Aboard a Flying Saucer: Truman Bethurum and the People of the Planet Clarion
Read Aboard a Flying Saucer: Truman Bethurum and the People of the Planet Clarion Online
Authors: Frank G. Wilkinson
Published by New Paradigm Press
Copyright 2012 Frank G. Wilkinson
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– A True Account of Factual Experience
CONTENTS
Part I: Aboard A Flying Saucer!
Part III: Trouble In Saucerland!
Part IV: The Christians of Clarion
TRANSLATION OF THE FRENCH LETTER
Late in July, 1952, Truman Bethurum received a frantic long distance telephone call from his friend E. E. "Whitey" Edwards insisting that he leave the cool comfort of Santa Barbara, California, where he was waiting out an Operating Engineers strike, to sign on as Batch Plant operator and night mechanic at Edwards' asphalt mixing plant under the blistering summer heat of Mormon Mesa, Nevada. He accepted reluctantly, compelled by his friendship with Edwards, as well as his strike-strained finances, and soon found himself sweating between the blacktop and the merciless desert sun.
Bethurum had heard about flying saucer sightings in the Desert Southwest – by 1952, everyone had. But he was not a believer, nor could he have suspected that by responding to his friend's call, he had taken his first step toward the greatest adventure of his life – extraterrestrial contact.
On July 27th, after completing an evening work shift at the asphalt plant, Bethurum set off into the desert in his small truck. His wife loved the sea, and he had heard that the vast Nevada wasteland had once, long ago, been covered by ocean. He hoped to locate a variety of ancient, fossilized shells for her collection. But even with a bright full moon and a flashlight, he had no luck. After a long day under the blazing sun, the cool desert night lulled him toward sleep, and he decided to take a short nap under the stars before turning back empty handed to the work camp and another day of labor.
As he dozed in his truck, a soft hum broke through his dreams, and, as he came fully awake, he was shocked to find his vehicle surrounded by a group of small men, each between 4 and 5 feet tall. The men were mumbling to each other in a low, unintelligible language, the "hum" which had awakened him. Each wore an unfamiliar black uniform, a black-billed cap, and trousers that reflected a blue-gray cast under the bright moonlight. The flesh of their dark faces was taught and hard, free of any wrinkle or blemish. No weapons were apparent.
Bethurum froze with fright and noted the truck's open windows with alarm. One of the men stepped close and spoke to him in the strange language. Bethurum indicated as best he could that he did not understand, at which point the man nodded, then said in clear English,
"You name it!"
Hearing his own tongue spoken sent a wave of relief rushing down Bethurum's spine, and he climbed out of the truck, his hand extended in friendship – but what he saw next sent him once again into stunned paralysis, freezing his greeting in his throat – hovering low behind his truck was a flying saucer!
A monstrous disc of burnished steel, the saucer measured 300 feet across and six yards deep at its center. A three foot metal rim encircled the craft. Wingless and free of any visible means of support, the disc floated as if weightless several feet above the scrubby desert brush.
The little men crowded around him, anxious to shake his hand. One fellow identified himself as the group's leader and, grasping Bethurum's arm firmly, agreed to introduce the Earthling to their ship's captain. As they moved together toward the waiting craft, Bethurum asked his guide what country they called home. Like a character from a Brothers Grimm fairytale, the little man answered cryptically,
"Our homes are our castles in a far away land."
As they neared the saucer, the whole disc tilted toward them, revealing a landing step with a single hand rail. They ascended and entered the vehicle through a topside doorway. They walked fifteen paces down a brightly-lit corridor, then Bethurum was ushered into a furnished cabin, where he fell once again into stunned silence to behold the ship's captain
- a beautiful woman.
She was shorter than the men he had seen thus far. Black-haired, olive-skinned, she wore no jewelry or makeup. Her uniform was a bright red skirt, velvety black blouse, and a black and red beret. Her proud eyes considered Bethurum for a long moment. Apparently satisfied, she dismissed his escorts, then gestured for him to take a seat on a long couch which lined the far wall.
She began by explaining that she and her crew were interplanetary travelers who had only very recently begun their contact with Earth. Amazed, Bethurum asked about their planet of origin and how they managed to survive the great lengths of time required to traverse the void of space. She responded that time and distance we inconsequential to her people, and that such questions held little meaning for them. She made it clear that her race had already, in their short stay, divined Humanity's warlike nature, and warned that, although theirs was a peaceful, religious and understanding people, they were also cautious and well-equipped to evade attack or capture by Earthly military powers.
He watched her striking figure as she talked, and again made note of the strange, taught quality of the skin he had noticed in the little men. Her face was gaunt and sharp-boned, almost as if some sort of plastic sheet had been drawn tight over an underlying frame. Her dark eyes reflected great understanding, and seemed to guide his questioning, leading him psychically toward certain questions, away from others. In a hypnotic, sing-songy voice, like someone reading Mother Goose stories aloud to a child, she questioned him about his work, and about the men building structures in the desert (the asphalt plant).
She answered his questions, too, explaining that, while some of the flying saucers being sighted in American skies belonged to her people, the more bizarre news stories involving monsters with hooks or grotesque tails were creations of liars seeking publicity.
As if in response to some imperceptible signal, the lady captain rose without warning and led Bethurum back down the long corridor and out of the saucer. As they emerged into the desert air through the topside portal, he was shocked to discover that the sun was already well over the horizon. Many hours had passed in what seemed to him like mere moments.
He thanked his interplanetary hosts for allowing him to come aboard the "Admiral's Scow," as they had referred to their ship. The captain promised to return soon to visit him again – all he needed to do was to think the place and the day. She and her crew would hear his thoughts and keep the appointment.
The great saucer dipped again toward the sandy desert floor. Bethurum stepped off and the door closed silently behind him. As the disc rose away into the dawn sky, he examined its immensity end to end in the sunlight. No propellers, rudders or exhaust vents dimmed its gleaming exterior. It made no sound at all as it drifted toward the clouds then vanished suddenly, without leaving so much as a vapor trail in its wake.
Bethurum resolved not to tell anyone about his experience. On the long ride back to the work camp, he imagined the ridicule and persecution he would receive if his fellows knew what had transpired – the same ridicule and disbelief he would have heaped on anyone telling him the same story only the day before.
The last thing he expected was corroboration of his experience. When he got back to the camp, he was surprised to find Whitey Edwards waiting anxiously for his return. Had an airplane landed or crashed in the desert? His boss had personally witnessed something huge and metallic descending toward Bethurum's location in the night. What was it? Had Bethurum seen it land?
"It...,"
Bethurum admitted reluctantly, his natural honesty getting the better of him in the face of his friend's genuine concern,
"... It was a flying saucer!"
The rest of the day he got the jokes and jibes he expected as his fellow workmen teased him about "little green men," and questioned his sobriety and sanity. But, to his surprise, a few of the men asked him serious questions, too, allowing themselves to wonder at the possibility of life on other worlds.
When the workday was done, Bethurum returned to his small hotel room. He was still so highly charged from the encounter that, with shaking hands, he located stationary and pen, wrote out a letter, and placed it carefully on the nightstand before retiring to his dreams:
"If I am found dead in my bed," he wrote, "it will be because my heart has stopped from the terrible excitement induced by seeing and going aboard a flying saucer!"
!
Truman Bethurum's story about meeting the Space People spread quickly through the Wells Cargo Company work camp, winning him much derision. His coworkers nicknamed his "Saucers." He became embittered, isolating himself from the others, even questioning his own memory of the most important event of his life – had he really seen and gone aboard a flying saucer? Had it all been a dream or heat-induced hallucination?
But on the night of August 3, 1952, he encountered the gleaming disc again, confirming forever, at least for himself, the physical reality of his experience, and the real presence of extraterrestrial vehicles and their occupants on Earth.
Still working the night shift, Bethurum was just completing repairs to several trucks on the camp's perimeter when he saw what looked like a meteor streaking through the night sky, pulsing brightly from bluish-green to yellow, orange, and back again. The "meteor" fell from the sky, vanishing silently behind the duned desert landscape about a half mile east of the site of his initial encounter. Sure the saucer had returned, Bethurum lit out across the desert in his own small truck, bumping and bouncing over the rough terrain, too eager even to bother searching out a road toward his destination. He found the ship again hovering close to the ground, only a mile from busy Highway 91, the main thoroughfare through Salt Lake City.
A group of small men milled about in front of the saucer, talking together in that same mumbling language whose rumble had awakened him in his truck when they first met. A doorway opened and the lady captain appeared, beckoning for him to approach with a wave of her hand. He followed her into the ship and down the long corridor to her cabin. The captain gestured for him to take a seat on the curving couch, then sat beside him, smiling.
They talked openly together, like old friends. She explained that the nature of earthlings and of her own people were very similar, that the people of her world were human beings, too, sharing the same feelings and foibles, the same natural talents and challenges. Her people, however, had met these challenges directly, and had chosen a less destructive course than the one presently being pursued by the people of Earth. She was unimpressed by Earth technology and military might as well, lamenting our invariably destructive use of these resources. She valued Earth's politics and politicians no more highly.
"These things are sad," she answered in response to questions concerning economic inequality and juvenile delinquency. "I'm glad we're troubled with neither on Clarion."
So, their home world was called
Clarion
. What a place it must be, Bethurum thought! A world without trouble of any kind. A world very much like an earthling's dream of Heaven...
After only half an hour, the lady captain from the planet Clarion signaled that the visit was over. As soon as Bethurum placed his feet on the sandy ground outside the great saucer, the disc was gone, streaking away into the night sky as mysteriously as it had appeared.
He glanced at his watch, but it had stopped. Even the winding gears of the now-useless device appeared to have given out under the assault of the saucer's magnetic filed. He shoved the broken timepiece into his pocket and started toward his truck.