One day back in the '50's, I got a call from Fred Pohl - whom some of you have met very briefly here before. Fred was an old (very old - probably in his 90's then) but spry - very spry - geezer, and reknowned literacist and scholar. He had become enamored of the idea that there had been Pre-Columbian voyages to North America by various people from the Old world - notably the Vikings. To this end he had taken up the study of the Icelandic Sagas, in which he made a name for himself and through his publishing thereon, I was drawn into his orbit.

I was a young archeology student at the time and though primarily interested in finding and excavating local Indian sites, I was naturally interested in any claims for prehistoric peoples in New England of whatever derivation, so Fred often used me as sort of "eyes and ears" for field checks of his various notions and surmises.

This morning was one such call. "Bernard Powell!" he said in his clipped little voice (he always called me by my full name, and was very formal and proper. I believe he wore a pinz nez, as I recall. He was always nattily attired as they say, and never without a necktie when you met him. He was definitely one of the last Victorians….

"Bernard Powell" he said. "There is good evidence that I have come upon that possibly places Greeks - perhaps from the Golden Age of Pericles! - somewhere in the vicinity of modern day New Haven, CT!"

"Gee!" I said. "Dr. Pohl - that is just great! What a great way to start the day!" or something like that…. (lol).

It turned out then that Fred had gotten some reports of marvelous stone carvings in some obscure and forgotten niche of woodland along the Long Island Sound shore near New Haven. He had assembled a scratch team to go and investigate this and much desired that I come along. He had some constraints:

One, I was to meet him out along the Merritt Parkway about four in the morning. (He would be driving up from Brooklyn, where he lived). The Parkway is a major route leading up from "the City " (NYC) through our suburban part of the state. The hour seemed odd - but there was much to do as Fred confided, and serious investigators of these matters should never be dawdling abed when there were Vikings or Greeks or any such as that likely to be lurking about.

I said "Okay".

He said, "There's more…."

"You are to bring, Bernard Powell, several long coils of rope, and a lantern or two and a fair-sized stepladder. We will tie the ladder to my roof."

It seems there were "caves" or "ledges" or some such to be negotiated and Fred didn't want to be caught short. I thought a moment and then said,

"Well, I will be happy to join you all, and I can be out alongside the highway at four a.m. and all - but if I am standing there with a ladder and rope and lanterns, I will soon be scooped up the State Police, and my tale that I am on the way to see the only landing spot in North America where ancient Greek seafarers may have come, will be taken as most improbable I fear, and I believe my troubles at the Police Barracks will exceed all bounds of reason when the sun finally dawns this day!".

Something like that!

Fred saw the wisdom of all this and immediately forwent the ladder and ropes and even the lanterns - but I was to bring flashlights for all hands. This I agreed to, and this I did. The rendezvous went off smoothly and soon we were rolling down the Parkway toward New Haven only a scant 25 miles away. My other companions I can scarcely recall - I believe there was another student from maybe City College or somewhere out that way, and probably another book writer of some kind (book writers are much attracted to this Pre-Columbian nonsense, you see…). I do remember it was rather cool and we were all in stocking caps, which combined with all the flashlights present I felt might not go well for us should the Troopers decide to pull us over enroute.

But the trip went uneventfully and soon we were driving along a secondary shoreside road down near the Sound. The area was sparsely settled and many patches of woods grew right down to the water. Fred had a map his informants had given him and soon we had located the "spot". Daylight was breaking and we parked the car.

I say we had located the spot - but there was nothing to see - yet. We were at the head of a small marsh. Had an ancient Greek rowing galley once rested here? The idea seemed preposterous. All that saved it was the fact that this is a preposterous world!

The instructions were to push our way inland through the trees at the head of the marsh and we would "see it." This we did and soon we "saw it." Just inland from the tree zone was a rock ledge or small cliff maybe 30 feet or more high which ran along roughly parallel to the shoreline behind us. Great boulders and slabs of rock had fallen off this mini-cliff in ages past and the rough talus lay everywhere around us. But here and there upon the rocks were evidences of very ancient carvings of some kind! They were heavily weathered, and overgrown, and stained with time and lichens. But you would not have believed it!

There were "acanthus leaves" and fluted columns, and "Doric" motifs and all, and here and there bands of the famous stepped "Greek key" motif still popular with designers today after all these many centuries…

We couldn't believe our eyes! Had Myceneans perhaps preceded the Greeks - or accompanied them? Could there have been other artisans ? Had they intended to build a temple here? And so on and on. Pohl skipped about like a little old bird excitedly pointing out details. Best of all, we found the "King's Throne"! Pohl's informants had told him of this and we were concerned to find it. It was a sort of depression in the rocks with "armrests" faintly bas-relieved out of the stone on either side. And a faint headrest upright with what might be vines or tendrils or something creeping along its edge…

An army of Greek sailors and artisans must have once camped here - perhaps on their way home from the Trojan Wars! Perhaps Ulysses himself who had a penchant according to Homer, did he not, for getting into one scrape after another, had led them hither over fantastic serpent-choked seas to this far, fair land where they would settle and found a new Empire! (Presumably some of the party had been detailed early on to leave off their stone carving and scout out the land for any maidens, for it would be rather a short-lived Empire should this unknown land be devoid of the fair sex!).

Along about mid-morning, leaving the others to these and other speculations, I strayed off a bit myself - and climbed up the "cliff" face to the top. Here I came out upon the majestic sweep of one of the Sound's many old fine estates that line its shores both on the Connecticut side and the Long Island side. A beautifully trimmed lawn ended right at the cliff top. Further back up the slope was a magesterial old English Tudor behind a maze of well-trimmed hedges. Midway a small rose garden showed impeccable maintenance. In its midst, one of those spherical metallic garden globes sparkled in the sunlight. Nearby a hired gardener was puttering. I made my way thence.

"Good Morning!", I said.

' Mornin'", he replied.

"Don't mind if I look around a bit do you.?"

" Nope - go right ahead," he said.

It was then I noticed that besides the sparkling sunlit globe there was another pedestal in the garden - stone, weathered and fluted, and on top of it was a weathered carved stone human head. Classical style. Had snakes for hair and exquistely rendered eyes - the kind that are just socket with no eyeballs in them - which seems to have been preferred back in the time of the Ancients I guess.

"Nice statuary" I said. "Where'd you get it?"

I was feeling a vague itching sensation somewhere…

" Oh, the Missus had me drug that up here years ago. Got it down below."

"Down below," I repeated. "Down below what?". I had a sinking feeling that somehow I knew..

"You know - down there where you come up from at. Down below the cliff. Down where the old tombstone makers used to go…."

The itch had become intolerable and seemed to be spreading all over my body!

"Tombstone makers", said I? "What tombstone makers might that be?"

"Oh, years and years ago, big monument outfit up to New Haven uster bring all their apprentices down here and they used to go at carving them rocks and boulders down there. Ground full of that stuff! Didn't notice, huh? Well, guess it mostly grown over by now. Been no one down there for years I guess. But there's lots folks around here remember when they still uster come here. Monument company name still in theYellow Pages if you like…"

"No", I said. "No. Won't be necessary. But thank you anyway".

I began to retrace my steps toward the cliff edge. For a moment I thought of flinging myself off it….

"Yeah! Lots folks around here got Roman heads from down there. Wouldn't be surprised still some pieces left if you were to kick around…"

"Thanks ", I called back over my shoulder. "Thanks a lot…."

Fortunately, they were all sitting down when I got back - taking a rest break. Pohl was sitting in Ulysses' seat himself - the King's Throne! They took my announcement in good stride. After all, Pre-Columbian sites don't grow on trees you know (as my father would have put it most likely). And so you see, gentle friends, my early introduction to Skeptical thought and views was forged in the fires of romantic nonsense long ago. Compared to some of the capers I have known, why this Skeptics Board* quarrels and bickering is just petty stuff indeed! Petty indeed!

For I have trod where Ulysses most certainly did not - and this has colored my whole life!

End

*A sometime Web site I frequent when "time hangs heavy" as they say, and a good row works to settle the phlegm and all. Sort of fulfills the role of drinking in strange saloons and picking fights that served my Irish ancestors so well…