Not long after this, Menger got the telepathic message to go rendezvousing around the caverns again, and let’s face it, with the chance of meeting one of those blonde Venusians or brunette Martian females, it didn’t require much persuading to flip him on his merry way. Unfortunately, the visitor turned out to be a Venusian man. He came loaded with offbeat information, telling the Earthian that there is no death; disappointingly Howard discovered that the spaceman meant “spiritual” death, which he had known all along. The stranger further asserted that names were of no importance, that our side was going to win the war (I don’t know what the space people told the Germans, Italians and Japanese during the war), that Germany was very advanced technically, and things like that.
Finally the war ended, Menger was discharged, and he returned to the New Jersey countryside and a livelihood of sign-painting. One day in June of 1946, although living several communities away, he had the impulse to visit his old woodland haunts, where his first contact had taken place. He had spent an hour or so wandering about the glade and was preparing to leave when he suddenly saw a “tremendous flash of light” and felt “heat on the back of my neck.” Overhead was a spinning globe of radiance whose brilliance began to diminish until it took the form of a metallic, bell-shaped craft which slowly descended, coming to rest on the ground nearby.
A moment passed and a trap-door opened. Two well-built men with long yellow hair emerged wearing slate blue ski-suits. They were followed by a (surprise! surprise!) beautiful woman. Not just any beautiful woman—this was the lady of the woods. Amazingly, she looked just the same as she had on the first occasion, in 1932. However, this was understandable to Howard when he was told that at that time she was over 500 years old. Laughing, teasing, and winking her way through a very mystical conversation during which she told him, in effect, that this was only the beginning, she went the way of all space people—into thin air.
The months went by; Howard was introduced to various space men and women, as well as to their main landing strips in his part of the country. He discovered that the site of his original meeting with the Venusian gal was “Field Location No. 1” (why not “Field Location No. 384”, I’ll never know). Then he was directed to “Field Location No. 2”. At these two interplanetary airports he met a number of the outer-worlders. For a while they were mostly Venusians, then Martians started popping up fairly frequently, and in general things were booming on the flying saucer front. Howard’s numerous contacts brought him many and various assignments in the name of interplanetary friendship. Some of these were: gradually moving toward vegetariansm, carrying messages and running errands, purchasing earth-type clothing for space women (they don’t use brassieres, he discovered), shearing off the long locks of the Venusian males, distributing dark glasses, conducting courses in the use of slang, briefing the strangers on our customs and habits, procuring special foods—usually fruits and grains—and occasional tools.
On the first occasion that he was permitted to photograph a space ship, the pictures turned out so badly that Howard was afraid to show them to people. They looked almost like they might have been “faked”! Of course, this was obviously ridiculous, but you know how people will gossip. However, on August 2nd, 1956 Menger had a chance to shoot a saucer with a Polaroid camera. Several space men also posed for him. The pictures Menger has taken at one time or another of craft are spaceship-like, but are certainly not startling: the shots of space people turn out to be mere blobs of light on the negative. So much for the Menger space photo library.
It was about this time that Howard discovered his occult powers, the most impressive of which was his ability to “teleport” (meaning to project a physical body instantly from one point to another with the implication that the object dematerializes at one point and rematerializes at another with no passage of time). No example of this remarkable power is quite so fascinating as what is usually called “the Menger teleported pipe story.” It goes like this:
Howard’s sister-in-law, Mary, was sitting in the Menger living room when she heard a knocking on the door. Knowing that Howard was many miles away that evening, she wondered who it might be. She opened the door and was, to say the least, surprised to see Menger standing there. He said nothing, but handed her a briar pipe and then “disappeared.” The time was about 8:20 in the evening when the apparent apparition appeared. A few minutes later, at what Mary estimated to be 8:30 P.M., the telephone rang. She answered it to hear Howard on the other end of the line.
The verification offered by Mary that Howard was just under a hundred miles from the house was that his voice sounded distant, and that she “knew” that he was supposed to be that far away at that time, and besides which Howard said he was. Menger had suggested that the phone company could verify that he was where he said he was, but obviously the phone company is in no position to tell who phones from a diner in the hills of Pennsylvania on some indistinguishable night.
In listening to Howard you realize the importance of the pipe. He had brought it with him, and left it with Mary, to “prove” that he had been to his house; and therefore had actually “teleported” himself over a distance of 80 miles.
But now, let me turn away from Howard for a moment and tell you something of Marla Baxter, who became the second Mrs. Menger. This attractive young lady was originally seen by Menger when she attended a flying saucer lecture conducted by George Van Tassel. His first glimpse of her struck him with the realization that she was the materialization of a prophecy made by the Venusian girl of his childhood, who had promised him that one day he’d meet one “who is my sister.” “She will work with you and be with you for the duration of your life span. She is my sister from Venus, and incarnated on this planet some years ago in your state of New Jersey.”
As he stared, Howard had no doubt that this was the right girl, particularly since she closely resembled the space girl of the woods. The strong mutual attraction was not unexpected, since Howard had only recently learned that he was himself a Saturnian serving an earth-existence. As a matter of fact, they had had a pretty good fling on Venus one existence back. Unfortunately, just as things were beginning to really swing, Howard had to pop off to Earth to jump into the body of a one-year-old boy, naturally named Howard Menger, who had just died.
In Marla’s version of their relationship she refers to Howard as “Alyn.” As you may have begun to realize, that name, with various spellings, is extremely popular among contactees. Describing their initial meeting, the subsequent rendezvous, the contacts of “Alyn,” and so on, Marla always parallels, and often almost duplicates, the experiences Howard relates;
Some time after the relationship had been established, Marla received a different kind of visitation. Having just bathed, she was lying naked on her bed with a small towel thrown across her body. Suddenly she became aware of “someone” in the room. When she turned no one was there, but later that evening, when talking with “Alyn” (Howard), he complimented her on her appearance earlier. He apologized, but told her that he just couldn’t resist an occasional astral projection.
One night as she prepared to retire, “Alyn” (Howard) visited her. Sitting on the living room couch, he confessed that he was really a Saturnian, that she was a Venusian, and that Saturn should be in the House of Venus…oh no…that’s astrology…that comes later. He spoke persuasively about the eternal, natural law which drew them together, of the great work they had to do, and all that jazz. If you’re a man, you know more or less what I mean; if you’re a woman, you know exactly.
At one point Maria considered leaving the group “Alyn” (Howard) headed, but a final decision was brought about one night when he visited her. They were speaking and, without warning, “the very next sentence was a soul-searching kiss.” As they embraced, she tells of how he “began to grind his teeth, and turn and twist and stretch. He appeared to be getting taller and stronger…his facial contour seemed to change…his voice was different—deeper and lower…he had ceased to be “Alyn” (
Howard) and had become a Saturnian (Marla never makes it clear how, since she had never seen a Saturnian before, she knew one when she saw him)…after a short time, there was a short exhalation of breath, and he grew weak and sort of collapsed to his regular height…and was himself again.” Which is one way of putting it.
Tragically Howard lost his son around this time, and shortly afterwards divorced his wife, Rose. As soon as he was able, he married his Venusian lover. That was in the summer of 1958.
Getting back to Howard, I should say something of his “first trip to the moon the second week of August, 1956.” But, understand, he was not the only lucky one; other contactees had the opportunity, too. One of them gave Howard a “moon potato” which, according to Menger, contained six times the normal amount of protein. This lunar vegetable probably was the most publicized “proof” of flying saucers ever offered. The story was that it had been dehydrated, but to my skeptical eye it just looked and felt like an ordinary stone. Anyway, I can tell you this much: you might have baked it, or fried it, or boiled it, but no one could have ever mashed it without a sledge hammer.
Earlier I mentioned the various West Coast saucer conventions, but until the appearance of Howard Menger no such activity had been conducted on the Atlantic side of the continent. But the Saturnian from High Bridge changed all that. Under his direction, an interplanetary carnival was held on his farm. Everyone was under the impression that this affair would be conducted like the Van Tassel, and other such, conventions in California. That is, that there would be no admission, or gate fee, but that all of the profit (we never doubted that there would be a profit) would be derived from concessions, book selling, merchandising, and similar action. Unfortunately for me, since I had mentioned the affair many times over my radio show, this was not how it turned out. In what appeared to be a pretty unexpected switch, the management slapped on a “two bucks a head” tab for every person who arrived. Naturally the great majority of people who had driven all the way out to this farm in New Jersey from New York City, New York State, Pennsylvania, Connecticut, and elsewhere, came up with the loot rather than turn around and go home, having made the unusually long trip for nothing. The fair attracted a couple of thousand cars with one, two, three, and often four persons per vehicle. Two bucks each. That isn’t hay—it’s clover. Not that I begrudged Howard cashing in on his publicity, he worked hard enough to get it. And, after all, if one desires to put oneself on exhibition for a fee, fine, but I’ve always thought that it was not really giving me and my listeners a square count not to announce his profit plan in advance.
Finally, the boom began to diminish and Howard slowly withdrew into seclusion with his wife Marla. And although he brought out a book about his “adventures,” he did little or nothing to promote it—and kind of left his publisher, non-contactee saucer man Gray Barker, holding the promotional bag.
A year went by, and from Howard and Marla nothing but silence. I’d been lucky enough to see my radio show grow rapidly, and had moved into the television area, too. One day I was visited by “Mr. Lester,” who told me that Howard wanted to come out of “retirement” and would like to appear on my TV show. I assumed that at this rather late date Menger wanted to promote his book, or make a comeback with some new tales, or the like. Since he had given me many great shows in the past, I thought that it was probable that he’d come up with another wild one. Anyway, I felt that I should gamble on it. But if I thought he was merely going to be the old, improbable, even amazing, Howard, I didn’t guess the half of it.
A couple of days prior to Menger’s scheduled television appearance, I had George Adamski booked for the all-night radio session. When the West Coast prophet arrived that evening, I discovered he was to be the featured guest at a large flying saucer rally in New York on the night of Menger’s TV exposure. Obviously, one event was in direct conflict with the other. The solution was unique in the annals of even flying saucer history. As a matter of fact I can compare it only to those other well-known conventions.
On the evening of the Adamski lecture, the audience arrived to find television sets stationed at all the most easily viewed points in the great ballroom. The program opened with well-known saucerologist Courtland Hastings speaking and introducing George. George presented the first half of his address to the large audience. Concluding the opening segment, he returned to his seat, and Hastings announced that the time had arrived to turn on all television sets. This was done, and that entire audience viewed Howard Menger on “The Long John Nebel Television Show.” At the conclusion of the broadcast, Adamski concluded his lecture for the end of a contactologically eventful evening.
But what did Howard say? What was the show like?
Answer: Howard said nothing, and unsaid most of what he had originally claimed. The show was a disaster. The show was sensational. All depending upon your point of view.
Where he had once sworn that he had seen flying saucers, he now felt that he had some vague impression that he might have on some half-remembered occasion possibly viewed some airborne object—maybe. Where he had once insisted that he had teleported himself, he now speculated that strange things did happen to people and if it hadn’t actually occurred to him, well, that’s the way the story crumbles. Where he had formerly stated that he had been to the moon, he now suggested that this had most likely been a mental impression of the other side of his consciousness.
In other words, Howard Menger backed up, and backed up, until he fell into a pit of utter confusion and finally sank forever into the waters of obscurity.
And where did his thousands of believers and followers go? Some, feeling that he had been “silenced” by space people or officialdom, still hold onto the myth, but the vast majority turned to where the light of fantasy still burned brightly and became disciples of George Adamski, or Van Tassel, or King, or anyone else who happened to be available with a completely unbelievable story.
And on and on could go the tales and the portraits of the men and women who claim to have sighted, contacted, flown in, traveled to other planets, systems and galaxies in flying saucers.
Still undescribed are Gabriel Green who “ran” for the presidency of this nation in 1960 on a “space ticket,” and John Otto who turned a major radio station silent for one minute listening for messages from outer space and then came up with a recording no one has been able to decipher to this day. On the West Coast are many others, not the least followed of which is George Hunt Williamson, friend and co-contactee of George Adamski. He’s the author of a work bearing the intriguing title, “The Saucers Speak—A Documentary (!) Report of Interstellar Communication by Radiotelegraphy.”
To some of the etheric enthusiasts the most convincing of all of the tale tellers is Reinhold Schmidt. He says that in November of 1957, just outside Kearney, Nebraska, he encountered a grounded space craft. From this silver saucer two men emerged who spoke English with German accents. The earthman was shown the interior of the vessel and met many space men and women. Among themselves they all spoke High German. Finally, Schmidt was returned to his car, and the saucer departed. Quickly the contactee reported the entire incident to the local authorities, who rushed to the site of the landing and investigated. All agreed that every evidence was there (except the actual craft) to support the Schmidt claims. Headlines hit the street with the banner “Spaceship in Kearney.”
Suddenly, the contactee was approached by the local authorities to deny his original assertions and say that none of his story had ever happened. When he refused he was tossed, summarily, in jail. From all sides he was bombarded with pressure and “faked” evidence to support the denials that anything unusual had ever taken place in Kearney. He was also questioned by two Air Force officials, who offered no explanations in return. After which he was offered defense counsel, against what he wasn’t certain, who immediately demanded that he admit that none of his tale was true.
A few hours later, according to Schmidt, he was illegally confined to a mental hospital while the
authorities attempted to coerce his relatives into committing him. Fortunately for our hero, they were unsuccessful in the long run, for, although they managed to keep him locked up for almost two weeks, the combined effort of his employers and family finally got him released.
Three months later he had another contact with the saucer and its occupants. This time he was given a brief ride and an information-pumping session. He promised to try and get the desired information and was taken home.
And, like many of the other stories, so goes the one related by Reinhold Schmidt, complete with hidden saucers under the Great Pyramids, ten-minute trips around the world, and that kind of stuff.
Somewhat less dramatic, somewhat less physical, than his West Coast competitors is John Mittl of Pennsylvania. A vegetarian and recluse who petitioned long and hard to be on the all-night session, he told an interesting tale, but hardly soared to the heights of imagination attained by Menger and Angelucci. Mittl described many “contacts” achieved under dreamlike astral conditions. He spoke freely of etheric type saucers and other such things. However, it appeared that he was not really in his proper field because I recently got a brochure from him announcing that he was available for lectures on special theories of diet and nutrition.
Speaking of brochures, pamphlets, and mailing pieces and such, a few of the organizations that specialize in such activities should be mentioned.
One very active group is The Planetary Center in Detroit. It sends out frequent mimeographed bulletins which are just chock-full of lively space news. Sometimes the subscribers around the country receive special material. For these it was formerly the custom to forward contributions to the group headquarters; however, a recent bulletin regretfully announced that they had been informed by “the Michigan Securities Exchange Commission” that they could no longer function as a tax free society, and so the latest word is that in theory all printed material will be sent without any desire for financial support in return. Laura Mundo, who is one of the co-founders of this effort, writes extensively about her saucerological activities, her associations with contactees, and the like. The material printed as her exclusive work is a mish-mash of all sorts of little bits of information pasted on religion—as she sees it.
Long John Nebel Page 7
