How to bend a spoon using your mind

I am a fifty-six year old Hollywood cameraman. In 1976, I was hired to shoot some still photos for the Whole Life Expo, a New Age Convention held at the Mayflower Hotel in downtown Los Angeles. The publicist and I stopped by the day before the Expo to scout the location. The ballroom where the Expo was to be held was filled with the usual vendors' booths, tables and chairs, a small stage, but hardly any people. The publicist recognized two of the featured guests: a red-haired man around thirty and his freckled son, who looked to be around thirteen. His jeans and T-shirt were dirty as if he had just come in from playing baseball. The publicist introduced us and said the boy could bend silverware like Uri Geller. Skeptical, I asked if the boy would mind demonstrating his skills for us so I could take some photos. They agreed and instructed me to find a spoon or fork. I walked over to a pile of hotel silverware on a nearby table and picked up a heavy, silver-plated tablespoon. We pulled some chairs into a circle and sat down. I handed the spoon to the boy. I was never farther than two feet away from the boy and I purposely did not take my eyes off of the spoon. The boy held the spoon up in front of us in his right hand and began absent-mindedly rubbing the handle just below the ladle with his thumb and forefinger. As he did so, his father was teling us stories about their son's psycho-kinesis, including how he and his wife had found the silverware in a kitchen drawer warped and bent following a temper-tantrum by their son when he was just a toddler. The father noticed how closely and intently I was watching the spoon and suggested I didn't have to watch so hard since his son would tell us when the spoon started to bend. Oh, yeah, sure, I thought to myself. The boy was staring off into space as he continued rubbing the spoon. After about a minute he said, "It's starting." As my friend and I watched, the boy held the handle lightly between his fingertips as the ladle of the spoon began slowly curling backwards. When it was at a 90 degree angle to the handle, I quickly (and rudely) snatched the spoon from the boy's hand and tried to bend it where it had curled: I couldn't. This was not a magic trick; it happened. I was so flabbergasted that I completely forgot to take any pictures. I don't remember the father and son's names but I remember they lived in Whittier, California. Would anyone have any idea who they were?