Walk up the stairs above Hampden’s weird curiosity shop Bazaar and you’ll be transported back in time to the late 1800s, when spiritualism — the belief that the living can speak with the dead — had penetrated all levels of society. The easiest way for anyone to communicate beyond the veil was with a witch board, sometimes called a talking board or spirit board. They later became widely known by the Baltimore-born and -based brand, Ouija.

John Kozik, the founder and curator of Witch Board Museum Baltimore, soaks in the spooky vibes at his other museum, Witch Board Museum Salem, in Salem, Massachusetts.
John Kozik, the founder and curator of Witch Board Museum Baltimore, soaks in the otherworldly vibes at his other museum, Witch Board Museum Salem. (Courtesy of Talking Board Historical Society)

Founder and curator John Kozik opened the doors of Witch Board Museum Baltimore in May after the success of his first Ouija-themed venture, the Salem Witch Board Museum, in Salem, Massachusetts.

“There’s a lot of Ouija history in Baltimore,” Kozik said in an interview from his home in Salem. “So when people visit from Baltimore, my eyes light up. ‘Oh my goodness. I can’t wait to tell you Ouija history from your area.’ And ... they’re blown away, because it fits so perfectly with Baltimore.

“It’s weird, it’s strange. I mean, the Ouija board is dark, like Edgar Allan Poe, and it’s very campy and goofy, like John Waters. So it really, really straddles what Baltimore is.”

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From Chestertown to Baltimore

The weird story of Ouija began in Chestertown, on Maryland’s Eastern Shore, when businessman and fertilizer manufacturer Charles Kennard read a newspaper story about the popularity of “talking boards” or “witch boards” used by spiritualists to communicate with the departed. (”Witch” was not associated with witchcraft or witches, Kozik said, but rather fortune telling).

Newspaper for Ouija, the Egyptian Luck Board, from the Baltimore Sun in 1919.
Newspaper advertisement for Ouija, the Egyptian Luck Board, from The Baltimore Sun in 1919. (Courtesy of the Talking Board Historical Society)

Most of the boards were homemade — with handwritten letters on bread boards, in many cases, and a “planchette,” or pointing device, to spell out the messages — but Kennard and his coffin-maker friend decided to add some polish and professionalism. They relocated to 17 St. Paul St. and began manufacturing their witch boards.

On the evening of April 25, 1890, the boards were given the name “Ouija” in a seance held at 529 N. Charles St. (now the site of a 7-Eleven convenience store, where the board’s naming is commemorated by a plaque).

Kennard Novelty Co. incorporated on Oct. 30, 1890 (yes, the day before Halloween), and sales took off. After the boards were patented by Baltimore attorney Elijah Bond, the company was reorganized as the Ouija Novelty Co. in 1892. Between 1892 and 1893, the company had grown to two offices in Baltimore, two in Chicago, two in New York, and another in London.

The success spawned numerous knockoffs and competitors, including the Oriole, Espirito, Volo, Igili, Witch-E, Weird-A and Nirvana talking boards. But Ouija became the most well-known.

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The Oriole brand talking board, manufactured by the Southern Toy Company in Baltimore from 1904-1911. On display at Witch Board Museum Baltimore.
The Oriole brand talking board, manufactured by the Southern Toy Co. in Baltimore from 1904-1911, on display at Witch Board Museum Baltimore. (Michael Hughes/The Baltimore Banner)

William Fuld, maker and marketer

William Fuld, an employee and stockholder of the company, eventually took control of operations, and by 1919 had acquired exclusive rights to the brand. After the Ouija told him to “prepare for big business,” he opened a three-story factory at 1508 Harford Ave. that took up an entire city block.

Alas, the Ouija did not warn him of the accident that led to his death.

In February 1927, while inspecting a flagpole on the Harford Avenue factory, Fuld fell backward off the roof, slammed against an open window and landed on the street below, according to talking board historian Robert Murch. He survived the fall, but as he lay dying on a hospital bed, a broken rib having pierced his heart, he made his children promise to never sell the family business.

The building at 1508 Harford Ave. in Baltimore that was home to the factory in which William Fuld’s company manufactured Ouija boards. It’s now a senior apartment building.
The building at 1508 Harford Ave. in Baltimore was home to the factory in which William Fuld’s company manufactured thousands of Ouija boards. It’s now an apartment building for older adults. (Michael Hughes/The Baltimore Banner)

Bigger than Monopoly

It was a promise Fuld’s heirs kept until 1966, when Parker Bros. Inc., one of the largest toy companies in the U.S., purchased the rights to Ouija for just under $1 million — “Which was unheard of at the time for one game,” Murch said.

The following year, 2 million Ouija boards were sold, outselling Parker Bros.’ mainstay game, Monopoly.

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Since then, Ouija boards have become a staple of movies (particularly horror films), TV shows, books, music, literature and comics. Museum curator Kozik and Murch are members of the nonprofit Talking Board Historical Society, which seeks to “research, preserve and celebrate the history of talking boards” and the people who use them.

Baltimore was the ideal location for his second Ouija museum, Kozik said.

“I think it’s important for people in Baltimore ... to hear this history. And I think it’s weird, and it’s just very Baltimore.”

Witch Board Museum Baltimore is located above Bazaar at 3534 Chestnut Ave. in Hampden. It’s open noon to 5 p.m. every day except for Tuesdays and holidays. Tickets are $8 for the self-guided tour, and there’s a comfy “parlor” window nook with a board you can try out ... if you dare.

(Legal note: The Baltimore Banner is not responsible for any otherworldly or disembodied entities contacted through the Ouija board.)

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At Witch Board Museum Baltimore, you can sit in a cozy nook by the window and try your hand(s) at the Ouija board ... if you dare.
At Witch Board Museum Baltimore, you can sit in a cozy nook by the window and try your hand(s) at the Ouija board ... if you dare. (Michael Hughes/The Baltimore Banner)

Weird Ouija trivia

  • James Merrill’s epic poem “The Changing Light at Sandover,” which is composed of texts from spirit board seances that allegedly channeled the voices of Plato, W. H. Auden, W. B. Yeats and a peacock named Mirabell, among others, won the National Book Critics Circle Award in 1983.
  • The 1973 classic horror film “The Exorcist” suggested that playing alone with a Ouija board resulted in Regan (played by Linda Blair) becoming possessed by the demon Pazuzu. Sales of Ouija boards, Murch says, skyrocketed with the success of the film.
  • In 1886, after President Grover Cleveland got married in the White House, he received an unusual gift from a Massachusetts toy company — a Leominster’s Witch Board. The New York Times printed Cleveland’s reply under the headline “THE PRESIDENT’S ‘WITCH BOARD’”: “I acknowledge with thanks the ‘witch board’ which you sent me as a wedding present. I accept it as an evidence of kind feeling and friendship, and can admire it for its ingenuity, but I hardly think that I shall immediately test its power to ‘disclose the past and foretell the future.’”
  • After singer-songwriter Morrissey stated that the video for his 1989 single “Ouija Board, Ouija Board” was effectively banned from the “Top of the Pops” TV show in England, he fired off a statement saying, “If this were a slightly more primitive time I would already be burning at the stake. I expect there is still time for that.”