This coming Saturday, on September 26, 2009, will mark my 33rd anniversary of the three globular ships that surrounded us in 1976 at White Beach on Ocean Street in Manchester, Massachusetts USA.

In my drafty apartment one block from Dane Street Beach in Beverly Massachusetts with one frozen hotdog in the fridge, I prayed early one evening with my whole heart in tears asking God to show me what possible good I could do in this time under the present conditions of such great tyranny and lovelessness. Love seemed to be but an echo from past scattered pieces of time, illusions that never apply, stirred and carried away by the wind. Any and all things pure, wonderful and miraculous were regarded as absurd and delusional. The moment that left my lips, one of my two closest friends, Phil, called and was excited saying that he had “a ride” (Bruce, a man with a red Mustang ragtop) who would take us to one of our favorite spots along the rocky south facing coastline heading east toward Gloucester Massachusetts to watch the waves and the stars along Ocean Street at White Beach. His voice was extremely charged and treble likeas if he knew something wonderful was about to happen.

Enter Phil Oxford. Phil was standing in Danvers square two years earlier in 1974 at 3 AM waiting for some people who were supposed to give him a ride to an island party but never arrived. We were the only two in the square at that hour, so I approached and asked him if he wanted to go to a concert. He replied, “Yeah, who’s playing?” I answered, “Me” with a half smile and a sparkle in both eyes. It was the show I performed in at Silver Lake, New Hampshire with a view of Mt. Chocorua—the place of my childhood miracle of being miraculously saved on the mountain—poised majestically above the sapphire blue water in full view of the shoreline stage. So that very next day, I brought him along to see the show. Phil plays guitar, writes and performs awesome and interesting original music and has worked in Florida doing both Foley work and a Beatles II act for Disney. When we met, he had just moved on from the Drum and Bugle Corps as a marching drummer and was about to gain a huge inspiration from the concert in all its majestic surrounds the next day.

On the night of September 26, 1976: We arrived at the beach at about 9:30 PM. The air was crisp and cool with extreme low humidity. Millions of stars seemed to be visible. I had never seen such a clear night especially on the coast. Bruce parked the Mustang in a service passage amidst the stony sea wall and we walked down on the beach sand to near the water’s edge. We were deeply engaged in a conversation about telepathy and telekinesis this time instead of the typical and more usual conversations about life, the times, music, movies, etc. Suddenly, I sensed a presence behind me as the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. It was the kind of sensation when a close friend enters the room, you know who it is without looking. I turned 180° facing North back to the car and a little above it. The Big Dipper (The Great Bear), was looming gigantically and perfectly flat parallel to and just above the horizon. In the absolute perfect center of the four stars of the pan sat a globular object evenly glowing reddish-orange across its whole surface at a distance of about three miles hovering tightly in place without the slightest movement. Now we combine with an earlier edition:

At exactly 10:08 pm EST, a globular object emitting red-orange light—the point contact vehicle—the first visually acquired of three—was sitting geometrically/equidistantly at perfect center amidst the four stars of the pan of The Big Dipper; and the pan was sitting notably flat just above the northern horizon. The pan sitting flat or parallel to the horizon occurs within a two minute window thus making it easy to note exact time using astronomical software. Without hesitation, I sent a message with my mind saying, “Approach, I am not afraid.” The object immediately began a descent along a slightly sloping downward trajectory straight for me. As the object approached, both Phil and Bruce were coming up behind me from the beach and flanked me on either side, Phil to my left and Bruce to my right. They saw me holding up my arms in welcome while standing on either side of me in awe. Phil put up his arms as well. The object closed within 50 feet just across the road, was 30 feet in the air and was as big as a two story house. And it came to a dead stop in the air without making a single sound. The object(s) were identical to the objects seen previously in 1972 where four of them, also spherical (or globular), flew directly and silently above me at 200 feet altitude headed South in a lock tight rectangular formation. This had taken place along Enon St. in North Beverly Massachusetts. And witness, Michael Flynn, a street hockey buddy, saw them as well.

Suddenly there was an effect as if time had slowed. Then, after some time had transpired, a Manchester Police unit emerged onto the beach, turned on his blues and bolted out of there in a hurry. At first, I thought he didn’t see what was happening on either side of him in plain view but instead had caught sight of drunks further up the beach. But he drove past them and left the beach completely. Then the object turned from white back to red in color (a uniform field of light emanating from the whole surface of the object in both instances, receded backward along its original approach trajectory heading, stopped at a halfway point, elevated vertically to 4,000 ft., made a right angle turn and headed straight over our heads and aligned perfectly in between two other globes also glowing red. And, making yet another right angle turn, the three objects moved away slowly in an “I” formation toward the eastern sky and out of sight. I didn’t know it at the time, but there was some serious time missing that night which was later verified using astronomical software and in regression 21 years later with Mr. Joe Nyman, a founding American UFO researcher. At the close of this event, there was an intense meteor shower which lasted for an hour and the bay at Kettle Cove was full of long silver fish jumping high out of the water by the thousands. I reported the whole incident to the county seat police station in Salem. To my surprise, the desk sergeant confirmed without reservation that “dozens of calls” had come in on the same incident. But the Air Force was much less cooperative—even though the point contact object had flown directly above the USAF antenna station at Sky Top Road.

I knew at that moment that visitors from the stars are definitely here, they want peaceful and substantive contact with a prepared global citizenry and that powerful interests, governments and corporations are ripping off and poisoning the earth’s peoples with their archaic and expensive technologies, taxes, fees and costs. And now it was time to travel, to observe, to educate and to grow to a new height. My feet were set upon a path nothing could change. So after a few bedazzled months, I suddenly decided to throw everything in the station wagon and head west. I even left without collecting my pay from painting a house. It was time to go. Phil came along on that first trip. And, while we were en route to California, we had another mutual sighting (the same type reddish glowing globular craft that surrounded us the year before) in the wee hours of July 4, 1977 just east of Kingman Arizona. This object would follow on the driver side and then cross over to the passenger side so that we could both plainly see it. This went on for seven crossovers and then it shot out of sight to the west in the direction we were heading. Not long after, we crossed the bridge over the Colorado River into California. Just as we hit mid-bridge and came to the "Welcome to California" sign, the musical phrase: "Welcome to the Hotel California" played at that precise moment—what timing! That earned a mutual belly laugh.

In the desert, we climbed a small mountain at sunrise--just a sheer rise overlooking the highway. Then we slept in the car on a street in East LA. We were awakened by residents who were musicians and upon their noticing my Farfisa organ and Leslie 147 speaker in the back, we were offered to play at an all day party on a roof top across from the Chinese Theater in Hollywood. Then we left there while there was still daylight and arrived at Santa Monica at dusk to see one awesome fireworks display. There, we found one remaining parking spot just two car lengths from the Santa Monica cliffs. And two elderly people who were sitting at the primary vista at the edge, THE most excellent viewing spot there was, were just getting up to leave. And we were there at just the right place and time to claim the spot before anyone else could move into it. There was a millon people below us on the beach stretching as far as the eye could see in either direction. And just then, five major fireworks along the coast commenced and we could see them all from that beautiful vantage point. More than the exquisite welcome to California this was, this was also a welcome to the advent of open contact.

It had been 20 years since Phil and I had last seen each other until our recent reunion in Beverly, Massachusetts USA on September 26, 2004. He was living in Ft. Meyers Beach Florida and performing at fine beachside clubs and resorts as a solo guitarist and vocalist. We returned to our Contact site at White Beach to relive the event.