An Incident from Truman Bethurum’s Aboard a Flying Saucer

Truman Bethurum

Truman Bethurum’s nonfiction Aboard a Flying Saucer was published in 1954 by Los Angeles publishers DeVorss & Company.  After reading a variety of ‘contactee’ biographies and listening to recorded interviews, I decided that this book was in many ways unprecedented.  Bethurum described the “strange people who rode on this weird craft”: “The small men, with their masklike faces, without scar or blemish, without beard or mustache.  None of them had worn glasses, or anything metallic that I had noticed . . .”  Their captain was a woman.  An excerpt from the book was featured in the previous blog article.

 

At the time his strange experiences began, Bethurum was employed as a maintenance mechanic for the installation of an asphalt mixing plant in Nevada's Mormon Mesa area.  His work hours commenced in the late afternoon.  In his first conversation with ‘Captain Aura Rhanes,’ she told him, “Time and distance are of no concern to us, and what you call time and distance is inconsequential in our lives.”  When asked about religion, she replied that they worshiped an all-seeing, all-knowing Supreme Deity.  He said to her, “You must have tremendous power and very large engines or motors or whatever you call them.”  She replied, “We have no reciprocating equipment aboard.”  She and the others referred to their craft as a ‘scow’ — a word defined in dictionaries as 'a flat-bottomed transporting boat.'

 

In a previous blog article, I reported from eyewitness testimonials that considerable intrigue surrounded some of Helena P. Blavatsky’s occasional encounters with her ‘Master’ and these circumstances could be quite peculiar.  Anecdotes in Truman Bethurum’s narrative of his contact experiences with otherworldly humans also evince conundrums and disappointments.  The following anecdote expresses the discreetness of the beings with whom he interacted.  This incident occurred following the fourth of the eleven visits described by Bethurum in the book.

In the afternoon, on awakening, I went to the shop and did my regular servicing job during the shift.  Whitey and I went in his pick-up over to the restaurant in Glendale, Nevada for a bite to eat before we checked off the job.

About 3:30 A.M. I was having pie and coffee with Whitey.  Suddenly, elbowing me in my side, he attracted my attention.

I looked at him inquiringly to see what had gone wrong.

He motioned over to the long front counter, and I glanced that way.  I bugged my eyes out.  There, sure enough, with an escort, sat a woman whom I believe to this day was Captain Aura Rhanes.  The escort was the same little man who had taken my arm and escorted me aboard the saucer that first night.  Whitey had noticed them through the many descriptions I had given him, and now he whispered that he wondered if these could be the same people.  I couldn’t see how the woman could be anyone else, for she was wearing the same sort of clothes I had always seen her wear, little black and red beret on the head, the black velvety looking blouse and brilliant glaring red of the flat pleated skirt.

I said huskily to Whitey, “Yes, that is them.”

I was so excited I don’t know if they were eating or just drinking orange juice, but I do know there was no liquor in front of them.

Whitey whispered, “What are you going to do?”

I answered, “Talk to them, of course.  Come on over, and I will introduce you to them.”

“Not on your life,” he answered emphatically, in his normal tone.  Then he lowered his voice to a whisper and said, “If you’re going to talk to them I’m getting out of here.”

I said, “Listen, if you don’t want to be introduced, that’s your business.”

He pushed back his plate and said, “I’m going outside.”

I said, “If you do, stand near the door so you can see what they get into and which way they go when they come out.”

He said, “Okay, I will.”

He got up and left and I went over to this lady’s left side.  Her escort was sitting at her right.  My conversation was thus:

“I beg your pardon, lady, but haven’t we met before?”

Stiffly and in an almost whispering tone she said no.

“You very closely resemble a lady I met some time ago out on Mormon Mesa.”

Another low no.

“Could you say for sure that you and I haven’t met before?” I persisted.

Another low withdrawing-like no.  Then I came out with a statement, trying for a different type of answer.

“Your size, appearance, manner and clothing — all remind me so very much of some people I met some time ago out on the mesa.”

I was careful not to mention the words saucer or scow, because I felt that might cause them to resent being recognized in a public place lest someone might try to molest them.  I could see clearly enough by now that she didn’t want to be recognized.

I still got only a murmured no from the lady.  The man did not give a hint that he either heard me or was even aware of my presence.  He could have passed as a blind deaf mute.

I apologized, saying I was sorry to have disturbed them, and got another no from that too.

I went back to my seat and began sipping my coffee, still staring in their direction.  I was just about to get up and go when the waitress came over and whispered to me.

“They are surely the saucer people you told us about.”

“I thought so too,” I told her.  “But it may not be.  The lady has on dark glasses and the man had a scar on his face.”

The waitress whispered, “I noticed that too, but it is not a scar.  It is only penciled on.”

I looked back at them, and saw the lady nudge her companion and he motioned for the waitress to bring the check.  Pretty soon the waitress hurried back to me, while the couple I was observing walked toward the door.  The waitress said, “The lady told me to tell you that she knows you, and that she was sorry and yes is the answer to some of your questions.”

I wasn’t surprised.  I watched them moving toward the front door.  I felt a little gleeful, knowing that Whitey was outside there and would see where they went.  Not only would I know where they parked their saucer on a trip to town, I thought, but if Whitey saw he would be convinced beyond the shadow of a doubt that I had been telling him the truth.

I saw them only a step from the door, before I turned to pay my check.  When I turned back they were gone.  I rushed outside, and there stood Whitey puffing nonchalantly on his cigarette.

I yelped, “They’re not in sight.  Where did they go?”

He shrugged and looked at me helplessly.

“They never came out,” he said.  “Honest, Tru, not a blessed soul passed through that door until you came out.”