 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
SEARCH FOR SOVIET SATELLITE IN THE NORTHERN TERRITORIES
RESUME OF CONTACTS (WRITTEN/VERBAL) WITH NDHQ AUTHORITIES
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
Attachment
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. |
Please mail all comments to: Earl Gordon Curley