union with a new kind of 
warfare. “It looks like germ warfare/’ she said, “and when 
that time comes America and Russia will mobilize on the 
same side to meet the common peril. In the months ahead 
Russia will begin a marked shift from an Asiatic to a Euro- 
pean nation, although Khrushchev will continue to employ 
many tricks to confuse the issue, while he gains time for these 
adjustments.” The estrangement between Red Russia and 
Red China is now history, but whether the invasion and re- 
alignment which Jeane foresees will actually occur remains 
shrouded for the rest of us. 

One of her predictions for that year seems to have been a 
miss. She said that America would call in some hidden money 
abroad, requiring it to be brought back here and exchanged 
for new money. Nothing of the sort developed, and when I 
subsequently asked her about this, she replied: “My symbols 
are never wrong, but sometimes I misinterpret them. I still 
see those symbols about money returning from abroad, and 
something curious will happen in that respect.” She also fore- 
cast that “the South will enjoy a terrific economic boom dur- 

nr □ □ □ 

presidential campaign against the Administration in 1964. 
Later, three high-ranking Pentagon officials were indicted on 
charges of embezzling Defense Department funds between 
May 1961 and November 1963. 

For that 1962 column Jeane also forecast: “Russia will beat 
us to the moon, but not while Soviet Premier Khrushchev 
and President Kennedy are still in power. Russia has already 
failed in several secret attempts to put a man on the moon 
and will suffer many other reverses before eventually suc- 
ceeding. Russia does not want war, because it is making the 
progress it wishes without it, and as time goes by we will find 
ourselves allied with Russia against Red China, parts of Af- 
rica, and the Far East. 

“Russia will continue to be extremely powerful through 
1962, but the steady rise of Red China thereafter will coin- 
cide with deep trouble within the United States. Powerful 
pressure groups here will pull the President this way and 
that. Some are infiltrated with Communists and will plunge 
America into serious racial strife during the next two years. 
This will cause a radical change in our way of life/’ Year 
after year Jeane was stressing the danger from Red China and 
the forthcoming race riots in the United States. 

Of President Kennedy she wrote: “It seems as though he is 
being surrounded by mob after mob, with no escape. As a 
Vice-President he would be truly great for our country and 
the world, but his timing was off for the leadership at this 
time. His vibrations are of such short wave length that they 
do not take hold. He will be idolized by those under him, but 
I am sorry to say that he will not succeed in that which he 
wishes to do for America.” Among her other predictions were 
these: “Religion will play a more important role in 1962 
than the public now thinks.” (The Supreme Court outlawed 
prayer in the public schools on June 25, 1962, and a public 
outcry resulted.) “Richard M. Nixon will run for the gover- 

1 12 


norship of California, but I do not see him winning.” (He 
ran, and lost.) 

Of the then Vice-President, Lyndon B. Johnson, she wrote: 
“In my meditation I do not get him as a natural originator, 
but he will execute with great success things which others 
have failed to finish. He could be a victim of circumstances. 
He must always stay close to his medical advisers and never 
depend on the advice of just one doctor.” When Mr. Johnson 
subsequently became President he cajoled through Congress 
an astonishing array of legislation which had originated with 
his predecessor but had been stalled in committees. Again the 
curtain of the future had apparently parted for Jeane. 

In the early fall of 1962 she telephoned to report that she 
had foreseen a coming event in her crystal ball: “German 
Chancellor Konrad Adenauer will retire late next year.” 
Since this news was scarcely earth-shaking, I asked her to hold 
the forecast until we collaborated on our New Year's column 
in late December. By that time the Grand Old Man of West 
Germany had publicly announced that he had decided not to 
seek re-election in the fall of 1963, and the usually sweet- 
tempered Mrs. Dixon was patently annoyed that Chancellor 
Adenauer had not waited until spring for the announcement, 
“in order to give our column a break.” 

Other New Year's predictions included this one: “In 1963 
America will be a more confused nation than it has been. 
The year will see a beginning of the decline of influence of 
many Ivy League colleges, and non-Ivy League colleges will 
come into greater prominence and importance.” At the time, 
this seemed distinctly farfetched to me. Harvard was then 
riding high. A distinguished alumnus sat in the White 
House, and practically every top presidential appointee 
seemed to be a graduate of an Eastern university. Nonethe- 
less, the man who became President that November was a 
graduate of Southwest Texas State Teachers’ College, and as 
the Texas drawl began to replace the Boston twang in the 

II 7 □ □ □ 

ence he telephoned to cancel the bid. He waited the pre- 
scribed two months’ period and then returned to Palm Beach 
to look for investment property. He found something to his 
liking, and had arranged a 9:30 A.M. appointment to sign 
the purchase papers. At 7 A.M., the telephone rang. It was 
Jeane calling. “Don’t do what you’re thinking about,” she 
urged. “I get psychically that you intend to sign some papers 
today, but you must make no business deals at this time. 
Personal matters are all right, but wait at least a month for 
any investment property.” 

Hulitar was flabbergasted. Twice she had sensed his deals 
just before he made them; twice intervened at the eleventh 
hour. He subsequently told Mrs. Loy Anderson of Palm 
Beach: “My wife and I have since discovered that if we had 
signed for that building it would probably have wiped us out 
financially. Jeane literally saved our bank account.” 

Shortly thereafter the designer received nationwide pub- 
licity when Robert F. Kennedy leased the Hulitar estate on 
Long Island. Hulitar’s designing business is flourishing, and 
he is viewing the future optimistically, because Jeane has told 
him that he will “invent someting which is so important to 
women that you will make a vast fortune.” He has no reason 
to doubt her prophecy. 

Patricia Headley was accompanying Jeane to New York for 
a guest appearance on the Johnny Carson show in early 1964, 
and as the airplane taxied out toward the end of the Wash- 
ington runway for take-off, Jeane said: “Pat, I feel very un- 
easy about this plane.” Aware that Jeane had once saved her 
husband’s life by begging him not to fly in a plane which 
crashed, Pat became rather alarmed, but Jeane told her to be 
calm. They sat at the end of the runway for some minutes, 
with the four motors busily whirring. Then the big plane 
taxied back to the terminal, and a stewardess announced over 
the loudspeaker that the plane had developed a little engine 


trouble. The two women changed their reservations, and as 
soon as they were airborne Pat asked if they would land 

“Oh yes, we’re going to have a nice trip,” Jeane replied. 
“Outside of Philadelphia it will get quite rough, and we’ll 
have to fasten our seat belts, but we’ll arrive safely.” Just 
outside the Quaker City, Pat recalls, the Fasten Seat Belt sign 
flashed on and the plane was heavily buffeted, but they 
reached New York on schedule. 

Early in 1963 I was riding in a taxicab along Massachusetts 
Avenue, when the cab driver remarked: “See that intersec- 
tion we’re approaching, with the stop-and-go light? And see 
that high hedge running almost to the street?” Absorbed in a 
newspaper, I barely glanced up; but he was not to be ig- 
nored. He swung around in the seat and asked: “Have you 
ever heard of a lady named Jeane Dixon?” I acknowledged 
that I knew her, and he continued: “One day she was riding 
where you are in this cab, and when we were about a block 
away from this intersection she suddenly warned me to slow 
up and stop before crossing that street. I told her I had the 
green light, but she said, ‘That makes no difference. A car 
will come out of that cross street and run through the red 
light.’ Well, would you believe it, if I hadn’t done what she 
said we’d have been hit broadside by a car. A woman driver* 
came barreling through that red light without stopping.” 

Intrigued, I asked him to retrace our path for two blocks. 
We checked it carefully. At no point was there an open space 
where Jeane could have glimpsed another car on the hidden 
side street. Even if there had been, who could have guessed 
that the driver would fail to stop for a red light? 

In the fall of 1963, Jeane dropped in at the Washington 
home of her friend Marcella duPont and found her in an 
agitated state. Mrs. duPont said she had just telephoned her 

**5 □□□ 

ing the years immediately ahead, and racial strife will become 
more pronounced throughout the country.” 

“The Republican party will make great strides in the 
South,” she added. “It will put forth tremendous efforts to 
come closer to the people, and will thereby defeat the Demo- 
cratic party in six years.” If this latter prophecy comes true, a 
GOP victory will occur in 1968. 

Frankie Welch was teaching sewing at the Washington and 
Lee High School in Arlington, Virginia, in i960, when Jeane 
met her for the first time and chided: “You’re not beginning 
to realize your potential. You should be in designing. I see 
that you will win some kind of an award soon, and if you go 
into designing you will make a great success of it.” Shortly 
afterward Mrs. Welch was named “Outstanding Home Eco- 
nomics Teacher of the Nation” by Ingenue magazine, which 
rewarded her with a free trip to Paris and Rome to visit the 
great fashion houses. Jeane continued to encourage her to 
make designing a career, and in March 1964 a magazine de- 
voted two full pages to pictures of the “Frankie,” an all- 
purpose dress designed by Frankie Welch. The accompany- 
ing text read in part: “What the 'Lily' was to Palm Beach 
and the international Jet Set, the ‘Frankie’ dress is to Wash- 
ington area women. It’s at home in Alexandria, Georgetown, 
or on Embassy Row.” 

Mrs. Welch, who also designed some dresses for Jeane, re- 
calls: “One day I was fitting and pinning a dress to her size 
eight figure, with that tiny waist, when she remarked that 
jackets would be fuller next year. I paid little attention, but 
when the French designs were unfurled at the Paris openings 
the trend was as Jeane had foreseen. This is just one of many 
examples. I have discovered that knowing Jeane is like hav- 
ing a pipeline to advance styles. She invariably foresees style 

Jeane was ordering some clothes from Mrs. Welch in 1962, 


when a vision flashed before her eyes and she exclaimed: 
“Oh, Frankie, the most fabulous thing is going to happen to 
you. You’re going to have a dress shop of your own in the 
near future. I can see it now. It will be located in an old, old 
house— but very chic.” Mrs. Welch said she had absolutely no 
intention of owning a shop of her own. She had been teach- 
ing for eighteen years, and her husband was a Congressional 
liaison officer for the Veterans’ Administration. They were 
too comfortable to gamble. Nevertheless, in September 1963 
Frankie and her husband, Bill Welch, opened an exclusive 
specialty shop called “Frankie Welch of Virginia.” It is lo- 
cated in a two-hundred-year-old Alexandria house which 
once housed the first bank of Virginia, where George Wash- 
ington was a stockholder. “Chic” is the right word for such a 

“We were scared to death at taking such a step,” Mrs. 
Welch recalls, “but Jeane told us that it would succeed be- 
yond our wildest dreams. It has. Bill and I set ourselves a five- 
year goal of sales, which we passed within the first six 

Philip Hulitar, the internationally known couturier, says 
that he was about to make the mistake of his life when Hope 
Ridings Miller providentially introduced him to Jeane 
Dixon in 1964. Ailing for sometime with recurrent pneu- 
monia, he had decided that he would give up his lucrative 
dress designing business in Manhattan and retire to Florida’s 
balmier climate. At six o’clock one morning, shortly after 
meeting Jeane, he says that she telephoned him and said, 
“You are faced with one of the most important decisions of 
your life. You are not to do anything about it for two 
months, because you are at a vital crossroads. Stay in New 
York and hold everything in abeyance.” 

Hulitar had just returned from Palm Beach, where he had 
made an offer on an expensive house, but at Jeane’s insist- 

i*9 □ □ □ 

attorney to alert the insurance company, because some valu- 
able jewels had been stolen. Meditating a moment, Jeane 
contradicted: “No, they were not stolen. I see those pieces of 
jewelry in the same case where you yourself put them. They 
have not been touched by anyone else.” 

Marcella, who had just reopened her house after a summer 
at Nantucket, argued that Jeane was mistaken. “I had them 
with me there,” she said, “but they have simply disappeared. 
We’ve had a number of workmen here the last few days, and 
someone must have taken them. The maid and I have 
searched the house.” 

The insurance company, after due investigation, paid the 
claim. In January, packing for a trip to South America, Mrs. 
duPont went to the chest where out-of-season accessories were 
stored. As she was lifting out summer scarves and pocket- 
books to take with her, she wondered why one of the purses 
felt so heavy, and upon looking inside discovered the satin 
case with her missing jewels. 

“The memory came back to me then,” Marcella says. “I 
had never done such a thing before, but one evening I came 
in late from a dinner in Nantucket and tucked the jewels 
into the purse until morning. We were returning to Wash- 
ington almost immediately, and the maid obviously did not 
notice the weight of the purse when she packed my belong- 
ings in the steamer trunk to ship here.” The insurance com- 
pany gratefully received its refund. 


Deputy Assistant Secretary of State Lee Walsh met Jeane 
near the end of World War II. Mrs. Walsh, then a writer on 
women’s activities for the Washington Daily News, sat next 
to Jeane at a fashion showing of women’s hats, and afterwards 
went to her house for dinner. Jeane read for her and prophe- 
sied: “Your career will take an upswing into a different field 
when you are thirty years old. From that time on your in- 
come will steadily rise. In your middle or late forties I see a 
lot of travel for you, much of it abroad. These trips will be 
taken in connection with your work, which will be in the 
field of international relations.” 

Mrs. Walsh recalls that her husband was out of town that 
day, and Jeane had never met him, but: “She described Hal 
exactly to me. She said he was large, had slightly reddish hair, 
and fingernails that turned up at the corners. I knew the rest 
of it was true, but I had frankly never noticed his hands. She 
said that Hal and I had met at a resort, and this certainly was 
correct. I was vacationing at Virginia Beach shortly before 
Pearl Harbor, when we met and fell in love. Hal was an army 
private, and by the time our wedding date was set he was 

i2r □ □ □ 

unceremoniously ordered to the Pacific theater of combat 
instead. I was a recent bride the night that Jeane dipped into 
my past and future.” 

A few days later, when Hal Walsh returned from New 
York, Lee made it a point to examine his hands. Sure 
enough, although most people’s fingernails turn down toward 
the cuticles at the corners, Hal’s curled upward. 

Lee Walsh continued in newspaper work until she was 
thirty. Then, receiving a much more remunerative offer, she 
went to work for Julius Garfinckel and Company, Washing- 
ton’s leading specialty store, as director of advertising and 
promotion. Later she returned to newspaper work as wom- 
an’s' page editor of the Washington Star , and in her forty- 
seventh year President Johnson appointed her Deputy Assis- 
tant Secretary of State for Evaluations, a post which has kept 
her traveling abroad almost constantly ever since. 

By the decade of the 1960s Jeane had become so widely 
known that mail from Europe and Asia, addressed simply to 
“Jeane Dixon, U.S.A.,” was promptly delivered to her door. 
My annual columns about her predictions were syndicated 
here and abroad, and each time one appeared Jeane and I 
both received an avalanche of mail from readers who wanted 
her to help solve their problems or simply to foretell their 
future. She always returned the checks and cash that fre- 
quently accompanied these pleas. If a particular query 
touched a psychic chord, she sometimes included a word of 
caution or advice in responding to the letters, but more often 
she autographed a card, printed at her own expense, which 

I know not by what methods rare, 

But this I know— God answers prayer. 
I know not when He sends the word 
That tells us fervent prayer is heard. 

I know it cometh— soon or late; 



Therefore we need to pray and wait. 

I know not if the blessing sought 
Will come in just the way I thought. 

I leave my prayers with Him alone, 

Whose will is wiser than my own. 


Because Jeane is so acutely sensitive to the suffering and 
worries of others, she finds it necessary to protect herself by 
avoiding too close contact with those who would burden her 
with their problems. A full-time secretary is required simply 
to handle her “psychic” mail; although Jeane does not have 
time to write personal replies, she does send her unknown 
correspondents an autographed prayer card. 

Mrs. Coya Knutson was a U.S. congresswoman from Min- 
nesota when she first met Mrs. Dixon in the spring of 1956, at 
the same party where Jeane warned Estes Kefauver that he 
would have to settle for second place on the Democratic 
ticket. Jeane was reading for several of the guests, and when 
Mrs. Knutson's turn came she looked into her crystal ball and 
told her: “Your husband is going to defeat you for re-elec- 
tion.” At that time few people in Washington had even heard 
of Coya’s husband, who had remained in Minnesota, but Mrs. 
Knutson listened intently while Jeane added: “You had bet- 
ter do something about this domestic situation before it’s too 

The former congresswoman now says of that confrontation 
with Jeane: “I was well aware of my home problem, but I 
wondered how a stranger could so readily probe into my own 
fears about my career. I sensed that she was right, but I was 
then working hard in behalf of a bill that had been my prime 
reason in running for Congress, so I delayed action on my 
domestic situation.” 

Mrs. Knutson’s bill was eventually successful, but her Con- 
gressional career simultaneously came to the abrupt end that 

**3 □ □ □ 

Jeane had foreseen. For sixteen years before coming to Con- 
gress, Coya had taught English and music in a Minnesota 
high school. For four of those years she also served in the state 
legislature. Deeply interested in education, she decided to 
run for Congress in order to sponsor an education act that 
would provide student loans. In the small communities of 
her Minnesota district she had sadly observed the number of 
worthy students who were forced by lack of funds to drop out 
of college. She won election in November 1954, was re- 
elected two years later, and in August 1958 saw her bill be- 
come a reality as Title II of the National Defense Education 

President Eisenhower signed it into law on September 2, 
and Representative Carl Elliott, chairman of the Subcommit- 
tee on Special Education, wrote a letter to Mrs. Knutson 
praising her contribution to the bill. Unfortunately, by this 
time Mrs. Knutson had also received the highly publicized 
“Coya, come home” letter written by her husband, Andy. 
His open letter asked her not to seek re-election. In the cam- 
paign that fall the epistle received far more publicity than her 
successful student loan bill, and she realized that she was 
fighting a losing battle. Mrs. Knutson had not seen Jeane 
Dixon since that evening two years before, but one day in the 
fall of 1958 she talked by telephone with her from campaign 
headquarters in Moorhead, Minnesota. 

“Jeane’s voice was weak and husky, 0 Mrs. Knutson recalls. 
“She said she was sick in bed with a cold but wanted to tell 
me that she had seen a vision of me in New York with Mike 
the MagiCat.” 

“What on earth is that?” she asked in astonishment. 

Jeane explained that this was the name of her pet cat, who 
often appeared with her on television shows, “And for some 
reason I have just seen you in New York with him/’ After 
Mrs. Knutson lost to her Republican opponent, she returned 
to Washington to close her Congressional office. It was some 

124 A GIFT of prophecy 

comfort to her that she had just received the annual award of 
the National Cystic Fibrosis Research Foundation for her 
efforts in arousing Congressional interest in this killer of 
America’s children. “Through her fine efforts,” the citation 
said of Coya Knutson, “research work to find a cure for cystic 
fibrosis will be advanced tenfold.” 

Meanwhile, a Hollywood studio had asked to make a pilot 
film about Mike the MagiCat, an engaging little black and 
white mongrel of questionable parentage who made news- 
paper headlines in February 1952. He had disappeared from 
the Dixon menage, and when Jeane ran a descriptive adver- 
tisement about him in the lost-and-found columns, a White 
House employe telephoned to say that he had turned up on 
the executive mansion’s front lawn. Jeane gratefully re- 
trieved him, but two months later he was gone again. This 
time, suspecting that he might have retraced his steps, Jeane 
telephoned Estelle Friedrichs and asked if she could dis- 
creetly inquire around the White House to see if anyone had 
spotted him. 

“I called a guard,” Mrs. Friedrichs recalls, “and asked if he 
had seen a black and white alley cat. The guard replied that 
he was right there, eating the ham out of his sandwich.” Mike 
the MagiCat was delivered in style to the Dixon residence by 
chauffeured limousine, with accompanying guard. By this 
time most of the local columnists were familiar with the quiz- 
zical little fellow, who invariably accompanied Jeane to her 
public appearances and stared with fascination into her crys- 
tal ball. 

Knowing that Coya Knutson was unemployed, Jeane rec- 
ommended her as the liaison with the film company, and as 
foreseen eight months before Mrs. Knutson was soon in New 
York chaperoning the Dixon cat. During this period Jeane 
told her: “Coya, I see a golden thread running all the way 
around the world where you are concerned. You’re good for 
the children of the whole world.” Neither of them could guess 

□ □ □ 

that within four years Coya would be named educational di- 
rector of a new international children-to-children program. 

In the summer of i960 Coya quit her job with the film 
company to return home and try for re-election, although 
Jeane begged her not to do so, warning: “You can’t win, 
Coya; I see the defeat in my crystal ball.” Mrs. Knutson won 
the Democratic primary, only to lose again to the Republican 
incumbent. Her husband’s letter was still being used against 
her. Out of a job, she returned to Washington in January 
1961. Jeane promptly began helping her financially, and paid 
her tuition at a protocol school which taught grooming, poise, 
and governmental ins-and-outs. She divorced her husband in 
1962 and soon thereafter found a job as Congressional liaison 
officer for Civilian Defense. 

She flew with Jeane to Cleveland in the spring of 1964 for 
an appearance on the Mike Douglas TV show, and says of the 
experience: “Jeane looked beautiful, as usual, although she 
was not feeling well. She was introduced to Margaret Whit- 
ing, and as soon as they shook hands Jeane told her, ‘You 
ought to write a book about your father. You and your father 
had a lot in common. You both were born with musical 
talent.’ ” As soon as Coya could get Jeane alone, she asked if 
she knew the identity of the young woman to whom she had 
given that advice. Jeane had no idea. Mrs. Knutson then 
explained that she was a prominent television singer and that 
her father, the late Richard Whiting, had composed such hit 
tunes as “On the Good Ship Lollipop,” “I Can’t Escape from 
You,” and “When You’re Smiling.” 

Jeane’s introduction to Mike Douglas was equally offbeat. 
She had never met him, but when she touched his fingertips 
she exclaimed: “When you were a youngster you were so 
bashful and frightened that you wanted to hide when people 
came around. If they asked you to sing, you used to go in the 
next room so that they couldn’t see you.” The extroverted 
Mr. Douglas seemed flabbergasted as he replied: “How on 


earth could you know that? You’re absolutely right. I was 
painfully bashful as a child.” 

Jeane is accustomed to taking her interviewers by surprise. 
I once heard her tell a Washington television moderator: 
“You should patent your inventions, because they will bring 
you a lot of money.” The startled moderator replied that 
until that moment no one except his wife had known that his 
hobby was “inventing things.” 

Jeane went to Boston in the early spring of 1964 to be 
interviewed on Bob Kennedy’s ninety-minute television 
show. Her role was to answer questions telephoned by view- 
ers, but the program had not yet begun when she turned to 
her host and advised: “You go ahead and take those singing 
lessons you’re thinking about.” 

Recalling it afterwards, Mr. Kennedy told me: “So help 
me, not a single soul in the world except my wife knew that I 
was thinking about taking vocal lessons. I had thought that 
they might come in handy, in the event something happened 
to my interview program.” 

While Bob Kennedy was still marveling at his guest’s psy- 
chic perception, she said: “You made a major change when 
you were twenty-eight years old that altered your career. You 
will make another change later on that will be equally dras- 
tic.” The moderator conceded that, when twenty-eight, he 
had switched from being a writer-producer to being a tele- 
vision performer. He is now prepared for any eventuality. 

Jeane is particularly adept at discovering hidden talents 
and career potentials in young people, through psychic 
means. When her niece Mary Frances Pinckert was eight 
years old, Jeane told her brother and sister-in-law that the 
child had artistic ability that should be encouraged. “One 
day she will make a name for herself with her paintings,” she 

Since a prophet is seldom recognized at home, Mary Fran- 
ces’ parents did nothing to encourage the little girl to paint. 

□ □ □ 

As part of her regular curriculum in junior high school she 
did satisfactory work in art class, but nothing more. Then 
California launched a contest for creative painting, and on 
the last evening before the deadline for submission of ex- 
hibits, Mary Frances went to her room to paint. Mrs. Pinck- 
ert discovered the fourteen-year-old girl at her easel when she 
took a glass of milk to her room. Mary Frances did not come 
to dinner. At bedtime Mrs. Pinckert looked into her room 
and noticed that she was still painting. The next morning she 
went to the room to awaken Mary Frances and found her 
cleaning her brushes. 

“Oh, Mother, Fm just dead,” the girl sighed. 

Realizing for the first time that the youngster had been 
painting all night, Mrs. Pinckert glanced toward the easel 
and exclaimed in admiration as she studied the imaginary 
picture of a Japanese geisha girl. Mary Frances tumbled 
wearily into bed, but her mother rushed the picture to the 
framer’s, waited for it, and entered it in the contest. The 
geisha girl took first prize and became a museum exhibit. 








Uninformed people who mistakenly view Jeane Dixon’s psy- 
chic gift as a form of fortunetelling wonder how she manages 
to “remain in the good graces of the Catholic Church,” which 
usually frowns on such endeavors. Because I am not a Cath- 
olic, I took the question to Monsignor James A. Magner, 
procurator of Catholic University of America, who knows her 
well. The monsignor said of Jeane’s talent: “There is no 
conflict at all between that and the Church. Our religion, in 
fact, is largely based on visions. The Annunciation foretold 
the coming of Christ. At the time of the birth of our Lord 
angels appeared in the heavens. The Bible is replete with 
prophecies and visions. Christ appeared to St. Paul in a vi- 
sion. The Holy Ghost descended at Pentecost. The Blessed 
Virgin was seen at Lourdes. Neither in idea nor expression is 
there any conflict between Mrs. Dixon’s gift and the Church. 
In fact, to a Catholic it seems a rather normal thing, although 
we don’t yet know very much about this field of psychic 
phenomena.” Of Jeane Dixon personally, the monsignor re- 
marked: “She is extremely devout. She is outgoing and kind, 
very definitely generous, and desirous of helping others. 

□ □ □ 

There is not a drop of selfishness in her. She is a superior 
person in every way.” 

Jeane's most vivid recollection of the 1939-40 World's Fair 
is of a painting that she saw in one of the pavilions. The 
moment that she glimpsed Innocenzo da Imola's sixteenth- 
century painting of the Madonna and Child in a nativity 
scene, she yearned to own it. “This painting held a very spe- 
cial message for me,” she explains. “I certainly had no place 
to hang it, because it was much too large for my wall; yet I 
sensed instantly that one day I would find the place where it 
belonged.” However, the painting was not for sale. 

Two years later Jeane was shopping in Washington for a 
birthday present for a friend who liked large, jangling brace- 
lets, and though Jeane herself dislikes costume jewelry, she 
went to an import house that specialized in such wares. She 
selected a bracelet and while waiting for it to be gift wrapped 
happened to glance into the rear of the store. There, leaning 
against a wall, was the painting she had admired so deeply at 
the fair. Striving to sound nonchalant, she inquired about it 
and learned that the shopkeeper was preparing to ship it back 
to Europe because it was too expensive for his Washington 
trade; and when he mentioned the price, she could under- 
stand why. Jeane unhappily departed with her purchase but 
could not put the painting out of her mind. Unlocking her 
safe, she removed the old-fashioned jewelry that she had in- 
herited from her mother-in-law, telephoned an art connois- 
seur, and commissioned him to take the jewels to the import 

“I had noticed how longingly the shopkeeper eyed a beau- 
tiful young Iranian girl who was clerking there,” Jeane 
reminisces, “so I asked the connoisseur to make sure that she 
saw the jewels when he displayed them to the owner of the 
store. Within a few days I had the painting, the girl had a 
diamond bracelet, the shopkeeper had the girl for his wife. 


and the art connoisseur had a handsome commission. Every- 
one profited by the transaction.” 

Jeane sensed that her husband would not approve of the 
exchange, however, so she told him nothing about it and 
arranged to store the painting at the Virginia abode of Rep- 
resentative Usher Burdick of North Dakota. Nearly a decade 
later the congressman offered to buy the painting from Jeane 
for 135,000. She did not want to sell, but the offer spurred 
her to action. Through the art connoisseur she arranged to 
have it brought to the attention of Monsignor Magner, who 
examined it and said that he would be grateful to receive the 
painting on behalf of Catholic University of America. Jeane 
agreed to make the donation if she could dedicate it to her 

For a year longer she kept her secret from Jimmy, while 
the painting was being restored. With the date finally set for 
the dedication, she asked Jimmy to accompany her to the 
university for the unveiling of a picture, but he brusquely 
replied that he was much too busy with real estate appoint- 
ments to attend an art exhibit on a workday. “It was like 
pulling hen's teeth to persuade him to go,” Jeane ruefully 
recalls. “I'd had a brass plaque made for the painting, saying 
that it was being presented in honor of James Lamb Dixon, 
but of course he knew nothing of that. I finally had to cry 
before I could get him to say yes. By that time he was so 
annoyed with me that he took a separate car, so that he could 
rush on to his appointments. He said he would stay exactly 
fifteen minutes, but when he saw the silver tea service laid 
out for a special event, and the impressive ceremony as Mon- 
signor (now Bishop) William J. McDonald, wearing his 
flowing robe with purple sash, led the procession of prelates 
down the stairs Jimmy stayed two hours.” 

The wife of Philippine Ambassador Carlos Romulo and 
others of Jeane’s friends watched Jimmy while the monsignor 
read the history of the painting. He said that the artist, Inno- 

I3 1 □ □ □ 

cenzo da Imola, had lived from 1490 to 1549 and that in all 
of Europe there were perhaps only five of his priceless reli- 
gious paintings in churches. By the time Jimmy learned that 
Jeane had donated the painting, and dedicated it to him, he 
was pale with emotion. Catholic University was so proud of 
its acquisition that it later exhibited the painting on a televi- 
sion program and reproduced its likeness on the school’s offi- 
cial Christmas cards. 

In May of 1964, at the ceremony of consecration for the 
Most Reverend William Joseph McDonald, the new bishop 
autographed a program with these words: “To Mrs. Jeane 
Dixon, whose deep spirituality and genuine Christian culture 
are sources of inspiration and edification to her many friends. 
With a blessing, Sincerely in Christ, William J. McDonald.” 

Although Jeane is a devout Roman Catholic, she is equally 
respectful of all religions. One who attests to this fact is the 
Rev. McArthur Jollay, pastor of the Full Gospel Church in 
Washington. The minister of the interdenominational con- 
gregation met Jeane through a business association, after his 
church had purchased a large lot on Massachusetts Avenue 
and approved plans for the construction of a $650,000 edifice 
with a seating capacity of sixteen hundred. Jeane evinced an 
interest in the project, and when he showed her the blue- 
prints, she exclaimed: “But, Mr. Jollay, there is no place here 
for a little chapel where people can come and meditate. Look 
at these tremendous apartment buildings around here. 
Think of the students at American University nearby! You 
should have a little chapel where people who are troubled 
and careworn can stop in to pray at any hour.” 

To emphasize her point, Jeane repeated the words of a 
song written by her husband: 

“There’s a little old church by the side of the road, 

Such a haven of rest when you’re packin' a load; 

There’s a little old light shinin’ ever so bright 


In that little old church by the side of the road. 

It’s God’s own shrine of things divine and seems to say, 
‘Now if you can, Mister Travelin’ Man, stop in to pray, 

In that little old church by the side of the road, 

Such a haven of rest when you’re packin’ a load.’ ” 

The Rev. Mr. Jollay frankly acknowledges that because of 
her inspiration he altered the plans to include a small chapel 
adjacent to the sanctuary, which will be open at all times, day 
or night. Of Mrs. Dixon he volunteers: “She is a most inter- 
esting person! She is a Roman Catholic, but very open in her 
attitude toward Christianity everywhere. She is a very mag- 
nanimous lady.” 


1 5 ° 

Friends have learned that if they want to visit with Jeane 
Dixon they must catch up with her on the fly. A dynamo in 
motion, she works twelve-hour days, seven days a week, be- 
ginning each with attendance at Mass. She not only serves as 
secretary-treasurer of the James L. Dixon Realty Company, 
she handles all settlements and loans for its residential 
department, and personally sells many homes and business 
properties. One crisp November evening in 1963 Lorene 
Mason stopped by the office, in order to walk home with 
Jeane. Strolling along Connecticut Avenue, she mentioned a 
Frank Sinatra movie that she had seen, and as she did so 
Jeane cried out: “Lorene, Frank Sinatra is in for a terrific 

“Is he going to die?” Lorene gasped. 

“No, no, no,” Jeane murmured, “but he’s going to have a 
severe shock that he will remember the rest of his life. He’s 
going to think that it’s a death, but it isn’t. It concerns his 
son. This is a situation that will bring him the greatest heart- 
break of his life. Some sort of scandal is attached to it.” 
Lorene asked how she could be sure that it was scandal, 

134 A gift of prophecy 

rather than death, and Jeane replied: “Because just as you 
said Sinatra's name a curtain came down, clear to the bottom 
of the sidewalk. But it was gray, not black. Black would have 
meant death.” 

Miss Mason recalls that approximately ten days later she 
was half listening to' the “Today” show, when the newscaster 
announced that Frank Sinatra, Jr., had been kidnaped. She 
immediately telephoned Jeane, who assured her that he was 
alive and unharmed. He was, but when the three men ac- 
cused of kidnaping him were brought to trial, defense attor- 
neys charged that the young singer had helped to plan his 
own kidnaping as a hoax, to further his stage career. The 
charge was denied, and the men were convicted, but there is 
little question that Frank, Sr., suffered real heartache. 

Lorene also recalls that, many months before Elizabeth 
Taylor married Richard Burton, she remarked to Jeane that 
Burton would probably never marry Liz, and Jeane re- 
sponded: “Oh yes, he will. They will be married, but money 
will be at the root of their trouble and will delay the wed- 
ding.” Jeane made a similar forcast on the Johnny Carson TV 
show, and as the world was soon to know, Miss Taylor's 
wedding was long delayed while her rejected husband, Eddie 
Fisher, insisted upon talking money along with divorce. 

In the early spring of 1964, Jeane was lunching with Lady 
Bumgardner and their mutual friend Hildegarde, who had 
an engagement in Washington. The singer was talking about 
plans for the season when, with a puzzled frown creasing her 
forehead, Jeane interrupted to say: “It's the oddest thing, 
Hildegarde, but I have just seen you in nun's robes. I can't 
understand why, because I'm sure that you're not going to 
enter a convent.” 

The singing star merrily assured Jeane that she was right 
on the latter score, at least. Approximately two months later 
producer Charles R. Wood announced that he had signed 
Hildegarde for her first dramatic appearance on the legiti- 

*35 □ □ □ 

mate stage. She would, he said, star in Christopher Blake's 
Lavalliere, the story of an actress who gave up her career to 
enter a convent but was rejected. 

Although Jeane is right most of the time, occasionally one 
of her psychic utterances sounds so farfetched that I omit it 
from my New Year’s columns. One such omission was made 
in late December 1963; it concerned the murder of President 
Kennedy, of which Jeane wrote: “As I interpret my symbols, 
Fidel Castro believed that President Kennedy and Premier 
Khrushchev had gotten together on a plan to eliminate him 
and replace him with someone more acceptable to the United 
States and the U.N. Castro, in his conniving way, therefore 
arranged for the assassination of John F. Kennedy. Lee Har- 
vey Oswald was the trigger man, but there were other people 
involved in the plot.” 

Oswald’s mother came to Washington a short time later to 
testify before the Warren Commission, and at her request a 
lawyer arranged an interview for her with Jeane, who says of 
the meeting: “She wasn’t exactly the type of person I had 
expected. I thought she would be a little on the hard-boiled 
side, but she was smaller than I had anticipated, and her 
complexion was beautiful. From her vibrations I knew that 
she had a very contradictory character. She loves her country 
but is very, very restless. She can only be quiet so long, and 
then must have change. She is afflicted with wanderlust. The 
only way she can correct this restlessness is by severe disci- 
pline. She wanted to know whether I thought her son had 
fired the shot that killed the President. I told her what had 
come to me psychically in advance: the killer’s two-syllable 
name of five or six letters, with an 5 for the second letter. She 
told me she thought her son was part of the plot, but 
she believed that our own government was behind it. She 
thought no Communist intrigue was involved.” 

Jeane says of the case: “I got psychically that Castro was 
very disturbed about an ‘understanding’ he believed had been 


arrived at between Kennedy and Khrushchev regarding Cuba. 
He became convinced that the only way to block their plan to 
eliminate him was for him to beat one of them to the punch. 
Castro knew that he would have no opportunity to dispose of 
Khrushchev, so the only way to upset their applecart was for 
him to arrange the murder of President Kennedy.” The War- 
ren Commission has since ruled that Lee Oswald acted alone, 
without confederates, but some people both here and abroad 
refuse to accept that verdict. In this particular instance, we 
may never know whether Jeane was right or wrong in her 
interpretation of the symbols in the crystal ball. 

Kay Halle, to whom Jeane first brought the warning that 
President Kennedy would be assassinated unless he canceled 
a trip South, invited Jeane to lunch at her Georgetown house 
on February 28, 1964. Her nephew was also present, and 
Jeane was warning of a health condition which President 
Johnson must watch, when Kay chided: "Stop it, Jeane. I just 
can't take any more presidential tragedies. Let's change the 
subject. Have you seen any pictures about other events 

"Yes," Jeane replied hesitantly, "for some reason I keep 
seeing a picture of the earth upturning, of houses breaking 
up and crashing, and of great geysers of water." 

"Is it nearby?" Kay asked in alarm. 

"No, it isn't,” Jeane assured her friend, "I see the earth 
shaking, but it's somewhere up in the Canada or Alaska 
area. It's way up northwest from here." 

Two weeks later Miss Halle read of a slight earthquake in 
Chile and telephoned Jeane to ask if that was what she had 
foreseen. "No,” Jeane replied emphatically. "That’s in the 
south, and you'll remember that the one I saw was in the 
northwest, around Canada or Alaska. It’s a great deal more 
shattering than the one you’re talking about." On March 
27, 1964, Alaska suffered one of the most destructive earth- 
quakes of modern times. Only four weeks had elapsed since 
Jeane’s prediction. 

m □ □ □ 

By midsummer of 1964 this book was well under way, and 
I sometimes talked with Jeane by telephone two or three 
times a day. On the morning of July 9, as I was preparing to 
fly to San Francisco to cover the Republican National Con- 
vention, I called her and said that I had a small problem. 
Before I could proceed she interrupted: “Yes, it's about Pepe. 
What would you like me to do about him?” Although by this 
time I was suitably impressed by her psychic powers, I was 
nonplused by this response. Never before had I asked her to 
do anything for my little French poodle, Pepe, and not until 
a few minutes before my call had I learned that my maid 
could not be there to receive him when the kennel manager 
delivered him on the day that I returned home. My sole 
reason for the call, therefore, was to ask Jeane if I could have 
Pepe dropped off at her house for a few hours, until my plane 
landed. Whether this was thought transference I do not 
know, but Jeane gladly assented, and I flew to the convention 
with a free mind. 

Mrs. Ambrose Diehl, widow of a U.S. Steel vice-president, 
had invited me to stay with her during the convention but 
because I would be working long hours I declined. Not until 
my return a week later did I learn of another startling ex- 
ample of Jeane’s psychic ability. The widow of Sir Wilmott 
Lewis, long-time Washington correspondent for the London 
Times , gave me this account: “Jeane stopped in to see me 
one morning, and while we were chatting I asked what she 
could ‘get’ for me. She didn’t tell me anything about myself— 
for some reason she never does— so I changed the subject by 
saying that I was a little worried about Frances Diehl. She 
hadn’t seemed too well lately, and I knew that Jeane was 
acquainted with her. As I mentioned Frances’ name, Jeane 
said slowly: ‘I see her drawing down a black curtain in her 
house. There is death around Frances, very near, although it 
isn’t Frances herself, because she’s pulling down the cur- 
tain.’ ” 

The next day Lady Lewis learned that Mrs. Diehl had 


found her house guest, Mrs. Charles Kittle, dead of a heart 
attack. Jane Kittle's sudden death was a severe shock to Lady 
Lewis and to all of us who knew her. The widow of a former 
president of Sears, Roebuck & Company, she had been mar- 
ried briefly in her youth to cartoonist Fontaine Fox, inventor 
of the “Toonerville Trolley” comic strip. Oddly enough, Fox 
himself lived only two more weeks. 

The Beatles have shattered the calm of numerous Ameri- 
can households containing teen-agers, and they inadvertently 
inflicted havoc on Jeane Dixon. Like the average adult, she 
was only vaguely aware of the Beatle phenomenon and had 
never meditated on the mop-haired group. Consequently she 
was astonished when, in March 1964, television commenta- 
tors, newspaper and magazine writers from every section of 
the country began calling her long distance to ask about re- 
ports that she had predicted death in a plane crash for the 
Beatles the following August. 

Bewildered by the unexpected queries, Jeane replied that 
she had made no predictions of any kind about the Beatles. 
Hundreds of teen-agers, obviously badly shaken by reports of 
her alleged forecast, also called, and many of them sobbed as 
they begged to know whether there was any way to keep the 
Beatles alive. Then great bags of mail began to arrive, and 
Jeane could scarcely sleep at night because of the ceaselessly 
ringing telephone. The inundation of calls and letters so seri- 
ously interfered with her workaday life that she appealed to 
me for advice, and I suggested that she meditate on the Bea- 
tles. If anything came to her psychically, I could then write a 
newspaper column relating what she actually foresaw for 
them. She did so, and my syndicate on March 26, 1964, car- 
ried the news that Jeane forecast continued success for the 
Beatles, though one of them would “unfortunately branch 
out from the team before long, and later regret it.” The 
column assured Beatle fans that Mrs. Dixon foresaw no plane 

* 39 □ □ □ 

crash or other kind of violent death for any of the four enter- 
tainers. This column precipitated another deluge of letters 
thanking Jeane for the “good news,” and several Beatle Fan 
Clubs in Virginia and Pennsylvania gratefully named her 
their Woman of the Year. 

Comparative calm returned to the Dixon office until late 
August 1964, when again the switchboard was clogged with 
calls from London, Hawaii, and a score of mainland states. 
Was it true that Mrs. Dixon had forecast the tragic death on 
September 3 or 4 of three of the four Beatles? Someone who 
identified herself as Mrs. Louise Harrison Caldwell, a sister 
of “Beatle” George Harrison, called from Benton, Illinois 
to say that her brother was concerned about the “prediction” 
and wondered whether the group should cancel its appear- 
ance, at that time, at the State Fair in Indianapolis. 

As patiently as possible Jeane again assured all callers that 
she foresaw nothing but good health for all four Beatles. 
Where, she kept asking, had the rumors started? No one 
seemed to know, except that inch-high headlines in the 
London Daily Mail and several other English papers re- 
ported the alleged forecast by Mrs. Dixon. Two days later 
Deputy Assistant Secretary of State Lee Walsh, who was in 
Great Britain at the time, air-mailed Jeane several of the 
London newspapers. All of the articles carried U.S. date 
lines, and since a bevy of London reporters was traveling 
with the Beatles on their American tour, it can only be as- 
sumed that several of them decided to jazz up their coverage 
with something besides shrieking teen-ager reactions. 

Jeane sometimes finds herself unexpectedly involved in 
diplomatic intrigue, and one such incident occurred shortly 
after the Bay of Pigs fiasco in early 1961. A man whose name 
was unknown to her repeatedly called her office, asking for an 
appointment; but since all such requests from strangers are 
declined, she thought no more about it until a friend tele- 


phoned in his behalf. Jeane finally agreed to see him, and 
when Mario Garcia Kohly walked into her office at the ap- 
pointed time she touched his fingertips and said: “You will 
have far more trouble raising the funds for a revolution than 
you will in actually getting into Cuba. You will do that sev- 
eral times. However, in trying to raise money for an invasion 
you will undergo the greatest heartbreak of your life. You 
will have cause to regret your action.” 

Garcia Kohly, in discussing the encounter with me in the 
fall of 1964, more than three years after the reading, said: 
“Mrs. Dixon was fantastically accurate. Since then I have 
managed to slip in and out of my native country several times 
without detection, but I have been far less successful in rais- 
ing funds for a revolution or invasion.” His jaw tightened, 
and he volunteered the information that he had recently 
been sentenced to a year's imprisonment, after a trial in the 
Southern District Federal Court in New York City, for coun- 
terfeiting “Castro money.” It had been intended for use, he 
said, in infiltration of Cuba to liberate that troubled island 
from Communist rule, and he was then out on appeal. 

He referred me to the Congressional Record of Monday, 
October 1, 1962, in which Representative John R. Pillion of 
New York inserted a proclamation signed by “the major 
groups of the underground now fighting in Cuba.” Issued on 
June 20 “at a certain place in Havana,” the proclamation 
asked that Mario Garcia Kohly be recognized by other na- 
tions as the provisional president of a Cuban de facto gov- 
ernment in exile. In an accompanying speech Representative 
Pillion said that the group represented “a union of ninety-six 
Cuban refugee groups embracing about 1 18,000 refugees and 
45,000 underground fighters.” 

Petite, feminine Jeane does not look like the sort of person 
who would be advising spies on underground activities, even 
inadvertently. However, her window-on-tomorrow seems to 
choose no favorites. 

* 4 * □ □ □ 

Margaret Arthur, a nurse in the employ of Dr. Don John- 
son of Washington, came to know Jeane through the latter’s 
frequent office calls for treatment of a chronic sinus condi- 
tion. When she learned that I was writing a book on Mrs. 
Dixon, Miss Arthur voluntarily wrote me the following let- 
ter: “Four years ago I had a hemorrhage from a duodenal 
ulcer, which necessitated a lengthy hospital stay and a long 
period of convalescence. Shortly after leaving the hospital, I 
was talking to Mrs. Dixon and mentioned that I was con- 
cerned about my hospital bill and did not know how I would 
manage for the next two months. She took my hand, and 
after a minute told me not to worry. She said everything was 
going to be all right, because I would receive a sum of money 
soon. I laughed, because my family is not wealthy, and I 
would not ask them for help. When she said it would be an 
inheritance, I laughed again, because none of my relatives 
have that kind of money or are likely to include me in their 
wills. An elderly woman whom I knew fell and broke her hip 
just before I became sick. A month after I left the hospital 
she had a heart attack and died. When her will was read I was 
remembered in it, just as Jeane had told me. I then had 
enough money not only to pay my current expenses, but to 
set aside a small nest egg as well.” 

Russell P. Riley, a Washington realtor, recalls that one day 
when Mrs. Dixon was having lunch with a client she sud- 
denly said that she had to leave, because she felt that there 
was a fire which concerned her very much. She rushed to her 
husband’s real estate office and saw firemen throwing furni- 
ture out of the window. “I remember,” he continued, “that 
when columnists were writing of Lynda Bird Johnson's ap- 
proaching marriage after her father became President, Mrs. 
Dixon said she would not wed the man to whom she was then 
engaged. Within a few months the engagement was broken. 
Another time Mrs. Dixon predicted to me that a friend of 
hers who was having marital difficulties would try to commit 


suicide. Shortly thereafter, when she tried to telephone her 
and could get no answer, Mrs. Dixon dispatched an ambu- 
lance to her house. The doctor who answered the call said the 
woman had swallowed an overdose of sleeping pills and 
would have died except for that quick trip to the hospital.” 

Ira Walsh, a Hearst newspaper executive who is on loan to 
Director Sargent Shriver as a special assistant in the War 
Against Poverty program, met Jeane Dixon by fortunate 
chance in February of 1965. He was lunching with a business 
associate at the Mayflower Hotel, and on hearing his com- 
panion greet an attractive woman at an adjoining table as 
“Mrs. Dixon,” he asked whether that was the famous Jeane 
Dixon he had been reading about for twelve years. 

Assured that it was, he invited her to lunch a few days 
later. This is his account of what happened: “I was sit- 
ting there thinking what a great Hearst comic strip could be 
woven around her Mike the MagiCat, when she suddenly 
said, ‘Mr. Walsh, before you discuss comic strips I want to say 
. . / I did a double-take, because I hadn’t even mentioned the 
idea. She told me a little about her life, and I began thinking 
what a great movie it would make, when she said, ‘Before you 
talk about a motion picture . . / 

“At this point, I jumped up and said that the next time she 
read my mind I was going to walk out of the place. It was 
simply too eerie to feel that I couldn’t even have thoughts 
without her knowing them. She laughingly promised not to 
do it again, and we shook hands on the agreement. At that 
point, in touching my hand she apparently picked up some- 
thing out of the air, because her mood changed abruptly and 
she said, ‘Before you walk out on me, why don’t you see a 
doctor right away? If you do, you can greatly prolong your 
life.’ ” 

Walsh says he was feeling “absolutely great,” and friends 
had been telling him that he had never looked better since 

143 □ □ □ 

losing some weight. Jeane’s remark nonetheless preyed on his 
mind, and the following Thursday he went to a doctor for a 
checkup. Since his home was in San Francisco and he had 
been in Washington only a few months, he was unknown to 
the physician, but after undergoing the usual tests he was 
told: “Your blood sugar count is over five hundred. It's lucky 
that you walked in here today, because you could have gone 
into shock and dropped dead if you hadn’t.” The doctor de- 
tained him for another hour to avoid the possibility of his 
passing into coma, and prescribed a rigid diet. Of this experi- 
ence, Walsh says: “There is no question but that Jeane 
Dixon saved my life. If I had delayed seeing a doctor, I would 
not be here today. Although I previously was an utter dis- 
believer in the psychic field, now I’ll even believe in ghosts.” 

This sixth sense of Jeane’s has baffled all who know her, 
but because of it most of her friends turn instantly to her for 
advice when a major decision confronts them. Sister Mary 
Mercy, a nun in the Order of the Holy Names, used to have 
lunch with Jeane each year when she journeyed to Washing- 
ton from California to visit her parents, Senator and Mrs. Pat 
McCarran. At the time of her father’s death, however, she 
was living in the Hall of Study at Catholic University and 
working on her doctorate in art and archaeology. Sister Mary 
Mercy had known Jeane for many years, but because a nun 
does not indulge in close friendships it was a casual relation- 
ship built on mutual respect. One day in the fall of 1956, 
Sister Mary Mercy and two other friends lunched with Jeane, 
and as the women rose to leave, the nun motioned Jeane 
aside and said that she would like to ask her advice about 

“I know,” Jeane calmly replied, “you don’t need to tell 
me. You want to know whether you should leave the con- 
vent.” Sister Mary Mercy was astonished. To no one had she 
yet confided that after nearly thirty-two years she felt called 

144 A gift of prophecy 

to leave the convent and care for her widowed mother. Jeane 
had correctly read her heart. With a papal dispensation, Sis- 
ter Mary Mercy renounced her vows the following year and 
resumed her name of Mary McCarran. Four years later I 
wrote a book about her convent life, entitled. Once There 
Was a Nun. During its preparation Mary told me that Jeane 
had divined her secret and had subsequently helped her to 
buy the dress, shoes, and coat for which she exchanged her 
nun's robes, the day that she left the convent. 


Jeane Dixon's training in nuclear science and technology is 
roughly equivalent to that of a kindergarten pupil. This lack 
of background knowledge in a field never seems to interfere 
with her remarkable insight, however, when she sees visions. 
This ability revealed itself during a meeting called by a 
group of scientifically trained men on August 14, 1963, for 
the purpose of probing extrasensory perception. 

Among those present at the session held in the Washington 
legal offices of Haley, Bader and Potts were Dr. William 
Brewster, a research physicist at Walter Reed Army Hospital; 
Andrew Haley, general counsel for the International Astro- 
nautical Federation and counsel of the American Institute of 
Aeronautics and Astronautics; James Shiner, assistant to the 
director of biotechnology and human research, office of ad- 
vanced research and technology at NASA, our space agency; 
Dr. F. Regis Riesenman, well-known psychiatrist; and Mr. 
and Mrs. Dixon. 

Haley is a recognized authority on outer space who has 
written two books on the subject: Rocketry and Space Ex- 
ploration and Space Law and Government . Hearing of Jeane 


Dixon in 1953 through her nationally televised prediction 
that Russia would launch a satellite into orbit around the 
earth, he made inquiry among European scientists but could 
learn of no Russian space program whatsoever. Two years 
later, while attending the International Astronautical Fed- 
eration Congress in Copenhagen, Soviet delegates told Haley 
that they were working on such a program. 

On his return to Washington he called on Jeane to ask for 
further details. How had she known of such a project? Jeane 
hadn’t. All she could tell him was that she had “seen” Russia 
launching the world’s first satellite, that it resembled a silver 
ball, and that as it returned to Russia it changed into a dove 
that sank its claws into the scalp of a bald man who would 
then be the Russian leader. This information was in the back 
of Haley’s mind while he served as a U.S. observer at inter- 
national conferences on aeronautics and missiles in Germany, 
Belgium, Italy, and France, traveled to the UNESCO general 
conference in New Delhi, India, and served as president of 
the American Rocket Society and chairman of its space flight 

In 1957 when Russia launched Sputnik I, Andrew Haley 
was one of the first to telephone his congratulations to the 
amateur who had called the shot four years previously. Haley 
continued to consult with her from time to time and even- 
tually arranged the meeting with her and a panel of scientists 
in his office six years later. “The panel examined Mrs. Dixon 
closely about her visions— how they came to her, how she 
interpreted them, and whether she had had any others con- 
cerning outer space,” Haley recalls. “The most interesting 
thing about the evening was that, except for myself, Jeane 
Dixon was more knowledgeable about rockets than anyone 
else in the room.” 

Dr. Riesenman, informed of the space attorney’s appraisal, 
affirms: “There is no question but that this is true. Although 

*47 □ □ □ 

she has probably never read an article on the subject in her 
life, she spoke with amazing knowledge/’ 

Because the scientists had seemed so eager to know more 
about the future of the space race, Jeane agreed to meditate 
on rockets that night. After retiring to bed, she says, a vision 
came to her in the darkness, lighting the bedroom. “I saw a 
silver ball like the sputnik rising out of Russia and going into 
a powerful missile which traveled around the globe to the 
left. Suddenly it switched course and traveled in the opposite 
direction. Beneath it America was all aglow, but as the mis- 
sile turned, the lights of our country went out, leaving .us in 
utter darkness. I interpreted this to mean that Russia has a 
secret type of missile for which we have no anti-missile mis- 
sile. It is so powerful that it can completely immobilize our 
communications and lighting systems. It can also play havoc 
with the navigation of our planes.” 

I asked Jeane whether she meant to imply that the Soviets 
already have such a frightening weapon or whether she was 
“seeing” into the future. She said she is confident that the 
Russians had already developed it by the fall of 1963 “and 
were getting ready to let our government know that they had 
it, in order to force us to do business on their terms, when the 
assassination of President Kennedy intervened.” 

Seven weeks following the vision, on October 6, 1963, 
Jeane sounded a warning about it on Johnny Carson’s “To- 
night” show. She had previously described it in detail to Mr. 
Haley and Dr. Riesenman. On November 1 the Soviet Union 
launched an unmanned satellite called Polyot 1, which made 
a series of orbit-changing maneuvers on radio signal from the 
earth. Soviet announcements described its “complex figures” 
in space, and a Russian armed forces publication said: “Our 
new maneuverable space ship, heeding radio commands from 
the earth, obediently turned first to one side, then to the 
other, soared up and dived, changing its position in space.” 
This sounded eerily like the satellite that Jeane had foreseen. 


On January 28, 1964, Americans learned that one of our 
T39 planes had been downed in East Germany. The three- 
man crew was dead. After an investigation the Air Force an- 
nounced: “It is apparent that the T39 was experiencing com- 
munications difficulties, since it did not respond to any radio 
communication after 1430 o’clock, and that it was also having 
navigational difficulties. Obviously the pilot was unaware 
that he had strayed into the Soviet zone.” 

Could this communications failure have resulted from a 
strange new device such as Jeane had foreseen five months 
before? I do not know, but less than two months later one of 
our IB66 planes was also brought down in East Germany. 
This time the Air Force merely announced that the plane 
had “entered East Germany through navigational error,” 
that an unidentified fighter had made a pass at it, and the 
impact occurred without warning. Because of our cold war 
with the Communist world, the mysterious straying of U.S. 
planes into enemy territory is a highly classified subject, and 
the true facts may not be revealed for many years. Astronau- 
tical attorney Haley says: “If the Soviets have indeed found a 
way to reverse the electromagnetic field anything is possible, 
including a communications blackout for America and our 
planes such as Mrs. Dixon foretells.” 

Never before revealed are several provocative occurrences 
which may or may not be significant. The first was in 1953, 
two days following Jeane’s televised forecast about the first 
Russian satellite. She was working at her desk in the realty 
office when a man telephoned and in accented English asked 
if she could come to the Russian Embassy to see the ambas- 

Aware that the Soviets were shopping for real estate, she 
assumed that the call concerned business and took a cab to 
the embassy. Two men met her at the door of the former 
Pullman mansion, and one of them led her into an office to 
the left of the foyer. He spoke briefly on the intercom and 

*49 □ □ □ 

then motioned her to precede him to the second floor. Am- 
bassador Georgi Zaroubin was waiting to receive her in the 
drawing room. Her companion withdrew, leaving them 
alone. A servant entered with a tray of coffee, then departed. 
The ambassador, after pouring the thick beverage into demi- 
tasse cups, made a few casual remarks about their real estate 
problems. Leaning forward in his chair, he then smiled and 
said: “Mrs. Dixon, I had the pleasure of hearing your broad- 
cast the other evening with Ambassador Davies. Tell me, 
where did you learn such information about a Russian space 
program? Where did you get the idea that we are going to 
have a— what you say— satellite?” 

Jeane, who is. as guileless as a child, replied that she had 
received no information “from anyone except God” but had 
been shown the vision while appearing on television. 

Ambassador Zaroubin listened courteously. When she had 
completed her description of the vision he said: “Then you 
know something that we don’t know. Our country is doing 
nothing like that.” 

Looking back to that day, Jeane muses: “He seemed genu- 
inely puzzled and rather nonplused. I had the feeling that he 
knew something he did not wish to divulge, but that he was 
not quite sure what he himself knew.” 

A second incident took place the morning after her ap- 
pearance on Johnny Carson’s television show ten years later. 
An official from the Pentagon called, identified himself by 
name, and asked where she had secured her information 
about a Soviet satellite that could immobilize our communi- 
cations. Brushing aside her explanation about the vision, he 
insisted on knowing the “real” source of her information. 
Somewhat offended by his brusque manner, Jeane replied: 
“My source is the same source which is available to all of us. 
Just reach up to God, and you shall receive.” 

A short time later former Congresswoman Coya Knutson 
telephoned from her Civilian Defense office in the Pentagon 


to say: “Jeane, you've got this building turned upside down. 
Everyone over here wants to know where you got your in- 
formation for the Johnny Carson show last night." 

Jeane told her that it was really quite simple and that she 
had tried to explain it to the Pentagon official who called 
earlier. “Now let me explain it the same way to you, Coya," 
Jeane began. “Pick up an inkwell and turn it clockwise in 
your hand. Everything is bright. Now, suddenly turn it coun- 
terclockwise and visualize everything going dark. That's the 
way this Russian satellite will operate. As it turns it blacks 
out our communications and lighting systems. I saw it hap- 
pen in a vision." Mrs. Knutson knew better than to argue 
with Jeane. Scientifically trained Pentagon officials might not 
understand what her friend was talking about, but she herself 
had witnessed enough of Jeane’s seeming miracles to accept 
them at face value. 

The following day Jeane was working at her desk when the 
receptionist told her that “a man with a badge" was waiting 
to see her. He was only two steps behind the flustered 
woman. Identifying himself as an agent of one of our super- 
secret intelligence services, he asked if there was somewhere 
that they could talk in complete privacy. Jeane ushered him 
across the hall to the John Philip Sousa library, and as soon as 
the door closed behind them he asked where she had ob- 
tained the information for her broadcast. A bit wearily Jeane 
again recounted the vision which had appeared to her a few 
weeks before. 

“But this is top secret," he expostulated. “You're not sup- 
posed to know about these things." 

The devout woman had had enough. Tilting her chin, she 
retorted: “The Bible says, ‘Ask and ye shall receive.' I ask 
God to show me anything which I should be able to tell 
others for the enlightenment and betterment of mankind. I 
think that He is the best judge of what I should know." The 
chastened agent thanked her and departed. 

* 5 * □ □ □ 

A few days later Coy a Knutson told Senator Hubert 
Humphrey about Jeane’s forecast concerning a Russian sat- 
ellite that could knock out our communications. Coya says 
that Humphrey replied: “We have been fearful of just such a 
development for some time.” 


The sudden Kremlin shake-up in October 1964 took gov- 
ernment officials here and abroad by complete surprise. The 
same could not be said of Jeane Dixon, however, who had 
predicted the previous December that Nikita Khrushchev 
would shortly be deposed. For my 1964 New Year’s column 
she had written: “I foresee great danger in both domestic and 
foreign affairs for the United States during 1964-67. This 
danger will be heightened by a new leader who will replace 
Chairman Nikita Khrushchev within the next eighteen 
months. This man’s name begins with an j. He is the profes- 
sorial, intellectual type and will be much harder for us to 
deal with than Khrushchev. He is already working with 
Soviet, Chinese, and German scientists to plot our destruc- 
tion, but he will not succeed.” 

As the world now knows, Khrushchev’s duties as Premier 
and Communist party boss were divided in October between 
Leonid Brezhnev and Alexei Kosygin. Kremlinologists im- 
mediately began speculating, however, that the two men 
would probably be only temporary custodians of Soviet 
power until a new strong man emerged. It was noted that 

*53 □ □ □ 

Mikhail S. Suslov delivered the key address at the Communist 
party Central Committee meeting which effected the shake- 
up, and also made the motion for Khrushchev's ouster. A top 
intelligence source described sixty-two-year-old Suslov to me 
as “one of the very few intellectuals in the Russian hierarchy; 
a man of the definitely professorial type.” 

A month after Khrushchev's downfall, another man whose 
name begins with s came to the center of the stage in the 
Kremlin. Aleksandr Schelepin, elevated to the party Presi- 
dium, simultaneously held membership in the party Secre- 
tariat and the Presidium of the Council of Ministers. These 
are the three most powerful ruling bodies of Russia, and the 
Washington Post , in commenting editorially on Schelepin's 
unexpected elevation, said: “In addition [to these three 
other powerful positions] he is in charge of the very powerful 
committee on party-state control and probably still has over- 
all responsibility for the secret police. The concentration of 
such enormous power in the hands of one man is difficult to 

In due time we shall learn whether a man whose name 
begins with s (Suslov? Schelepin?) wins out in the Kremlin 
power struggle and takes over the reins from the two men 
who are now sharing Khrushchev's former duties. 

The same day as the Kremlin shake-up the Red Chinese 
exploded their first nuclear bomb, and Jeane Dixon could 
once again have said, “I told you so," about a world-shaking 
event. In my New Year's column of her predictions for 1963 
she warned that Communist China would soon become eligi- 
ble for membership in the exclusive “Atomic Club." With 
the nuclear explosion in October 1964, Red China auto- 
matically joined Russia, Britain, France, and the United 
States as a nuclear power. 

Another paragraph in Jeane's 1964 forecast column bears 
repeating. “During the coming year," she wrote, “England 
will increase its trade with Russia, and Germany and Russia 

154 A gift of prophecy 

will establish greater economic ties. The Berlin wall will 
come down, but probably not before the year’s end.” By the 
latter half of that year. West Berliners were being permitted 
to cross through the wall almost at will to visit East Berlin 
relatives. West Germany was actively promoting better rela- 
tions with Russia, and in a syndicated column from London, 
dated November 19, 1964, Washington columnist Charles 
Bartlett cabled: “Britain’s trade with the Communists ap- 
pears destined to be a fly in the ointment of British-American 
relations. The new Labor government is moving quickly to 
expand this controversial commerce.” He went on to report 
that Douglas Jay, president of Britain’s Board of Trade, flew 
to Moscow and Peking almost as soon as he took office in 
October, and reported to the House of Commons: “We must 
not neglect the opportunities, such as they are. I am deter- 
mined to increase Russian purchases in Britain.” 

As has been her custom with almost monotonous regularity 
since she was a small child, with the possible exception of 
i960, Jeane Dixon correctly picked the winner in the 1964 
presidential race. She forecast in my column ten months be- 
forehand that the Democratic slate would win. She did not 
foresee the landslide proportions of the victory, however, and 
mistakenly forecast that Britain’s Conservative party would 
win by “a small majority,” whereas it was the Labor party 
that won with a hair-thin majority. 

Concerned that she might have misinterpreted the symbols 
in her crystal ball, Jeane discussed her perplexity with Dr. 
Riesenman, a psychiatrist. After listening to her recital, he 
told me that St. Thomas Aquinas had provided the answer 
more than seven hundred years earlier. Quoting the thir- 
teenth-century theologian of the Roman Catholic Church, Dr. 
Riesenman said: “St. Thomas Aquinas theorized that there 
are two kinds of prophecies. One is given by God in visions, 
and is therefore inflexible. The other is subject to changing 

*55 □ □ □ 

conditions which the prophet (in this case Mrs. Dixon) did 
not anticipate intellectually. 

"In other words, the unsought visions which come to Mrs. 
Dixon are unchangeable, because they represent the will of 
God. The coming event cannot, consequently, be prevented. 
In this category I would place her vision of the assassination 
of President Kennedy. In the crystal ball, however, she seeks 
knowledge of coming events, and although her symbols re- 
flect the situation at the time, such events are subject to 
change because of changing human conditions. Therefore, 
when she consulted her crystal ball in December 1963 the 
landslide proportions of President Johnson's victory did not 
exist. They were later to be man-made. Likewise, the British 
Conservatives were probably slightly ahead of the Labor 
party in public sentiment at the time that Mrs. Dixon saw 
them squeaking through." 

Dr. Riesenman referred me to the International Journal of 
Parapsychology (Vol. VI, No. 4, pp. 389-407), 1964, for fur- 
ther enlightenment on prophecies. In an article, written by 
Renee Haynes, the onetime agnostic who became a Catholic 
convert in 1942 sought to explain Catholic saints in relation 
to the phenomenon of extrasensory perception (ESP). She 
quoted St. Thomas Aquinas as having written in the thir- 
teenth century: “A vision of future events (an authoritative 
prophecy) is a direct influence from God." 

She also cited the view of Pope Benedict, who became an 
authority on psychic phenomena after serving as a celebrated 
devil’s advocate on the subject during the eighteenth cen- 
tury: "Visions are an inner knowing.” 

Father Alois Wiesinger, a priest of the Trappist order, 
writing on occult phenomena in 1959, traced visions to "the 
original spirituality of the soul before the fall." He said this 
power "still exists in latent dormant state in all of us" and 
"manifests itself spontaneously under certain conditions and 


Dr. Gebhard Free, a priest, has written of visions: “God so 
affects the soul that from it arises the appropriate pictures, 
words, and ideas.” He and a fellow priest of the Society of 
Jesus related this pictures, words, and ideas to the visions seen 
by Pope Pius XII, St. John of the Cross, and the children of 

Speaking of Jeane Dixon and her precognitive powers, Dr. 
Riesenman declares: “Her visions come in on the highest 
channel of any seer or psychic whose work I have ever inves- 
tigated. This includes the case studies I have made of many 
such gifted persons who have lived during the past three 
hundred years. I would rate Mrs. Dixon's visions and spirit- 
ual powers even higher than those of Emanuel Swedenborg. 
Swedenborg saw fires at a remote distance and was able to 
locate lost articles in supernatural ways, but there is no proof 
of his reported visions concerning heaven and hell. This 
could have been his own subconscious at work. By contrast 
Mrs. Dixon foresees births, deaths, and world-shaking events 
of historical significance, and proof of these is readily avail- 
able.” - 

(Swedenborg was the eighteenth-century Swedish scientist 
who in his later years developed such amazing psychic powers 
that a Swedenborgian church was founded to carry forward 
his work.) 

Dr. Riesenman concludes: “I consider Mrs. Dixon to be an 
extraordinarily saintly person. In my investigations of her 
remarkable talents, she has no living peer.” 


Jeane believes that she is an instrument of God, but only to 
the same degree as all others who try to use the talents with 
which they are blessed. She attempts to define her own phi- 
losophy of living in these terms: “It seems to me that we have 
a purpose in life. We came from God and we return to God. 
He would not be all-loving and all-merciful if He had not 
given us the means, at the time of our creation, also to return 
to Him. Each of us must therefore find and develop that 
purpose within ourselves. The talents with which we are 
born are the means for fulfilling our mission in life. They 
were intended not only to enrich our own lives but to help 
others. We are the stewards of a precious possession— our 
talents— and as in the biblical parable, we must invest them 
in such a way that we can return them to God with interest.” 
She is referring, of course, to Christ's parable about the 
man preparing to travel abroad who gave to one servant five 
talents, to another two, and to the third, one. On his return 
the master rewarded the two servants who had doubled their 
talents through wise investment, but on learning that the 
third servant had buried his lone talent, he was angered and 
took even that one from him. 


“Our talents are intended to earn interest, not to lie 
dormant,” Jeane emphasizes. ‘‘They have a purpose, and they 
must be used if we are to escape the punishment meted out to 
the hoarding servant. We are not to give back to God only 
what He gave us at birth. The potential is there. We are to 
utilize it. His kingdom exists for those who work for Him, 
and the reward is eternal. By employing these God-given 
talents to the fullest extent possible, we are truly able to say, 
‘My cup runneth over/ ” 

Jeane is concerned by the frequency with which people ask 
her: “What do you see for me?” Instead of seeking assurance 
that they will achieve security, fame, or fortune, she feels that 
they should be wondering: “What ought I to do with my life 
to fulfill God's will?” She refuses to tell people what they 
“want” to hear. Through her psychic gift she is often able to 
sense an individual's innate talents, and thereby to urge him 
to develop them; but the importance of this discovery, she 
feels, is measured by his realization that whatever talent he 
has is bestowed by his Creator to be utilized. “It is when we 
use these talents that we are doing His work upon this earth 
and fulfilling our purpose in life,” she stresses. “To live for 
God's greater glory is to work with the tools that He has 
given us.” 

In Jeane's opinion, anyone can discover his own specific 
talents through faith and prayer. “Faith in our Creator,” she 
says, “should be the foundation of our lives, upon which we 
work and build. If we could do only what we want to, we 
might all be millionaires, doing nothing but sailing on yachts 
and living in palaces. But that is not God's plan. Who then 
would take care of the yacht and clean the palace for us? God 
has a vineyard to be kept; a universe to run. Each of us has 
our place in helping with this operation. 

“If we all did the same thing, how dull the world would 
be! Fortunately we have been assigned different talents. Some 
of us are called to preach, others to teach, and some to work 

*59 □ □ □ 

in the fields. We should never be jealous or envious of an- 
other’s gift or talent, for then we cannot be free within our- 
selves. We cannot be free when we hold hatred. The forces 
for good and evil are in all of us, but we must learn to free 
ourselves of the chains of malice and the longing for material 
things. We are all created equal in the eyes of God, but we 
are endowed with varying degrees of intelligence, social 
status, and possessions. These God-given gifts carry corre- 
sponding responsibilities— responsibilities that we must meet 
with love in our hearts and gratitude for being given an 
opportunity to serve.” 

Jeane believes that each day should begin with prayer. We 
should, she insists, “pray as though everything depended 
upon God; then, with His inspiration and love, go forth to 
work as though everything depended upon us.” She visualizes 
an ideal community, governed by men of true spirituality, in 
which “giving rather than getting” would be the mark of a 
successful life. In such a community a person’s worth would 
not be determined by whether he or she is a king, queen, 
bricklayer, teacher, executive, or laborer, but rather accord- 
ing to the “fullness with which we utilize our talents in serv- 
ice for others.” We would be concerned less with self-will 
and more with God’s will. 

She disagrees with those who speak of a person’s environ- 
ment as “an accident of birth.” She believes there is no acci- 
dent; that each of us is an integral part of God’s over-all plan. 
Elucidating this philosophy, she says: “He has a very special 
duty for each and every one of us. God works in mysterious 
ways His wonders to perform. When we accept this great 
master plan, we realize that each of us has the same oppor- 
tunity to develop according to God’s will, regardless of color, 
nationality, or station in life. Each of us is a member of the 
human race, and what we do as human beings is far more im- 
portant than how we develop^socially or economically. Man 


may owe allegiance to a particular religion, nation, political 
party, class, or race, but he has the God-given ability to think 
and to love. Respect is what we owe; love is what we give. 

“The Bible says: ‘To everything there is a season, and a 
time for every purpose under the sun/ That purpose is the 
realization of our talents. Christ said: ‘Greater love hath no 
man than this, that he lay down his life for a friend/ That is 
love in the true sense. If we use our talents to help others, we 
are fulfilling our mission in life. Faith alone is not enough, 
but faith combined with deeds can surmount any obstacle/' 
Jeane views her own strange ability to glimpse future 
events as a gift entrusted to her by God, just as is any other 
talent. “I believe that I am only an instrument through 
which these things come, for a purpose/' she says. “I go to 
church every morning, and I pray as though everything de- 
pends on God. Then I work as though it all depends on me. I 
ask for divine guidance and wisdom, but I try to use the 
intellect that He has given me.” 

Asked whether her gift sometimes weighs heavily on her 
shoulders, she replied simply: “No, it doesn't, because I be- 
lieve that I have been given a job to do. The only time that 
I was really upset for an extended period was when I 
foresaw the assassination of President Kennedy and was un- 
able to prevent it, even though I desperately tried to do so. 
Perhaps that was my mistake, because the will of humanity 
cannot change the will of God. We must learn that things are 
to be done in His time, not our time." To illustrate, she 
mentioned that an important man calls her frequently to 
complain that he “prays and prays," but nothing happens. “I 
tell him to start praying for others and forget about himself." 
She shrugs. “Lose yourself, and things will come in His tim- 
ing. We must work and have patience. We must believe that 
each of us is His representative upon this earth, and that we 
are doing the job He has given us to do, by developing our 
talents and using our intelligence." 

i6i □ □ □ 

She recalls writing a letter to the chief of police, praising 
an officer with Badge Number 428 who directed traffic on a 
street corner near her office. The next time she saw Chief 
Robert V. Murray, she asked if he had received her letter, 
and he replied: “Yours is only one of hundreds of com- 
mendations that I have had about this officer, whose name, 
incidentally is John W. Harrison." Jeane asked why he did 
not give the man a promotion, and the chief replied: “Be- 
cause he loves it where he is and wants to stay there." 

“This officer is a Negro," Jeane says, “but whenever I pass 
that comer I pick up his vibrations, which are as wonderful 
as those of any leader I have ever met. In the eyes of God, I 
feel sure that his gift is as great as was General Douglas Mac- 
Arthur's, President Johnson's, President de Gaulle's, or a 
kindly taxi driver's. He is doing God's work as surely as any 
one of them." 

Jeane is convinced that her own gift is no more remarkable 
than that of the Negro policeman who has earned so many 
unsought commendations. St. Paul described this elusive 
quality when, in the twelfth and thirteenth chapters of First 
Corinthians, he wrote: “But the manifestation of the Spirit is 
given to every man to profit withal. For to one is given by the 
Spirit the word of wisdom; to another the word of knowledge 
by the same Spirit; to another faith by the same Spirit; to 
another the gifts of healing by the same Spirit; to another the 
working of miracles; to another prophecy; to another discern- 
ing of spirits; to another divers kinds of tongues; to another 
the interpretation of tongues." 

St. Paul compared these various talents to the separate 
parts of the body which work together to form the whole 
man. “And God hath set some in the church; first apostles, 
secondarily prophets, thirdly teachers, after that miracles, 
then gifts of healing, helps, governments, diversities of 
tongues," he continued, but sounded this warning: “Though 
I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not 

162 a gift of prophecy 

charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. 
And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all 
mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so 
that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am 

Like St. Paul, Jeane places her own greatest emphasis on 
charity; on helping others without expectation of reward. 
Perhaps she best expressed her personal philosophy the day 
that the young teen-ager whom she had befriended asked how 
she could repay her, and Jeane replied: “If a person helps 
someone else, and then that person helps another, it sets up a 
chain reaction. All I ever ask of you is that if the opportunity 
arises and you are able, you will help someone else in need. I 
want no other thanks.” 

Those who bemoan their fate, instead of accepting the 
hard bumps and pressing onward, can expect little sympathy 
from Jeane. Thoughtfully assessing the seeming inequality of 
man's lot, she says: “Those with the greatest burdens may be 
the most blessed, if they recognize the challenge of the 
burdens. The richness of joy is somehow in direct proportion 
to the experience of suffering. Each of us has known a sense 
of achievement, and the depth of that sense has been influ- 
enced by the failures we have known. Before the blooms ap- 
pear so hopefully in spring, the barren winter must come. If, 
therefore, we believe that there is a power in us which we can 
put to use when the need is clear, then the greater the obsta- 
cle, the greater the blessing. Call it what you will, but it 
brings out the best in us to overcome the obstacles of life.” 

Anxious to make herself clear on her deeply felt view of 
the importance of talents, she furrowed her brow for a mo- 
ment and then continued: “Our talents are our weapons for 
security and survival— eternal survival. Think of the porcu- 
pine. Just as the Lord equipped him with sharp little needles 
that he can throw at others to protect himself, so God gave us 
talents in order to fulfill our mission in life.” 

163 □□□ 

Lifting her blue-green eyes, which seem to look into one's 
heart, she summarized: “There are plateaus to achievement 
in everyone’s life— pauses when we can stop briefly to reassess 
our progress— but there is no end to what anyone can accom- 

Jeane Dixon is a living testament to her own philosophy. 


Jeane has won international renown as a crystal-gazer. Less 
well known is the fact that some of her more remarkable 
unfoldments have been revealed by unsought visions. Since 
early childhood she has grown accustomed to odd glimpses of 
tomorrow, but four distinct visions experienced in recent 
years fit into a mosaic which Jeane believes has enormous 
significance for all mankind. 

The first of these seemingly momentous visions occurred 
shortly after midnight on July 14, 1952. Without it, she feels, 
she would not have been able to interpret the more enlight- 
ening visions that were to follow. Washington is humid in 
midsummer, and Jeane had only a sheet across her body as 
she lay in bed. She was drowsy but not asleep. 

'‘Suddenly I could feel a physical motion against the mat- 
tress, to the left of my head,” she recounts. “I rolled onto my 
left side, facing the east, and as I did so I saw the body of a 
snake. It was no bigger around than a garden hose, and I 
could see neither its head nor its tail. I felt its powerful little 
body twisting down the side of my bed and raising the corner 
of the mattress at the foot. Then, though I seemed cloaked in 

r6 5 □□□ 

a substance as soft as eiderdown, I could feel its head nudg- 
ing beneath my ankles, and its body growing larger as it 
wrapped itself around my legs and hips. 

“I was not frightened. I knew instinctively that I was to be 
shown how little I understood about life. As the snake grad- 
ually entwined itself around my chest I could see its head but 
not its eyes. They were gazing toward the east, rather than at 
me. By this time the snake was as big around as a man’s arm. 
While I watched, it slowly turned its eyes and gazed into 
mine. In them was the all-knowing wisdom of the ages. Al- 
though the room had been in almost total darkness, it was 
now bathed in brilliant light. The snake, vividly colored in 
yellow and black, had great jowls shaped like miniature 
pyramids. It did not speak, but I seemed to know that it was 
telling me that I had much, much to learn. 

“It turned its head, looking again to the east and then at 
me, as if to say that I too must look to the east for God’s 
wisdom and guidance. I sensed that it was telling me that if 
my faith was great enough I could penetrate some of this 
divine wisdom. I knew that I had God’s protection, for the 
steady gaze of the reptile was permeated with love, goodness, 
strength, and knowledge. A sense of ‘peace on earth, good 
will toward men’ coursed through my being, I had a feeling 
of suspension and yet of tremendous stability. A purplish ray 
led from the bed to the window at the east, and as I watched, 
the snake gradually withdrew toward my feet. As silently as it 
came it left the bed and vanished to the right. I interpreted 
this to mean that we must look to the east for growth and to 
the west for the ending of things. The brilliant illumination 
faded and it was dark again in the room. I looked at the 
radium dial on my bedside clock. The time was 3:14 A.M.” 

Jeane says that for three days before the eerie experience 
she had “felt something coming on” but did not know what 
to expect. “Seven is a miracle number,” she explains. “When 
I receive important visions they invariably occur on the 


fourth day after this sense of unreality overtakes me. Another 
three days are required for the spell to vanish. There is no 
way adequately to describe the sensation to someone who has 
not experienced it, but it comes as near to perfect oneness 
with God as can be felt in this world. Love for all humanity 
floods the heart and soul. You want to help everyone.” 

Jeane believes that the purpose of this vision was to pre- 
pare her for three others which seem closely interlinked and 
are of a deeply spiritual nature. The second occurred on a 
blustery, rainy weekday morning in 1958. She had entered St. 
Matthew’s Cathedral for prayers and meditation. Choosing 
ten purple containers, she was preparing to burn candles for 
intentions, and had reached into her purse for coins when she 
found her hands entangled in a mass of purple and gold balls. 
As she gazed in awe, the small balls floated upward and grad- 
ually merged into a massive purple disk edged in gold. It 
encircled the knees of the statue of the Virgin Mary, rising 
gently until it enveloped her breast and head, like an up- 
tilted halo. 

“The Holy Mother’s face came alive,” Jeane reverently 
recounts, “and the most magnificent sunshine that I had ever 
seen flooded down from the dome of the church. It was a 
dark, stormy morning outside and the church was virtually 
empty, but suddenly brilliant rays shone on every imaginable 
people and religion. The cathedral overflowed with peasants 
in babushkas, kings and queens in royal raiment, the rich and 
poor of every nationality and creed. I could not see a single 
vacant pew. Everyone was bathed in the same sunshine, and I 
seemed to be standing on something as soft as new-fallen 
snow. A remarkable peace overcame me, and I knew that a 
council of our Church would soon bring together under the 
roof of the Holy See in Rome the religions and nationalities 
of all the world.” 

The vision slowly faded, but the memory remained vivid. 
When Jeane went to her office she immediately sought out 

* 6 ? □ □ □ 

Shirley Peick, her part-time secretary, who is a Roman Catho- 
lic convert. Mrs. Peick recalls that Jeane was “literally glow- 
ing” as she described the vision that had come to her that 
rainy morning. “Our Church is going to call a great council 
of all the faiths and creeds,” Jeane told her. “Peoples from 
every land will be represented, and eventually all religions 
will be brought together under one sun. Our Holy See in 
Rome is going to start the trend.” 

Less than four years after Jeane's vision in St. Matthew's 
Cathedral, Pope John XXIII summoned an Ecumenical 
Council of the Roman Catholic Church in Rome, the second 
ever to have been held in St. Peter's Basilica. Twenty-seven 
hundred high prelates attended, making it the greatest gath- 
ering of the Roman Catholic hierarchy in history. In attend- 
ance also as delegate-observers were twenty-eight non-Catholic 
prelates, representatives of most major Protestant denomina- 
tions; and dignitaries from the Eastern Orthodox Church of 
the Middle East and of the Russian Orthodox Church. The 
following September the Ecumenical Council reconvened 
with twenty-five hundred ecclesiastical dignitaries and fifty 
observers from non-Catholic denominations. Pope Paul VI, 
in his opening discourse, made an appeal for Christian unity 
and stated that the long-range goal of the Council was the 
complete and universal union of all Christians. 

Shirley Peick says that the moment she heard of Pope 
John’s call for an Ecumenical Council she remembered her 
former employer’s prophecy and told her husband: “This is 
what Jeane’s vision foretold.” 

Jeane herself believed that the vision foreshadowing the 
unprecedented Ecumenical Council was a mere first step in 
her awakening knowledge of the future of religion. The next 
step came near the close of that year, while she was kneeling 
at prayer in St. Matthew's Cathedral and holding in her 
hands a crystal ball. In hushed tones Jeane recalls: “Suddenly 
the very air seemed rarefied. A glorious light shown again 


from the dome of the cathedral, and before me stood the 
Holy Mother. She was draped in purplish blue and sur- 
rounded by gold and white rays which formed a halo of light 
around her entire person. 

"In a cloudlike formation to the right and just above her 
I read the word ‘Fatima* and sensed that the long-secret 
prophecy of Fdtima was to be revealed to me. I saw the 
throne of the Pope, but it was empty. Off to one side I was 
shown a Pope with blood running down his face and drip- 
ping over his left shoulder. Green leaves of knowledge show- 
ered down from above, expanding as they fell. I saw hands 
reaching out for the throne, but no one sat in it, so I realized 
that within this century a Pope will be bodily harmed. When 
this occurs, the head of the Church will thereafter have a 
different insignia than that of the Pope. Because the un- 
earthly light continued to shine so brightly on the papal 
throne, I knew that power would still be there but that it 
would not rest in the person of a Pope. Instead, the Catholic 
Church would blaze the trail for all peoples of every religion 
to discover the meaning of the Almighty Power; to grow in 
wisdom and knowledge. This, I feel sure, was the prophecy of 

Those familiar with the miracle of Fatima will recall the 
story of Lucia dos Santos and her cousins, Jacinta and Fran- 
cisco Marto. On May 13, 1917, the three Portuguese children 
saw their first vision of the Virgin Mary in the bleak hill 
country of Fdtima. During a series of visitations thereafter, 
Our Lady gave the children a number of prophecies concern- 
ing the two World Wars and Russia. On the day of her sixth 
appearance in October, when the Virgin had promised a mir- 
acle, seventy thousand people traveled through a downpour 
to reach Fatima. At noon the rains stopped, the sun burst 
through, and at Lucia’s cry that the Lady had come, a celes- 
tial display stunned the awe-struck viewers. Three times the 
solar disc spun in the sky, then plunged downward, but grad- 

169 □ □ □ 

ually resumed its proper place high in the heavens. Even 
the skeptics had to concede that something had interfered 
with normal cosmic law. The prophecies revealed by the 
children before the untimely deaths of Jacinta and Francisco 
came to pass. Lucia joined a convent, and in 1927 she re- 
ported that Christ had appeared before her and asked that 
one of his prophecies be kept secret until i960. Sister Lucy 
sealed it in an envelope and reportedly conveyed it through 
church intermediaries to the Pope in Rome. 

Catholics the world over eagerly awaited revelation of the 
prophecy, and in i960 Catholic information centers were 
swamped with inquiries. For some reason unknown to lay- 
men, it has not yet been revealed. Jeane believes that the 
vision she saw at the end of 1958, foretelling the close of the 
papal reign of the Church within this century, was the same 
as the “prophecy of Fatima/’ She feels that its full meaning 
was not disclosed to her, however, until more than three years 

The vision which Jeane considers to be the most significant 
and soul-stirring of her life occurred shortly before sunrise on 
February 5, 1962. The date itself may have special signifi- 
cance, though Jeane was unaware of that fact at the time. For 
several months beforehand astrologers and soothsayers had 
been predicting an earth-shaking event on that day— some 
even forecast the end of the world— because of a rare conjunc- 
tion of the planets. A similar conjunction which occurred 
nearly two thousand years ago is believed by some biblical 
scholars to explain the “bright star in the east” which dazzled 
shepherds and guided three Wise Men to a humble manger 
behind a crowded inn in Bethlehem. 

Three nights before Jeane’s vision she was meditating in 
her room when she became aware that the light was dim- 
ming. Glancing up, she saw the five bulbs in the crystal 
chandelier go dark, except for a curious round ball which 


glowed brilliantly in the center of each. Strangely frightened, 
she ran into her husband's bedroom and told him of the light 
failure. Since their other house lights were working properly, 
Mr. Dixon assumed that a fuse for one circuit had blown, but 
when he started down the hall to investigate he noticed that 
Jeane’s chandelier was again burning brightly. 

The next evening during her meditations the phenom- 
enon recurred. This time Jeane remained quietly in her 
room, staring at the tiny balls of light in the otherwise dark- 
ened bulbs. In approximately ten seconds, she says, she heard 
“a tiny crackling sound." The wires in the clear bulbs then 
began to glow again, and normal light resumed. When the 
performance was repeated exactly as before on the third eve- 
ning, Jeane accepted it as an omen that something important 
was soon to befall. She did not know when or where. The 
next morning she overslept, but the sun was not yet up as she 
walked toward the bay window of her bedroom, which faces 

As she gazed outside she saw, not the bare-limbed trees and 
city street below, but a bright blue sky above a barren desert. 
Just above the horizon was the brightest sun that she had ever 
seen, glowing like a golden ball. Splashing from the orb in 
every direction were brilliant rays which seemed to be draw- 
ing the earth toward it like a magnet. Stepping out of the 
brightness of the sun's rays, hand in hand, were a Pharaoh 
and Queen Nefertiti. Cradled in the Queen's other arm was a 
baby, his ragged, soiled clothing in startling contrast to the 
gorgeously arrayed royal couple. “The eyes of this child were 
all-knowing," Jeane says softly. “They were full of wisdom 
and knowledge." 

A little to one side of Queen Nefertiti, Jeane could glimpse 
a pyramid. While she watched entranced, the couple advanced 
toward her and thrust forth the baby, as if offering it to 
the entire world. Within the ball of the sun, Jeane saw Jo- 
seph guiding the tableau like a puppeteer pulling strings. 

I 7 I □ □ □ 

Now, rays of light burst forth from the baby, blending with 
those of the sun and obliterating the Pharaoh from her sight. 
Off to the left, she observed that Queen Nefertiti was walking 
away, “thousands of miles into the past." The Queen paused 
beside a large brown water jug, and as she stooped and 
cupped her hands to drink she was stabbed in the back by a 
dagger. Jeane says that she “distinctly heard her death scream 
as she vanished." 

Jeane shifted her gaze back to the baby. He had by now 
grown to manhood, and a small cross which formed above 
him began to expand until it “dripped over the earth in all 
directions. Simultaneously, peoples of every race, religion, 
and color (black, yellow, red, brown and white), each kneel- 
ing and lifting his arms in worshipful adoration, surrounded 
him. They were all as one." Unlike previous visions, which 
had gradually faded away from Jeane, this one moved ever 
nearer until she seemed to be in the very midst of the action, 
joining in the adoring worship. “I felt like a tiny seed ready 
to sprout and grow," she says, “but I was only one of millions 
of similar seeds. I knew within my heart, 'Here is the begin- 
ning of wisdom/ " The room was becoming dark again, and 
though she was still caught up in the spell of the vision, Jeane 
glanced automatically at her bedside clock. The time was 
7:17 A.M. 

What does it mean? What is the significance of this strange 
visitation on a dull February morning in Washington, a third 
of the way around the world from Egypt? Jeane feels that she 
has been shown that answer. A bit haltingly, she explains it 
this way: “A child, born somewhere in the Middle East 
shortly after 7 A.M. (EST) on February 5, 1962, will revolu- 
tionize the world. Before the close of the century he will 
bring together all mankind in one all-embracing faith. This 
will be the foundation of a new Christianity, with every sect 
and creed united through this man who will walk among the 
people to spread the wisdom of the Almighty Power. 


“This person, though born of humble peasant origin, is a 
descendant of Queen Nefertiti and her Pharaoh husband; of 
this I am sure. There was nothing kingly about his coming- 
no kings or shepherds to do homage to this newborn baby— 
but he is the answer to the prayers of a troubled world. Man- 
kind will begin to feel the great force of this man in the early 
i98o’s, and during the subsequent ten years the world as we 
know it will be reshaped and revamped into one without 
wars or suffering. His power will grow greatly until 1999, at 
which time the peoples of this earth will probably discovei 
the full meaning of the vision/' 

Attempting to describe her own sensation, Jeane says: “1 
felt suspended and enfolded, as if I were surrounded by 
whipped cream. For the first time I understood the full 
meaning of the biblical phrase, ‘My cup runneth over/ I 
loved all mankind. I felt that I would never again need food 
or sleep, because I had experienced perfect peace." 

As a reporter, I felt there were questions that must be 
asked. How could she be sure that the queen in her vision 
was Nefertiti? Who was the Pharaoh who disappeared back 
into the sun? Why was Joseph in the vision? Jeane could 
answer only in part. She said that she recognized Nefertiti 
from a small bust of the famed Egyptian Queen, which a 
friend once brought to her from Cairo. She “knew" that the 
Pharaoh was married to Nefertiti but had no idea of his name 
or identity. Joseph seemed to be controlling the couple and 
inducing them to present the child to the world, but she did 
not know why. 

Baffled by the meaning of the strangely compelling vision, 
I consulted the Old Testament to jog my memory about Jo- 
seph. I recalled, of course, that as the favorite son of Jacob he 
had been sold into Egyptian bondage by jealous older broth- 
ers. I knew that eventually he saved his family from starva- 
tion, when famine came, but beyond that . . . what? Turning 

*73 □ □ □ 

to Genesis, I read that “hidden things were revealed to him” 
and he was able to “interpret dreams.” Because of this, a 
grateful Pharaoh made him governor of all Egypt and pre- 
sented him with a wife, Asenath, whose father Potipherah 
was an influential priest. 

So Joseph could understand hidden meanings and inter- 
pret dreams! I next turned to the Encyclopaedia Britannica 
and learned that Nefertiti was the wife of Pharaoh Amen* 
hotep IV who, after abandoning the worship of Amon, 
“devoted himself to that of the Aton (the solar disk).” He 
thereafter changed his name to Ikhnaton and built a new 
capital dedicated to worship of the sun on the banks of the 
Nile above Cairo. Archaeological evidence suggested that 
Nefertiti was also an “ardent supporter of the Aton (sun 
worship) religion.” They had seven daughters but no sons. 
Suddenly I realized how strange it was that Jeane Dixon, who 
was totally unaware that Nefertiti and her husband had wor- 
shiped the sun, nevertheless “saw” them stepping forth from 
the solar disk in a vision. 


Recent generations have marveled at the farsightedness of 
the Victorian poet, Alfred Tennyson, who wrote in Locksley 

For I dipped into the future, far as human eye could see, 

Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be; 
Saw the heavens fill with commerce, argosies of magic sails. 
Pilots of the purple twilight, dropping down with costly bales; 
Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there rain'd a ghastly 

From the nations’ airy navies grappling in the central blue. 

Far along the world-wide whisper of the southwind rushing 

With the standards of the peoples plunging through the 

Till the war drum throbbed no longer and the battle flags were 

In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world. 

When these prophetic words were written in 1842 the air- 
plane had yet to be invented; yet Tennyson seemingly fore- 
saw the twentieth century’s world commerce in air traffic, a 

z 75 □ □ □ 

rain of destruction such as that dropped from planes over 
Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and “nations’ airy navies” fighting 
wars with bombers high above the earth. Who, then, can 
gainsay his further vision of a time when the roll of war 
drums will be silenced and peace will return through a Parli- 
ament of man? 

Jeane Dixon foresees that this peace for which men long 
will dawn in the year 1999, but not before a world holocaust 
has shocked mankind into spiritual renewal. Some of her 
long-range predictions for the remainder of the century are 

* Our two biggest headaches will be the racial problem 
and Red China. Through the latter’s subversion and med- 
dling in the racial strife, numerous African and Asian nations 
will turn against us and provoke a world war in the decade of 
the 1980s. Vietnam and Korea will lead us into this “inevita- 
ble” war with the Red Chinese. 

* History will demonstrate that the test-ban treaty was bad 
for America and will be used against us. It is in our national 
interest to trade with Russia, although until the 1980s this 
trade will benefit the Kremlin more than us. Then will come 
a turning point, and we will align ourselves with Russia in 
the war against Red China. 

* Red China will invade Russian territory, but this will be 
a border skirmish and will not ignite the later war to come, 
in which Red China will wage “germ warfare.” In this period 
late in the century the Davis Straits will become an American 
“life line.” 

* American officials and scientists are mistakenly shelving 
“a baby missile which is approximately eighteen inches long, 
dark green or black in color, shaped like an elongated bal- 
loon.” About 1970 this missile, which is small enough to be 
carried on a battlefield by two or three soldiers, will be criti- 
cally needed for the protection of our country but will not be 
available. Two other missiles, “one shaped like a miniature 


whale with two tiny fins, and another which explodes out of a 
pipelike instrument,” should also be rushed to completion. 

* Our foreign policy should be motivated by the desire to 
protect American interests, rather than by “some mysterious 
humanitarian ideal.” We should not try to make over Euro- 
pean nations in our own image, but rather accept the differ- 
ences and work with them. 

* Our space program should be accelerated, and parts of it 
which are now under civilian control should be transferred to 
the air force, where unprecedented progress could be made in 
protecting our security. Russia will be the first nation to put 
a man on the moon, probably in about three years' time. 

* President Johnson is becoming “cognizant of the fact 
that there are some Communist sympathizers in our govern- 
ment” and will take steps at what he considers the appropri- 
ate time to eliminate them, but the action will come too late. 
This situation is not of his own making, since he inherited 
these officials. 

* The years between 1964 and 1967 are a period of great 
national peril, in both the domestic and foreign fields. Mis- 
takes will be made which may not be fully realized for a 
decade. America will have three Presidents in the period be- 
tween 1961 and 1969. 

* Great wisdom will flow from certain decisions made by 
Gamal Abdel Nasser, President of the United Arab Republic, 
and because of some alliances that he will forge. 

* Pope Paul VI will leave the greatest imprint for good in 
the history of the papacy, but both he and President Lyndon 
B. Johnson are vulnerable to great personal danger. 

* The President's program for the Great Society will fail, 
because the channels are running in all directions and none 
of the ends are closed. His War on Poverty will also fail 
unless more spirituality is introduced into the program, be- 
cause “man does not live by bread alone, and it takes more 
than food and money to restore the dignity of man.” 

*n □ □ □ 

* During the next two decades we will move steadily 
downhill “in pride, accomplishments, and dignity," until the 
outbreak of war makes us realize our errors and inspires a 
program of reform. 

* Sargent Shriver and Richard M. Nixon have “excellent 
vibrations” for the good of America and will serve their 
country well. The former, however, must guard against assas- 
sination attempts. 

* The principles of Barry Goldwater will be vindicated, 
and despite his overwhelming defeat at the polls great honors 
will be showered upon him within twenty years. He will 
come to be venerated to an even greater degree than was the 
late Herbert Hoover, who was falsely castigated for the Great 
Depression but lived to become a revered elder statesman. 

* The Republican party will be victorious at the polls in 
1968, but within the following decade the two-party system as 
we have known it will vanish from the American scene. 

Jeane Dixon has learned by experience that the early hours 
before daybreak provide the clearest channels for psychic 
meditation. She consequently arose at two o'clock on the 
morning of November 2, 1964, to meditate on the following 
day's election returns. She was disturbed that in recent weeks 
the elephant had disappeared from her crystal ball; only the 
donkey remained, tugging and pulling its way through dark 
clouds. Since this had never previously happened in all the 
years that she had been forecasting election outcomes, she 
hoped to find an explanation for the puzzlement. The street 
lights cast a wan yellow glow through her bedroom windows 
as she settled herself in the semidarkness, with the crystal ball 
in hand. The donkey was still there, pushing its nose against 
the finish line, but where was the Republican elephant? So 
intent was she on the little tableau in the glittering ball that 
she was only vaguely aware of an odd sensation of suspen- 


sion, until she glanced toward the east and “saw a magnifi- 
cent marble pavilion.” 

Jeane describes the vision thus: Seated on a throne before 
fluted marble columns was a gorgeously arrayed Roman em- 
peror who, with great energy and strength, was hurling bits 
of food toward far-off throngs of ragged barbarians. The 
hoards gradually inched closer, seizing on the scattered tid- 
bits, while beauty radiated from the exquisite pavilion. 
Watching intently, Jeane noticed that the emperor was be- 
ginning to cast the food more carelessly, with less vitality, so 
that some of it was falling near his feet; and at last the bar- 
barians swept across the pavilion like a swarm of locusts, 
eradicating all traces of the culture and refinement which it 

As darkness enveloped the scene, Jeane felt that in a sym- 
bolic way she had not only witnessed the decline and fall of 
the Roman Empire, with the subsequent Dark Ages which 
obliterated the light of learning, but had also been given a 
subtle warning that America was similarly draining itself of 
needed strength by a careless disbursement of foreign aid. 

While she sat in reverie a new vision began to form, and 
Jeane suddenly found herself in the center of it, talking with 
a recognizable friend, who seemed implicitly to trust her, and 
an enormous old woman who represented the Voice of Wis- 
dom. Wildly victorious music flooded the room through open 
windows, and Jeane knew instinctively that an American 
presidential inauguration was in progress just outside. The 
friend tenderly handed her a baby girl, saying: “I would trust 
her with no one but you. Please protect her, for I love her 
very much.” 

Nodding sagely, the old lady cautioned: “This is the child 
of love. You must let nothing happen to her.” Jeane cuddled 
the infant in her arms, and as she left the house the door 
closed noiselessly behind her. She glanced in the direction 
from which the music had come, but the beautiful inaugural 

i 79 □ □ □ 

pavilion that had until recently been crowded with merry- 
makers was abandoned, and a filthy debris covered its smooth 
marble floor. The baby by now was a toddler, and Jeane held 
onto the tiny hand as she led her down a curving marble 

She felt strangely drawn toward the pavilion, but since it 
was too soiled for the child to walk on, they strolled along 
beside it, on emerald-green grass which was as soft as velvet 
carpeting. Jeane seemed to realize that the marble pavilion 
was America, and she felt sick at heart that it had become so 
littered with filth. Now sparkling, pure, clear water was flow- 
ing across the grass and lapping gently around her ankles, but 
she sadly noted that the cleansing flood was sweeping under 
instead of over the debris on the pavilion floor. 

The child happily trudging along beside her abruptly 
slipped into an unseen hole. Bracing herself against the pavil- 
ion for support, Jeane frantically tugged at the arm of the 
baby who had been so lovingly entrusted to her care, and as 
she struggled to lift her she beseeched the child: “Help me. 
Help me to save you. You can help me if you try.” 

The child made no effort to assist but slowly rolled over 
and gazed up at her; and though an inch of clear water cov- 
ered the little face, Jeane knew that she had never seen such 
serenity, overwhelming love, and wisdom in human eyes. She 
continued her futile tugging until the child smiled and said 
joyously: “It must be this way. It’s got to be this way. Don't 
you see that it must be this way?” 

Jeane turned and stared again at the unspeakable litter 
covering the pavilion floor, and sensed that she belonged to it; 
that this was her America. Overwhelmed by a feeling of 
shame, she watched mutely while smoky gray clouds began to 
churn the debris about, like matchboxes caught in the fun- 
nel of a tornado. She lifted her eyes and noticed that above 
the murky clouds were even blacker ones,, rolling in angry 
billows as if sucked by a giant magnet. As far as she could see, 


the horizon was murky and tormented; but near the top of 
the black clouds a fire crackled and burned with white-hot 
intensity, gradually consuming the repulsive debris. Above 
the unearthly heat a gentle flame began to glow, and she 
saw with relief that the healing flame was spreading through- 
out the universe to disperse the fierce black clouds. 

“This is the aura-flame, this is the aura-flame,” a voice re- 
peatedly told her, and slowly a blue tranquillity returned to 
the tortured sky. Glancing a little to the right, Jeane then 
beheld a beautiful green knoll on which glowed an eternal 
flame, and as the vision faded she realized that the knoll bore 
a marked resemblance to the Arlington hillside on which the 
mortal remains of John Fitzgerald Kennedy rest beside an 
eternal flame. In that instant she felt that she had been shown 
why President Kennedy’s death was an integral part of God’s 
plan; and why her warning of impending assassination was 
not meant to reach him, or to deter him from completing his 
preordained mission in life. 

Jeane interprets this vision as an advance warning that 
Americans must pay dearly for “the confusion, degradation, 
and immorality in our political, business, labor, and family 
lives”; for our obsession with material things and our com- 
promises with high principle. Like the Romans who squan- 
dered their great cultural and political leadership with bread 
and circuses, she feels that we also are building up a loath- 
some debris that must be consumed by cleansing fires before 
peace can return to a troubled world. Jeane says of this: 

“I saw the debris of our national life littering America, but 
surrounding it was a sea of pure green grass which became 
inundated with sparkling clear water that still left the debris 
unswept. This was the present time, and as the gray clouds 
began to churn I knew that they represented the struggle 
between the races— a struggle that will dominate the decades 
of the 1960s and 1970s. After that came the even blacker 
clouds, representing a horrible war in which many Asian and 

i8i □ □ □ 

African nations whom we have helped with foreign aid will 
join with Red China to close in on us and, like the barbarians 
in the vision of ancient Rome, try to destroy our way of life. 
This will occur during the 1980s, and because of a new kind 
of germ warfare, many will die like ants. 

“Then comes the aura-flame, like a vision of hope, to dispel 
the war clouds, and after that the eternal flame. This is the 
true meaning of President Kennedy's life and death: that 
through his martyrdom he would light an eternal flame to re- 
mind peoples of the world of God’s eternal flame in each of 
us. During John Kennedy's brief period in the public spot- 
light, he was able to kindle in the hearts of men an awareness 
that there is more to life than the narrow pursuit of personal 
gain. Because his life on this earth was cut short in its prime, 
it was possible for him to become an eternal symbol of youth, 
vitality, culture, and intellect. This was not of his doing but 
of God's. Like the courteous Washington policeman on the 
street corner, who radiates good vibrations to all passers-by, 
and like each of us who tries to develop the talents that were 
entrusted to us, President Kennedy was simply an instrument 
of God's will. Through him God has demonstrated that 
within each of us burns this eternal flame; that our greatness 
lies not in the size of our bank accounts but in our faith and 
our development of divinely granted talents. 

“We must realize our own talents and, having realized, 
accept them; and play on them like a symphony in which 
all other instruments are harmonized to make a better uni- 
verse. I was wrong in trying to prevent the President's death, 
for nine years previously I had been shown that it was fore- 
ordained. The little toddler whom I tried to rescue in the 
vision taught me this great truth once again: that the will of 
humanity cannot change the will of God. 

“How fortunate was John F. Kennedy to be chosen by our 
Lord for such a role! Like the little child who said, ‘It must 
be this way/ he would not have wished his life or death to 

182 a gift of prophecy 

have been otherwise. This I know because of another vision 
which appeared before me on November 25, 1963, while I 
was watching his funeral on television. The President's casket 
was being carried out of St. Matthew's Cathedral—the same 
church in which I first saw the vision of his assassination in 
1952— and as it was solemnly lifted into place on the caisson, I 
suddenly saw John Fitzgerald Kennedy dancing an Irish jig 
on top of it. He was happy and gay and free! The funeral 
procession moved slowly down the avenue, with the Presi- 
dent continuing his merry twirling until it reached Memorial 
Bridge. At that juncture I saw Uncle Sam raise both his 
hands, as if pronouncing a benediction, and when I glanced 
back at the caisson only a fleecy trail of smoke remained 
where the President had danced.” 

On the green hillside directly opposite Memorial Bridge, 
an eternal flame now lights the grave of America's thirty-fifth 
President. Jeane Dixon believes that this symbolic torch can 
serve as an inspiration for those living during the holocaust 
which she foresees for the 1980s. After this period, she fore- 
casts that Rome will once again become the world's foremost 
center of culture, learning, and religion; and that the Middle 
Eastern child whose birth she “witnessed in the vision with 
Queen Nefertiti” on February 5, 1962, will unite all warring 
creeds and sects into one all-embracing faith. 

Mankind, Jeane Dixon has said, will begin to feel the 
great force of this man about 1980, and his power “will grow 
mightily” until 1999, when there will be “peace on earth to 
all men of good will.”