Looking to solve the mystery of the posthumous Twain novel for yourself? You could try a consumer favorite: the Ouija board. This mass-produced “game” is basically a wooden plank with the letters of the alphabet, numbers zero to nine, and words “yes,” “no,” and “goodbye” printed on it. It comes with a little heart-shaped piece of plastic or wood called a “planchette,” which purportedly focuses the energy of those who touch it. When the users place their hands on the planchette, it moves, powered by the spirit of a deceased person (so they say), to answer questions users ask that spirit. The power of these devices is primarily up to consumer discretion, but in 1921, Chicago had to make sure that twelve specific men were willing to swear, under penalty of perjury, that they didn’t believe in Ouija-powering ghosts.
Before late 1919, two couples—the Yosts and the Walters—were friends who spent time together fairly regularly. However, as the Chicago Tribune noted, that relationship went south when Mrs. Walter ran for a leadership role in their local community group. She expected Mrs. Yost to support her efforts but found the opposite was true; Mrs. Yost ran against her—and won. An upset Mrs. Walter decided to investigate. It turned out that the Yosts’ home had been burgled on the night of November 10, 1919. The thief, per the Tribune, “looted of a small sum of money, a bunch of groceries, and 25 pounds of raisins” and became the buzz of the town. Unfortunately the identity of the culprit remained unknown—until Thanksgiving. That night, the Yosts broke out a Ouija board while hosting other friends. One of the guests asked the Ouija board who robbed the Yost home, and the planchette apparently spelled out “the Walter family.” News of the paranormal confession spread, and her now-besmirched reputation likely caused Mrs. Walter to lose the election.
So, the Walters sued. In general, you can’t accuse people of crimes without running the risk of liability, and the Walters demanded compensation for their sullied names. The lawsuit demanded a hefty $10,000 in damages—the equivalent of more than $125,000 dollars in 2018. Needless to say, the Yosts weren’t keen on paying this. They came up with a creative defense, arguing that Mrs. Yost didn’t make any defamatory statements against the Walters: It was the Ouija board.
To determine whether the Yosts were liable for damages, the court needed to account for the possibility that jurors would attribute the statement to the unexplained. As the New York Tribune explained, at least six prospective jurors were dismissed because they were too willing to believe that ghosts were real. The case eventually proceeded, as the Tribune described, with a jury of “twelve good men and true who are sure that no such thing as a spirit world exists and that Ouija boards are merely something with which to while away time.”
But the Ouija board wasn’t out of the picture yet. According to the Independence Daily Reporter, the judge “instructed the jury that if Mrs. Yost said the Ouija board had revealed Mrs. Walter as the alleged robber, Mrs. Yost was not guilty” but “if Mrs. Yost made the remarks herself, however, and neglected to quote Ouija,” the Walters could collect. The jury found that Mrs. Yost cited the Ouija board every time she mentioned Mrs. Walter’s role in the theft, and the Walters lost to what was perhaps the world’s first-ever successful “defense by Ouija board.”