Alien Base: The Evidence for Extraterrestrial Colonization of Earth – The Space People: INSIDE THE SPACE SHIPS
Following the Desert Center encounter and the return of the scoutcraft at Palomar Gardens, Adamski’s experiences with the space people proliferated. It was then that some of his claims became increasingly absurd. In his second book, Inside the Space Ships, also long out of print, he begins by describing how, on 18 February 1953, two unknown men approached him at a hotel in Los Angeles.
I noted that both men were well proportioned. One was slightly over six feet and looked to be in his early thirties. His complexion was ruddy, his eyes dark brown, with the kind of sparkle that suggests great enjoyment of life. His gaze was extraordinarily penetrating. His black hair waved and was cut according to our style. He wore a dark brown business suit . . .
The shorter man looked younger and I judged his height to be about five feet nine inches. He had a round boyish face, a fair complexion and eyes of greyish blue. His hair, also wavy and worn in our style, was sandy in colour. He was dressed in a grey suit and was also hatless. He smiled as he addressed me by name. As I acknowledged the greeting, the speaker extended his hand and when it touched mine a great joy filled me. The signal was the same as had been given by the man I had met on the desert . . . Consequently, I knew that these men were not inhabitants of Earth.
After Adamski had accepted an invitation to accompany them, he was taken in a black Pontiac sedan to a destination some way out of Los Angeles. During the journey, the strangers introduced themselves as coming from ‘Mars’ and ‘Saturn’. Adamski asked himself how they managed to speak English so well. To this unspoken thought, one of the men responded: We are what you on Earth might call ‘contact men’‘. We live and work here . . .
We have lived on your planet now for several years. At first we did have a slight accent. But that has been overcome and, as you can see, we are unrecognized as other than Earth men.
Adamski began to wonder to himself why he had been singled out by the space people, to which unspoken thought came the reply: You are neither the first nor the only man on this world with whom we have talked. There are many others living in different parts of the Earth to whom we have come. Some who have dared to speak of their experiences have been persecuted . . . Consequently, many have kept silent. But when the book on which you are now working reaches the public, the story of your first contact out in the desert . . . will encourage others from many countries to write you of their experiences.
The Pontiac turned off the highway and went along a rough track in the desert, at which point Adamski caught sight of a craft, similar but larger than the one three months earlier, glowing soft white in the distance. ‘As we came to a stop, I noticed that a man was standing beside the glowing craft,’ he said, ‘[who] appeared to be working on something connected with it. The three of us walked towards him and, to my great joy, I recognized my friend of the first contact . . .
He was dressed in the same ski-type flying suit that he had worn on the first occasion, but this suit was light brown in colour with orange stripes at top and bottom of the waistband.’ His hair, on this occasion, was cut short.
After greetings were exchanged, Orthon explained that he was repairing a small part of the scoutcraft. As he did so, he emptied the contents of a small ‘crucible’ on the sand. ‘I stooped and cautiously touched what appeared to be a very small amount of molten metal which he had thrown out,’ Adamski reported. ‘Although still quite warm, it was not too hot to be handled, and I carefully wrapped it in my handkerchief . . .
Asked by an amused Orthon why he wanted the material, Adamski explained that it might furnish proof of the reality of their visit; that people usually demanded concrete evidence. ‘Yes,’ replied Orthon, ‘and you are a race of souvenir hunters, aren’t you! However, you will find that this alloy contains the same metals found on your Earth, since they are much the same on all planets.’
Desmond Leslie gave this piece of metal to George Ward, Britain’s Air Minister at the time, who arranged for an analysis. The sample proved to be composed predominantly of a very high-grade aluminium, combined with trace elements probably collected when in the molten state.
No names were given to Adamski for any of the space people he met, the reason being, he claimed, that they had ‘an entirely different concept of names as we use them’. In Inside the Space Ships, pseudonyms were used for identification purposes, and these were thought up by Adamski together with Charlotte Blodget, who was the book’s ghost-writer. They included Firkon’ for the ‘Martian’ and ‘Ramu’ for the supposed Saturnian (though Adamski implies that this was the latter’s real name).
The repair completed, Adamski was invited to enter the craft with the others. He found himself in a one-room cabin. I was aware of a very slight hum that seemed to come equally from beneath the floor and from a heavy coil that appeared to be built into the top of the circular wall. The moment the hum started, this coil began to glow bright red but emitted no heat . . .
I marvelled anew at the unbelievable way in which they were able to fit parts together so that the joinings were imperceptible . . . there was no sign of the door that had closed behind us . . . I estimated the inside diameter of the inside cabin to be approximately eighteen feet. A pillar about two feet thick extended downward from the very top of the dome to the centre of the floor. Later I was told this was the magnetic pole of the ship, by means of which they drew on Nature’s forces for propulsion purposes . . .
I noticed that a good six feet of the central floor was occupied by a clear, round lens through which the magnetic pole was centred. On opposite sides of this huge lens, close to the edge, were two small but comfortable benches curved to follow the circumference. I was invited to sit on one of these and Firkon sat beside me to explain what was going on . . . while Orthon went to the control panels. These were located against the outer wall between the two benches . . . a small flexible bar fell into place across our middles . . . ‘Sometimes,’ explained Firkon, ‘when a ship is thoroughly grounded, a sharp jerk is experienced when breaking contact with Earth although this does not happen very often, we are always prepared.’
Adamski turned his attention to what appeared to be graphs and charts that covered the walls for about three feet on either side of the invisible door. ‘They were fascinating,’ he said, ‘entirely different from anything I had seen on Earth.’
There were no needles or dials, but flashes of changing colours and intensities. Some of these were like coloured lines moving across the face of a particular chart . . . others took the forms of different geometric figures . . . The wall for a distance of about ten feet directly behind the benches on which we sat appeared to be solid and blank, while on those beyond . . . were other charts somewhat similar, yet differing in certain ways from those I have described.
The pilot’s instrument board was unlike anything I could have imagined . . . it looked rather like an organ. But instead of keys and stops there were rows of buttons. Small lights shone directly on these, so placed that each illuminated five buttons at a time. As far as I can remember, there were six rows of these buttons, each row about six feet long. In front of the board was a pilot’s seat, similar in shape to the other benches.
Close beside it was a peculiar instrument connected to the central pole, which apparently functioned as a sort of periscope. Adamski found it impossible to discern where the light came from. ‘It seemed to permeate every cavity and corner with a soft pleasing glow,’ he said. ‘There is no way of describing that light exactly . . . it seemed to consist of a mellow blend of all colours, though at times I fancied one or another seemed to predominate.’
Only a very slight sensation was felt as the craft left the ground. Adamski’s attention was drawn to the large lens at his feet. ‘We appeared to be skimming over the rooftops of a small town; I could identify objects as though we were no more than a hundred feet above the ground. It was explained to me that actually we were a good two miles up and still rising, but this optical device had such magnifying power that single persons could be picked out and studied, if so desired . . .’ It was further explained that the central pillar not only served as a powerful telescope, with one end pointing at the ground and the other — in the dome — pointing at the sky, but also provided most of the power for the craft.