Transcription
[Music] [Music] [Applause]
List thousands of odd and unexplained disappearances, but in the literature of psychic phenomena, there are two sudden appearances that are perhaps as strange and as flexing as anything that ever happened on this earth. One of them occurred in the town of Chico in California's Sacramento Valley. The date was March 17, 1922.
It began with something as commonplace and as ordinary as these pieces of granite, sandstone, marble, shale, quartz, ordinary pieces of rock and stuff. Or are they?
"Yes sir, that'll be in this week's paper. We're printing it up tonight, just as soon as, just a minute, hurry. Do we search the end of the porch roof?"
And they come again.
"Frank! Frank! Frank!"
[Music]
"I guess that's slip for today. Is he all right?"
"I think he's just knocked out, like the others. They're warm. Right on schedule, three o'clock. We'd better get him over to Doc Stanley."
"Oh my goodness, yeah. Mr. Straub, please forgive me. Mr. Stroud, house Frank, you'll be all right. Harry, uh, have you told the Marshall yet about what you did?"
"Well, there's no sense getting him riled ahead of time, you know. When all those people start arriving in town, he's gonna go sky high. Joe Tomlinson's just worried about looking foolish in front of outsiders, about not being able to stop this, we're not being able to find out who or what's been doing all those big city newspaper people riding it up. We're gonna look pretty foolish. Whole world's gonna have a great big horse laugh at us."
"Maybe, maybe this is something important that the whole world ought to know about. Jenny, our business is news. However it turns out, it'll still be news. Are you going to meet them?"
"2:30 tomorrow. Joe Tomlinson won't like it. Joe Tomlinson doesn't like anything."
[Music]
"Is this the place they come down, Mr. Calm, for the last three days?"
"Yes, but you still don't believe me."
"Oh, I imagine there's some stones coming from somewhere. I just don't think you're foolish enough to believe there's anything strange about it."
"You think this is a hoax too?"
"Well, let's say I, I'll have to be shown. Folks in Los Angeles like to read about this sort of thing, so whatever happens, I'll write about it. But, but I'll write the truth, Mr. Call."
[Music]
"So, very good, Mr. Call. You've got a fine sense of theater. All the props in the right places at the right time. Listen to this. Bradley, Harry Call, Editor, Chico Chronicle. Dear Sir, this is to inform you that I am the one who's been causing the stones and rocks to fall on Chico. To prove it, I will make them fall again tomorrow at exactly three o'clock and exactly where they fell today. And since I have repealed the law of gravity, I will have some of them float down from the sky. And sign the ghost."
"Uh, it's rather amateur theatricals, I'm afraid, Mr. Call. The ghost."
"In the past 10 months, many people have come forward claiming to know who or what was responsible. Now, many of them were anonymous. Well, now you've got your answer. It's a ghost."
"I assume there are cranks all over the world, Mr. Towers, even in San Francisco. I merely thought, as a newspaper man gathering information on a story, you would be interested in seeing that note."
"Oh, I'm interested. I'm very interested, Mr. Call, to see just how far you'll go to try to sell us this bill of goods. I'm not sure how they do things in the big city, but here, while I try to approach gathering news with a healthy skepticism, I hope I do it without arrogance or a smart-alecky know-it-all attitude."
"Very well put, Mr. Corp. Don't you think so, Towers?"
"See you got visitors, Harry."
"Hi, Joe. The town Marshall. Gentleman, Mr. Joseph Tomlinson. This is, it's the Towers of the San Francisco."
"Yeah, I know who they are. You don't seem very happy to see us here, Marshall."
"No, I'm not. I think this is strictly a local affair. It's nobody else's business."
"How do you know that, Marshall?"
"What?"
"Well, I mean, unless you know who or what is responsible, how do you know it is local?"
"What else can it be?"
"Well, I'm sure you've been trying to find out for the past 10 months."
"Sure, naturally. Chico isn't a very large town. If somebody is launching stones with some sort of catapult, I'm sure you'd have discovered him by now. If it's really happening, don't you see, Bradley, it couldn't be anything else. There are no hills around here. Those stones come straight down from nowhere."
"Sure, they do. Where's the highest spot in town, Marshall?"
"The roof of Torrey's warehouse, up on High Street."
"Can we go up there?"
"Certainly."
"Well, that's where I want to be at three o'clock, with field glasses. That's Harry Call's place, huh?"
"Yeah. And the stones have fallen there for the last three days, huh?"
"Right. Isn't it?"
[Music]
"Well, they, they could easily have been thrown from here, from with some sort of machine, couldn't they?"
[Music]
"Mr. Bradley, let me tell you something. The last 10 months, those rocks have fallen just about every place in this town, at all sorts of different hours, day and night. And plenty of those times, I've been right here with those glasses. But like Call said, they always fall straight down. It's almost three o'clock, Mr. Towers."
"Uh-huh. Just a minute or so, by my watch. But at least come in under the porch roof."
"No, sir. This, I want to see from beginning to end. There cometh, Bradley, a little more to your left, up there."
[Music]
"They are. They're falling from an empty sky."
[Music]
"They're floating."
[Music] [Music]
The man who wrote this note, signed himself "The Ghost," was never heard from again. However, a young man who had come to Chico 10 months before, and who had been the subject of much conversation because of his odd behavior, disappeared suddenly on the same day. A nationwide search was made for him, but no trace of him or his invention was ever found. Who was he, or perhaps what was he?
Because from the New York Times, printed in 1878, 44 years before the barrage of rocks began over Chico, on the 29th of August, a great number of small fish fell from the sky on the town of Chico, California, covering the roof of the store and falling in the streets over an area of several acres. They fell from a cloud, the sky, and were both fresh water and ocean varieties. And from the Monthly Weather Review of March 1885, a large object of very hard material, weighing several tons, but defying analysis, fell from the sky in the town of Chico, California.
Now, was the ghost, whoever or whatever he was or is, responsible for all the strange goings-on in the sky over Chico? It certainly would be fascinating to find out. Just as it would be fascinating to find out more about a man named Charles Hilton. The year was 1917. The place, just outside the private residence of a cabinet member of the United States government in Washington D.C.
[Music]
"Elton, if that really was his name, chose to make an appearance here in a most unorthodox manner. But then, he proved to be a most unorthodox individual."
"Your office, Mr. Secretary? No, there's a meeting at the State Department, 8:45. It's nearly that now, but let's not break any crosstown speed records."
"No, sir. I'm afraid you won't be able to leave just yet, Mr. Secretary."
"Who are you and what do you want?"
"Just to show the Secretary something of great importance."
"You better get out of here fast, sir. You have a reputation for being a reasonable man. I'm sure you can see, if you will notice, this car is in no condition to take you anywhere. So you might as well let me fix it."
"Fix it? There isn't a gasoline station around for at least a mile."
"Which is precisely why I chose to empty your gasoline tank here, Mr. Secretary. Please forgive my methods, but after waiting in your outer office four days in vain, there may be enough gasoline in the lines to get to a gas station."
"Carter, you'd best go on, telephone for a taxi cab."
"Maybe I better call the police."
"No, I'll be all right. Yes, sir. I thought your face was familiar. Excuse me, sir. Where you going?"
"Just to get your garden hose."
[Applause]
"Yeah, what are you doing?"
"Fixing it, so you can drive to the State Department."
"Great Scott! Manuel, ruin the motor with water?"
"Just water. Yes."
"Well, do you think I sprinkle my lawn with gasoline?"
"Mr. Secretary, please relax. I assure you, I'm not harming a high-powered engine in any way. There, that ought to do it. There's the little beauty. So now, for a moment to allow for the effervescence to distribute the chemical throughout the water, and then you'll want to watch this."
"Mr. Secretary, I pump it to get some of it, some of my mixture, up into the carburetor. Get in, Mr. Secretary. I'll have you at the State Department in three minutes. I'm a very careful driver, sir."
"Where did you get the gasoline?"
"Mr. Secretary, or from the garden hose, naturally."
"Pardon, sir."
"Cancel the taxicab."
"Yes, sir. Good evening, Mr."
"Evening, Commander. Good evening, General. Secretary, nice to see you, gentlemen. This is Mr. Charles Elton. Uh, Commander Phillips, Colonel Willis, Mr. Garner, each an expert in his own field. Mr. Elden, gentlemen, may very possibly have made the most important discovery since the development of the internal combustion engine. If he has what he appears to have, it would, to say the very least, accelerate the growth of world economy at an unprecedented rate and aid greatly in giving the allied war machine complete and overwhelming superiority."
"Where is this, uh, miracle, sir?"
"Right here. I'm not surprised that you wonder. Temperament, I could very well have been duped, but that's why we're here, to find out."
"Is that the engine, Commander?"
"Yes, sir."
"Now, you're absolutely certain that the tank, the tank is empty, and that it is never at any time contained any fuel whatsoever?"
"Absolutely, sir."
"Good. Colonel, uh, did you get the water?"
"Oh, yes, Mr. Secretary."
"Where did you get it?"
"I picked it up at the corner grocery store, sir."
"Oh, fine. Well, uh, instead of clean glass, Mindy?"
"Oh, yes. Ready. Good. Thank you. Would you pour some water in here, please?"
"Colonel, have a drink. What's it taste like?"
"Like water. Just plain ordinary water."
"Nothing added, I'm sorry to say, not as far as I can tell, Mr. Just water."
"Um, Commander, how long to run an analysis on this?"
"Half a minute."
"Good. Mr. Garner, is there anything at all unusual about this engine?"
"No, it's just a plain automobile engine. Uh, Commander, I can tell better after they said a while, sir, but so far, it's just good old H2O."
"Fine. Well, Miss Elton, stage is yours."
"Thank you, sir. So, what are you doing?"
"Just protecting myself, Mr. Secretary."
[Music]
"Just enough to prime it and run the engine for about a minute. One provision, Mr. Secretary."
"Yes?"
"You must permit me to consume every drop of the fuel."
"Well, sir, all the elements I use can be found on this planet, and perhaps some very clever chemist, after some hard work, might succeed in making an analysis. Then I would no longer have a secret, would I? And therefore, nothing to sell."
"Yes, I see what you mean. Very well, you have my word."
[Applause]
"Very well, gentlemen. Someone can start the engine."
"Mr. Garner, but Mr. Secretary, if you'll forgive me, there can only be one possible result. Water vapor and internal combustion engine are incompatible. You'll simply ruin a perfectly good engine."
"That is a risk that I feel we can afford. Very well. So."
"Well, gentlemen, what do you say?"
"There's only one thing you can say. It's impossible. It completely defies the whole theory of internal combustion."
"Well, unless I'm dreaming, this will do everything you said it would."
"Unless we're all dreaming the same dream."
"Well, how much do you want for your formula?"
"Million dollars."
"But Mr. Garner, uh, you're employed in private industry. How much do you think he could get for this on the open market?"
"Well, if it, what it seems to be, and can be produced cheaply, I guess there is no ceiling."
"That's a very good point. Uh, how much would it cost to produce this, this marvelous pill of yours, for a pill that will convert 10 gallons of water into 10 gallons of high-grade fuel?"
"Less than 2 cents."
"You, uh, guarantee that?"
"Make the deal contingent upon it. That's fair enough. I, of course, uh, can't commit our government to a project of this magnitude on my own responsibility, but, well, I feel certain that we'll have no difficulty in getting what you want. Now, uh, if you wouldn't mind, uh, just waiting in the other room for a moment, we, uh, there are some things I'd like to discuss with you."
"I'll be with you in a very few moments. Take your time, Mr. Secretary."
"Well, then, I, I'm not an expert on these matters. I, I leave that to you. But I know I'd hate to present this matter to the President and have it explode in my face."
"Nobody's an expert on that stuff except you're Mr. Elton. You took every possible precaution, sir. I know one thing. There was no drop of fuel of any kind in that engine until he poured his mixture in."
"Mr. Garner, you're a very cautious man. Would you care to express an opinion?"
"Man enough to be a complete fool to believe what we just saw, but I believe it. There's no other choice."
"Well, gentlemen, that's good enough for me. Miss Elton, I'm glad."
"Mr. Elton, he's gone. And he was gone. He had completely vanished. The FBI and the Secret Service for many, many months searched for Charles Hill. They checked every hotel and roaming house in Washington. They interviewed every Charles Elton in America. They took his fingerprints from the laboratory and they checked them and compared them against every conceivable source. But not one shred of evidence was ever found to prove that such a man even existed. And of course, to this day, no one can even imagine how he managed to make gasoline from water. His secret, like the secret of the ghost who worked his magic in Chico, California, continues to elude our best scientific minds. We may never discover who these men were. Where are they?"
[Music] [Applause] [Music] [Applause] [Music]