The Mammoth Encyclopedia of Unsolved Mysteries Page 9
He had believed that Teresita was rich and that robbing her would solve all his financial problems. But after killing her, he found that her purse contained only thirty dollars. In order to make the murder look like a sex crime he had undressed her and spread her legs apart. Then he had stabbed her with the butcher knife and set the mattress on fire, hoping that the fire would destroy any clues he might have left behind.
The “Voice from the Grave” case made national headlines. Showery came to trial on 21 January 1979, before Judge Frank W. Barbero. But the story of the “possession” of Remy Chua was so astounding that the jury was unable to agree on a verdict. The defense also objected that the evidence of a ghost was not admissible in a court of law. Five days later a mistrial was declared. But on 23 February 1979, Allan Showery acknowledged that he was guilty of the murder of Teresita Basa. He was sentenced to fourteen years for murder and to four years each on charges of armed robbery and arson.
6
The Bermuda Triangle
On the afternoon of 5 December 1945 five Avenger torpedo-bombers took off from Fort Lauderdale, Florida, for a routine two-hour patrol over the Atlantic. Flight 19 was commanded by Flight Leader Charles Taylor; the other four pilots were trainees, flying what is known as a “milk run” that is, a flight whose purpose is simply to increase their number of hours in the air without instructors. By 2.15 the planes were well over the Atlantic, and following their usual patrol route. The weather was warm and clear.
At 3.45 the control tower received a message from Taylor: “This is an emergency. We seem to be off course. We cannot see land . . . repeat . . . we cannot see land”.
“What is your position”?
“We’re not sure of our position. We can’t be sure where we are. We seem to be lost”.
“Head due west”, replied the tower.
“We don’t know which way is west. Everything is wrong . . . strange. We can’t be sure of any direction. Even the ocean doesn’t look as it should”.
The tower was perplexed; even if some kind of magnetic interference caused all five compasses to malfunction, the pilot should still be able to see the sun low in the western sky. Radio contact was now getting worse, restricting any messages to short sentences. At one point the tower picked up one pilot speaking to another, saying that all the instruments in his plane were “going crazy”. At four o’clock the flight leader decided to hand over to someone else. At 4.25 the new leader told the tower: “We’re not certain where we are”.
Unless the planes could find their way back over land during the next four hours, they would run out of fuel and be forced to land in the sea. At 6.27 a rescue mission was launched. A giant Martin Mariner flying-boat, with a crew of thirteen, took off towards the last reported position of the flight. Twenty-three minutes later, the sky to the east was lit briefly by a bright orange flash. Neither the Martin Mariner nor the five Avengers ever returned. They vanished completely, as other planes and ships have vanished in the area that has become known as “the Devil’s Triangle” and “the Bermuda Triangle”.
What finally happened to the missing aircraft is certainly no mystery. The weather became worse during the course of that afternoon; ships reported “high winds and tremendous seas”. Flight 19 and its would-be rescuer must have run out of fuel, and landed in the sea. The mystery is why they became so completely lost and confused. Even if the navigation instruments had ceased to function, and visibility had become restricted to a few yards, it should have been possible to fly up above the clouds to regain their bearings.
What seems stranger still is that this tragedy should have failed to alert the authorities that there was something frightening and dangerous about the stretch of ocean between Florida and the Bahamas – a chain of islands that begins a mere fifty miles off the coast of Florida. But then the authorities no doubt took the view of many more recent sceptics, that the disappearance was a rather complex accident, due to a number of chance factors: bad weather, electrical interference with the compasses, the inexperience of some of the pilots and the fact that the flight leader, Charles Taylor, had only recently been posted to Fort Lauderdale and was unfamiliar with the area.
Similar explanations were adopted to explain a number of similar tragedies during the next two decades: the disappearance of a Superfortress in 1947, of a four-engined Tudor IV in January 1948, of a DC3 in December 1948, of another Tudor IV in 1949, of a Globemaster in 1950, of a British York transport plane in 1952, of a Navy Super Constellation in 1954, of another Martin seaplane in 1956, of an Air Force tanker in 1962, of two Stratotankers in 1963, of a flying boxcar in 1965, of a civilian cargo plane in 1966, another cargo plane in 1967, and yet another in 1973 . . . The total number of lives lost in all these disappearances was well in excess of two hundred. Oddly enough, the first person to realize that all this amounted to a frightening mystery was a journalist called Vincent Gaddis; it was in February 1964 that his article “The Deadly Bermuda Triangle” appeared in the American Argosy magazine, and bestowed the now familiar name on that mysterious stretch of ocean. A year later, in a book about sea mysteries called Invisible Horizons, Gaddis included his article in a chapter called “The Triangle of Death”. His chapter also contained a long list of ships which had vanished in the area, beginning with the Rosalie, which vanished in 1840, and ending with the yacht Connemara IV in 1956. In the final chapter Gaddis entered the realm of science fiction, and speculated on “space-time continua [that] may exist around us on the earth, interpenetrating our known world”, implying that perhaps some of the missing planes and ships had vanished down a kind of fourth-dimensional plughole.
Soon after the publication of his book Gaddis received a letter from a man called Gerald Hawkes, who told of his own experience in the Bermuda Triangle in April 1952. On a flight from Idlewild Airport (now Kennedy) to Bermuda, Hawkes’s plane suddenly dropped about two hundred feet. This was not a nose-dive, but felt if he had suddenly fallen down a lift-shaft in the air; then the plane shot back up again. “It was as if a giant hand was holding the plane and jerking it up and down”, and the wings seemed to flap like the wings of a bird. The captain then told them that he was unable to find Bermuda, and that the operator was unable to make radio contact with either the US or Bermuda. An hour or so later the plane made contact with a radio ship, and was able to get its bearings and fly to Bermuda. As they climbed out of the plane they observed that it was a clear and starry night, with no wind. The writer concluded that he was still wondering whether he was caught in an area “where time and space seem to disappear”.
Now, all pilots know about air pockets, where a sudden change in pressure causes the plane to lurch and fall, and about air turbulence which causes the wings of a plane to “flap”. What seems odd about this case is the total radio blackout.
This was an anomaly that had also struck students of UFOS (see Chapter 39), or flying saucers, who had been creating extraordinary theories ever since that day in June 1947 when a pilot named Kenneth Arnold saw nine shining discs moving against the background of Mount Rainier in Washington State. The flying-saucer enthusiasts now produced the interesting notion that the surface of our earth has a number of strange “vortices”, whirlpools where gravity and terrestrial magnetism are inexplicably weaker than usual. And if extra-terrestrial intelligences happened to know about these whirlpools, they might well find them ideal for collecting human specimens to be studied at leisure upon their distant planet . . .
Ivan Sanderson, a friend of Gaddis’s and a student of earth mysteries, felt that this was going too far. His training had been scientific, so he began by taking a map of the world, and marking on it a number of areas where strange disappearances had occurred. There was, for example, another “Devil’s Triangle” south of the Japanese island of Honshu where ships and planes had vanished. A correspondent told Sanderson about a strange experience on a flight to Guam, in the western Pacific, when his ancient propeller-driven plane covered 340 miles in one hour, although there was
no wind – about 200 miles more than it should have covered; checks showed that many planes had vanished in this area.
Marking these areas on the map, Sanderson observed that they were shaped like lozenges, and that these lozenges seemed to ring the globe in a neat symmetry, running in two rings, each between 30°C and 40°C north and south of the equator. There were ten of these “funny places”, about 72°C apart. An earthquake specialist named George Rouse had argued that earthquakes originated in a certain layer below the earth’s surface, and had speculated that there was a kind of trough running round the central core of the earth, which determined the direction of seismic activities. Rouse’s map of these seismic disturbance areas corresponded closely with Sanderson’s “lozenges”. So Sanderson was inclined to believe that if “whirlpools” really caused the disappearance of ships and planes, then they were perfectly normal physical whirlpools, caused, so to speak, by the earth’s tendency to “burp”.
Sanderson’s theory appeared in a book entitled Invisible Residents in 1970. Three years later a female journalist, Adi-Kent Thomas Jeffrey, tried to put together all the evidence about the Bermuda Triangle in a book of that name, printed by a small publishing company in Pennsylvania. It was undoubtedly her bad luck that her book failed to reach the general public. For one year later Charles Berlitz, grandson of the man who founded the famous language schools, once again rehashed all the information about the Bermuda Triangle, persuaded a commercial publisher, Doubleday, to issue it, and promptly rocketed to the top of the American best-seller lists. It had been twenty years since the disappearance of Flight 19, and ten years since Vincent Gaddis invented the phrase “Bermuda Triangle”. But Berlitz was the first man to turn the mystery into a worldwide sensation, and to become rich on the proceeds.
Berlitz’s Bermuda Triangle, while highly readable, is low on scholarly precision – it does not even have an index. One reason for its popularity was that he launched himself intrepidly into bizarre regions of speculation about UFOs, space-time warps, alien intelligences, chariots of the gods (à la Von Däniken) and other such matters. And among the weirdest of his speculations were those concerning the pioneer “Ufologist” Morris K. Jessup, who had died in mysterious circumstances after stumbling upon information about a certain mysterious “Philadelphia experiment”. This experiment was supposed to have taken place in Philadelphia in 1943, when the Navy was testing some new device whose purpose was to surround a ship with a powerful magnetic field. According to Jessup’s informant, a hazy green light began to surround the vessel, so that its outlines became blurred; then it vanished – to reappear in the harbour of Norfolk, Virginia, some three hundred miles away. Several members of the crew died; others went insane. According to Jessup, when he began to investigate this story, the Navy asked him whether he would be willing to work on a similar secret project; he declined. In 1959 he was found dead in his car, suffocated by exhaust gas; Berlitz speculates that he was “silenced” before he could publicize his discoveries about the experiment.
And what has all this to do with the Bermuda Triangle? Simply that the Philadelphia experiment was supposed to be an attempt to create a magnetic vortex, like those suggested by Sanderson, and that (according to Jessup) it had the effect of involving the ship in a space-time warp that transported it hundreds of miles.
Understandably, this kind of thing roused sceptics to a fury, and there were suddenly a large number of articles, books and television programmes all devoted to debunking the Bermuda Triangle. These all adopted the common-sense approach that had characterized the Naval authorities in 1945: that is to say, they assumed that the disappearances were all due to natural causes, particularly to freak storms. In many cases it is difficult not to agree that this is indeed the most plausible explanation. But when we look at the long list of disappearances in the area, most of them never even yielding a body or a trace of wreckage, the explanation begins to sound thin.
Is there, then, an alternative which combines common sense with the boldness necessary to recognize that all the disappearances cannot be conveniently explained away? There is, and it rests on the evidence of some of those who have escaped the Bermuda Triangle. In November 1964 a charter pilot named Chuck Wakely was returning from Nassau to Miami, Florida, and had climbed up to 8,000 feet. He noticed a faint glow round the wings of his plane, which he put down to some optical illusion caused by cockpit lights. But the glow increased steadily, and all his electronic equipment began to go wrong. He was forced to operate the craft manually. The glow became so blinding that he was dazzled; then slowly it faded, and his instruments began to function normally again.
In 1966 Captain Don Henry was steering his tug from Puerto Rico to Fort Lauderdale on a clear afternoon. He heard shouting, and hurried to the bridge. There he saw that the compass was spinning clockwise. A strange darkness came down, and the horizon disappeared. “The water seemed to be coming from all directions”. And although the electric generators were still running, all electric power faded away. An auxiliary generator refused to start. The boat seemed to be surrounded by a kind of fog. Fortunately the engines were still working, and suddenly the boat emerged from the fog. To Henry’s amazement, the fog seemed to be concentrated into a single solid bank, and within this area the sea was turbulent; outside it was calm. Henry remarked that the compass behaved as it did on the St Lawrence River at Kingson, where some large deposit of iron – or a meteorite – affects the needle.
Our earth is, of course, a gigantic magnet (no one quite knows why), and the magnetic lines of force run around its surface in strange patterns. Birds and animals use these lines of force for “homing”, and water-diviners seem able to respond to them with their “dowsing rods”. But there are areas of the earth’s surface where birds lose their way because the lines somehow cancel one another out, forming a magnetic anomaly or vortex. The Marine Observer for 1930 warns sailors about a magnetic disturbance in the neighbourhood of the Tambora volcano, near Sumbawa, which deflected a ship’s compass by six points, leading it off course. In 1932 Captain Scutt of the Australia observed a magnetic disturbance near Freemantle that deflected the compass 12° either side of the ship’s course. Dozens of similar anomalies have been collected and documented by an American investigator, William Corliss, in books with titles like Unknown Earth and Strange Planet. It was Corliss who pointed out to me the investigations of Dr John de Laurier of Ottawa, who in 1974 went to camp on the ice-floes of northern Canada in search of an enormous magnetic anomaly forty-three miles long, which he believes to originate about eighteen miles below the surface of the earth. De Laurier’s theory is that such anomalies are due to the earth’s tectonic plates rubbing together – an occurrence that also causes earthquakes.
The central point to emerge from all this is that our earth is not like an ordinary bar magnet, whose field is symmetrical and precise; it is full of magnetic “pitfalls” and anomalies. Scientists are not sure why the earth has a magnetic field, but one theory suggests that it is due to movements in its molten iron core. Such movements would in fact produce shifting patterns in the earth’s field, and bursts of magnetic activity, which might be compared to the bursts of solar energy known as sunspots. If they are related to earth-tensions and therefore to earthquakes then we would expect them to occur in certain definite zones, just as earthquakes do. What effects would a sudden “earthquake” of magnetic activity produce? One would be to cause compasses to spin, for it would be rather as if a huge magnetic meteor was roaring up from the centre of the earth. On the sea it would produce an effect of violent turbulence, for it would affect the water in the same way the moon affects the tides, but in an irregular pattern, so that the water would appear to be coming “from all directions”. Clouds and mist would be sucked into the vortex, forming a “bank” in its immediate area. And electronic gadgetry would probably be put out of action . . .
All this makes us aware why the “simplistic” explanations of the problem – all those books explaining that the my
stery of the Bermuda Triangle is a journalistic invention – are not only superficial but dangerous. They discourage the investigation of what could be one of the most interesting scientific enigmas of our time. With satellites circling the earth at a height of 150 miles, it should be possible to observe bursts of magnetic activity with the same accuracy that earth tremors are recorded on seismographs. We should be able to observe their frequency and intensity precisely enough to plot them in advance. The result could not only be the solution of the mystery, but the prevention of future tragedies like that of Flight 19.
7
Bigfoot
Like the gun-fight in OK Corral, the siege of Ape Canyon has become part of American folklore.
It begins in 1924, when a group of miners were working in the Mount St Helen’s range in Washington State, seventy-five miles north of Portland, Oregon. One day they saw a big ape-like creature peering out from behind a tree. One of the miners fired at it, and thought the bullet hit its head. The creature ran off into the forest. Then another miner, Fred Beck – who was to tell the story thirty-four years later – met another of the “apes” at the canyon rim, and shot it in the back three times. It toppled over into the canyon; but when the miners went to look there was no body.
That night the miners found themselves under siege. From dusk until dawn the next day the creatures pounded on the doors, walls and the roof, and rocks were hurled. The miners braced the heavy door from inside, and fired shots through the walls and roof. But the creatures were obviously angry and determined, and the assault ceased only at sunrise. That day the miners decided to abandon the site.
Beck’s description of the “Bigfoot” is of a creature about eight feet tall, and very muscular. It looked not unlike a gorilla, but if it could use rocks as a weapon of assault, then it was clearly humanoid.