My Library

When all of what is to be known about a situation is known, and you don't like it, then marching into the completely unknown is more preferable -- for better or worse. When I got to my studio, I went directly to the phone and rang up Dr. H. E. Puthoff at Stanford Research Institute. When he answered, I said: "OK, I'll come. When do you want me? I don't have enough money for an air ticket. How will we handle that?" "How about tomorrow? If you can get up the money, SRI will reimburse you for the travel expenses, and some per diem while you are here." (NOTE. It took SRI, with its millions or more of dollars, SIX MONTHS to reimburse me.) I called up Zelda Dearest. "I have to have some money to go somewhere urgent. Can you loan it to me. It will be paid back." I didn't tell her where I was going, or anyone else either. "Just say I've gone to screw my head off in Acapulco." I arrived at San Francisco Airport on 4 June 1972. Hal Puthoff was waiting to meet me. Until this day, and considering all that happened since, I've wondered if I did the right thing in making this first visit to SRI. I still don't know for sure.