A Voice from the Gallery
The report consisted of two parts of unequal length. Pages 15 and 16 dealt with Fentz while the rest discussed the esoteric significance of such mysteries, introducing three cases that had not been mentioned in the articles published in Norway and Sweden. We will look at these later. The most significant detail, however, was the way the story of Fentz was presented. The heading of the article was: The Voice from the Gallery: By the late Ralph M Holland. From Colliers.
This seemed to indicate that the article had been taken directly from the popular American magazine Collier’s, but as no date or issue number was mentioned I was unable to trace it. But I decided that this was probably not necessary, as another source was mentioned: A Voice in the Gallery, number 4, 1953.
The Borderland writer – Vincent H. Gaddis – states that “From Holland’s ‘A Voice in the Gallery,’ No.4, 1953 until March 1969 we had to wait for the occult explanation of the Fentz disappearance and reappearance,” so I suspected that the Collier‘s article would have been identical to the Borderland Journal version. The inclusion of an exact bibliographical reference, plus the fact that Ralph M. Holland is presented as its author, implied that the text about Fentz was copied verbatim from the original.
Unfortunately, editions of A Voice from the Gallery (the correct name of the booklet, according to a reliable source I will cite below) are very rare and I have yet to see any of them. There was no doubt in my mind that this was the earliest published source, and the ‘paper trail’ lead me to the inevitable conclusion that all later renditions of the story stemmed from this one. The following is a transcription of the article precisely as presented in The Journal of Borderland Research:
“One night in June 1950 an oddly dressed man was seen in Times Square in New York City -which eventually led to the most baffling mystery in the history of the New York Police Department.
“Captain Hubert V. Rihm was in the Missing Persons Bureau at the time, and took an active part in the investigation. He is now retired and, since he does not have the records of the case in his possession, could not quote exact dates and addresses in all instances. He did, however, remember the main details. It was somewhere near the middle of the month, about 11:15 p.m., right at the height of the after-theatre traffic rush.
“The man appeared to be about 30 years of age. His most noticeable feature, aside from his clothing, was a luxuriant set of mutton-chop whiskers, which went out of style many years ago. He wore a high silk hat, a cutaway coat with cloth covered buttons at the back, and a high cut vest with lapels. The trousers were black and white checked material, rather tight, without cuffs and pressed without a crease. He wore high button shoes.
“No one saw him walk out into the street. Witnesses first noticed him standing in the middle of the intersection ‘gawking at the signs as if he’d never seen an electric sign before’. Then he seemed to become aware of the traffic and began to make frantic movements to dodge it. The police officer at the corner saw him, and started out to lead him to safety. Before he could reach him, the man made a sudden dash for the curb. A taxicab hit him, and he was dead when they picked him up.
“The attendants at the morgue took the whiskers and the clothing in their stride. One meets some odd characters during 20 or 30 years on the force, some of them much odder than he. When they began to search his pociets [sic], their brows began to wrinkle. ‘One brass slug, good for one 5 cent beer’. The name of the saloon was unfamiliar even to the old timers.
“One bill from a livery stable on Lexington Ave.: ‘to the feeding and stabling of one horse, and the washing of one carriage; $3.00′, The name of the stable did not appear in the directory. ‘About $70 in currency, all old style notes, and including two gold certificates.’ ‘Cards bearing the name ‘Rudolph Fentz’ and an address on Fifth Ave., with a letter to the same name and address, postmarked in Philadelphia June 1876′ None of the items showed any signs of age.
“The Fifth Ave. address was a store. So far as the present occupants knew, it had always been a store. None of them had ever heard of ‘Rudolph Fentz’.
“The name did not appear in the directory. A fingerprint check, both in New York and Washington brought no results. No one ever called, or made enquiries at the morgue. Capt. Rihm continued to investigate the case. He checked back through old phone books, looking for the name ‘Fentz’. Finally, in the 1939 directory, he found a ‘Rudolph Fentz Jr.’ with an uptown apartment address. They remembered Fentz at the apartment: a man in his 60s, who worked at a nearby bank. He had retired in 1940 and moved away. They had not heard from him since.
“At the bank, Rihm learned that Fentz had died about 5 years before, but that his widow was still alive in Florida. In reply to Rihm’s letter, she said that her husband’s father had mysteriously disappeared sometime during the spring of 1876. it seems that Mrs. Fentz, Sr. didn’t like to have him smoke in the house. She thought it smelled up the curtains. So it had been his custom to go out for a walk every evening about 10 and enjoy a final cigar before retiring. One night he went out as usual and never returned. The family spent quite a bit of money trying to find him but he was never seen or heard of again.
“Capt. Rihm found Rudolph Fentz listed in the Missing Persons file for 1876. The address given was the same as that appearing on the cards and letter, so the place was evidently a private residence at that time. He was 29 years of age, and wore mutton chop whiskers. The description of the clothing which he was wearing when last seen agreed exactly with that worn by the mysterious traffic victim. The case was still listed as `’unsolved’.
“Captain Rihm never wrote the results of his private investigations into the official records. He didn’t dare! They’d have had him in the ‘nut factory’ for a mental checkup in nothing flat! After all, a man can’t just walk out into thin air in 1876 and then suddenly turn up, unchanged in any way, 74 years later! No one would believe a tale like that. He didn’t believe it himself, “but -give me some other explanation which will make sense”.
Thus reads the original version of the mystery according to Holland. A glance at the later renderings of the story show that the Bergier/Gallet version was the most complete summary of the case after Holland’s. The reason for this is that the Norwegian and Swedish articles upon which the Italian article was based had been translated practically word for word from the BSRF Journal. Had this not been the case, we can be sure the details would have been distorted much further by the time they were translated into Spanish.
Borderland Sciences proceeded to rationalize the Fentz incident from an esoteric perspective. According to the article, members of the Borderland Foundation gathered in March 1969 to contact ‘Myron of the Ashtar Command’ hoping to discover the mechanism that produces teleportations and strange disappearances. This was achieved through a medium or `channellcr’ called Marian Harthill.
This is not the place to discuss the complex world of the Ashtar Command. Suffice it to say that a contactee named George Wellington Van Tassel (b. 1910) claimed to have received psychic messages from an intergalactic fleet with this name, and wrote about it in a book called I Rode a Flying Saucer (1952). Van Tassel founded a group of followers, the Ministry of Universal Wisdom, and it all started there. It still exists today.
According to ‘Myron’, Rudolph Fentz’s leap through time was an example of what occurs when a person slips into the Fourth Dimension through a hole in the fabric of reality. Such holes – which are apparently random alignments between gaps in our dimension and in the Fourth – are especially common “in thinly populated areas or over your vast ocean stretches,” in the words of the Ashtar alien. Myron speaks of “ships sailing right through one hole and out another, while the crews are never found,” an inference to the Bermuda Triangle, a popular enigma at the time. Indeed, 1969 was also the year when John Spencer’s Limbo of the Lost was published, the first book entirely devoted to the Triangle.
The article spoke of another case, in which a steamship called Avalon disappeared during a voyage from Long Beach to Santa Catalina Island, off the coast of California. According to Vincent H. Gaddis, who provided his own account of the story, the steamer was seen again some 20 years later by the commander of a submarine, though a subsequent search failed to find it.
Gaddis had been an early member of the Fortean Society, a group founded in 1931 to examine the kinds of phenomena that Charles Fort (1874-1932) had collected for decades. It is a curious fact that Gaddis had published a round-up of contemporary UFO reports in the June 1947 issue of Amazing Stories – an article that was still on some newsstands when Kenneth Arnold made his famous sighting on the 24th of the same month.
Later, Gaddis wrote articles for the Borderland Journal and similar publications. One of these, in Argosy magazine in February 1964, coined a new term that was to become very popular: ‘Bermuda Triangle’. Although he had not been the first to write about the disappearance of ships and planes in the region of the Bermudas and Miami, or even the first to call it a ‘triangle’ (both doubtful honours belong to one George X. Sand, whose short article in hate entitled “Sea Mystery at our Back Door” discussed the enigma in October 1952), it was his expression that stuck in readers’ minds.
The other ‘teleportations’ mentioned in the article were the alleged (but untrue) 1880 “David Lang” mystery, and the (dubious) 1593 “Manila to Mexico’ incident. This is not the place to deal with these cases, of course
Ralph M. Holland
I decided that Ralph M. Holland was the author of the Rudolph Fenz story. But if this was so, who exactly was he? This question has two answers. It turns out that first we have to meet Ralph, and then his alter ego Rolf.
Ralph Merridette Holland was born in Youngstown, Ohio, on August 29th 1899. He lived there until 1914 when his family moved to Akron, Ohio. After attending two public schools he left at the age of 16 to start work. He continued to take classes, and finally received a degree in engineering, yet his first jobs were with local newspapers. His first job was with a German language newspaper in Akron, and later with the Akron Beacon Journal. There is no indication that he wrote articles for either of the two but rather that he worked ‘in the plant’ as his sister Dora G. Holland noted in his obituary. 
This set me thinking. If Holland had worked in a German language newspaper, could he possibly have met Herman Rihm, the linotype operator who had lived and worked in Ohio? While it is true that Rihm had worked on a German newspaper in Cincinnati, not in Akron, was it possible that the two men had actually met? Holland had only been thirteen years older than Herman Rihm, so it is possible that their paths had crossed. Considering the rarity of names resembling ‘Hubert Rihm’ in the first half of the twentieth century in North America, it continued to be an interesting, if indemonstrable, idea.
After his brief stint with the Akron Beacon Journal (a newspaper founded in 1897 and which still exists today), Holland turned to engineering as his main profession. He first worked at the B. F. Goodrich Rubber Company, then at similar firms, until he finally went to Scotland to help set up a rubber plant there. After this he returned to Ohio, later winding up in Detroit, where he worked as an engineer for the Detroit Edison Company. He spent the rest of his life working as an engineer, designing machinery. When he died of a heart attack on January 26th 1962 he was living in Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio.
Returning to the German connection, it has struck many as odd that the two named characters in the Rudolph Fentz story had surnames of Germanic origin. Rihm and Fentz are common throughout Germany, Austria and Holland, as are Rudolph and Hubert. Did Ralph Holland have much contact with German immigrants in Ohio? The answer is that he could well have.
According to Dr. Don Heinrich Tolzman, the author of German-Americans in the World Wars (London, K. G. Saur 1995), the Census of 1910 had determined that nearly a third of the population of Cincinnati alone were of German stock (121,719 out of 363,591). The German language was introduced into Cincinnati public schools at the beginning of the twentieth century. The Mayor of Cincinnati, himself a German-American, praised “German culture,” which had “contributed so much to the present greatness of Cincinnati that so long as the Queen City exists the name of the noble characters of its German citizens will stand forever.” 
In fact. there were dozens of German newspapers in the United States before World War II, and several in Ohio. 525 daily and weekly German newspapers were published in the U.S. in 1860, though by 2001 this had dropped to a mere 8.  In this context we should not be surprised that Ralph Holland chose German names for his characters, especially after his formal education in Ohio and his contact with German newspapers on leaving school.
If I was correct in my hypothesis, the question still remained about why Ralph Holland would have written a story about someone who had fallen through time in mysterious circumstances. I felt the explanation was not too complicated and that the key to the whole mystery lay therein.
“While in Detroit, Michigan,” wrote Dora Holland, “he studied journalism and became a freelance reporter, and still kept his press card and credentials after returning home, sending out many stories to wire services and magazines, sometimes under a pen name.” Holland’s main interest was paranormal phenomena, especially anything bordering on science fiction. “He was a member of the Borderland Sciences Research Associates for a number of years, as well as many other groups of a similar nature.”
UFOs became one of his favourite mysteries. “He was interested in our own life beyond our earthly one,” it says in his obituary, “as well as life on other planets, flying saucers, etc., ever searching for the truth.”
Holland was such an enthusiast for science fiction that he became a member of the National Fantasy Fan Federation (N3F), finally becoming its president, a post he held until his death. In 1935 he published several issues of his fanzine, The Science-Fiction Review, and in 1958 he was the co-editor of the first issue of Fantasy Aspects, another science fiction fanzine. He published a small book called Ghu’s Lexicon in the 1950s (“Ghu” being a fantasy character invented in the 1930s). Also, of course, he published A Voice From the Gallery, described by his sister as a series of booklets full of “many unusual or out of the way stories or events.”
Dora Holland tells in her obituary that her brother was constantly “… in search for the truth, sorting fact from fake, before he would pass the information on.” However, it is clear that she was either quite credulous in this respect or not telling the whole truth, for she knew that Ralph Holland had also published some very fishy ‘factual’ material under the pseudonym of Rolf Telano.
“Rolf Telano,” the extraterrestrials and the Underworld
The first indication that Ralph M. Holland was not all he seemed came to me in the form of a letter dated 1964, a copy of which was forwarded to me by Anders Liljegren.
It happened that Miss Edith Nicolaisen, owner of the Parthenon publishing company in Helsingborg, Sweden, specialists in contactee literature, read A Spacewoman Speaks, a UFO book written by one ‘Rolf Telano’ and decided she wanted to publish it in Swedish. She wrote a letter to Telano on March lst 1962 care of Harriet P. Foster in Del Mar, California, whose address had been provided by its English language publisher, Understanding Publishing Co. A reply from Dora Holland was received at the beginning of June. In the letter Dora said that it was okay to publish the book as long as her deceased brother’s desire for anonymity was respected by the publisher. Nicolaisen agreed, and before the year was through Lanner i universum (‘Friends in the Universe’) was printed and sold in Sweden. The book became a success, at least in the world of UFO literature.
A Spacewoman Speaks was a 93-page text that Holland/Telano claimed to have received in 1954 from an extraterrestrial called Borealis. It had first been published in 1960 by the Understanding Publishing Co., owned by another notorious contactee, Daniel Fry. According to Holland, Borealis was a member of an ancient race of extraterrestrials who first came across the Earth thousands of years ago. These beings had an average life span of a thousand years and were reincarnated constantly. When they saw the planet was inhabitable they started to breed people by carefully selecting parents and developing them biologically in subterranean laboratories called Edens. This improved species was called the Adam and it is from this race that human beings have descended.
A Spacewoman Speaks goes into much greater detail about subterranean beings and monsters, alien gods, Lemuria and Atlantis. A number of Adam-beings that chose to remain below the ground and not rise to the surface rebelled against their nature, indulging in continuous orgies and other vices. These are the devils feared by men today. The creators saved as many of them as they could and sealed the rest of them inside their grottos, where groups of them still live today.
Of course, considering the period in which Holland was writing we should not be surprised by these ‘revelations.’ A variety of colourful mystics and channellers had been publishing psychic messages about subterranean worlds and Atlantean demigods for decades.  In the late nineteenth century Helena Petrovna Blavatsky (1831-1891) had written about vast caverns under the ground and the origin of the human race at points situated near the North Pole and on the lost continents of Lemuria and Atlantis. The “Lords of the Flame,” she said, were divine masters living on Venus.
Annie Besant, her successor as the head of the Theosophical Society, believed the next race would rise from the most spiritual residents of Southern California, a new Lemuria, and in the distant future yet another version of humanity would appear on Mercury.
Between 1884 and 1886 Frederick S. Oliver wrote A Dweller on Two Planets, a text that he claimed had been channelled through him by Phylos, a thrice-reincarnated native of Atlantis. Oliver explained that there was a subterranean world beneath California’s famous Mount Shasta. In his last mortal incarnation as a gold miner called Walter Pierson. Phylos is flown to Venus in his astral body to receive the secrets of the universe. Oliver’s book inspired the founder of The Rosicrucians to write Lemuria: the Lost Continent of the Pacific in 1931, which was not only more of the same but actually included references to strange flying lights and boats that were identical to modem UFOs.
In 1934 mining engineer called Guy Warren Ballard published Unveiled Mysteries, a book which described his encounters with the Comte de Saint-Germain. The notorious Count took him to a series of magnificent chambers 2000 feet beneath Wyoming, where he saw great mounds of gold that had been saved from Atlantis before it sank. When a sequel, The Magic Presence, was published, Ballard went on to write about a fantastic radio that he had seen below Colorado which the Masters could use to communicate with other cities and other planets.
However, the greatest influence on Holland was probably Richard Sharpe Shaver (c.1908-1975), a science fiction writer whose strange tales were published in the popular magazine Amazing Stories in the 1940s. They were, of course, presented as fact, and they stirred up strong reactions from the very beginning. Although many of the stories were authored by the editor of the magazine himself, Ray Palmer, only the name of Richard Shaver was attached to them. When the first full-length story, ‘I Remember Lemuria!’ was published in March 1945 the issue sold out immediately and interest in the lost continents was reawakened.
Shaver’s version of the history of the Earth differed very little from that of his predecessors. Thousands of years ago, he said, the world was colonized by a race of extraterrestrial beings. They set up their first base on Atlantis, and are thus remembered as Atlans (or Titans). They enjoyed lifespans of thousands of years but never grew old, and possessed a superior technology which allowed them to travel at the speed of light and breed new forms of life.
Some of the creatures they made were monsters but one group became the ancestors of Mankind. After some time Atlan scientists discovered that the sun was changing and had begun to poison the Earth’s atmosphere with a deadly radiation. Terrestrial conditions got so bad that the whole Atlan race was driven below the ground, but even there they felt the effects of the radiation. Finally they decided there was only one way to survive: to search for a new home near a less hostile sun.
When the Atlans boarded their spaceships and flew away they left many of their genctically modified creatures behind. Some of these adapted to the terrestrial atmosphere and evolved into human beings. Others remained underground, degenerating into a race of evil dwarves called the Dero. In his writings, Shaver blamed the Dero for nearly everything bad that ever happened on Earth. They had provoked most of the world’s conflicts and disasters. Their antics had led to the crucifixion of Christ and the assassination of Kennedy, to name but two of their successes.
Ralph Holland, an editor of science fiction fanzines and a man who later became the president of N3F, would not only have been familiar with the best-selling Amazing Stories magazine but would probably have read the writings of Shaver’s imitators, too. Maurice Doreal came up with very similar stories from 1946 on (publishing booklets with titles such as The Inner Earth and Mysteries of Mt. Shasta), as did W. C. Hefferlin (a reincarnated Ancient whose tales about extraterrestrials, the underworld and the origin of humanity were published in 1947 and 1948 in fragments by the Borderland Sciences group, of which Holland was a member).
A Spacewoman Speaks was not Holland’s first book on UFOs. In 1952 the Borderland Sciences group published another, less philosophical work by him, The Flying Saucers. This was a description of the different kinds of UFOs known to exist. On this occasion, too, Holland/Telano claimed that the information had been channelled to him telepathically by Borealis. On both occasions Holland chose to remain anonymous.
Daniel Fry also published Holland/Telano’s A Spacewoman Speaks as a supplement of his own book, The White Sands Incident. Here, Fry uses the ‘channelled’ messages from Borealis to support his own claim he had met the space-people himself. Fry claimed that his first close encounter took place on July 4th 1950 (later changed to 1949 when it was shown that he had not been there on that date) at the White Sands Proving Grounds in New Mexico, where he worked as a rocket test technician. They invited him aboard their craft and took him on a round trip to New York to demonstrate their powers.
According to Fry, the entire 4000-mile round trip took just thirty minutes, which meant that they had travelled at an amazing 8000 miles an hour. Fry was impressed. After this promising start, however, the rest of the tale differed little from all the other contactee claims: the extralerrestrials explained that their ancestors had lived on Lemuria tens of thousands of years before, and humanity owes its existence to them.
Daniel Fry called himself ‘Dr Daniel Fry,’ which is how his name appears on his books. He claimed that he had been awarded a “Ph.D. from Saint Andrews College of London, England,” but it was shown that the title had been acquired from a correspondence school and had no academic value whatsoever. In fact, no such college is formally recognized in London, and Fry’s ‘dignity degree’ of ‘Doctor of Philosophy (Cosmism)’ is patently absurd. 
When Dora Holland wrote to Miss Nicolaisen on June 1st 1964 she expressed a strong desire to keep her brother’s true identity secret. Ralph Holland had not wanted anyone to know that he was so deeply interested in science fiction, for this would have ruined his claims about aliens from space and subterranean monsters. His sister understood this perfectly, although whether she believed his fantasies were true or not is impossible to say. She certainly defended his honesty as a writer in her letter, just as one would expect in an obituary:
“I am sorry that I am so late in [replying], but press of other matters has kept me from it. Then too, I was trying to think of just how to answer, for I knew my brother’s desire for anonymity, and felt if he had wanted such a sketch of publicity, he surely would have presented it himself at the time. A Spacewoman Speaks was published here in the States.
“I note that you state you will keep his name as “Rolf Telano”, for which I am very glad… He had been interested in Science Fiction for a number of years, and was president of the National Fantasy Fan Federation at the time of the death – this is the connection he did not deem advisable to use in connection with his book or other similar interests lest his work in that connection be discredited as a result – and he was a most dedicated man and sincere in his beliefs. I hope nothing will be used to discredit him or his work in this connection, and have only mentioned it because you did include it in vour letter … “
We are left with a very confusing image of Ralph Holland indeed. ‘Contactee’, science fiction enthusiast, journalist, engineer – a man of many talents.
An unexpected twist
In July 2002 I contacted the Akron Beacon Journal, the newspaper where Holland had worked when he was young, in case they could provide me with a photo or some additional information about the ‘father’ of the legend. I received a reply a few days later, telling me that their archives did not go back so far, so they could not help me. However, the letter did say that a journalist named Paula Schleis could be interested in writing an article about Holland based on the information I had accumulated so far.
Thus, the same newspaper in which Holland had worked published an article about my investigations. “Clock runs out on long-told story of time traveler” was published by the Akron Beacon Journal on August 12th 2002. To be honest, I felt satisfied with my efforts and now I only hoped that a reader of the article, perhaps a resident of Akron, could provide me with some interesting information about the origins of the legend I’d been researching for so many months …
I didn’t have to wait very long. On August 13th I received a letter from Reverend George Murphy, a minister in Akron, who confessed to be a great science-fiction fan. He told me that he was sure he had heard the Fentz story before, including all the names and details about the police investigation. Yet he had never heard of Ralph Holland, nor Rolf Telano, and he had never read A Voice from the Gallery, either. It set him thinking, and soon he remembered who had told exactly the same story … in 1951!
In 1951 a writer named Jack Finney published a curious short story in the September 15th edition of the American magazine Colliers. The tale was about a certain Rudolph Fentz who was transported from the Nineteenth Century to the Twentieth, and a detective called Hubert Rihm who investigated the case.
Yes, that’s right, it was the same story. It did not originate with Holland but with someone else entirely! George Murphy sent me a copy of what was evidently the original version of the Fentz legend. Jack Finney’s 12-page tale, entitled ‘I’m Scared’, was a compilation of several fictional anecdotes about people who have experienced spontaneous time travel. I discovered that Finney had designated the Rudolph Fcntz enigma as the last of these, numbered – case 111. For the first time I read that Captain Hubert V. Rihm was a fat, red-faced 66 year old police officer, and that at the end of the story the narrator offers his own theory about what probably happens in such cases: that sometimes, due to the pressures of living in the modern world, one’s wishes to flee from one’s own time and space are granted.
And who was Jack Finney?
Finney was a prolific writer of science fiction stories, especially stories of time travel. He was born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, on October 2nd 1911, but he spent his infancy in Chicago. He published his first short story in 1946 and many of his later works were made into films, including The Body Snatchers, which was published in Colliers in December 1954. He died in 1995, at the age of 84, of pneumonia and emphysema.
A second article about the Fentz legend, updated with the new information, was published on August 19th 2002 in the Beacon Journal.
A Personal Opinion
Having spent a long time searching for the original sources of the Fentz story I have come to the conclusion that Ralph Holland’s article in A Voice from the Gallery, while not being where the tale first appeared, was the source of the legend in Europe. When it was confirmed that Jack Finney was the creator of Rudolph Fentz I felt that the goose chase had been worth it after all. Whether deliberately or accidentally, Holland had set off a chain reaction that had kept the mystery alive for almost exactly fifty years – from ‘I’m Scared’ (1951) and A Voice from the Gallery (1953) to Carlos Cauales’ article (2000) and my own (2002).
It is curious that Holland’s interest in Finney’s tale came one year after his first ‘channelled’ book about flying saucers and a year before his alleged encounter with Borealis that led up to his second book. Evidently he found himself in a moment of reflection and creativity in the ufological field at that time.
In my opinion, if there existed a motive behind his use of the Fentz anecdote, it was to bolster theories about the ‘Fourth Dimension’ – an important theory for associates of the Borderland Sciences group, of which he was a member. Only theories about unknown dimensions could explain how the flying saucers could come from places such as Venus, which the progress of science was gradually rejecting as a planet that could harbour life.
Postscript: A Note on Modern “Chrononauts”
Many books discussing the theme of accidental ‘time travel’ have been published since 1953. One of the most recent books devoted to the subject is Time Storms, by Jenny Randles. Randles’ theory is that these leaps through time are a common, natural phenomenon, and her book contains a large number of eyewitness testimonies to show it. 
However, I have found a modern incident that resembles the Fentz case to a surprising extent, but in reverse. This can be found in Whitley Strieber’s 1997 book The Secret School. According to him, in 1983 he was transported to late 19th century Manhattan while standing at the corner of La Guardia Place and Houston Street. He found himself in a familiar road but in an unfamiliar period, with low brick buildings where there are high-rise towers today.
The experience lasted between five and ten minutes. Strieber judged the year to which he was transported as being between the 1870s and 1880s. Later, when he scanned old issues of the New York Journal for references to himself (perhaps as a ‘ghost’ that had appeared and disappeared before people’s eyes), he found a report of a woman who had materialized suddenly in the street in 1945 and vanished again in seconds. Unfortunately, Strieber doesn’t give a reference to the article in question. 
There is another case of someone turning up unexpectedly in Manhattan. In March 1957 John Robinson reported an abduction story during the Long John Nebel radio show. Allegedly, one of Robinson’s neighbours, Steve Brodie, had told him about an experience he had had in 1938 while prospecting for gold out west with a companion. One day they were confronted by two strange hooded figures who did not look entirely human. They paralysed Brodie with a hand-held rod-like device and then turned on his companion, whose attempt to flee was brought short by something like a heat ray. Then one of the beings placed small earphones behind Brodie’s ears, causing him to lose consciousness.
When he came to he found himself in a dark place alongside other prisoners like himself. They told him he was in the cave of the Dero, a subterranean race. Just as he began to regain his senses, however, one of the beings adjusted the earphones and Brodie passed out again. This happened from time to time until he was finally released, whereupon he found himself wandering the streets of Manhattan in a state of confusion.
Two years had passed. Brodie came out with his story one day when he saw a copy of one of Ray Palmer’s magazines in Robinson’s apartment. “He speaks of the Dero!” he exclaimed, pointing excitedly to an article about the mysterious creatures. To prove his tale he then showed his neighbour the small scars behind his ears where he had worn the earphones and said that he had not been able to eat meat since his abduction.
Some time later, when Robinson had moved away but was paying a visit to his old neighbourhood, he learnt that Brodie had disappeared again. A neighbour told him that he had been spotted in Arizona, wandering about in a trance-like state. Had the Dero returned for him? 
In this story we return to the subterranean world of the Dero, a man’s transportation to limbo for a long period and their strange reappearance in Manhattan. It is clear that certain themes have been recycled once again. This particular story is particularly interesting because it introduces the concept of electronic implants, a staple in abduction lore in later years.
“Regreso al futuro en el coraz6n de Manhattan,” Mas Alla, no. 138, August 2000 pp.76-81.
Enigmas Sin Resolver, Iker Jimenez Editorial EDAF, Madrid 1999 pp.284-285.
Los Enigmas Pendientes,. Ediciones Live, S.A., Madrid 1979 pp.75-77; Espacio y Tiempo, S.A., Madrid 1991 pp.67-69.
I was surprised to find out that neither Harold T. Wilkins’ Strange Mysteries of Time and Space nor John Keel’s Our Haunted Planet made any mention of the incident.
Jimenez (1999) p.284.
Burón (1979) p.75.
Located at http:/lfreepages.genealogy.rootsweb’~comhblkyn/Marriage/R/R.13.html
A one-man machine used to produce a “line of type,” linotypes were used for generations after their introduction in the mid-1880s.
El Libro del Misterio, Jacques Bergier and Georges H. Gallet, Plaza & Janes, S.A., Barcelona 1977.
Le Livre du Mystere, Jacques Bergier and Georges H. Gallet, Editions Albin Michel, Paris 1975.
Saucer Smear, Volume 48, no. 3, April 1st 2001.
Holland’s book The Flying Saucers was published in 1954 by the Borderland group. An 11-page document, it was reprinted by Gray Barker in 1963 along with related items. Anders Liljegren located the booklet in the AFU archive and kindly sent me a copy of the relevant pages. The obituary was prepared by Holland’s sister under the title “In Memoriam.”
Quoted in “Hatred on the Homefront: Cincinnati, Anti-German Hysteria, and the Media,” in Alterity: Transylvania’s Academic Journal
1999-2000, at www.transy.edu/
Prometheus, Internet Bulletin for Art, Politics and Science, no.82, Spring 2002.
I highly recommend Subterranean Worlds by Walter Kafton-Minkel (Loompanics Unlimited, WA 1989) as the best guide to the ‘hollow earth’ literature published in this period.
Timothy Good, Alien Base, Arrow Books Limited, London 1999 p.99.
Jenny Randles, Time Storms, Piatkus, London 2001.
Whitley Strieber, The Secret School, Simon and Schuster, New York 1997.
Brad Steiger and Joan Writenour, New UFO Breakthrough, Tandem 1967, quoted in “Fairyland’s Hunters, Part One,” by Peter Rogerson, Magonia 46, June 1993.