DIGITAL ARCHIVE · HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS
Yes, I Am a Witch
Daily Dispatch · 5 August 1954 · 1954
Historical introduction
This 1954 newspaper interview records Gerald Gardner discussing his identity as a witch, the practices of modern Witchcraft, and the Castletown museum. Published in the same year as Witchcraft Today, it offers a direct contemporary example of Gardner’s public presentation of the religion.
Bibliographical reference and facsimile
Publication: Daily Dispatch, 5 August 1954.
Author: Arnold Field.
Original printed title: Yes, I Am a Witch.
Facsimile extent: two scanned pages.
Complete English transcription
CASTLETOWN, Wednesday Night.
In my time I’ve met quite a few witches. Gold diggers and double-crossers and heart-breakers. Now I have talked with a self-professed witch—a MAN, at that.
It was a strange experience. I shall never forget his angular face, nor his piercing blue eyes. Nor the setting of the interview.
Manxland is rich in folklore about fairies and “little people” in the glens and witches. But no 20th century human being has dared to admit: “I am a witch.” No one, except GERALD BROSSEAU GARDNER. He says he is a Doctor of Philosophy, an honorary degree conferred on him by Singapore University 20 years ago.
The sun had gone down and it was a cold evening when I drove through the countryside, to halt at a four-roomed cottage in a narrow street here.
Wica
To the door came a six-footer. He looked like a benevolent grandee. He has a shock of white hair and a Van Dyck beard. He wore a green pullover, open-neck shirt, check trousers and brown shoes. I said: “Dr. Gardner, I presume?” “Come in,” he invited. His voice was gentle, his manner warm.
He sank back into an armchair and gripped its sides. I could not help noticing his deep-set, piercing eyes. On the third finger of each hand was a heavy ring; a bronze bracelet rested on his wrist. I asked whether he had any other adornments. He showed his tattooed arms—a snake, an anchor, a dragon and a dagger.
Here we were, in his kitchen. Big logs lay unburned in the fireplace. Daggers, spears and other weapons hung on the walls.
Straight away I began: “Are you a witch?” He said: “Yes, I am.” He quickly added his witch name was “S’cire,” and explained that there are man and woman witches. Each is called a wica.
All very interesting, I remarked, but I was not a greenhorn and I had come across countless characters. Would he object to searching questions; a provocative quiz? No, he didn’t mind.
He said he was born in Scotland 70 years ago and came to live in the island four years ago. He had been a rubber and tea planter and had worked for the Johore Government as principal Customs officer.
Danced in circle
On with the quiz. First answer: “I was initiated as a witch in 1939. I went to a coven in England. Fifteen other witches were there. We danced in the circle which gives us power to cast spells.”
How many covens in England? “Three,” the witch replied. “We meet in houses or other places.” Other forms of ritual? “I can’t say anything about that.” Are there any other witches in the Isle of Man? “I can’t say anything about that, either.” How do we communicate? By letter or telephone.
“How do we dress when we meet?” Now the witch laughed. A very human laugh, the kind you can hear from the holiday crowds parading hilariously along the prom. “Well,” I persisted, “how do you dress?”
Written books
The witch tugged at his beard. The laughter subsided. “There’s a similarity,” came the reply, still gentle. Was it in the nude? “I can’t say anything about that,” he said.
The witch told me he had written books on witchcraft, and showed a letter from a reputable London publisher who had accepted his work.
How many witches in England? For a moment or two the witch paused. “I really don’t know,” he said, “but I can tell you that no witch ever flew through the air—until aeroplanes came.” Quite a sense of humour, this witch has. “And they don’t use brooms, either,” he added.
Into the kitchen came a pleasant-faced woman of medium height and greying hair. She is Mrs. DOROTHEA FRANCES GARDNER, the witch’s wife. They have been married for 26 years.
She sat down on a monk’s bench and began to do her knitting. “Are you a witch?” I asked. “Dear me, no,” she replied. “I’m comfortable as I am. I’ve never wanted to be a witch, though I’ve met many.”
Like hypnotism
She assured me that she is not afraid, though her husband is a witch. “How could I be frightened by those kindly blue eyes?”
I resumed my talk with the witch. I wanted to know whether I could become one. What were the qualifications? “Only that we’d have to like you,” the witch said, eyeing me.
No, he could not cast a spell by himself. He’d need another witch with him. No, no witch would dare to cast an evil spell. He or she would “have all the other witches down on him or her.”
He went on: “Witchcraft is really long-range hypnotism. We only want to help people.”
At which point I thought of the approaching Soccer season. Could the witch help anyone to win £75,000 on the pools? His reply: “Oh no, we can’t cast a spell to do a material act, though in the old days the witches in every community were able to provide good fishing, good hunting and fertility of crops.”
It was time to get to the lighter side of this business.
Are there any beautiful witches?—Many, from 16 onwards.
Do they have dates with young men?—Yes.
Do they allow themselves to be kissed good-night?—Of course, if they like a man.
Can they cast a spell to make men adore them?—Yes.
Do they tell escorts they are witches?—Oh, dear, no!
Think of it, you menfolk, you might have been out with a real witch!
I stood up to leave but S’cire the witch invited me to an upstairs room. It had been part of a barn. In it were a table with two pedestals on which had been placed candlesticks. The witch agreed it was an improvised altar.
Gaily-coloured curtains covered a window set in 3ft.-thick stone walls. “Do you operate here?” I pressed. Again the witch laughed. Again he replied: “I can’t say anything about that.”
Suddenly I saw a dagger protruding from his back pocket. He took it out, slowly. He explained it was used for drawing a circle. He walked a few inches from the “altar.” I followed. He showed a circle on the floor.
Witches’ Mill
Just one more question to the witch. How do you live? He did not hesitate. “I get a pension from the Johore Government and have investments.” He is also the owner of the Witches’ Mill, to which holidaymakers go.
I bade the witch good-night. He smiled. He said he hoped I had enjoyed an interesting evening. I stepped out. The air had become nippier. The skies were dark.
I wasn’t bothered nor bewildered. And certainly not bewitched!
Photograph captions and handwritten note
Photograph caption: “Dr. Gerald Brosseau Gardner points to exhibits in the witchcraft museum at Witches’ Mill, Castletown.”
Handwritten document: the second cutting reproduces a note Gardner wrote in Arnold Field’s notebook. Among the legible words, he identifies his Craft name as “Scire”. The manuscript is distinct from the interview text.
Editorial notes
Source-review note: The headline “Yes, I Am a Witch” is split across the two newspaper clippings. The date is 5 August 1954; handwriting on the clipping is not part of the printed article. The reporter’s spelling “wica” is preserved here; it should not be silently normalised.
The original headline includes an additional description of the Castletown doctor. A handwritten annotation appears on the facsimile and should not be confused with the published article. Quotations and printed subheadings will be preserved.
Credits and navigation
Digital facsimile hosted by The Wica. Transcription and editorial notes: Coven Speculum Lunae.