To head off a perceived public panic, the authorities did not give full disclosure about what transpired over Lake Superior. Many explanations came forward from the Air Force. Radar technicians had mistaken the UFO for a Canadian DC-3 or another transport plane. Moncla’s interceptor was not taken by an alien craft, the jet exploded at eight thousand feet due to a catastrophic airframe malfunction.
When the media became skeptical about the explanation, it was then revealed, the interceptor had crashed into the water because Moncla, who had over a thousand flight hours, suffered from vertigo. Uh huh, the Air Force knowingly gives the keys of its flying hot rods to impaired pilots. If the jet crashed over water, why was no debris found?
What ever abducted the jet and its crew left no trace. This incident has many similarities with the disappearance of Flight 19, which is detailed in this book under, “HOW CAN THIS BE”. Let’s hope pilots Moncla and Wilson were not subjected to brutal interrogations or examinations while being held on the alien Mother ship
Forty minutes after Moncla’s jet disappeared off the radar screen, a garbled transmission from the missing F-89 was heard. Lieutenant Mingenbach, who was flying a search pattern in a similar F-89, recognized Moncla’s deep Louisiana accent. Moncla was heard to say to co-pilot Wilson, “I think we had better.” The rest of the conversation was too jumbled to understand.
What did it mean? Was Moncla telling Wilson, they had better get out of their jet, now that they were in the UFO and escape was impossible?
According to the Air Force mouthpieces, Moncla’s jet crashed into Lake Superior. If this is true, Moncla would not be emitting transmissions over his radio forty minutes after his plane was splashed. Moncla would be on a survival raft or dead in his wrecked craft.
Moncla may have had a premonition that his November 23rd mission would be his last flight. As he was scrambled to his jet, Moncla left his wallet on a table at the base, not with the flight officer who collects personal items before a mission. Moncla’s family believes aliens abducted the pilots; the government’s story of the duo crashing into Lake Superior is a falsehood.
In 2006 the media was hoaxed. It was reported that a salvage company had found Moncla’s F-89 in Lake Superior, at a depth of two hundred and twelve feet. Bubble canopy intact, the jet was in near pristine condition. It was speculated the remains of Moncla and Wilson would be found inside the sealed cockpit. Near the jet was a teardrop object that measured eight feet by fifteen feet. Was this strange material part of the UFO that the interceptor had engaged or crashed into?
Many UFO-ologists believed the mariner company’s remote controlled underwater vehicle had found the missing interceptor. As the media investigated this fantastic story it was learned, the aquatic consortium was not listed in any state registers. Furthermore, all reports to the press came through email or by cell phone. The charlatans who engineered this prank were never found. They had used aliases. What a cruel hoax, in regards to Moncla’s and Wilson’s families.
A headstone at the Sacred Heart Catholic Cemetery in Moreaville, Louisiana, honors pilot Moncla. Its inscription reads, “In loving memory of Gene, Felix Eugene Moncla Jr., 1st Lt. United States Air Force. Born October 21, 1926. Disappeared November 23, 1953. Intercepting a UFO over the Canadian border as a pilot of a F-89 jet plane.” Surviving Moncla, was his wife and two children. (2)
THE TELLTALE MUMMIES
(ATROPHY MYSTERIES)
Elmer McCurdy and good luck were always strangers; if there ever was a man who could be labeled “Star Crossed”, it was this man. McCurdy was born in 1880 and reared in Bangor, Maine. Lore has it; the unlucky fellow was a product from a union of first cousins.
McCurdy was raised by his aunt and uncle, who he thought were his mother and father. After his uncle’s death it was explained to McCurdy, who was who. Feeling betrayed by his elders, the confused youth was passed onto his mother and then onto other relatives.
By age fifteen McCurdy was a binge drinker and runaway. In 1899, McCurdy’s mother and grandfather died. This tragedy sent the young man into a tailspin; he moved west in 1903 and tried his hand as a plumber and miner. McCurdy meant well, but bad luck dogged him. Historian Drew Gomber labeled McCurdy as, “God’s own idiot.” The euphemism is harsh, but McCurdy’s adult exploits proved he was not the sharpest tool in the shed.
While in Kansas, with a goal of a better life and new horizons, the man from Maine joined the Army (1907-1910). McCurdy hoped to be shipped to the Philippines; he was posted to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. So much for McCurdy’s dreams of “new latitudes and attitudes”. After his discharge McCurdy’s drinking and bad judgment led him into a calamitous life of crime.
McCurdy looked the part of the tough guy, he was wiry and skull-faced. If beady-eyed McCurdy had gotten into Hollywood’s silent picture industry, he would have made a million dollars with his desperado looks. McCurdy demeanor was of a gangster who did not know the meaning of the word, “Fear”. In reality, McCurdy was a bandit who didn’t know the importance of thorough planning.
The former soldier was arrested in St. Joseph, Missouri, on November 20, 1910. Depending on the source, McCurdy had burglary tools on him or he carried stolen machine gun parts in his grip. Upon his release from jail, the dim bulb joined a gang.
On March 23, 1911, bad luck McCurdy participated in his first heist. Near Lenapah, Oklahoma, the cursed man and his fellow bandits robbed the Iron Man Train. McCurdy’s job was to blow open a safe containing $4,000 in silver. McCurdy used too much explosive, the heat from the detonation melted most of the precious metal. McCurdy and the gang were only able to abscond with $450.
With a new gang, McCurdy and his outlaws robbed a bank in Chautauqua, Kansas, on September 21, 1911. The jinxed man from Maine, managed to blow open the first door of the safe. Due to fulmination problems he was not able to open its second door. Around $130 was taken from the unsecured tills inside the bank. Bad luck and the name Elmer McCurdy were synonymous.
On October 4, 1911, McCurdy rode with a new gang. One wonders if he got kicked out at gunpoint from his old gangs? The luckless outlaw and his ring of thieves robbed the M. K. and T. passenger train at 1 AM near Okesas, Oklahoma. Again ill fortune was with the drake from Bangor.
The holdup netted $40, a coat, a watch and two big bottles of whiskey. After the pitiful robbery, McCurdy and the outlaws separated. Was this part of the plan or was McCurdy ditched?
The no-luck bandit found shelter in an out-of-the way barn in the Osage Hills. In the loft, McCurdy got drunk on the impressed whiskey.
A posse, estimated to be fifty men strong, caught up with the drunk McCurdy, who refused to surrender. A one-hour gunfight ensued. McCurdy’s last words were, “You’ll never take me alive.” True to his vow, McCurdy fought the law and lost.
McCurdy’s corpse was taken to the Johnson Funeral Home in Okesaklahoma. The outlaw was embalmed with arsenic so he would not decompose. Due to the distance between Maine and Oklahoma and how McCurdy had lived his life, it was thought it would be a long time before the brigand’s next of kin would arrive from Maine and claim the corpse.
Nobody claimed the ill-fated bank robber. For years the body was kept at the funeral home. One day as the parlor was cleaned, McCurdy’s corpse was moved. It was discovered the preserved bandit could stand up like a mannequin and his arms could hold a rifle. McCurdy’s look, which was a face in need of a shave; the nubs were an eye-catcher.
McCurdy was left standing and a Winchester rifle was positioned in his bent arms. The mummified train robber became a macabre tourist attraction. People would go to the funeral parlor and stare at the thick haired freebooter, brandishing a rifle.
McCurdy’s embalmed face had the visage of a man who wore dirty boots and kicked dogs. His smallish bent shoulders gave him the look of having carried to many shotguns and repeaters. Half a century later, his shrunken corpse had a different look. McCurdy’s countenance was of