Chapter 14: Nobles of the Mystic Shrine, Part 14

NARRATIVE of WARD COURIER/CONFERENCE with TED BENNETT

September, 2007

BUFFALO, NY

My meeting with Ted Bennett fell on an overcast September afternoon in the middle of the following week. The FBI offices were a little like I would have expected them to be, but there were surprises. The place felt more like a big business or law office than a police station. The antiseptic but pleasant eighth floor space I was sent to reminded me of the conference room of the attorney who represents my books. It had the same fine overlook of the Niagara River and Buffalo's waterfront. It had a similar condiment tray with high-end containers of coffee, hot water, ice, and six-ounce water bottles. It had a long table and chairs in the center of the room. In contrast to my cottage back at the school, it was spotless and dustless.

A man I presumed was Ted Bennett was seated at the center of the table and going through some papers in a file folder as I walked in. "Thanks for meeting us here, Ward," he said as he stood and extended his hand. When I reached for it, I saw that he wore his ID tag on his belt. I took my seat across from him. He set a file folder, two pens, and a legal pad in front of him.

Ted Bennett is a clean-cut, professional-looking man of about six-two. He has dark hair, an olive complexion, and brown eyes. He has an average frame for his height, and he looks strong and fit. I'd have picked him for a college rugby or lacrosse man. I'd also have picked him to be color blind. That day he was wearing a lavender short-sleeved button-down Polo shirt, a maroon tie, and tan khaki pants. A khaki jacket hung on the back rest of his chair. Still, I could see this guy going a long way in any field but fashion. He reminded me of Jack Kemp, the former Buffalo Bills quarterback who went on to become a U.S. senator. My dad knew Kemp, and I met him a time or two when I was a kid.

Bennett opened his strong, immaculately groomed hands in front of him and planted them around the white legal pad as if it was a stress reliever. "My dad's told me a lot about Prez Burns," he said. "Hope you'll give him my regards." I nodded.

"I've seen a couple of your books," said Bennett. "They're interesting." I nodded again.

Bennett opened the file folder and started going through the printed white sheets of typing paper it held. I could see the color copy of an article whose the banner was taken off the website MasonWinfield.com. I manage it under my pen name. Was this what he'd called me in about?

Bennett found what he wanted and set it before me on the table. It was a photograph blown up to the size of a normal piece of typing paper. It showed what looked like an adult human lower jawbone wrought in glass, resting on a navy blue fabric that really showed it off. The shot was taken with it on a metal display table that looked like it was in a lab. I was getting impressions of a veterinarian's examination room. Its teeth were so perfect that it could have been a dental model, maybe even molded out of clear plastic. The photo looked like a hi-rez lift off of a low-rent web page.

"What does that look like to you?" said Bennett.

"Looks like the detachable jaw to the crystal skull they often call 'the Mitchell-Hedges Skull,'" I said. "'The Skull of Doom.' It's a dead ringer for it if it's not the same thing. Where's the rest of it? Did somebody steal it?"

Bennett took another item out of the folder. It turned out to be the downloaded and printed version of my website article. "One of our researchers started poking around to try to see what there was out there on this general subject. This turned up."

"Glad somebody's reading," I said. "'Crystal Skulls and Short-Faced Bears,' Parts 2 and 3. Part 1 was a movie review. Before the movie came out."

"The Bureau wanted to interview you in the local office nearest to you, which is us here in Buffalo," said Bennett. "We're hoping you can save us some time."

"What can I help with?" I said, with sincere confusion.

"Bring me up to speed on the subject of the Crystal Skulls," he said.

"This is a funny topic to be talking about with the FBI," I said after a bit of a pause. "Is this personal or professional?"

"I'm interested," said Bennett.

"Aha," I said. I took a breath. "This is a murky subject. I wish you'd given me some time to prepare. I could have had a report for you."

"We don't want a report," said Bennett. "We've read your article. Just give me the overview of what you think about things. We can take it from there."

"Well, OK," I said. "Not sure where you really start with the Skulls, but here goes." I took a breath. "The Crystal Skulls are some of the most tantalizing items in world legend. It's a uniquely American cycle." I stopped and started again.

"The human skull has been a major symbol in Mesoamerica from the beginning of their artistic expression. The Aztec, the Maya, the Teotihuacan culture... It's part of their temple art. It's a real catchy image to some people today. Hell, look at the marketing images for the Grateful Dead!

"There are thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands, of crystal skulls in the world. They go from the size of ball bearings to the size of melons. Very few of them are true to life. Most of them actually look kind of goony. Most of them are cheap, recently made, and even mass-produced. There's no mystery about them. They are commercial objects, tourist items, some made out of plastic or glass.

"A few other skulls have made it into the museums. This is just a handful that seem to be bigger and more significant, probably because of their size or the buildup given to them in the gossip. Most of these look pretty primitive, too. They're made by Fred Flintstone and not Da Vinci. They probably aren't made by any of the original pre-Contact cultures like the Aztec or the Maya, either. They could very well all be recent and some may even be made by Europeans. You have to separate all of those from the legends about the Crystal Skulls."

Bennett was listening with interest. Everything about him was brown or tan: eyes, hair, skin, and even that suit. Occasionally he took notes. He was a lefty with a surprisingly goofy, looparound hold of the pen. For him, writing looked like a sheer act of determination. I bet myself that his script would be incomprehensible.

"According to tradition," I said, "there are a group of original Crystal Skulls. They are ancient, and they might be tools of healing, learning, communication or prophecy. They might be the holders of vast wisdom, like a big computer chip holding many libraries. They might be weapons, like metaphysical WMDs. The legends are all over the chart.

"Some people think the legendary Skulls go back to the most ancient Mesoamerican societies, maybe the Olmec or even before that. Other people take them all the way back to Atlantis. Some people even think they could be extra-terrestrial in origin."

I could see Bennett make a face. "It's in the modern mythology," I said. "It's out there in the speculation. From my perspective as a sort of folklorist, that's all that matters. If I had to summarize the big picture, I would say that the most consistent story-cycle maintains that there is a fixed number of original skulls that were once used in rituals by the Meso societies. Most people finger the Maya. The Maya get a lot of New Age buzz." Bennett smiled.

"Actually, the whole thing may be New Age," I said, "dating from the 1960s. I don't think there's any old writing from the Contact period about the Crystal Skulls. It may not be a tradition to the Native Americans themselves. I'll have to check around. I do know that no Crystal Skull has ever been found in an archaeological setting by professional anthropologists. They just turn up for sale, very often not even in Mesoamerica."

[To Be Continued...]