CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SIX35
And now, dear reader, you will be utterly astonished at the following action. And you will have to pay close attention.
On June 1, 1966, I sent this letter to George Clark, of the CIA:
Dear George:
The Si's today gave me some interesting information to pass on. Seems that when they flew near some police cars, in a recent sighting, the stupid policemen actually fired guns at their craft (This was not made public, and may even be kept a secret by the officers who committed this colossal blunder). However, the Si's warn that if they approach in friendly fashion in the future, and are fired upon or attacked in an unfriendly manner, the police will be minus one police car and officers. The Si's will eliminate it, as a lesson to humans.
Remember that letter, readers, it is important.
Oct. 1, 1966, several months later, the following newspaper article appeared, and the police officers involved in the encounter with the SI's did in fact disappear from the police force! This after my letter predicting it!
Flying Saucer Named Floyd Is Man's Eternal Tormentor
by John De Groot, Akron Beacon Journal
Staff Writer, Akron Ohio
In his ruined world of loneliness and twisted nightmares, Dale Spur wonders if the chase will ever end. It began six months ago, with seven steps to hell and a flying saucer named Floyd. In the predawn hours of the gentle April morning, Spaur, a Portage County sheriff's deputy, chased a flying saucer 86 miles. Now the strange craft is chasing him. And he is hiding from it, a bearded stranger peering past the limp curtains of a tiny motel room in Solon, Ohio.
He is no longer a deputy sheriff. His marriage is shattered. He has lost 40 pounds. He lives on one bowl of cereal and a sandwich each day. He walks three miles to an $80 a week painter's job. His motel room costs $60 a week. The court has ordered him to pay his wife $20 a week for the support of his two children. That leaves Dale Spaur exactly nothing. The flying saucer did it.
"If I could change all that I have done in my life," he said, "I would change just one thing. And that would be the night I chased that damn thing. That saucer."
He spit the word out. Saucer. An obscenity. Others might understand. Four other officers took part in the April drama.
(Note: Which, I wonder, shot at the saucer? - Owens)
Police Chief Gerald Buchert of Mantua saw the craft and photographed it The pictures turned out badly, an odd fuzzy white thing suspended in blackness. Today, Chief Buchert laughs nervously when he speaks of that night.
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"I'd rather not talk about it," he says. "It's something that should be forgotten and left along. I saw something, but I don't know what it was."
Special Deputy W.L Neff rode with Spaur during the chase. He won't talk about it. His wife, Jackelyne, explains
"I hope I never see him like he was after the chase. He was real white, almost in a state of shock. It was awful. And people made fun of him afterwards. He never talks about it anymore. Once he told me
'If that thing landed in my backyard, I wouldn't tell a soul.'
He's been through a wringer."
Patrolman Frank Panzanella saw the chase end in Conway, Pa., where he works. He saw the craft. Now he is silent. Friends say he had his telephone removed.
He tells you:
"Sure I quit because of that thing. People laughed at me. And there was pressure. You couldn't put your finger on it, but the pressure was there. The city officials didn't like police officers chasing flying saucers."
As to the other officers, three still wear badges, but do not speak of what they saw. Spaur and Huston have turned in their badges.
(Note: thus two were eliminated, as per my earlier prediction - Owens).
Now Spaur hides in Solon, a fugitive from a flying saucer named Floyd. He cannot escape the strange craft. It remains with him, locked in his mind, reappearing in nightly sweating dreams that are a bizarre mixture of reality and fantasy.
Of that night: He is driving car 13. Barney Neff is beside him. They are heading east along U.S. 224 between Randolf and Atwater when they spot a red and white 1959 Ford alongside the road. Barney and Dale stop to check it out. The car is filled with walkie-talkies and other radios. A strange emblem is painted on the side. A triangle with a bolt of lightning inside it. Above the emblem is written "Seven Steps to Hell".
(Note: This is tremendously important, although it meant nothing to the authorities. For several years my own emblem I have used to sign my letters to scientists and government agencies, has been a large "O" with a line through the center, and a lightning bolt underneath the "O". As I interpret this message from the Si's, a "step" is a time interval and after seven of these time intervals, or "steps", the U.S. will be destroyed. They, the Si's, are trying to stop our being destroyed. - Owens.)
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Suddenly Spaur hears a humming sound behind him. He turns and sees a huge, saucer-shaped craft rising out of a woods. The entire underside of the craft gleams with an intense, purplish-white light. Spaur calls to Barney, who turns, sees the craft, then stands paralyzed.
Neither moves. Spaur is sure he can't move. That his limbs do not work. He does not know why he is sure of this. He just believes it. The ship rises to about 150 feet and moves directly over the patrol car. Both men feel warm, pleasing heat from the bottom of the craft, but the light is so intense that tears stream from their eyes. Spaur thinks about moving back to the car. Yet he does not. Some trace of a thought which seems to tell him that if he touches the car it will disappear.
(Note: see my letter written before this article appeared: "Will be minus one police car." - Owens)
Then the saucer moves away from the car and stops. As though on command, both men race to the cruiser. Later, Spaur thinks that is strange, that both would move at exactly the same instant. Spaur radios in, telling the deskman what he has seen. Other reports have already flared over the radio. "Shoot it" the radio man tells Spaur.
(Note: Remember now, my letter warning about this was written well before this article appeared! - Owens)
Again, some strange feeling tells Spaur not to get out of the cruiser and shoot at the craft. It is about 50 feet across and maybe 15 to 20 feet high. On top of it is a large dome. An antenna juts out from the rear part of the dome. The night sergeant comes on the radio and tells Spaur to chase it. The craft moves away and Spaur follows. Slowly at first. Later, he hits speeds of more than 100 miles and hour racing eastward through Ohio and Pennsylvania. The craft seems to be letting Spaur follow it. It waits for him at intersections. Once, it seems to double back when he is forced to turn away from its eastward path. Finally, after the sun has risen, the chase ends near Pittsburgh, when Spaur runs out of gas. That is what happened, according to Spaur and Neff.
Now Spaur relives the chase each night in a twisting nightmare. But in his dream, car 13 vanishes. Disappears when he touches it. And then Spaur stands alone beneath the huge ship. At this moment he awakens shivering and wet. Alone in his motel room. As he speaks of the six months since he saw the flying saucer named Floyd, it is difficult to tell when the nightmare stops and reality begins. Spaur does not know what happened to the sedan with "Seven Steps to Hell" written on its sides. After the chase, his daily routine was washed away in a sea of reporters, television cameramen, Air Force investigators, government officials, strange letters from places like Little Rock, Ark., and Australia that told him what to do if the "little green men" tried to contact him.
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"My entire life came crashing down around my shoulders" he said. "Everything changed. I still don't really know what happened. But suddenly it was as though everybody owned me and I no longer had anything for myself. My wife, my home, my children. They all seemed to fade away."
Spaur's wife Daneise now is alone with their two children. She has filed for divorce and is working as a waitress in a bar at Ravenna.
"Something happened to Dale, but I don't know what it was" she says. "He came home that day and I never saw him more frightened before. He acted strange, listless. He just sat around. He was very pale. Then later, he got real nervous. And he started to run away. He'd just disappear for days and days. I wouldn't see him. Our marriage fell apart. All sorts of people came to the house. Investigators, reporters. They kept him up all night. They kept after him, hounding him. They hounded him right into the ground. And he changed."
Then one night, Dale came home very late. He isn't sure what happened. He walked into the living room. There were some other people there. Things were very tense. Very confused. He grabbed his wife and shook her. Hard. He kept shaking her. It left big ugly bruises on her arms. He doesn't know how or why. That was the end of July. Daneise filed assault and battery charges. Dale was jailed, and turned in his badge. A newspaper printed a story about the deputy who chased the flying saucer being jailed for beating his wife. When he got out of jail, Dale left town, turned his back on everything. But the saucer followed him, locked in his dreams. In Ravenna, Daneise can only say
"Dale is a lost soul. And everything is finished for us."
In Solon, Dale said, "I have become a freak. I'm so damn lonely. Look at me, 34 years old and what do I have? Nothing. Who knows me? To everyone I am Dale Spaur, the nut who chased a flying saucer. My father called me several weeks ago. A long time ago we had a fight. I hadn't heard from him for years. Then he calls me. Do you think he called to ask how I was, to say I love you, son, to see if I wanted to go fishing or something? Hell no. He wanted to know if I'd seen any more flying saucers. I tried to go to church for help. I went to church and the minister introduced me to the congregation. 'We have the man who chased a flying saucer with us today,' he said."
Dale Spaur wept as he told what the flying saucer named Floyd had done to him. He calls it Floyd because he saw it once more while he was still working for the sheriff's department.
The radio operators knew civilians were monitoring their broadcasts so they agreed to use a code name if the flying saucer was seen again. They called it Floyd, Dale Spaur's middle name.
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Dale was driving east on Interstate 80-S one night in June. He looked up. There it was.
"Floyd's here with me" he whispered into the radio. Then he parked the car, and sat there, alone. This time Barney Neff was not with him. Dale did not look out the window. He lit a cigarette and stared at the floor of the cruiser. He sat there for nearly 15 minutes not looking outside, not wanting to see Floyd.
When he looked up, Floyd had disappeared. Yet it still follows him. And it has ruined his life. This he believes.
Well, reader, I wonder which one shot at the saucer? That was a mistake. There is now way, no human way, that we can injure or destroy the saucers. But the Si's have let me know that they fear our attacks, our attempts to snare their craft, by any means. Not because we might do so - we cannot - but because there is some law of their own, something about them, that reflects our "get them, destroy them" thought back onto us, destroying us... perhaps not physically, but in other, worse ways.
Such as Dale Spaur.
