|Posted on March 18, 2017 at 6:05 AM|
Stockton area link to lost city
By Michael Ftizgerald
February 17, 2008 6:00 AM
An aspiring screenwriter from Brooklyn contacted this paper the other day, researching a baffling 1934 Stockton incident, a mysterious man and the lost civilization of Lemuria.
Stephen Sindoni said he is writing a screenplay about J.C. Brown. Brown was either a geologist (his claim) charlatan or wacko (my opinion) or hunted man hiding behind an alias (Sindoni's deduction).
Whoever Brown was, it is a fact that he turned up in Stockton in 1934, claiming he'd discovered Lemuria.
Legend holds Lemuria, the Atlantis of the Pacific, sank in ancient times. In some variations, Lemurians, higher beings, retreated to a hidden city deep within Mount Shasta.
Brown, 79, introduced himself in respectable circles. Then he announced he had discovered a hidden tunnel in the Cascades while prospecting for the Lord Cowdray Mining Company of England.
"Eleven miles inside the mountain, and approximately 2,300 feet from the surface, I struck what I called 'The Village,' " he told a reporter.
The Village, actually big chambers, contained streets, ornate altars, copper- and gold-inscribed tablets, copper spears with flexibility beyond modern metallurgy, and unbreakable glass.
He also described 27 skeletons of beings up to 10 feet in height; an embalmed king and queen; other pretty fabulous stuff; and a fortune in gold, radium and copper.
Brown began holding daily lectures in a Stockton house. Owing either to his oratory skill or folks' greed for Lemurian treasure, he appears to have gained Svengali-like sway over his audience.
He told people he was worth $40 million. Nobody doubted. He revealed that distant mystic yogis directed him. People believed. He vowed to take them to Lemuria. People eagerly signed on.
Brown instructed them to assemble at the channel head at 1 p.m. June 19. A craft from his fleet, tricked out with a Lemurian glass bottom, would arrive to transport them.
Some folks actually sold their houses in preparation. And at the appointed hour, 80 Stocktonians assembled at the rendezvous, only to get the Lemurian-bronze shaft.
The boat did not arrive. Many waited all night. Brown did not appear. Police sought him "for purposes of questioning," but he was never seen again.
Investigation found he'd been living at a homeless shelter before he talked his way into better digs. His file suggested he may have suffered mental health problems.
A cynical reporter, expecting Brown's gang had been fleeced, was stumped to find that Brown never took a dime from anybody. So what the heck was it all about?
Nobody figured it out.
Until Sindoni got on the case. Sindoni said he became intrigued by Lemuria and J.C. Brown while surfing the Internet for a fitting screenplay subject.
Extending Sindoni standard professional courtesy, I pulled the story off microfilm and plugged a couple holes in his research. In exchange, I asked to interview him.
This arrangement was based on my assumption that Sindoni was writing a humorous tale of a con/crackpot and the suckers he duped with his Lemuria spiel.
But when I got Sindoni on the phone, it emerged he actually believes that Brown actually discovered an actual lost city of actual Lemurians.
"Yes, I do," Sindoni said.
Mount Shasta does, in fact, boast a large literature and lore about Lemurians, much as Nevada boasts lore about UFOs. Sindoni believes the Lemurian tales.
"Guy Ballard - pen name, Godfrey King - talked about being up Mount Shasta in 1930," Sindoni said. "He met St. Germain, who told him the ascended masters lived in the hollows of the earth in Mount Shasta."
Sindoni went on to share his belief, based on his research, that J.C. Brown was really J.B. Body, a lieutenant in the Lord Cowdray Mining Company of England.
It was Body who discovered the tunnel and descended into the Lemurian city. He adopted the Brown alias to evade government agents. They wanted Lemuria kept secret. Lemuria's existence was too explosive, Sindoni reasoned.
Stockton got too hot for Brown. Hence his abrupt disappearance.
Contact columnist Michael Fitzgerald at (209) 546-8270 or [email protected]
If anyone would like to leave a comment about this topic, I would be very interested in whatever you have to say.