Born in Poland in 1891, George Adamski – of Flying Saucers Have Landed notoriety – was the ultimate “contactee,” regardless of what you may or may not think of him and his tales. He defined what it meant in the 1950s to have interactions with beings from other worlds; creatures very much like us and who wished us nothing but goodwill. Adamski’s primary visitor from the great beyond was Orthon. Adamski’s forays into the world of the supernatural, however, did not begin when the flying saucer phenomenon was at its height. Adamski had been involved in matters of a metaphysical type for years. For example, in April 1934, the L.A. Times ran a feature on the man himself with a headline that succinctly read as follows: “Shamanistic Order to be Established Here.” In part, it states: “The 10-foot trumpets of faraway Lhasa, perched among perpetual snows in the Himalayan Mountains in Tibet, will shortly have their echo on the sedate hills of Southern California’s Laguna Beach. Already the Royal Order of Tibet has acquired acreage on the placid hills that bathe their Sunkist feet in the purling Pacific and before long, the walls, temples, turrets and dungeons of a Lama monastery will serrate the skyline. It will be the first Tibetan monastery in America and in course of time, the trained disciples of the cult will filter through its glittering gates to spread ‘the ancient truths’ among all who care to listen. The central figure in the new movement is Prof. George Adamski.”
It’s important to note that Adamski was never a professor. Of anything. But, he most certainly didn’t mind the suggestion that he was a professor. He told the L.A. Times, in what was an undeniably pompous fashion: “I learned great truths up there on the roof of the world, or rather the trick of applying age-old knowledge to daily life, to cure the body and the mind, and to win mastery over self and soul. I do not bring to Laguna the weird rites and bestial superstition in which the old Lamaism is steeped, but the scientific portions of the religion.” Adam Gorightly and Greg Bishop say in their “A” is for Adamski book that: “During Prohibition, The Royal Order of Tibet secured a special license to produce wine, which some suggest was Adamski’s main motivation for starting his mystical order to begin with.” Old George was definitely well-known for his particular fondness for the grape. Now, it’s time to head to 1952, when Adamski’s involvement in Ufology really took off. Maybe literally. At least, for those who bought, and still buy, into his stories. It was early on the morning of November 20, 1952. Adamski and his faithful secretary Lucy McGinnis drove to Blythe, California. This was not your average road-trip, however. Adamski, when telling the story to whoever would listen, claimed that the reason for hitting the road to Blythe had an astonishing purpose behind it: aliens dearly wanted to meet with the professor-who-wasn’t. The pair soon met up with other characters in 1950s-era Ufology. They included UFO enthusiasts Al and Betty Bailey, and George Hunt Williamson. The latter was a controversial contactee who crossed paths with the FBI on several occasions, most seriously in 1962. That was when Williamson was suspected by the Bureau of smuggling priceless Mexican artifacts of an historic and archaeological significance into the United States.
After refueling their vehicles and their stomachs, the gang then headed out to Parker, Arizona – where, Adamski said, he was absolutely sure that aliens were soon to put in an appearance. So the tale goes, that’s exactly what happened. A huge, “cigar”-shaped UFO loomed into view, high in the skies above Parker. The amazed crew hit a dirt-road in hot pursuit of the mighty craft. Adamski and co. were, apparently, not the only ones who were looking for a close encounter. Adamski claimed that a squadron of U.S. Air Force planes were also after the aliens. The people from the stars almost effortlessly made a quick escape from the pursuing pilots. It wasn’t long before a much smaller flying saucer made its appearance before the astonished group. In an almost Old Testament-style fashion, the gleaming craft landed on a nearby mountain, awaiting the disciple-like Adamski to come forward and meet his superior. He somehow knew that the aliens had come for him. Adamski approached the craft, while the rest – their mouths no doubt agape – looked on. An extremely-human-looking extraterrestrial exited the futuristic craft, just as Michael Rennie’s character of Klaatu did in the classic 1951 movie, The Day the Earth Stood Still. Unlike Klaatu, though, Adamski’s alien – who announced himself as Orthon – had long hair of the kind that just about any and every 1980s-era “hair-metal” rock band would have been proud to sport.
Orthon announced to Adamski that he came from Venus – and that he came in peace, too. In no time at all, Orthon began lecturing Adamski on why we, the human race, needed to ditch our atomic weapons. If we didn’t, the only outcome would be overwhelming, worldwide destruction. Not only that, Orthon wanted Adamski to be one of the key figures in the plan to save the Earth and its people. In an instant, Adamski was up for the challenge. Orthon, seemingly happy with the outcome, returned to his flying saucer and shot off into the skies. An alien had come and gone, and for Adamski a new life had just begun. I decided to share with you the early days of Adamski, as a means to show how his “career” continued into the 1960s. With that said, let’s now look at the really weird story. Today’s article is a classic counter-style event that is made all the more controversial by the possibility that it may actually have had nothing to do with UFOs, after all. It might have been a staged event, one in which the witness was led to believe he had a UFO sighting. If that has caught your attention, read on.
The story revolves around a man named Ernest Arthur Bryant, a resident of an old village in the English county of Devon called Scoriton. Or, as some prefer to spell it, Scorriton. As for Devon, it’s an ancient and mysterious land, and which is made famous by the fact that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle set his classic Sherlock Holmes novel The Hound of the Baskervilles in Devon’s Dartmoor National Park. On April 24, 1965, Bryant (who served with the British Commandos in World War Two) saw something amazing hovering over a field close to his home: a flying saucer. Bryant stared, shocked and amazed for a few moments, and then made his cautious way to the field. As he did so, and seemingly in response to his actions, the circular-shaped craft gently touched to the ground. As Bryant arrived, a group of three, human-like beings attired in shiny, silver suits motioned him not to come any closer. He did as he was told. Bryant looked on, stunned, and noticed that the beings had overly long foreheads, seemed to have problems breathing in the Earth’s atmosphere, and, somewhat oddly, had no thumbs. One of the beings then moved towards Bryant and reeled off typical, absurd, Space Brother-themed spiel.
The entity claimed his name was “Yamski” and that he and his comrades hailed from Venus, no less.The alien then made a comment along the lines of, “If only Des were here.” Or, suggested Bryant, it may have been “Les,” rather than “Des.” This, along with the “Yamski” name is all very interesting, since only one day before the encounter, the world’s most famous Contactee, George Adamski, died. Plus, Adamski’s co-author on his Flying Saucers Have Landed book was Desmond Leslie. As Bryant arrived, a group of three, human-like beings attired in shiny, silver suits motioned him not to come any closer. He did as he was told. Bryant looked on, stunned, and noticed that the beings had overly long foreheads, seemed to have problems breathing in the Earth’s atmosphere, and, somewhat oddly, had no thumbs. One of the beings then moved towards Bryant and reeled off typical, absurd, Space Brother-themed spiel. The entity claimed his name was “Yamski” and that he and his comrades hailed from Venus, no less.The alien then made a comment along the lines of, “If only Des were here.” Or, suggested Bryant, it may have been “Les,” rather than “Des.” This, along with the “Yamski” name is all very interesting, since only one day before the encounter, the world’s most famous Contactee, George Adamski, died. Plus, Adamski’s co-author on his Flying Saucers Have Landed book was Desmond Leslie.
Also in typical Contactee/Space Brother style, Bryant was given a “tour” of the UFO – which was, allegedly, split into three sections. The aliens then made a cryptic statement suggesting they would contact Bryant again. As Bryant watched from a safe distance, the UFO then rose into the sky and vanished from sight. Also in typical Contactee/Space Brother style, Bryant was given a “tour” of the UFO – which was, allegedly, split into three sections. The aliens then made a cryptic statement suggesting they would contact Bryant again. As Bryant watched from a safe distance, the UFO then rose into the sky and vanished from sight. Although Bryant was determined to keep the incident under wraps, it didn’t stay like that for long: both the local media and UFO researchers were soon on the case. Flying Saucer investigator Norman Oliver looked into the matter deeply and, in 1967, Eileen Buckle penned an entire book on the affair, The Scoriton Mystery. Bryant’s story would, in all likelihood, have remained as just another Contactee case were it not for one, notable and very strange thing. In the late 1970s, UFO researcher Rich Reynolds was contacted by a man named Bosco Nedelcovic, who suggested that Bryant’s encounter had very little to do with aliens, and much more to do with secret experimentation of a very down to earth nature. Nedelcovic (who worked for the U.S. Department of State’s Agency for International Development, and who also had ties to the CIA) claimed that Bryant was the victim of a form of sophisticated mind-control, somewhat akin to the kind of work undertaken by the CIA’s MKUltra program.
Nedelcovic told Reynolds of a number of bogus “UFO episodes” in both the US and the UK, in which individuals were led to believe they had UFO encounters when, in fact, they experienced something very different. Nedelcovic alluded to how these events involved “visual displays, radar displacement, and atifact droppings.” One of those events, said Nedelcovic, was the Bryant case. Nedelcovic also revealed how the operation proceeded, and which involved “experimental drugs used to induce specific hallucinatory material” as well as “microwave transmissions.” On this latter point, Reynolds was told by Nedelcovic that “the injudicious use of microwave technology” led to a disastrous outcome for Bryant. As history has shown, Bryant died in 1967, from the effects of a brain tumor. Interestingly, in his 1969 book, UFO: Flying Saucers Over Britain? author Robert Chapman noted: “There remains a possibility” that Bryant “might have had the UFO sighting planted in his mind through hypnotism.” Chapman noted that there was “no evidence” to warrant such a belief, yet it is interesting that he even chose to bring up the matter in the first place – given that this was pretty much exactly what Bosco Nedelcovic was asserting a decade or so later. All of the above suggests there is far more to the UFO encounter and tragic death of Bryant than meets the eye. And, with the 50th anniversary of the incident now fast-approaching, it would be the ideal time for someone to (A) readdress the Bryant case and the claims of Bosco Nedelcovic, and (B) undertake a new, in-depth study of this tragic, controversial, and fatal affair. The truth just might be even stranger than an alien visitation.