Page 36 - the NOISE January 2014

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I kicked at the garbage on the floor, but all I found was a rusty old six-gun. Who knows, maybe Wyatt Earp visited the gambling den here and lost it. I walked south for a block to the basement under Crystal Magic, which is in the second oldest building in Flagstaff. I knew that a young girl had been killed in this basement. I didn’t see her ghost, but I did find a white dress with what could be a large black bloodstain on the collar. It was half-buried in the dirt and covered by an old newspaper dated May 19, 1952.
My next stop was the famous “secret” room under the basement of the Hotel Monte Vista. This historic hotel opened in 1927 and has hosted John Wayne, Bing Crosby, Harry Truman, and many other famous people no one cares about anymore. During Prohibition the speak- easy at the hotel ran a profitable bootlegging operation. The room I found was stuffed with old slot machines. There was also a rocking chair, which was rocking back and forth when I entered the room. This was odd; the breeze must have stirred it when I opened the door.
I hurried out, back to the main tunnel under Aspen Avenue. I made a brief stop in the base- ment of Armadilla Wax Works, and discovered a secret the former proprietors of the candle shop must have hidden for many years. Several full-size human figures apparently made of wax stood in a circle facing each other. It was only when I got close and scratched off some of the wax that I realized they were actually dead people encased in wax. I shivered and left quickly, trying to forget what I had seen. I vowed not to tell anyone about it since I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.
A short walk brought me to the sub-basement of the Flagstaff Masonic Lodge No. 7, at 107 E. Birch. Most of the room was empty, as if someone had tried to clean it out, but there was a small trunk in the corner under a dusty tarp. It must have been overlooked in the rush to empty the place. I raised the tarp and a pink-eyed rat reared up and snapped its bloody little teeth. I saw that it had been eating another rat. I stamped my foot and it scuttled off.
The papers I found inside the trunk confirmed what most people already suspect about the Masons, namely that they have a network of secret operatives who work to influence world affairs. Fourteen US presidents have been Freemasons, plus Winston Churchill, many English kings, and lots of other world leaders. Today the Flagstaff cabal conducts its ceremonies in a red room at the “Black Lodge” in the forest north of town. According to the documents I found, the Flagstaff Masonic Lodge is mainly responsible for training hypnotized spies they can send to foreign countries. The most interesting document I found was a report marked “Top Secret” that contained photographic proof that the mayor and many members of the Flagstaff City Council are actually reptilian humanoids from the lower level of the fourth dimension. That explains a lot.
I walked back to the tunnel junction room under the intersection of Birch Avenue and Bea- ver Street and headed north. I stopped after just a few blocks because I came to a blockage in the tunnel. I dug around and was able to crawl through the barrier, and discovered the most amazing discovery of my journey.
There was a small community of people living in the tunnel. They were not exactly welcom- ing at first, but I assured them I was harmless and would not tell anyone they were there. I suppose outsiders (the surface people) would call these folks mole people or troglodytes, but I found them to be resourceful and admirable. They have refrigerators and stoves and other appliances they jack into the electric grid. They don’t have to work or pay taxes. I got the im- pression they spend most of their time watching television; all they wanted to talk about was some show called Real Housewives. I had a great dinner with them, a delicious meaty stew they called soylent, whatever that is. I bid my new friends farewell and returned to the main tunnel.
Feeling satisfied I had thoroughly explored the tunnel network, I made my way to a grate behind the City Court building where I scrambled up and out. It felt wonderful to breathe fresh air again. The weather was excellent; the bright sun was melting the last of the snow on the sidewalks. I felt bone tired and weary and hungry. When I got home I traced my route on a city map and calculated there are about 23 miles of tunnels beneath the city of Flagstaff, plus numerous basements, sub-basements, and previously secret rooms. When I drew all the tunnels on my map, I noticed that the overall pattern exactly matched the Chinese character for “flag.” Coincidence?
Since completing my subterranean journey I have experienced several negative aftereffects. I can’t seem to stop trembling, and I have developed Tourette’s disorder. I spend whole nights dreaming about being trapped in a pitch black room with a stone floor and dirt walls, unable to move while bugs crawl on me. Often during the day I suddenly feel numb and deperson- alized, as if I am dead. I was diagnosed with “psychic trauma” and had to go into intensive psychotherapy.
Just to be safe, I also went through an exorcism ceremony with a local priest and an Enemy Way ritual with a Navajo medicine man. The animal bite wound on my hand is now infected and is covered with some kind of fungus that is slowly creeping up my arm. I have a persis- tent hacking cough, and it feels like a mouse or bird or something alive is moving around in my chest. I feel so weak I can hardly walk. I still don’t have a girlfriend, and now I really need one to cook and clean and take care of me. I feel miserable, but I also feel a magnetic pull to return to the tunnels. It felt good down there in a way, so cool and quiet. Perhaps I will join the troglodytes.I sincerely hope this report will be useful in some way. I do not recommend that anyone explore the tunnels. In fact, they should probably be filled in and forgotten for- ever. They are dangerous. But the truth is down there. I have written my will; this report on my explorations may be my last testament. I will leave this document on my computer. If I do not return, please publish it so that my story will serve as a warning to others. If you value your health, stay aboveground and enjoy the warm sunlight and clean air. Forget everything you know about the tunnels under Flagstaff, if you can.
| Cayce thomason claims not to have been abducted anytime recently. thomason12345@gmail.com
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greatest hits CDs, neither of which contain anything prior to 1975, not even “Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man” or “Get Out Of Denver.”
A ten song CD entitled Early Seger Vol. 1 was released in 2009, featuring a measly six pre-’75 tracks (one is a re-recording) and a slim running time of 35 minutes. The name suggests further volumes are forthcoming but none have surfaced yet. Nearly half of Bob Seger’s catalogue remains unavailable to consumers outside of file sharing net- works.
Why? The tendency is to point the finger at Capitol Records, or some sort of contrac- tual mess with other labels, but the truth is that Punch Andrews and Bob Seger own all the masters of everything he’s recorded since the beginning. Seger ducks the ques- tion in interviews, spouting the usual bush- wa about worn out multi-track tapes and inferior digital transfering, blah blah blah. He once jokingly claimed to have buried the Brand New Morning masters in his backyard:
“No one’s gettin’ that one!”
Again: Why? Seger and Andrews just pass
the buck: Bob says blame Punch, Punch says blame Bob. A comprehensive reissue and re- mastering of Seger’s early work would raise the man’s stature among aficionados of un- derground culture, and provide a more well- rounded picture of his career. He might even win a whole slew of new fans. And can you imagine the mountain of outtakes and live tracks in the can from ten years of recording?
Why can’t he just say “f*ck it” and put it all out? Rumors abound online, but Bob and Punch won’t confirm or deny anything.
One theory is that Seger doesn’t want this stuff heard BECAUSE it proves he was a badass once, which makes his later material that much more crappy and lame, and him- self more of a sellout. One would hope that a musician with hordes of adoring fans around the world who unconditionally love every- thing he does would be immune to such self- doubt and insecurity, but you never know.
Another theory is that Mr. Seger is such a perfectionist that he can’t bear to release any of his early music because the master tapes are so worn down (and they weren’t record- ed that well in the first place) that he doesn’t want to cheat his fans by selling them infe- rior product. Take that with as many grains of salt as necessary.
My theory goes like this: Bob Seger’s poli- tics have changed.
Over two decades of constant touring, re- cording and partying can take its toll on a
man’s personal life. By the end of the 1980s, Bob Seger had been through two failed mar- riages and one long-term relationship that was coming to an end. He had reaped the benefits of his devotion to music and his fans and was now a million-selling artist, a legend. He could afford to take the rest of his life off, if he chose.
Bob Seger married his third wife in 1992 and they had two children, his first. He al- lowed his career to cool off to focus on par- enthood. He became a sailboat enthusiast. He could be spotted at high school football games, where his son was in the marching band. Just another proud father, albeit a lit- tle older and greyer than the others.
In the years following his mainstream suc- cess, Bob Seger has been embraced by the country music community as one of their own. Many of his popular songs have an easygoingdownhomelilt,andhehadahitin 1982 with “Shame On The Moon,” written by country singer Rodney Crowell. Garth Brooks, among others, have scored big on the coun- try charts with Seger compositions. The two have performed together as well.
Most country music fans, by their own admission, are outspokenly right-wing, con- cerned with “family values” and maintaining the status quo. And Bob Seger’s post-1975 output fits in with this mindset. In 1971, he sang “Too many people lookin’ back,” but a mere seven years later, “Old Time Rock & Roll” is doing just that. Seger’s latter-day sig- nature song is downright reactionary: “New music sucks, gimme the old stuff. If it’s good enough for mah daddy ...”
Way back in 1966, Bob Seger contrib- uted vocals to a novelty song (credited to The Beach Bums) poking fun at draft dodg- ers. But starting with his second single and continuing on through the Seven LP in 1974, Bob’s politics were firmly to the left. Per- haps not as radically as contemporaries the MC5 (but who was), yet definitely on the revolution’s side. “Persecution Smith,”“2+2=?”
“Leanin’ On My Dream,” “Lookin’ Back,” “U.M.C. (Upper Middle Class),” and even “Turn The Page” are just a few of Seger’s early songs with a left-leaning bias. He also performed at the 1972 “Free John Sinclair” rally in Ann Arbor headlined by John Lennon.
From 1975 on, however, Seger ceased writ- ing music with ANY political content, switch- ing to nostalgia-themed epics (“Weren’t those the good ol’ days?”) and silly love songs. The only vaguely political statement found in any of his later albums is “America
36 • january 2014 • the NOISE arts & news • thenoise.us