Long John Nebel

by Way Out World

Light does not travel at approximately 186,000 miles per second, as our scientists have believed for some time; it travels at either 202,000 miles per second, or at 388,000 per second. (I must admit that I can’t remember if it travels at any of the other available speeds in between.) Or—

  Some of our top scientists, government officials, teachers, are from outer space, but their minds have been “blanked” until their comrades take over.

  One would imagine that the creation of a new version of the Holy Scriptures would be enough for one man, or a contact with people from outer space, or being the recipient of fantastic and revolutionary extraterrestrial information; but none of these have fulfilled the need, or possibly he would call it “the work” of George Van Tassel. As has been mentioned before, he operates an airport and has established and is building the “College of Universal Wisdom.” But there is more. Van is also responsible for the plans for a “rejuvenation machine,” and for the efforts which are supposed to lead to the building of a great laboratory near the “College” to house it. But this remarkable device we’ll discuss later in the book, along with the other amazing machines of our time. At the moment we’ve been concerned with George’s activities where they were involved with the extraordinary flying saucer phenomenon. And I suppose we’ve touched on most of his action in this area—but not quite. Annually, George Van Tassel promotes and directs the topper of them all, his “Interplanetary Spacecraft Convention.”

  From all over the country, and even beyond, come the messiahs of this and almost any other world you can think of, and many you can’t. There are lectures, talks, classes, conferences, pamphlets, books, magazines, records and tapes for those who would like to convince—and for those who would like to be convinced. And who pays attention to such nonsense? Some of the top newspapers in the country and magazines like Life and Harpers.

  And so George Van Tassel seldom leaves the close comfort and security of his airport and immediate followers, but he’s not resting. There’s always something new. In 1960 he suddenly appeared, buttoned, bannered and boosted, running for the presidency of the United States. This year America, tomorrow the world? Who knows what world he, and the “space people,” have in mind? Certainly not this one. But you can’t deny that a man selling a mixture of unequal parts of mysticism, occultism, religion, contactology, ESPology, and plain social politics is merchandising a strong mixture. And there are an awful lot of people who don’t agree with me when I tell George Van Tassel that I don’t buy the bit.

  *****

  George King of England—is what he calls himself, and you can’t be sure whether he’s pausing after “George,” or after “King,” but it doesn’t really matter because after about three minutes you get the idea strong and clear. This is the third and last of the trio of Georges who wield great influence around the world where flying saucer people meet.

  King claims that his first contact came during May, 1954, as he stood in his London flat washing dishes. Before this, he says, he had never heard of saucers. And then that afternoon came the voice:

  “Prepare yourself, you are to become the voice of Interplanetary Parliament!”

  And, for the moment, that was all there was; but eight days later the real action began. He was in his apartment again when he heard a “rustling” and, looking up, he saw a ghost-like thing passing through the closed door. It was the “projection” of a famous living Earthian, who told the ex-cabbie what the contact was all about. He was to be the representative on this planet of the people from other worlds.

  Today, if you ask George why he was selected above all others to perform this extraordinary task, he mumbles something about having once taken a couple of courses in Yoga, and that he “supposes the space people thought he was the right man for the job,” and all that gaff. But if you press him he falls back on the most often heard phrase in the entire history of saucerology, the mystical and the occult:

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not permitted to divulge that information at this time…”

  Since that second contact, the first physical one, King has been in constant touch with the space men. He speaks to them telepathically almost daily.

  At first the word was delivered via lectures, with a few trances thrown in when things were slow. But when the ball got rolling he was able to form the “Atherius Society,” which was named after the “main communicator.” The purpose of the group was to pass along the messages the spiritual Mr. King received from outer space. This being mainly accomplished through personal appearances and a little magazine named “Cosmic Voice,” which is subtitled “Mars and Venus Speak to Earth.”

  This incredible thirty-two page pamphlet comes out six times a year and is edited by the King of the contactees, George. It carries material that’s often unbelievable, and usually massively tasteless, but it is well-designed to appeal to the gullible, the lonely, the old, the tired, and the foolish.

  In the “Cosmic Voice,” the British contactee has announced that his mother Mary (please note) King has met people from Mars and Venus, entered their space ships, and taken trips in same. One issue describes such a blasphemous caper somewhat as follows:

  Mary King was flying high in a Martian spacecraft when she was told that she was to meet two Venusians. Suddenly they appeared and she recognized one as…”our dear Jesus.” According to this offensive “report,” Christ called her “little sister of the Earth,” and asked if she had brought along a book by her son, George. Fortunately she had thought to do so, and so Christ took the volume and said:

  “Oh, Supreme Master of all Creation, Higher than the Highest, Mightier than the Mightiest, Greater than all Greatness, We bring to Thee this offering in great Love and humility From our beloved brother of Earth—George—The one Whom Thou didst choose to be a leader Among men of Earth, in this their New Age.” In conclusion, Jesus told her to tell George that…”this Book is now and forever will be—Holy.”

  Upon her return to Earth, her son interviewed her about her trip.

  “He did speak to you about the time when you were alive when Jesus was on Earth and He also told you of your contract with Jesus in those days?” (I don’t have to point out that this is a slightly leading question.)

  “Yes, definitely,” she replied. “He told me who I was in a former incarnation; it explained my intense love of the Master Jesus.” (The implication here is both too obvious and too offensive to explain.)

  “He also mentioned,” King continued, “the fact that I had had a previous incarnation in a certain place?” (Follow the leader!)

  “Oh, yes, definitely true,” she replies unexpectedly.

  And on and on it goes, building the myth higher and higher. While King admits that he has no saucer of his own, and that he has had no invitations to go flying about in one, he still has collected a library full of information unavailable to Earthians. For instance, he tells us that Juperterians don’t “breathe as we do.” Of course, if you wish a further explanation, you’ll have to get it from him. The Saturnians have a somewhat simpler situation; they have “still bodies,” and they live several dozen lives, which is pretty impressive when he adds that any one of these life-spans is about 60,000 years long.

  As far as space travel is concerned, it will all seem quite clear to you, if you understand that the larger craft achieves the velocity of “V-12!” Which means, of course, the speed of light to the twelfth power. Naturally, he doesn’t mean that it flies that fast in this dimension. This is in the 16th or 17th dimension—but I suppose that was automatically understood.

  During an appearance on my radio show, George King had what I consider a wild exchange with the great comic Jackie Gleason. I think that it put contactees of his type in their proper perspective. It came about in this way.

  On a previous occasion, having stopped by during one of the saucer broadcasts, Jackie had made an offer of $10,000 cash to anyone who could produce conclusive evidence that there was higher intelligent life on other planets. Without mentioning the famo
us comedian’s name, I told King that such an offer had been made and that if he could fulfill its demands, I’d have that small fortune for him by noon the following day. First King asked what I meant by “evidence,” and then said that it made no difference, since he could not accept the challenge even if ten million dollars was offered. At this point a call came in on my private line and I had it transferred to the “beeper phone” (an arrangement which permits both sides of a phone conversation to be broadcast). It was Jackie Gleason wanting to discuss the entire matter with the English contactee. Their exchange went exactly like this (and I’m quoting from the tape):

  GLEASON: HOW are you?

  KING: Very well, thank you.

  GLEASON: Are these people from outer space good friends of yours?

  KING: I believe that they are friends of mine, yes.

  GLEASON: Could you call upon them for assistance? For instance, if you were in some sort of legal difficulty, embracing some part of their recognition of you, would they come to your aid?

  KING: Under those circumstances, they would help, yes.

  GLEASON: If I were, for instance, to say to you that you are a bare-faced liar, now you know you could sue me for libel, right?

  KING: Yes, yes.

  GLEASON: Now do you think that you could get any legal assistance from them in a case like this?

  KING: No, I don’t

  GLEASON: Why?

  KING: Why should they help?

  GLEASON: Well, you’re championing their cause.

  KING: No, no, I’m not. I’m trying to give a spiritual message, which I believe to be good for all people…

  GLEASON: Why do we need a spiritual message from someone in a flying saucer?

  Don’t we have enough from Christ, Buddha, Moses…men like that?

  KING: Do we live by those teachings?

  GLEASON: Yes, I do.

  KING: You do? Then you’re the first Christian I’ve ever seen.

  GLEASON: You mean that no one lives by the laws of Buddha, or Christ, or…

  KING: I never met anyone.

  GLEASON: By the way, do you know that every time you are uncertain when you say something, you cough. Do you know what that means psychologically? In other words, you cough every time you tell a lie.

  KING: Do I?

  GLEASON: Now, George, look at the juicy opportunity you have. Here’s a guy that you’re talking to that’s got a lot of dough. You can sue me for maybe a million dollars…and maybe get it. And all you have to do to get it is to bring one of your friends from Mars to O.K. this thing. And then you win.

  KING: I’ve already answered this question. There isn’t a man on Earth who could do this.

  GLEASON: In other words, you have absolutely no proof from these people whom you are championing? You have absolutely no backing from anybody from outer space for what you say?

  KING: Just a moment, please. Just one minute.

  GLEASON: I’m waiting…and cough a little bit.

  KING: I shall put this phone down in a moment.

  GLEASON: Yes?

  KING: I’m a guest here, you see.

  GLEASON: Not in my house, you’re not a guest. I think

  you’re a phoney!

  KING: CLICK!

  And so ended the conversation between one of America’s best-known comics and one of England’s best-known contactees.

  The last I heard, George King of England was still table-hopping from religion to space travel to religion to yoga to life on other planets to religion to ESP to contact with Martians and Venusians to religion, because that is what Mr. and Mother King are selling—a 20th century Messiah with a 21st century religion. It has a little something for anybody, and in the long run a lot of nothing for everybody—except, of course, George King and his Mom.

  *****

  As one hears the various stories which gather followers unto the different contactees, it becomes apparent that each one has specialized in one or two particular slants, but none ever approached the absurdity, conscious or unconscious, of the tale of “Bo, the 385-pound Venusian Dog,” as related by the Ozark farmer Buck Nelson.

  Colorado-born Nelson, who tells his story with more vanity than grammar, and less conviction than confusion, has been a rural and urban laborer for most of his life. Finally, after having traveled in all of the states and several foreign countries, he settled down in the back hills of Missouri.

  I first met Buck at the Van Tassel “Fourth Interplanetary Space Convention” on May 11th, 1957. At that time he was selling small envelopes of…but I’ll hold that, since it would be getting ahead of my story.

  It seems that on an afternoon in July, 1956, Nelson stepped outside his house and saw three immense “disc-like objects” hanging overhead. As he signaled at the ships with a flashlight, he was struck by a “ray,” and he describes the effects:

  “…I had suffered, off and on, from lumbago in my back and neuritis in my side and arm, for fifteen years. When I started to get up, easy-like, I was surprised because I felt no pain.”

  From then on, apparently, Buck was visited by the space craft quite frequently, and on one occasion he made his initial contact. A saucer arrived, landing in his back pasture, and three men and a giant dog got out. One was a late relative and expatriate named “Bucky,” who was, at that time, residing on Venus. The second member of the crew seemed to be an apprentice, and the third was 200 years old, but looked 20. But the star attraction was “Bo”—a 385 pound Venusian shaggy dog.

  This canine monster was left with Nelson, and it was during this period, when he was dutifully brushing and combing the great space hound, that he was able to collect the considerable amount of shaggy Venusian dog hair that he later offered for sale to the public at the Fourth Interplanetary Space Convention at Yucca Valley, California.

  It was not long before Buck Nelson, like almost all of the other saucerologists, decided that his stories should be spiced up with a touch of religion. To begin with, in an atrociously badly printed little booklet about his “adventures,” Nelson is compared to “JOHN THE BAPTIST.” Eventually, this messianic complex hit its high point when Nelson announced that he had been given “THE TWELVE LAWS OF GOD…ON VENUS.” When you read them you find that they’re rather badly rewritten Biblican commandments. Why Buck didn’t feel that Moses had done an adequate job, no one has discovered. Although there is a good deal more to Nelsonic theology that is unlike the scriptures promoted by other contactees, none of it is particularly exciting or imaginative.

  It is my impression that Buck Nelson has made very little money out of his wild, if somewhat crude, stories, but there are those who believe in him, many for just that reason. Frankly, I suspect that he would change this aspect of his activities if he could, but it just didn’t seem to be in the cards that he should make out in the way that Adamski, Van Tassel, King and several others have. Maybe his very nearness to the earth, to the hills, is part of his appeal. But to me there is something rather pathetic about this 60-year-old, fragmentarily successful contactee—Buck Nelson of the Ozarks.

  CHAPTER 4— SATURNIAN LOVERS AND VENUSIAN MISTRESSES

  “Is life, then, a dream and delusion

  And where shall the dreamer awake?”

  HOWARD MENGER’S story begins when he was ten years old, at which time he was living in High Bridge, New Jersey. It was 1932 and, according to the contactee, he and his brother had been sighting “discs in the sky” all summer long. Eventually one of the weird objects landed in a nearby field so that the children were able to see that it was a glimmering metallic circle. Other “discs” hovered above, but soon all vanished in the distant sky.

  Not long afterward, Howard was walking in the local woods when suddenly he saw “the most exquisite woman” he’d ever seen. She was haloed by the sun and her long golden hair. Her skin was lily-petaled and her eyes were flecked with gold. Through her translucent ski-suit she was really stac…that is, she was possessed of aesthetically stimulating and artistically valid con
tours which activated the spiritual impulse to an accentuated degree. Or, to put it in Howard’s words, “It was a tremendous surge of warmth, love and physical attraction which emanated from her to me.” Which, let’s face it, is a pretty good reaction for a ten-year-old lad to feel. If Lolita had known about this, she could have gone around with guys her own age.

  The conversation with the girl in the woods was pretty brief, and then she departed.

  In 1942, while serving in the U.S. (not Royal Neptunian) Army, Menger saw “discs” again. But like other illogical contactees, he assumed that only he had had the sightings, so they went unmentioned. During this same period he visited Juarez, Mexico, on a pass. While in this small, but notorious, south-of-the-border community, he was accosted by a man in a cab who had shoulder-length blonde hair. Understandably he declined the invitation.

  Later Howard, who by this time had acquired a wife and son, was approached by a man wearing an army uniform. This stranger mentioned the girl on the rock in the woods, the queer fellow in the cab, and told Menger how the space people had been in contact with the Mexicans for centuries. After passing along a bit more of this inside material, he, too, disappeared. Shortly thereafter Howard was sent to Hawaii.

  On this traditionally romantic island things began to look up interplanetary-communication-with-the-space-people-wise. Following his arrival, Howard discovered a number of caverns along the shore. One evening, finishing his work, he had a psychic impulse to visit them. As he arrived at the beach caves in a “borrowed” jeep, he saw the figure of a (surprise!) magnificently beautiful brunette, with great dark eyes, emerge from the shadows. She was dressed in an almost transparent pair of pajamas with a tunic top; the pink and misty material revealed the slow sensuous curves of her flawless body. Her lithe movements made him feel like…

  The point I’m making is that when Howard talks about having a “physical contact,” he doesn’t beat around the bush—it’s physical as all get-out.

  Anyway, this wild chick identified herself as being from Mars, tossed off a couple of offhand prophecies and melted into the great beyond, or beside, or behind, or—she vacated the scene.