Post by Shadow on Jan 9, 2006 20:50:56 GMT -5
Rense
By Joe Duggan
Lincoln Journal Star
1-9-5
The old farmer called them healing machines. In a clapboard farmhouse without running water 20 miles northeast of North Platte, he spent uncounted hours twisting baling wire, winding copper strands and snipping tin pieces into hundreds of curios that surpass description.
The old farmer never called them art and he never fancied himself an artist, alchemist or healer, but he believed his inventions harnessed a mysterious power.
And he wanted to make them more powerful. So one day 30 years ago, he got himself down to North Platte and walked into Dryden's Pharmacy.
The young pharmacist at the back counter looked up at the man with the soiled overalls, scraggly beard and jack-o'-lantern smile. A bum, he thought, maybe a railroad transient.
But the old farmer walked straight ahead and the pharmacist saw something alive and disarming in those advancing blue eyes.
"He wasn't self-conscious or defensive, he was coming in ready to engage."
The old farmer needed "earth elements." After a few questions, the pharmacist produced several vials of mineral salts, which he offered for no charge. The old farmer was delighted.
Of course, the pharmacist had to know: What did he want with the so-called elements? The old farmer tried to describe his creations before inviting the pharmacist out to the farm to see for himself.
Most people would have considered the old farmer an eccentric quack at best, a disturbed fool at worst. But 26-year-old Dan Dryden accepted the invitation to see Emery Blagdon's healing machines.
On his first visit to the farm, it was pitch dark on a moonless night as Blagdon led Dryden to a wooden shed about the size of a single-car garage. A flick of a light switch left Dryden astounded.
"It was just an explosion of color and reflections," he said. "It was probably the biggest surprise in the world to me, this phantasmagorical display. The blinking Christmas tree lights were reflecting off the foil. The contrast between the outside dark and inside the shed was just over the top."
By Joe Duggan
Lincoln Journal Star
1-9-5
The old farmer called them healing machines. In a clapboard farmhouse without running water 20 miles northeast of North Platte, he spent uncounted hours twisting baling wire, winding copper strands and snipping tin pieces into hundreds of curios that surpass description.
The old farmer never called them art and he never fancied himself an artist, alchemist or healer, but he believed his inventions harnessed a mysterious power.
And he wanted to make them more powerful. So one day 30 years ago, he got himself down to North Platte and walked into Dryden's Pharmacy.
The young pharmacist at the back counter looked up at the man with the soiled overalls, scraggly beard and jack-o'-lantern smile. A bum, he thought, maybe a railroad transient.
But the old farmer walked straight ahead and the pharmacist saw something alive and disarming in those advancing blue eyes.
"He wasn't self-conscious or defensive, he was coming in ready to engage."
The old farmer needed "earth elements." After a few questions, the pharmacist produced several vials of mineral salts, which he offered for no charge. The old farmer was delighted.
Of course, the pharmacist had to know: What did he want with the so-called elements? The old farmer tried to describe his creations before inviting the pharmacist out to the farm to see for himself.
Most people would have considered the old farmer an eccentric quack at best, a disturbed fool at worst. But 26-year-old Dan Dryden accepted the invitation to see Emery Blagdon's healing machines.
On his first visit to the farm, it was pitch dark on a moonless night as Blagdon led Dryden to a wooden shed about the size of a single-car garage. A flick of a light switch left Dryden astounded.
"It was just an explosion of color and reflections," he said. "It was probably the biggest surprise in the world to me, this phantasmagorical display. The blinking Christmas tree lights were reflecting off the foil. The contrast between the outside dark and inside the shed was just over the top."
