 The thing happened on an autumn afternoon in the city of Norfolk, Virginia. And to try to explain it, you must know also of the incident that occurred on that same afternoon in another city, more than 3,000 miles away. But in all the years that have passed since that particular afternoon, no one, neither scientist nor spiritualist, pretends to understand it. It was in a movie house that the thing happened in the Lowest State Theater in Norfolk. And the day was September 15th, 1930. The talkies were little more than a toy then. Travelogs had been made and bite-of-one shorts, of course, but the day of full-length features had only just dawned. Hence, as the feature began, the audience leaned forward in their seats with eager anticipation. And on the screen flashed the name of the film and the credits. The Seawolf, adapted from the novel by Jack London, starring Milton Sales. Up in their box at the rear of the theater, the operator and George's assistant sat side by side, their eyes on the screen below, anticipating an hour or so of pure enjoyment. Their ears tuned to the smooth, familiar, automatic click of the projector. But they were doomed to disappointment, for something unforeseen was taking place. It's a soundtrack, George. Something must be wrong with it. No, neither words nor music were audible in the theater. Already, the audience was beginning to express its annoyance. The operator and his assistant worked feverishly over the sound unit, examines every possible source of trouble. And after five minutes, the operator shook his head in perplexity. I can't find it, George. I give up. Let's hold out the emergency unit. So they flashed the placard on the screen, requesting the audience to be patient. And then they connected the emergency sound unit and started the film from the beginning. Once again, the spectators grew quiet. But within an instant, both men were on their feet. George, there's still no sound. The emergency unit doesn't work either. Three and a half hours later, the two men were still bent over the sound equipment. The patrons had long since filed out of the theater. And if they are not finally given up hope, the operator and his assistant might still be there. For neither they nor anyone else was ever able to determine the mechanical cause of the trouble. And then on the following afternoon, when the men went back on duty, both were wondering whether the cause was mechanical. For both had seen the morning papers. You read about it, didn't you, George? It couldn't have had anything to do with that soundtrack, could it? But if it didn't, it's the craziest coincidence I ever heard of. Two sound units go on the blink for no reason at all. And at the same time on the same afternoon, Milton Seales, the star of the movie, dies. Yes, on the afternoon of September 15th, 1930, the career of the illustrious Milton Seales came to an end. As the audience in a theater in Norfolk, Virginia walked away, bitterly disappointed because they had failed to hear the star's voice. The star himself lay on his deathbed in Hollywood, California. Hard as it may be to believe that there could be a real connection between the two events, it is still harder to believe that it was mere coincidence. Whatever the explanation, the fact remains that the incidents did occur simultaneously. And that in itself is a fact. Incredible but true.