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Chapter Two

haper Two

The Initiation


"Good morning," I said as I answered the ringing telephone. I was pretty chipper that morning. Upon my arrival in Ottawa, I surpassed my expectations. Clients had been booking appointments faster than I could keep up with them. I had been having radio programs on a regular basis. My name and expertise were being bantered about through many of the corridors situated in the heart of the city. My life was beginning to take on a whole new meaning. I believed that I could not ask for to much more.

"Hello, Earl. My name is Joe Dick. I was one of the people whom you did a reading for at the psychic fair a few weeks ago. You may not remember me, but during our session you told me a number of things that surprised me. For one thing, you mentioned to me, that I had five children and what their approximate ages were. There were also a number of other personal things that you said to me that have me somewhat confused."

I remembered that client amongst all the others. For quite sometime he just stood near my booth and observed what I had been doing. Occasionally, I would glance over to where he was standing. I recognized a rather unusual grin on his face. I also noticed that occasionally, after Joe talked to someone, they would immediately place their names on the list of those waiting their turn for one of the sessions. I thought that was a nice gesture on his part because he had been getting me new clients.

"I remember you, Joe. How can I help you?" I answered him. I expected Joe Dick to request another private psychic session. I was not prepared for his next statement.

"I am having a few guests over next Saturday evening. I was wondering if you would be interested in putting on a demonstration of your talents for them?"

I looked at Joe's offer as being a new twist to my counseling practice. A number of my colleagues were into house parties. I preferred one on one counseling instead of group activities. Something, though, had been telling me to accept Joe's offer. Financially, I was still not quite out of the woods yet. I still had not been able to afford a much needed car. It had been my financial obligations that persuaded me to discuss Joe's invitation.

"Your invitation sounds great, Joe. Who else will be attending?" I said as I probed for greater details.

"Let's just say, some friends of mine, at this time. In fact, I want you to tell me who my guests are after you do your demonstration. At seven o'clock, I will have someone pick you up at your place," Joe stated with authority and quickly ended our conversation before I had a chance to object.

I was intrigued with the idea of partaking in my first clandestine psychic party. Joe Dick seemed as if he was a reasonable guy when I first met him at the fair, so I felt comfortable accepting his invitation. Throughout the day my mind kept wandering. I had a few clients whom I had to pacify before my date with Joe. I found it quite difficult concentrating on their problems as well as trying to envision what would happen that evening. I was actively into meditation and I subsequently persuaded myself to use my knowledge of meditation to relax before whoever picked me up. My meditation was less than constructive. My mind bounced around quicker than a cursor in a computer. I decided to close my eyes and have a power snooze instead. Within a short time, I drifted off to "Never Never Land".

At precisely seven o'clock the door-phone rang. I sprang from my bed and, with sleepy cob-webs nestled in my eyes, I answered the beckoning caller.

"Mr. Curley, I have instructions to pick you up and drive you to Captain Dick's home," said an unknown voice.

"I will be right down," I replied.

As I waited for the elevator, I realized the driver said "Captain Dick". Although it seemed unusual, in one way I was not surprised because the headquarters of Canada's, Department of National Defense was located in Ottawa. There were figuratively hundreds of employees who were working out of that department. Military or not, I had a client who was waiting for me to show my wares.

As I reached the doorway that was leading out of the apartment building, I was greeted by George. To this day, I still do not know if that was his real name or not. I became confused wondering if he did indeed have a last name. For the next three years George would chauffeur me from one meeting to another under the direction of Captain Joseph (Joe) Dick, United States Navy.

George and I walked to where he parked the car. I instantly noticed that the license plates on the car were red license plates. Then, I had no idea only foreign diplomats had the red license plates. I had seen a number of cars that had been driving around Ottawa with those red-colored license plates, but I assumed they were high level Canadian government vehicles.

While George and I traveled to the party location, I repeatedly questioned George on who Captain Dick was. George was the most secretive person whom I had ever come across. Politely, he would always answer, "I am strictly a chauffeur and that's all that I am concerned with." No matter how hard I tried to pump George for information, I could not break his silence.

"God," I thought, "this is right out of the James Bond movies! Clandestine meetings in the middle of night! Secretive chauffeurs. Unknown locations and unknown guests! What the heck was I getting in to?" I continued to wonder.

Eventually we reached our destination that turned out to be a residential area in the west-end of Ottawa. The street sign stated that we were on Aleutian Drive. I quickly looked around. I thought that I probably imagined a little too much. The residential area was lined with moderate homes. They were well maintained and not out of the ordinary. Aleutian Drive was the hub of the international military community, but I would not find that out until later on in the evening.

I was met by Joe as I exited the vehicle. My first immediate reaction, as I looked at him, was slightly unnerving. I had not realize that we had looked very much alike. Stature wise, he was my height and weight. Even our facial features were similar. "Maybe, I have a long lost brother." I chuckled internally to myself.

"Well, Curley!. Let the show begin," joked Joe as he held out his hand to greet me. "Most of the other people whom I want you to meet are here already. We are just waiting for a couple more. Do you feel up to doing a few readings for some of my guests tonight?" Joe said as he nonchalantly opened the car door and quickly mentioned something inaudible to George. I presumed he was making arrangements for my return trip home.

"Joe, that is why I am here. Isn't it? Before we start, isn't it time for you to tell me who you are?" I inquired as I deeply looked into Joe's eyes.

"Our agreement is that you tell me who I am! You are supposed to be the psychic. Remember?" Joe devilishly laughed as we paraded up the sidewalk to the front door of his house.

As Joe led me into his house, I was greeted by his spouse, Nancy. "Nancy, this is Earl Curley, psychic extra ordinaré. Earl, this is my spouse Nancy." Joe stated as he scurried into a room to his left.

"Hello, Earl. I am glad you could join us. Joe has been telling me about you and what you said to him at the psychic fair. I must say you genuinely have impressed us," Nancy said as she pointed in the direction that I should go to catch up with Joe.

Then, I had not known Nancy would play an integral role in my future. As time would progress, Nancy would allow Joe and me the use of her house as my second office. I would discover during my future frequent visits that that house belonged to Nancy. Her authority ruled the roost. If anybody got in her way they should be prepared for a showdown. We immediately took a liking to each other.

After I thanked Nancy for her generous accolade, my next task was to track-down Joe. There was a long hall-way that I had to traverse to reach a room where I heard people loudly communicating. Just before I reached a door-way that led into the room, Joe came galloping through the door-way wondering if I became lost. He pointed toward the open door-way and beckoned me to follow him. Joe and I entered his living-room. There seated in a semi-circle were eight people. To my left was Val Henscher. She was a robust yet placid British person of stature. Seated beside her was a large man who was introduced to me as Walter Dabros. My first mental reaction to this man would be one of caution. Because he, above all, seemed annoyed at being there and his abrasive attitude that was being directed toward me was quite different from the others. Next to Walter Dabros was a kindly, plump woman who introduced herself as Elizabeth (Liz) King. I would not be aware of it then, but Liz King and I would develop an interesting friendship. It would help me develop another unknown talent four years down the road. One other gentleman, who also had a strong British accent and who entered the room as I walked in, introduced himself as Bill Henscher. I noticed another woman. She had been standing alone near the fireplace. As I walked toward her, she extended her hand and introduced herself as Edy Boyd. I would find out a few months later that both Edy's and Liz's spouses were senior Canadian military personnel. Neither attended that evening's entertainment. The remaining people in the room stood up and extended their greetings. They introduced themselves and were charged-up knowing that I was there to tell them their futures.

They were in for quite a surprise. My way of working was unlike any other in the psychic industry. I personally knew that I could relate certain past facts and potential future probabilities to my clients. There was one hidden talent that I believed that I possessed. It was an ability to diagnose illness quite accurately.

Throughout that night, privately, each guest was ushered into Joe's recreation-room. I was seated in the room and was prepared to do psychic readings for whoever entered. Joe supplied me with a tape-recorder to tape each session. I went on to astonish them all. Val Henscher would walk away shocked. I explained to her that the reason her oldest son was having a problem in school was not because he lacked intelligence. On the contrary! Her son was suffering from dyslexia and, for whatever reason, no one considered testing him for that problem. Two weeks later Val would confirm that her son did indeed have dyslexia and he was being treated for the problem. She also stated that her son's education would imminently take a normal path. As for Walter Dabros! He declined to have me do a session with him, especially, with all the other people present.

I was exhausted after I talked to all those people for five straight hours. After all the guests had left, Joe and I retreated to his outdoor patio.

"Okay, Joe! Cut the bull! I know at least part of what might have taken place here tonight. Val's spouse is a naval attaché with the British military. You are with the United States military. Some of the other guys are with the Canadian military. Interestingly, one of your guests was a Russian. Now, I may be wet behind the ears, but one thing I do know for sure, however, is that all of you are in covert intelligence." I said as I picked up a scotch and water which Joe poured for me.

"Well, Earl. You are right as usual. Everyone was here to see what you could do. I must say that you have impressed all of them. I am stationed in Canada as the naval attaché for the United States. Some of the others are respective attachés for some other countries. You probably have read the book, Psychic Discoveries Behind The Iron Curtain. You may or may not be aware that the Russians are using psychics. Well! We all wanted to see if there was any validity to what had been published. You may have proved that there is." Joe said cautiously as he fingered his drink that was resting on his lap.

"If that's the case, why was the Russian here?" I asked as I rose from my chair and ambled directly toward a flower-bed covered with (impatiens), a flower that I so enjoyed.

Joe joined me near the flower-bed. He bent down to pull some small weeds from between the healthy impatiens and said, "He may be a Russian as far as you could read, but he is with us. He's an advisor to certain people who are interested in psychic capabilities. From what we have gathered, we are far behind the Soviets in psychic research. A number of us are convinced that we had better not lag too far behind. Before we can convince those in power, that they had better take stock of what is going on out there, we need proof. When we met at the fair, I realized that you might be exactly what I am looking for. You're what we call, "Operational." Some other psychics, whom I have made contact with in the past, could not "pass muster" with my associates. They either felt intimidated or over zealous and were not able to perform. You are different! Suppose we call it a night. You get some rest and in a few days we will get together and talk some more."

The drive back to my apartment seemed to take forever. My mind raced incessantly. A mixture of concern and intrigue created a mental battle within me. "What was I getting myself into?" I wondered. Everyone seemed satisfied. Yet there still seemed to be a missing link to the puzzle. I felt strongly that Joe had not told me everything. I tried to justify in my mind that probably the timing had still not been right for that to happen.

Upon reaching my home, I poured myself a stiff drink and retired to a hot bath. While I contemplated the evening's events, I began an out-of-body experience. I could see myself drifting lazily over the roof-tops of a sub-division that was a short distance from my apartment building. I was totally aware of my surroundings. I wished that I would never have to return to my physical body. The euphoria that I was experiencing was beyond anyone's imagination. As quick as my out-of-body experience began, just as quick I returned. It was a rude awakening. If there was a God, he sure as heck was not going to let me escape with such ease. I made my bed and now it was time to sleep in it. The final conclusion was that I would follow Joe's game-plan. If he wanted a psychic, then he would get one.

Joe's house parties would continue for the next three months. At each party, a handful of different people would attend. It had gotten to a point where an itinerary would be established. For some ungodly reason, Joe was interested in bending metal objects with his mind. He believed that spoon bending would be a way of getting people interested in the psychic field. He therefore encouraged me to perform that feat for his guests. I had grown accustomed to spoon bending when I watched a television program. It featured a well-known psychic named Uri Geller. After I watched that program, I tried and succeeded in accomplishing the same results. Although I had not seen a purpose to spoon bending, I must say that it did impress Joe's guests. After the spoon bending demonstrations, I would encourage the guests to try to bend the spoons themselves. Rarely did the guests fail. After the guests bent the spoons, I would give a short lecture on my abilities. I would then head downstairs to Joe's recreation room and I would continue to amaze his guests with personal psychic readings.

During one evening's entertainment, one of the guests pulled out a metal rod that was approximately one-half inch in diameter and he demanded that I bend the rod instead of the spoons. As I looked at the metal rod and glanced up at Joe, I knew that if I was going to prove anything to that group then I had to bend that rod. I took both ends of the rod in each hand. Without hesitation, I quickly bent the rod to where both ends of the rod touched. Not only had I amaze myself, but the guests looked at me dumb-founded and were wondering what I would accomplish next.

The man who handed me the rod was Dr. Ian Tanner. He was a scientist with the National Research Council (NRC). It is the scientific arm of the Canadian government. He was extremely interested in my feat, because he and a number of his colleagues had been doing secretive research at the NRC in telekinesis. It is the object of moving items strictly by using the mind. To that date, not one person whom they previously tested at their science facilities had been able to accomplish the feat in front of their eyes. After the party, Dr. Tanner asked me if I was interested in being tested at the NRC facilities. After I agreed to his offer, we arranged to meet soon and begin the tests.

Later that evening, Nancy Dick became annoyed at having her silverware destroyed. She witnessed her prime silver-plate collection turn into pretzels. She put her foot down and refused us the use of her spoons in any future demonstrations.

January 24, 1978, will stick in mind until the day I cease to exist. As I awoke that morning, still dazed at the previous evening's events, I turned on the television set and a news article that was being aired sent me for a tailspin:

"Early this morning a Soviet satellite entered the earth's atmosphere and crashed somewhere in the Canadian north. Searchers are looking for the remains of the satellite but so far they still have not located the crash-site. The Department of National Defense has informed us their search is hampered by bad weather, but they believe the satellite crashed somewhere near the eastern end of Baker Lake in the Northwest Territories."

I could not believe my ears. Eight months before, I predicted just such an event would occur. The prediction was published in the April 1977 edition of an occult periodical that was named Inner Life. The periodical was published in Toronto by Ero Travola. When I made the prediction, I genuinely did not believe that it would happen. Sensationalism was a requirement for the article to be printed. Therefore, I tossed an out-of-the-blue prediction into the article.

My next reaction tied my life's loose-ends into place. I then understood that my contact with Joe Dick had been destiny. It was destiny that brought my evenings with Joe Dick and all those military people together. I immediately picked up the telephone and called Joe Dick.

"Joe, it's Earl. I know where the satellite crashed last night. I gather from the news reports that the search planes are looking in the wrong area. They are about seven hundred miles off. The real concern that I have is that the satellite was fueled with nuclear fuel and the crash site may be totally contaminated. You may not be not aware of it, but I predicted the satellite would crash to earth eight months ago. It was published in a periodical called Inner Life," I said as I tried to keep back my exuberance.

"I know you did, Earl. I have that article. I'm a subscriber to that magazine. After I read your prediction, I decided that I would track you down. Ironically, you ended up at the psychic fair. That's why I made initial contact with you. An interesting point though, Earl, is that satellite was not launched until September 1977. Your prediction was recorded five months before it launched. We knew in November of last year that the satellite was loosing its orbit and that reentry was imminent. The satellite was being tracked by North American Air Defense (NORAD) for the last three months but the tracking-stations lost control of its whereabouts on reentry. Where do you think the satellite crashed?" Joe inquired with great expectations.

"Just north of Fort Reliance! The town is in the heart of the North-West Territories. I could probably pin-point the exact location if I had maps of the area," I confidently replied.

"Earl, hang in there and I will call you back shortly," Joe said as he tried to rush our telephone call to end our telephone conversation quickly.

The moment I finished my telephone call with Joe, I started visualizing the demise of the satellite in my mind. I could see it falling to earth. I could see the satellite as it entered the earth's atmosphere. It began breaking up into smaller pieces when it broke through the invisible atmospheric globe that surrounds the earth. The fragmented pieces plummeted at such a velocity that they resembled shooting-stars. The numerous fragmented pieces had lit up the northern skies with their burning tails following each piece toward the ground. One large piece of the burning satellite enticed me to visually follow it to the barren tundra. My third-eye watched closely as the piece magnificently caused the breaking of the sound-barrier over the village of Fort Reliance and fell a short distance from the town. I watched as it burrowed deep into the frozen, snow-covered waste land. It caused me to shutter as I continued to watch the heat illuminating from the burned wreckage. I knew that that segment was the reactor core of the satellite. I knew that the extensive heat from the burning wreckage was not only caused by friction but was also caused by leaking nuclear fuel. Every detail was as clear as could be.

I unexpectedly ran into a lack of confidence. It began to interfere with my mental images and, repeatedly, I was forced to convince myself that my visualizations were correct. But I told Joe Dick that I could pin-point the exact location where the satellite crashed. "How the heck was I going to do that?" I wondered.

"Think, Earl," I kept repeating to myself. "Think."

The next thought that entered my mind drew me back to my first radio show that had been aired on CKOY. I tried to recapture the feelings that I had before the radio show. I had been perfectly correct with the callers. I had Elizabeth call the program. Then, why couldn't I be as correct in finding the crashed satellite, I would continue to wonder in anguish until the following morning.

My internal conflict ceased as the telephone rang.

"Earl, I am coming to pick you up in fifteen minutes. I have arranged for you to go over some maps, as you requested. We have access to the Canadian Department of Energy, Mines and Resources, topography department. They have agreed to help us out," Joe excitedly informed me.

As we drove to the government building that housed the topographical department, Joe said, "This is our first big break." The people whom Joe had been trying to persuade to look deeper into using psychics as military weapons would surely be persuaded if I was able to do what I said I could do. The pressure on me was enormous. I had never done anything like that before. "Christ," I thought, "finding a crashed satellite which could not be found by the best military hardware available, seemed an impossible task." Joe briefed me on what the American and Canadian military was doing. Special teams were being assembled to rescue the fragments. These individuals, among them some of the best scientific minds in the nation, belonged to a little-known American group called the Nuclear Emergency Search Team (NEST). They were trained to detect the precise areas of danger in a nuclear emergency and then go on to neutralize the sources of radiation. They were not sure if there were any fragments left to be found. Every available aircraft was up in the air searching for a crash-site. Yes, there was concern. They were concerned whether there was nuclear fuel on-board the space-craft and, if there had been, whether the nuclear fuel had burnt-up on reentry or if it had reached the ground.

I was surprised when we were greeted by a uniformed military-person upon reaching our intended location. He was Major John Cobbing, a senior officer with the Canadian military. I presumed that we would be greeted by a civilian. Joe and I were ushered into a room that was covered with maps. Immediately, my eyes caught one map hanging on the wall directly in front of me. Instinctively, I walked over to the map. I placed my finger on an area and I announced matter-of-factly, "This is where the satellite will be located." Joe cautioned me to take my time and not to rush to the first map that I laid my eyes on. Adamantly, I refused to deviate from the pointed location. However, I did insist on viewing an enlarged map of the area where I had been pointing. I explained to those present that an enlarged map was necessary to retrieve the exact coordinates.

Although I found all that activity exciting, I was still able to understand one very important point. My involvement in the search for that satellite had to be kept very confidential. I did not quite understand my reasoning, but I had felt that my life could very well be in danger if the wrong people became aware of what I had been doing.

I was holding an armful of detailed terrain maps, when Joe suggested that it would be a sound idea to take some time to study the maps in greater detail, before I made up my mind where the satellite crash-landed. I agreed with his analysis. Loaded down with approximately twenty maps, we thanked our host and went on to my apartment. While Joe was dropping me off at my apartment building, he mentioned to me, that the moment he reached his home, he was going to contact a friend of his. His friend was employed with the Canadian military. He felt contacting his friend would be wise just in case we needed his assistance.

As I was studiously viewing the maps at my residence, Joe was busy on his telephone making arrangements for another one of his late night meetings. At 6:00 PM, on January 25, Joe telephoned me and advised me that he arranged for Admiral Jock Allen to join us that evening. He was with the Canadian Department of National Defense. Admiral Allen was a highly respected senior officer who was familiar with my interactions with Joe. We were to meet at Joe's home within the hour.

Throughout that night, Admiral Allen, Joe Dick and me browsed through a pile of maps until I was satisfied that I located the exact coordinates that would pin-point the remains of the satellite. I decided that I would concentrate on the largest piece of the satellite that I visualized plunging to the ground. Using my visualization as a focal point, I continued to concentrate on the maps until I felt that I could visualize the satellite fragment fall on to the map. Where the visualized satellite had fallen, there would be my coordinates.

The coordinates that I established had been: 63 degrees 17 minutes north by 109 degrees 50 minutes west along a line to 63 degrees 38 minutes north by 108 degrees 15 minutes west. "Those specific coordinates should have the largest concentrations of radio-activity." The area was located in the Fort Reliance and Snow Drift Districts of the Northwest Territories in Canada's far north.

I was totally satisfied that I established the correct location. It was 2:00 AM, and I was terribly tired. I started to pack my maps and waited for Joe to drive me home.

"Where do you think you are going, Curley? The night is not over yet. We still have a lot to do.", Joe said as he poured the three of us another drink.

"You have to be kidding, Joe? I for one have had enough. I want to go home. I want to have a hot shower and then go to sleep.", I said barely audible or coherent.

"I know you are tired, Earl. I'm just pulling your leg. There is one more thing that we have to do.", Joe said as he began walking out to his car to drive me home.

He then mentioned that he was attempting to contact a senior officer at DND. He was trying to arrange for me to meet and brief Lt.-Col. F. R. Cleminson of the Foreign Liaison Branch at the Department of National Defense. Contacting Cleminson had been recommended by Admiral Allen because we had a slight diplomatic protocol problem. I would later discover the reasons for that meeting.

Finally reaching my bed, as tired as I was, I still could not fall quickly to sleep. There was a tendency for my mind to irrationally perceive situations that I wished to negate. The problem existed since I being a little child. It had been noted throughout my childhood that I had been the unusual child in family because I continually would drift off mindlessly into unknown fantasies. Little did my parents or family members know, but those fantasies were very realistic contemplation's. I was able to mentally visualize them instead of just thinking about them as people normally do.

My mind kept reverting to the coordinates that I decided upon. Were they right or were they wrong? I tossed and turned for an hour. I could no longer deal with my indecision's and decided to telephone Michael Blake Read, my trance-psychic friend in Toronto. I needed reassurances that my information was accurate and he was the only one whom I knew who could help me.

It was 3:00 a.m., but I knew that Michael would still be awake because he always stayed up late reading. Michael picked up his telephone and after I explained my dilemma he agreed to enter a trance-state to help me. Throughout the long-distance trance reading, Michael would request my questions and then he would supplement my questions with answers. One very important statement that he said would more than confirm to me that I had the correct coordinates. He said to me, "Put your map on one of your walls. Take your hand and smooth the wrinkles on the map's surface. You will find that there will be a large bump on the surface of the map. Here is where the satellite will be located."

I did exactly as he requested. Low and behold. A large bump protruded from the map. I was flabbergasted when I looked at what the coordinates where at that spot. They turned out to the exact coordinates where I specified. I was now ready for my meeting with Lt.-Col. Cleminson.

On January 26, Joe picked me up at 4:30 PM and we drove to Cleminson's office on Colonel By Drive. I kept secret my telephone call with Michael. Entering Cleminson's office, without hesitation, I began describing my impressions where the satellite would be located. Cleminson cordially thanked me for my insights and requested if I would be willing to document my findings in a written report. I subsequently advised Cleminson that I would bring a full written report the following morning. Cleminson assured me that the report would be held in strict confidence. He would affix a "Restricted" classified label to the written report. We all agreed the "Restricted" classification was for the best.

I scurried home once my meeting with Cleminson finished. I was determined to assess my visualizations of the crashing satellite so that I could give Cleminson a written report as he requested. I worked on that report for the remainder of the day. The final report would consist of detailed locations of the fragments of the satellite, difficulties that the rescuers would experience and what the purpose of the Russian satellite could be. I specified in the report that it was my assertion that the satellite was used to alter atmospheric conditions. The military believed that the satellite's purpose was for military use. It would not be the first time I would disagree with the experts. Very little information had been known by the intelligence communities about the satellite's purpose. Initially they were told by the Russians that the satellite had been powered by conventional fuel and had not been powered by nuclear fuel. I typed up the report and called Joe Dick. I wanted Joe to make a few copies of the report at his office. The following morning at 7:30 AM Joe and I delivered the written report. I advised Cleminson that I would submit a second report soon and there would be a detailed schematic drawing of what I believed the satellite looked like.

On February 2, at 9:00 a.m., I submitted my second report as agreed. A written report was included with the schematic drawing of the satellite before its destruction. I intuitively concentrated on the satellite while it still had been functional before its demise. The drawings also determined the likeness of the fuel core. Included with the drawings were detailed explanations of certain segments of the satellite. A "Restricted" label was also attached to the second report. Respectively, the reports were forwarded to the search coordinators dispatched from Ottawa to find the satellite. They had set up their search headquarters at the Canadian Forces Base (CFB) in Edmonton.

To this day I wish we edited those reports. I am still highly embarrassed with their composition. I only had a type-writer in those days. I have never professed to be a writer. My spelling has always been atrocious. Those reports resembled reports that had to have been written by a six year old. Typographical errors littered the pages and the spelling mistakes were noticeable from a mile away. One thing that I can say about those reports were that the material outlined and the schematic drawings would eventually prove to be accurate.

In the meantime the Canadian and American military aircraft were concentrating their search in an area approximately 900 miles away from my proposed area. They still had not seen any signs of the disabled satellite and news reports had been stating that the militaries were beginning to believe it burned up on reentry.

Back on January 26, Major Victor Keating, a Canadian military public relations officer operating out of the CFB in Edmonton, Alberta, blundered. During a late media briefing he openly displayed my first report although a "Restricted" label had been attached. The report was inadvertently picked up by a newspaper reporter during that media briefing.

My life would be changed forever because of his faux pas. The activity that transpired over the next two weeks was mind blowing. Every major newspaper in Canada reported that a psychic was involved in the search. Secret government meetings between the highest levels of military and intelligence personnel in Canada and United States were convened. The outcomes to those meetings were instructions to their senior personnel to discount the Canadian psychic's requested "classified" reports. The powers to be, believed that they would become the laughing stock of the world. The problems that they were experiencing while searching for the satellite would only be compounded by the incessant questions that the news media were asking about the "psychic's" reports.

On the morning of January 28, a Canadian military Hercules aircraft had been launched to the coordinates that I specified. On board the aircraft was two Canadian civilians who developed a new electronic device that was appropriately named a gamma ray spectrometer. It could locate radiation from a distance. They located the first signs of the missing satellite while flying over my recommended coordinates. The telephone lines between Ottawa and Washington lit up like a Christmas tree within minutes of the military plane locating the first signs of the crash-sight. Disbelieves became believers. More than one high level intelligence department became quite concerned by what I just accomplished. I had no idea that all those events were transpiring.

On January 30, I was peacefully organizing my day when I received I very interesting telephone call.

"Can I speak to Earl Curley, please," the caller said. His voice sounded familiar but I could not quite place where I heard it before.

"Speaking," I said still wondering to whom I was talking.

"Earl, it's Bob McEwen at the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC). I am the host for the radio program Morning AM. What is this about you helping DND find the missing satellite?" McEwen said.

"God," I immediately wondered, "how did he find out?" I quickly decided to play possum and pretend I had no idea what he was talking about. The agreement I had with DND was that we were to keep my involvement secret.

"Bob, I have no idea what you are talking about," I said as I tried to convince him of my innocence.

"That's not what the Ottawa Journal reported this morning, Earl. It says that you supplied a report to DND four days ago," Bob McEwen informed me.

I normally retrieved both of Ottawa's local newspapers first thing in the morning. That morning I was a little lacks-a-daisy and I was running behind schedule. I still hadn't read that morning's newspapers. I had not seen the article Bob was referring to. I coyly stated to McEwen that I still had no idea what he was talking about, but I would immediately get the Ottawa Journal and call him back.

I immediately ran to the store and brought back a copy of the newspaper. There on Page 3, of the Ottawa Journal was the article. In big bold letters the headline read, "Gobbledygook" and in smaller bold letters it read, "City psychic's satellite search plan rejected." The article then went on to say:

An Ottawa clairvoyant offered to help in the search for the Russian satellite that fell to earth last Tuesday, but the proposal was rejected, a Canadian Forces official said in Edmonton on Sunday.

Maj. Vic Keating, information officer at Canadian Forces Base Namao near Edmonton, said the psychic -Earle Curley- contacted defense headquarters in Ottawa and officials forwarded a report to Edmonton search headquarters.

"I read the damn thing this morning and it looked like a bunch of gobbledygook to me," Keating said.

On Sunday, search officials told a news conference at the Namao base that one sighting of a radioactive source had been confirmed at the east end of Great Slave Lake near Fort Reliance, NWT It is suspected those radiation readings originate from remains of the lost satellite, Cosmos-954.

Also on Sunday, six scientists who told officials they found a "black metal object" near Warden's Grove, about 530 kilometers east of Yellowknife, were being evacuated to Yellowknife. A team of scientists was to investigate the finding.

Keating said Curley told defense officials in a letter dated Jan. 26 that they should search for the satellite at specified coordinates, about 25 miles from the location of the confirmed sighting near Fort Reliance.

The(y) psychic's letter was written two days after the news media carried maps detailing the areas being searched for the satellite. Curley's suggested location fell within that area.

The psychic also suggested a search be conducted about 60 miles north of Fort Reliance but Keating said search teams would not follow those instructions.

My first reaction was total anger after I had read the article. "What the heck do they mean when they say "detailed maps? I never saw any detailed maps," I screamed out loud. "The letter was written two days after confirmed sightings? Damn, the first sighting was not confirmed until January 28. Two days after I filed my reports. Not only were there blasphemies, but they spelled my name wrong"

"Screw that. If DND is reporting that my reports are gobbledygook then I am going to set the record straight," I continued to bellow to no one in particular. I then decided to call Bob McEwen back because he was giving me an opportunity to tell my side of the story. I would no longer adhere to my secrecy agreement. I picked up the telephone and arranged to do an interview with Bob McEwen an hour later.

I calmed down enough to realize exactly who Bob McEwen was. He had been a Canadian foot-ball star with the Ottawa Roughriders. The CBC offered him a position when he retired from the game. He had the distinction of being one of the most popular broadcasters on radio. His program had a national audience and he was recognized as one of the up-and-coming stars in broadcasting. McEwen asked me if I would object to the program becoming a call-in program because the subject matter was of great interest. The program normally consisted of interviews with high powered political guests and visiting dignitaries. I looked forward to being a guest on his program.

The program went off without a hitch. McEwen treated me with respect instead of contempt as I imagined that he might. We received a number of telephone calls from listeners who read that morning's article in their own daily newspapers. The original article had been written by a Canadian Press (CP) reporter and transcribed to their wire services. The article was published in every major newspaper across Canada. An interesting development happened on McEwen's radio program. Callers were more interested in finding out how I did what I had and was not as willing to scrutinize my participation. The questions from the callers tested my knowledge about psychic phenomena. My answers would surprise them because my philosophies were abstract comparable to my colleagues. I believed that everyone was psychic. The only difference between someone else and I was that I had taken the time to develop my talents and they still had not.

Bob McEwen was extremely pleased with the response from the listeners. He announced that he was ecstatic with my professionalism displayed on the program. He subsequently asked me if I would be a regular guest on his program. There is no denying that I did not even hesitate and I accepted his offer immediately.

My ego was intact and not even tarnished after the radio program with McEwen. There was one situation that I would have to deal with that would cause me some concern.

Joe Dick had seen the article that had been printed in the Ottawa Journal and he also heard the radio program. He was livid when he called me.

"What the heck do you think you are doing going to the press and telling them about your reports," Joe viciously yelled at me.

"Back off, Charlie. I did not tell the press anything. It was some idiot out west who spilled the beans. Bob McEwen told me this morning that some guy from DND handed my reports out to the press. I thought they were supposed to be Restricted, Joe. You and your den of thieves swear me to secrecy and then you mouth-off behind my back. Then you have the gall to give me heck. You should think twice before you ever talk to me like that again," I said with determination. I always had a short fuse and Joe had just lit it.

"Earl, I do not know what the heck you are talking about, but I am going to give Edmonton a telephone call right now and clear this mess up," Joe said still disenchanted.

Joe would owe me an apology. He still had not been briefed on the hierarchy meetings that had been held two days previously. The man at the middle of the controversy inadvertently was not duly informed by his superiors of the decisions by the military and intelligence tribunal.

The tribunal believed they successfully undermined the news reporters' questions by planting Maj. Keating's comments in the newspapers. The military public relations officers believed that once they addressed the psychic issue that the story would be buried under the vast amount of information being channeled to the media. How wrong they would be!

After all the excitement died down, Joe was recalled to Washington to brief his superiors at the Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA). Present at that meeting was representatives from the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and a White House representative. During that meeting it had been adjudicated that Joe would be my handler. He did however have to keep the Canadian authorities informed. It also was his job to keep me in line.

The search for the satellite continued into late February 1978. Many small fragments had been recovered by the recovery teams. The horror story that began circulating caused grave concerns to the inhabitants surrounding the crash-site. High levels of radiation had been discovered. Later the world would be told that 18,000 square miles of land had been contaminated. I kept my eyes glued to the television set throughout the search and anxiously waited for the recovery crews to finally locate the fuel core. There was one location that fell into my parameters that seemed to display high levels of radiation. It eventually would hold the core remains.

In the middle of all this activity Joe Dick unexpectedly called and abruptly said, "Earl, I want you to meet me downstairs in five minutes."

"What is up, Joe?" I asked inquisitively.

"Never mind what is up, Earl. Just be downstairs in five minutes.", Joe said as he appeared to be over-stepping his authority boundaries.

"Darn you, Joe! You can't talk to me like that! Who the do you think you're talking to? I am not one of your military lackeys who jumps at every command." I retorted quite disturbed at his attitude. He lit my emotional fuse a second time.

"Earl, please do not argue with me this time. There is somebody who wants to meet with you, right now," Joe said being a little less direct.

I told Joe that I would meet him outside my apartment as he requested. I watched as Joe's black diplomatic car turned the corner on my street and was surprised to see him behind the steering-wheel instead of his chauffeur. A man was seated next to Joe whom I did not recognize. Joe motioned for me to quickly enter the back-seat of the car the moment he pulled-up to where I had been standing. He rapidly pulled the car away from the curb and drove quickly down the street. He anxiously looked over one shoulder and then the other. He indicated that he was concerned that someone could be following him. The unknown visitor sat stone-faced in the passenger front-seat staring directly to the front of the moving car. He to revealed that he believed that we may be followed.

Joe quickly pointed the car in the direction leading toward the Ottawa International Airport. I was still sitting in the back-seat of the car without the slightest idea why I was there. Joe had not introduced the stranger to me. Joe or the stranger had not said a word to me after I got into the car. I shrugged my shoulders and decided that I would wait and see what this clandestinely meeting was all about.

Finally breaking the silence, Joe turned to me and said, "Earl, I would like you to tell my friend what you think the Soviet satellite was used for."

"Christ, Joe. If that was all you wanted, why didn't we just meet at my place? Also. Who is your friend?" I asked a little belligerently.

The stranger turned around to look directly at me with the most intimidating look that I had ever experienced. As he looked me directly in my eyes he scowled, "Just answer the question."

"Holy shoot.", I thought, "This guy means business!" I had no further intentions of getting on the wrong side of that man. I was shaking as I began to describe my impressions as they requested. The stranger listened intently. I noticed that on his lap he had a copy of my second report that I had submitted to Lt.-Col. Cleminson. I could see the drawings that I had done. The stranger skimmed over some other documents he possessed and inquired whether I believed that my drawings of the satellite were accurate. My discomfort with the aggressive reception at his hands caused me to hesitate. That was a new experience for me. Come heck or come high water, I refused to accept the stranger's intimating position any longer.

"Okay, Joe, stop the car and let me out. This is ridicules. If you both wanted to frighten me then you have been successful. But let me tell you one thing. I only frighten for a short time." I said as I opened the rear-door of the moving vehicle. I was ready to jump out the moment the car came to a halt.

The stranger turned and using his right hand held the partially opened rear-door that I was sitting next to so I could not open the door any further. Joe hurriedly slowed the vehicle. The stranger turned in the opposite direction and this time with a smile on his face he said, "Hold on, Earl. I guess I have acted a bit rough with you. I won't tell you who I am and neither will Joe, but Joe has been telling me about you and I wanted to see if his analysis was correct."

He then turned to Joe and said, "We better not drive directly into the airport while we talk. Can we take a drive around the area for a few minutes until Earl and I have finished our talk?"

I already noticed that Joe had not taken the direct route to the airport. We had been traveling on a road that intentionally circled the airport. It was used by commuters who traveled from the suburbs to the downtown core. Joe laughingly explained to his guest that he already was delaying the usual time necessary to reach the airport.

I relaxed once I discovered that I was not in any danger. I did however intuit who the stranger was. I did not know his name but I did know for whom he worked. He was employed by the Central Intelligence Agency. I had met my first CIA spook.

We finally dropped the CIA agent at the airport and began our trip back to my home. Joe explained to me that the CIA had been involved with the search for the Soviet satellite from the very beginning. Their involvement coincided with the involvement of the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI). Both agencies had been forewarned that the satellite was experiencing problems two months before it lost its orbit. It was their job to provide security for the high-level scientists and officers who eventually would become active in the search. Joe then explained to me that the Canadian government would not be too pleased knowing that a CIA agent without authority was talking to a Canadian citizen. The Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) made it a point to follow foreign covert operatives while they were in Canada. That was why he had driven around the outskirts at the airport. It would be difficult for the RCMP to follow his car without being seen.

All that attention was coming too fast for me. I realized that I needed a little breathing space to think things out. I needed time to collect my thoughts. When I accomplished that goal then I would decide if I wanted to involve myself any further into the quagmire of coverts and secrecy being offered to me. It was time to turn tail and run like heck. I disconnected my telephone and secluded myself in my apartment. I did not want to hear from anyone. The only problem that I had with my seclusion was that I also was eliminating my ability to make a living from my clients. Financially, I would feel the sting from the lack of clientele. They could not reach me either.

Frantically, Joe tried to make contact with me during my reclusive period. He could not reach me by telephone, and each time he showed up at my apartment I pretended not to be there. The confusion that I was going through had been excruciating. On one hand I had liked the attention. Yet on the other hand, I wanted no part in becoming a psychic Joe-boy for those spooks. The press as well was constantly showing up at my apartment for a story about my involvement with the military. They refused to take "no" for an answer. The badgering continued for three weeks until finally I ran out of money. Either I make up my mind about what I intend to do or, I would starve to death. I only had one choice. My only recourse was to shed my secluded life and bow down to the pressures from Joe and the media.

Joe had not been too thrilled when I telephoned him and informed him that I had decided to go public with my story. He realized that I had to survive and that press coverage would keep me in constant clientele. He also had known that under no circumstances, could he pay me for my services. The ground rules had been laid at Joe Dick's briefing in Washington. He could not give me funds. It could be taken out of context in the diplomatic circles. Joe Dick was still technically an alien intelligence officer. The American government presumed that he could be accused by the Canadian government of recruiting a Canadian citizen for his covert activities if funds were exchanged. I would not be made aware of those rules until a number of months down the road. In the meantime, I still had to make a living.

I knew that the press would not totally accept my explanation about my involvement with the search for Cosmos-954 without substantial proof. The article in the Ottawa Journal surely did not dispel their doubts. It did say that my report was not used and that it had been submitted after the fact. If the press were to believe my story, it would be to my advantage to obtain written documentation. I picked up the telephone and called Lieutenant Colonel Cleminson. I asked him if he would draft up a formal letter to me that explained my participation. Cleminson did not hesitate and stated that he would do as I requested. He assured me that he would have a letter ready for me to pick up the following morning.

I needed further confirmation, as well. I read that the Honorable Barnett (Barney) Danson, Canada's Minister of National Defense had been playing a major role during the search for Cosmos-954. I decided to telephone him to arrange a personal meeting. I spoke to Barney Danson and I explained to him that I wished to discuss further use of my talents with DND in the future. He was very open to my suggestion that had surprised me. He then arranged for me to converse with his military executive assistant, Major-General Gaston (Gus) Cloutier. I then called Cloutier as Danson suggested. After a short conversation, I informed Cloutier that I would be attending at DND the following morning to pick-up the letter from Cleminson. We arranged to meet after I met with Cleminson.

"This is the break I am looking for," I said to myself. It was very important to me that my talents could be used to help my country. As corny as that seems, I foresaw myself being available to any security or intelligence department in Canada at anytime. Little did I know it then, but I would change my course of reality and do as I imagined. As I look back upon this event I realize that it was the most pivotal event in my career. That evening I swore to myself that if I did not convince DND that I could be helpful, than I would take down my shingle and begin to live a normal life.

Precisely at 9:00 AM, April 13, I arrived at Cleminson's office to pick-up my letter. I was thrilled when I opened the envelope and read the documents. They were more than I had expected. Cleminson chronicled each of our personal meetings and telephone calls. As well as the documents, Cleminson told me that he submitted the DND file of our communications directly to Gus Cloutier.

He included a covering letter that was:

   National Defense
   Defense nationale					2082-2 (DFL)
							National Defense Headquarters
							Ottawa, Ontario
							K1A 0K2
							12 April 1978
   Mr. Earl G. Curley
   Professional Psychic
   1606-1401 Prince of Wales Drive
   Ottawa, Ontario
   1.		In response to your telephone call of yesterday afternoon,
   I am attaching as Annex "A" a resume of the contacts which you
   made concerning the Soviet satellite search as shown in our file.
   2.		As requested by you the information was handled on a
   restricted basis and written material concerning it was classified
   "Restricted." This permitted maximum utilization from the stand-
   point of search operation but prevented its being exploited in any
   other way.  Restricted material can not be released to those not
   cleared to that level nor held in areas which do not conform to
   the correct physical security criteria.
								F. R. Cleminson
								Lieutenant Colonel
Attached to the letter was an appendix that read:
									ANNEX "A"
									TO: 2082-2 (DFL)
									DATED: APRIL 1978
Resume of Contacts made by Mr. Earl G. Curley
with NDHQ authorities in reference to the Search
For the Malfunctioned Soviet Satellite
	Date	  Time		Communication						Action
    26 Jan 78	1715     	Visit-verbal-sets of			     	passed verbally and
					coordinates				  	hand written to DOC
    27 Jan 78	0730    	Visit-written report including			passed to DOC
					coordinates, accuracy, theory
					concerning satellite, energy belts
					etc. and theory as to the signi-
					ficance of psychics and astrologers
					at the highest levels of military
					and strategic planning
    31 Jan 78	0900    	Telecon-update including warning	     	passed by memo to
					of extensive radiation					DOC
     1 Feb 78	0900    	Telecon-collation of psychic		     	passed by memo to
					findings to newspaper and radio	      		DOC
					news broadcasts
     2 Feb 78	0900    	Telecon-further update and		    	 passed by memo to
					collation						DOC
     2 Feb 78	1400    	Visit-left written supplement		     	 passed to DOC
					to initial report.  Supplement
					included drawing of Cosmos 954
     3 Feb 78	0900    	Telecon-update including ex-		     	 passed to memo to
					pected REM count and information	      	DOC
					regarding location of proper
					recovery equipment held by NASA
     7 Feb 78	0900    	Telecon-update including the		       	passed memo to
					relationship of heavy storms in			DOC
					NE U.S.A. to predictions and
					theory on reentry


With my letter from Cleminson in hand, it was then time to meet Major-General Gus Cloutier. He was probably one of the most open military men whom I met. I knew I was in for a treat the moment I entered his office. He was a jovial fellow who down-played his prestige. He held a very high position at DND, but he treated everyone as his equal.

Gus informed me, that he had been impressed with what I had accomplished with the satellite. He also confirmed to me, that it was duly noted at DND that I had been responsible for first locating the satellite. He went on to say, that he always had a deep interest in psychic matters and he did believe there was some validity to using psychics in military applications. Interestingly enough, Gus Cloutier and his wife attended the first psychic fair in Ottawa. We had not met at the psychic fair, but he did have intentions of booking an appointment while he had been there.

A very important issue was discussed during our meeting. Gus Cloutier advised me that he was going to establish a contact for me at DND. If I had any premonitions, specifically regarding the security of Canada, subsequently, I would have someone to converse with in privacy. I would also have someone to talk with who would give me the respect, which he believed, I deserved.

Gus and I would establish a long-term association. During our meeting, I shook my head and laughed out loud. I stated to him, "Gus, after all the time that you spent listening to me, I am sorry to say to you, that within two weeks, you are no longer going to be in your present position. I can't quite place the position you will be heading for, but I do know it is still partially military-oriented, yet politically motivated. It seems our conversation may have been for naught."

"What do you mean, Earl? I haven't been advised of any change yet. I am not politically oriented, so I doubt whether I would be involved in something of a political nature," Gus said as he tried to think of anything that related to my comment.

"Wait and see, Gus. Let's make a small wager. I'll bet you a cup of coffee, that you will not be here in two weeks.", I said assuredly.

Two weeks later, to the day, on April 27, 1978, the newspaper headlines blurted out: "Major-General Gaston (Gus) Cloutier has been appointed to the position of Sergeant-At-Arms at the House of Commons. His responsibilities will include directing internal security within the House of Commons, which is Canada's parliamentary bastion of political intrigue."

My friend and associate would owe me a cup of coffee. Detrimentally, his appointment would put me back to the days before I located the Soviet satellite. I would have to re-start my slow climb up the political ladder and try to establish acceptance with Eric Acker. He was the new executive assistant to the Honorable Barney Danson at DND. I would find the second trip up the ladder would not be as easy as the first. In the future, I would have to circumvent Eric Acker to accomplish my goals.

I had the documented proof of my participation with DND and the Soviet satellite. I decided to contact all the reporters who had requested interviews and glean as much press coverage as I possible could. When I finally made contact with the reporters, it was too late. My participation in the search for Cosmos-954 was no longer considered newsworthy. All of a sudden, I was old news. My media exposure began to dry up. Without media exposure there would be no clients. Without clients there would be no money. I had drained my bank account quite quickly and found myself temporarily destitute again.

I needed to gain some media exposure, but the ongoing events of my life seemed as though that would be impossible. Ironically, I would discover a new avenue to regaining the media attention. Police criminal cases were always front-page news stories. There had been a number of articles published about other psychics who had been involved in those types of cases. I felt that I could just as easily gain a reputation as my counter-parts if I found a case that I could work and by showing the media that I could be successful working a difficult case.

The Psychic Mind Stalkers

Copyright 1992 Earl Gordon Curley

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