In the Bleak Moors Country/ The revival of Witchcraft - Newspaper clippings.

A page from Doreen Valiente's scrapbook holding three cuttings from April 1967, each dated in her hand. The main one is Alan Whittaker's report '...in the bleak Moors country' in the News of the World of 9 April 1967, part of the paper's series investigating witchcraft in Britain. Alex Sanders, 40, tells him his followers call him Verbius, King of all the witches, though he prefers The Elder; claims 107 full covens; says Maxine is expecting his child and that he is to be 'knighted' by some Greek witches. He names his High Priestess in Nottinghamshire as Mrs Pat Kopanski of Long Eaton, and Whittaker goes to see her. She tells him there were three in her coven, one of them Sanders and another who went to Australia, and that it was disbanded because 'it was so theatrical'. She was Pat Kopinski. Sanders also says detectives on the Moors murders case examined pictures in his home because he had once held rites on Saddleworth Moor. The page also carries 'The Revival of Witchcraft' by Lester Kinsolving, religion correspondent of the San Francisco Chronicle, 1 April 1967, on Anton Szandor LaVey's Church of Satan and Ruth Tongue's view that the old religion 'just went underground'; and a Daily Mirror cutting of 24 April 1967, 'Thieves grab fertility god', on the carved head Atho belonging to the antique dealer Ray Howard of Field Dalling, Norfolk. How to cite: Alan Whittaker, '...in the bleak Moors country', News of the World, 9 April 1967. From the scrapbooks of Doreen Valiente, private collection. Alexandrian Witchcraft Timeline & Archive.

[This transcript is of the News of the World article only. The scrapbook page also carries two other cuttings.] … in the bleak Moors country ALAN WHITTAKER Investigating witchcraft in Britain today WITCHCRAFT is spreading its weird tentacles throughout Britain. The cult is enjoying its biggest boom since the Middle Ages. Covens are springing up in the most unlikely places and secret rites are being held on lonely heaths and in private houses. It is attracting young people who believe they can get a kick out of prancing round naked and calling themselves witches. They are convinced that what was once known at the Black Art is the answer to all their problems. A man who claims to be one of the leaders of Britain’s youthful witches is 40-year-old Alex Sanders. His followers call him Verbius, King of all the witches. “But I prefer to be known as The Elder,” he told me. Sanders, who is divorced, outraged many people a couple of years ago when he went through a witchcraft “wedding” ceremony with a 19-year-old girl shortly after her mother, who had strenuously opposed their association, died. Strange role The girl, Maxine Morris, a statuesque blonde, calls herself Witch Queen of Sander’s Manchester coven, a strange role for a girl who was brought up as a Roman Catholic. When I first met Sanders, he claimed to rule 107 full covens of 13 witches and scores of smaller covens scattered all over Britain. His claim is ridiculed by rival witches. A soft-voiced, slightly-built Mancunian, he is the odd man out in British witchcraft. While most devotees cloak their activities in secret, he preaches the merits of what he calls the “only true religion.” Maxine, he told me, was expecting his child. Soon he added, he is to be “knighted” by some Greek witches. Sanders also claimed that his followers include doctors, police officers, and a Church of England vicar. The vicar was most surprised when I told him, “Utter nonsense,” he said. “I wrote to Mr. Sanders some time ago because I wanted information on witchcraft, but he didn't reply. I'm interested in all religions, but am certainly not a witch.” Sanders also gave me the name of his High Priestess in Nottinghamshire. He said she was Mrs. Pat Kopanski, of Long Eaton. She told me the story of her coven. “There were three of us. One was Sanders and the other went to Australia. I got fed up, it was so theatrical, and the coven was disbanded. It was a waste of time.” I have seen so-called witchcraft ceremonies. The participants appear nude and prance round with swords and daggers. It seems pointless. Sanders holds meetings in his flat and also near Alderley Edge, a beauty spot just outside of Manchester. He told me he used to hold covens on bleak Saddleworth Moors, at the foot of the Pennines. It is a weird, remote expanse, ideal for sheep. And this is where Sanders's flock ran into trouble. His activities brought him to the attention of detectives probing the Bodies on the Moor murder case, for Saddleworth was the centre of the search. “Detectives examined pictures in my home but found nothing to implicate me in black magic,” said Sanders. “Since then we've avoided Saddleworth.”