Both fled in absolute terror. Curiously, years later one of the boys (by then an adult) stated that after fleeing the mine, he hid out in a local movie theater, only to be horrified by dark and menacing figures that were walking up and down the dimly lit aisle, seemingly searching for him. But that was not alclass="underline" On retiring to his bed that night, the boy felt certain that he caught a glimpse of a hideous dark form squatting on a high limb of a tree near his home, staring intently in his direction. Was the presence of the ominous entity a warning, perhaps, to the boy to keep away from the old mine and its underground secrets? We may never know.
The Shaver Mystery
As the 1940s progressed, so did the astounding tales. Or, more to the point, so did the “amazing stories.” Ray Palmer, the editor of the legendary Amazing Stories magazine from 1938 to 1949, had a hell of a hard time as a kid. At the age of 7, he was involved in a violent collision with a truck that shattered his spine, which significantly stunted his growth and provoked endless health issues throughout his life. None of us, unless we have personally undergone such a traumatic event, can begin to imagine how we might react to such a situation in our formative years. Maybe we would do precisely what the young Palmer did: He became somewhat reclusive as a result of cruel taunts from local kids and ignorant adults. From the solitude of his bedroom, Palmer buried his head deeply within the pages of the science-fiction magazines of the 1920s and 30s. If the real world was just too much for the damaged Palmer to deal with, then the realm of futuristic fantasy would have to take its place. In the final year of his teens Palmer started co-editing his very own fanzine, titled the Comet, which was enthusiastically welcomed by the burgeoning science-fiction community of the day. But the biggest event in Palmer’s life came in 1938. It was a veritable dream come true.
Ziff-Davis, the publisher of Amazing Stories magazine, had just moved its base of operations from the Big Apple to the Windy City, and, in the process, dumped its editor, T. O’Connor-Sloane. As Palmer didn’t live too far away — in the heart of Milwaukee — and Ziff-Davis knew of his Comet publication, an offer was made to Palmer that he could not refuse: a full-time gig as the editor of Amazing Stories.
Today, Palmer’s position as head honcho of Amazing Stories is remembered, chiefly, for two specific reasons:
1. He bought and published Isaac Asimov’s very first professional science-fiction story, titled “Marooned off Vesta.”
2. He became the leading light in a decidedly odd affair that became known as the Shaver Mystery.
Whether the Shaver saga was science fiction or science fact is a matter that still has people guessing.
The Shaver Mystery had its origins at the height of the Second World War. It was a relatively normal day in 1943 when Palmer was opening the daily delivery of mail that regularly poured into the offices of Amazing Stories, and came across one particular missive penned by a certain Richard Shaver. “Weird” barely begins to describe it. Shaver wrote that he personally had uncovered a sensational and terrifying secret: In our distant past a race of ancient, highly evolved entities lived right under our very feet. Massive caverns, huge caves, and endless tunnels were the dark, damp places they called home.
At least, that is, before they decided to exit the Earth and head away to a new world on the other side of the galaxy. When these particular entities said their final goodbyes to our planet, they left behind them something truly sinister and abominable: their diseased, mentally deranged offspring, which were said to be called the Deros. Taunting the human race, finding more and more ways to screw up our lives and plague our minds, and, even worse, using us as food, were just some of their bad habits. Yes, according to Shaver, human beings were being systematically kidnapped and devoured by cave-dwelling grotesqueries.
For Palmer, this nightmare scenario looked like fun; as the astute editor of Amazing Stories, he quickly grasped the significance and potential enormity of the story that had fallen into his lap. He knew the story would highly entertain his readers, and probably wouldn’t hurt sales figures either. History has proven Palmer correct on those counts.
But before he could proceed any further, Palmer realized that he needed much more from Shaver. Important questions needing answering: had Shaver been to this terrifying underworld? Might he even have personally encountered the deadly, psychotic Deros? If not, then from where was Shaver getting his information? This is where things got even more warped. Shaver eagerly wrote back to Palmer with the answers to his questions, and I suspect they were not the ones he was expecting.
Shaver wrote that, in 1932, he was employed as a welder in a car factory, where most days were routine. But one day most certainly was not: On the occasion in question, wrote Shaver, his welding gun began talking to him. It did so, said Shaver, “by some freak of its coil’s field attunements.”[36] Then, telepathically delivered tales of a horrific nature were beamed into what amounted to Shaver’s mind, all relative to the Deros, their penchant for human meat, and their underground cities. Shaver was so pleased by Palmer’s quick reply to his original missive that he penned a 10,000-word story that detailed the salient points of the affair, including the outrageous claim that he, Shaver, had been the captive of the Deros for a number of years prior to making good his escape.
This was absolutely great for Palmer, who duly burned the midnight oil, tidying up and editing Shaver’s story, which finally appeared in Amazing Stories in March 1945, in a feature titled “I Remember Lemuria.” Sales of that particular issue bypassed the roof and went through the stratosphere, and both Palmer and the publisher were delighted. Neither, however, was quite prepared for the thousands of letters that poured into the offices of Amazing Stories from a multitude of readers who had become fascinated by the tales of Richard Shaver. We want more—those were the words coming from the huge readership, and Palmer did not disappoint. The Shaver controversy continued for decades, constantly being added to by other characters who claimed knowledge of the Deros and their evil underworld. Today, the entire issue is viewed by the majority of UFO researchers as nothing more than a practical joke initiated by Shaver and then expanded upon by Palmer, ever ready to increase the audience of his cherished magazine, no matter how tall the tale was.
However, others have told similar, more credible stories of these underground creatures.
Mac Tonnies
Author Mac Tonnies, right up until the point of his tragic passing in October 2009 at the age of 34, was hot on the trail of these ancient, underground humanoids, which he chose to call the Cryptoterrestrials. Tonnies told me, only a couple of months before his death, “After devouring countless books on the UFO controversy and the paranormal, I began to acknowledge that the extraterrestrial hypothesis suffered [from] some tantalizing flaws. In short, the ‘aliens’ seemed more like surreal caricatures of ourselves than beings possessing the god-like technology one might plausibly expect from interstellar visitors. I came to the realization that the extraterrestrial hypothesis isn’t strange enough to encompass the entirety of occupant cases.”[37]