Script

Good evening, my friends, and welcome to My Dark Path. Prepare yourselves for a gripping historical journey—a case where UFO sightings, celebrity encounters, cunning hoaxers, relentless ufologists, and the ruthless CIA converge into one tangled, unforgettable narrative. I’ve been pursuing this story for some time, but its completion hinged on a single, obscure piece: a 1955 article from the Journal of Space Flight, locked away from the public. With the aid of a brilliant researcher, we’ve unearthed that gem, allowing me to bring you this tale in full. Does it provide conclusive evidence of extraterrestrials? The choice is yours. Yet, whatever you conclude, one undeniable fact stands tall: the government cannot be trusted.

On August 23, 1954, the technology magazine Aviation Week and Space Technology released a story that stirred the American population. It also angered Pentagon officials who were trying to keep the story secret. The short one-paragraph article in the Washington Roundup section stated:

Pentagon scare over the observance of two previously unobserved satellites orbiting the Earth has dissipated with identifying the objects as natural, not artificial satellites. Dr. Lincoln LaPaz, an expert on extraterrestrial bodies from the University of New Mexico, headed the identification project. One satellite is orbiting about 400 miles out, while the other is 600 miles from the Earth. Pentagon thought momentarily the Russians had beaten the US to space exploration.

The next day, the New York Times, drawing from Aviation Week, reported on two mysterious objects orbiting Earth. The story swept the nation within days, with many rejecting the official claim that they were natural asteroids—Earth capturing two at once seemed far too unlikely.

While researchers and the government raced to decode the objects, opportunists pounced, exploiting the public's fear and growing obsession with UFOs to peddle their own agendas.

In 1954, two sisters captured what they swore was an alien transmission—a tale that might’ve been dismissed or forgotten, had the CIA not worked to bury it. A 1997 CIA report later hinted at the truth, brushing off the recording and blaming the cover-up on rogue officers. Yet, I’m not convinced their excuses hold water.

I used to trust the government’s word on big issues. But after seeing them hide the truth about the coronavirus and vaccine safety, I now doubt everything they—and their media allies—claim as fact. That skepticism runs deepest when it comes to UFOs.

Hi, I'm MF Thomas, and welcome to My Dark Path. In every episode, I explore the obscure corners of history, conspiracies, and the unexplained. Check us out on YouTube, X, and Instagram. I'd also like to thank our Patreon supporters. Check out our Patreon, where subscribers will have access to exclusive full episodes starting with our special miniseries, a My Dark Path tour of history, science, and the paranormal in Cold War Moscow, I call "Secrets of the Soviets."  And if you'd like to buy one of my four novels, you can find links to them in the show notes.  And so, let’s get started with season 5, episode 73, the Doublemint Twins vs. the CIA.

Part 1

The idea that satellites were orbiting Earth in 1954—three years before the Soviets launched the first artificial satellite—startled the American public and government. For all the anxiety this news generated at the time, I’ve found no definitive technical explanation about their origin or fate. Hypotheses suggest the objects were either natural asteroids temporarily captured by Earth’s gravity or false radar signals.

Whatever the truth, the orbiting objects were very real in the public’s mind in 1954. Their discovery reinforced the paranoia of the time, as Cold War fears mixed with unresolved UFO sightings. It also drew out charlatans eager to exploit the public’s fascination with alien visitors. 

Richard Miller was one such man. Born on July 2, 1930, his early years coincided with the Great Depression and World War II. While I’ve found no specifics about his birthplace, family background, or education, it’s clear Miller gained strong technical skills in electronics and radio communications during his U.S. Air Force service. 

However, Miller’s time in the Air Force wasn’t without incident. Years later, his mother-in-law, Mrs. Quinnell of Detroit, told a newspaper that Miller "had some trouble about some radio equipment" but still received an honorable discharge. The exact nature of this trouble remains unclear—perhaps he was caught with Air Force radio equipment.

After his military service, Miller returned to Detroit and began selling cars for an auto dealer named Randall Cox. But his true passion lay elsewhere: in the study of UFOs. It’s unclear what sparked Miller’s obsession with alien contact, but by 1954, at age 24, he made his first attempt to communicate with extraterrestrials.

This wasn’t a private endeavor Miller pursued in secret. Instead, he was remarkably public about his efforts, convincing his boss, Randall Cox, and several others in a local UFO group that he had uncovered something extraordinary. As you’ll see, Miller’s compelling personality played a key role in selling his story. 

Miller claimed he was in communication with an alien ship orbiting Earth—and, even more provocatively, that the aliens would speak to him and anyone else he invited. 

That’s a bold assertion, especially to share with your boss and peers. Yet, Miller’s credibility as a radio and communications expert, combined with the era’s fascination with UFOs, made his story plausible. Just two years earlier, in July 1952, the nation had been gripped by UFO sightings over Washington, D.C. Multiple unidentified objects were detected near the White House and the U.S. Capitol, with civilian and military witnesses reporting high-speed maneuvers that outpaced scrambled fighter jets.  The incident made headlines worldwide, fueling public and government concern. 

Now, with the world abuzz over two mysterious objects orbiting Earth, Miller’s boss and friends were primed to believe him—or at least not dismiss him outright. So, they agreed to join him in an attempt to contact the aliens via radio. 

On an unspecified date in 1954, the group arrived by car at a location outside the city, as directed by Miller. They parked, perhaps wondering if they were about to witness something incredible or fall victim to an elaborate prank. 

Miller tuned the car radio to a static-filled station, then announced he needed to leave to signal the aliens. He walked out of sight over a nearby hill.

As dusk turned to night, Cox and the others began to suspect they’d been fooled. But then, the radio crackled to life, replacing the static with an odd yet understandable voice speaking English.

Though the exact words are lost to time, Randall Cox later shared the gist of the message with a newspaper reporter.  The voice claimed to be an alien aboard a spaceship orbiting Earth. It boasted of advanced technology, including the ability to observe the group from afar as they listened. Then, as suddenly as it began, the transmission ended, and the radio returned to static.

The group sat in stunned silence until Miller returned from over the hill.

It’s unclear if they noticed Miller had been absent during the entire message. Despite their desire to believe, the event strained credulity. Cox grew suspicious and later confronted a radio operator who had helped Miller, who then revealed the truth. 

The truth emerged: Miller had set up a short-wave transmitter in an abandoned truck half a mile from the car. Using this, he had "cut in on our car radio with his phony message from the spaceship," as Cox later told a reporter. It was, In Cox’s words, "hogwash."

Though I’ve found no records to the contrary, it’s safe to assume this extravagant hoax ended Miller’s career in the auto industry. He went silent for a year or two before resurfacing in California with an even more audacious tale of alien communication—but that’s a story for another day.

For now, let’s return to the broader frenzy surrounding these mysterious satellites—even if they weren’t communicating with Richard Miller.

Part 2

In August 1954, Aviation Week and Space Technology dropped a bombshell: unidentified objects were orbiting Earth, and the Pentagon was racing to figure out what they were. With Cold War tensions between the U.S. and the Soviet Union running hot, these mysterious objects weren’t just a curiosity—they hinted at a potential national security crisis.

The story didn’t start there, though. Earlier that year, the U.S. Army had tapped Clyde Tombaugh—the astronomer who discovered Pluto—to search for near-Earth asteroids, possible stepping stones for space exploration. His mission was public, but the findings? Shrouded in uncertainty.

Then came Dr. G.M. Clemence, a leading astronomer quoted in the Science News Letter. He argued the odds were “very good” that small, natural satellites orbited between Earth and the moon—ideal candidates for space platforms, if only they could be spotted.

But the plot thickened in May 1954, when Donald Keyhoe—a respected naval aviator and co-founder of NICAP—hit the airwaves with a wild claim: artificial satellites were up there, and the government was covering it up. He pointed fingers at scientists in White Sands, New Mexico, including Tombaugh, alleging they were tracking these objects. Tombaugh shot back in Popular Mechanics, insisting the reports were “not correct” and had nothing to do with “flying saucers.”

By fall, the public was hooked—and confused. Were these objects real? Natural or man-made? If man-made, who put them there—the U.S., the Soviets, or someone else entirely? Newspapers and radio shows buzzed with theories as the government scrambled to downplay the panic. But the official line unraveled when General Nathan F. Twining, Air Force Chief of Staff, admitted that while 90% of UFO reports were “pure imagination,” 10% baffled even the experts. “We just don’t know about that 10 percent,” he said, a rare crack in the military’s armor that only fueled the fire.

With questions piling up and trust in the government fraying, the mystery took on a life of its own—priming the scene for two unlikely sisters to step into the shadows of the unknown.

Part 3

In late 1954, radio host Jim Mills—a well-known broadcaster and UFO enthusiast—decided to conduct an experiment, convinced that the mysterious objects orbiting Earth were alien satellites. On November 28, at Chicago’s WGN radio station, he welcomed UFO researcher John Otto as his guest. Otto, a member of the Detroit Flying Saucer Club (like Richard Miller, whom we met earlier), stood apart from Miller’s dubious reputation. He was a genuine researcher, captivated by UFOs. Though Otto would later denounce Miller’s stunts, that night, he and Mills shared a daring vision: to contact the orbiting satellites. The idea was irresistible, so they crafted a secret plan, unveiling it only when the time was right.

At exactly 11:15 p.m., during the live broadcast, Mills dropped a bombshell: they would send a signal to the satellites and invite the aliens to reply directly to WGN’s audience. In ten minutes, at 11:25, they’d issue the prompt "Come in Outer Space" to summon the response. Mills noted the short notice—just ten minutes—was intentional, designed to stop pranksters from using radio equipment to fake a signal.

Mills outlined the next step: after the prompt, he’d silence the studio microphones for fifteen seconds, keeping WGN’s signal live. The aliens, they hoped, would hijack the transmitter and beam their message to Chicago’s listeners. He urged the audience to grab tape recorders and prepare to capture the alien transmission.

At 11:25, Mills spoke the words "Come in Outer Space" and cut the microphones. He and Otto tuned into a studio radio, eager for a reply. But after fifteen seconds of silence, they heard nothing. With the show ending at the half-hour mark, they signed off, disheartened by the apparent failure—or so it seemed.

Then, the phones at WGN began to ring. Four listeners within the station’s range insisted they’d heard the alien message. Decades later, declassified CIA files revealed that five Chicago ham radio operators also claimed to have recorded it. A Wisconsin listener reported taping the signal too, though his recording vanished.

Among the callers were sisters Marie and Mildred Maier, who lived just north of the studio. They were livid, certain the UFO stunt was a hoax. Following Mills and Otto’s advice, they’d recorded the fifteen-second window. But instead of silence, their tape picked up strange tones—eerily like Jingle Bells.

Though furious at the supposed trick, Marie and Mildred weren’t easily fooled. They’d spent a decade in advertising as the original Doublemint Twins, famed for pitching chewing gum. Their media savvy fueled their skepticism—but what they’d captured hinted at a mystery beyond any marketing ploy.

Part 4

William Wrigley Jr., the inventor of Doublemint chewing gum, was born on September 30, 1861, in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He grew up in a modest, entrepreneurial family—his father, William Wrigley Sr., ran a small soap business, where young William learned sales by helping sell soap door-to-door. His mother, Mary A. Ladley Wrigley, managed the household and educated their children.

At age 11, William Jr. began selling newspapers—a common job for boys at the time. To stand out, he bundled his papers with small extras, like candy or trinkets, to attract more customers. By 13, he’d left school to work as a soap salesman for his father’s company, honing the sales skills that would shape his future. At 29, with just $32 and a bold vision, he moved to Chicago to start his own business. He first sold soap, offering baking powder as a promotional incentive. But when customers showed more interest in the baking powder, he pivoted to selling that, bundling chewing gum as a freebie. History repeated: customers preferred the gum, leading Wrigley to focus solely on it by 1893.

In 1914, Wrigley launched Doublemint gum, named for its unique selling point: a double dose of peppermint flavor that was stronger and longer-lasting than rivals’. He poured money into advertising, starting with billboards and newspapers, then expanding to radio and TV. In 1939, the company introduced the Doublemint Twins, first as stylized drawings in magazines and newspapers, later as live models.

And that, my friends, brings us to the Maier sisters—Marie and Mildred from Silverhill, Alabama—who became the first real-life Doublemint Twins.

Growing up, the sisters milked the family’s cows each morning before catching the bus to school. Marie, the elder, taught Mildred to sing in harmony during chores, and soon they were performing at local events. Their father, a founder of the Robertsdale Hub Truckers cooperative, later sent Marie to Chicago to market potatoes. Her confidence and charm made her a top seller. During one such trip, she saw a Vaudeville show and was instantly captivated by the stage.

Back home, Marie persuaded Mildred, then a student at Robertsdale High, to join her in auditioning for a top Vaudeville producer. They landed the gig, performing with the act Pete 'n' Piddle. Audiences loved their blend of singing, miming, and comedy. Marie even became Miss Tavern Pale Ale, gracing posters and ads. The sisters’ signature look—bright apricot hair and hazel eyes—set them apart.

By the 1930s, the sisters were established entertainers, performing as a musical duo and starring in their own radio show, Women with Wings. In 1939, Wrigley chose them as the first Doublemint Twins.

Though marketed as twins, the sisters were nearly a decade apart—Marie born in 1906, Mildred in 1915. Their mother chaperoned their early tours, and even as Doublemint Twins, they never chewed gum; their mother deemed it unladylike. From 1939 to 1940, they tirelessly promoted the brand on radio.

It’s unclear when or why the Maier sisters became fascinated by UFOs, but their 1954 recording wasn’t their first brush with the subject. As I’ll explain, the recording left them so intrigued that they sought out experts to analyze it—including HB Ketchum at the Journal of Space Flight. This wasn’t a tabloid but a respected monthly publication on space exploration, published by the Chicago Rocket Society. The article about the sisters detailed their longstanding interest in UFOs. Unfortunately, while it’s often cited, no transcript was available. Even the CIA’s 1997 report, The CIA’s Role in the Study of UFOs, 1947-90, mentioned it only in passing. My search led me to rare book dealers and eBay, where I collected nearly every 1955 issue of the Journal—except February, the one with the Maier article.

Finally, with a library science expert’s help, I secured a copy of the original article: "Report of an Interview Concerning the Photography of an Unidentified Flying Object and the Receipt of an Unexplained Radio Code."

HB Ketchum, the article’s author, based his account solely on his interview with the sisters. The article starts out: "Miss Mildred Maier and her sister Marie Maier of 3812 North Ashland Ave., Chicago, Illinois have long been interested in photography. Perhaps this interest results from the fact that they have been in the theatrical business for years including stage, dramatic, radio, and television productions and have posed for commercial photography. Their interest in UFOs is of a more recent nature, although they have read most of the available books on the subject and are aware of material reported by others. [This] story has to do with three different occasions entirely unrelated to each other and happening at different times."

And so, let’s explore the Doublemint Twins’ fascination with UFOs.

Part 5

Mildred and Marie’s first UFO encounter occurred on June 30, 1954, when they captured mysterious images during a solar eclipse from their third-floor apartment in Chicago. Using a Speed Graphic camera equipped with a sun shade and mounted on a tripod, they photographed the eclipse through their living room window. The camera produced 3½" x 4½" images. Upon developing the negative, two faint, round objects appeared on either side of the eclipse in asymmetrical positions, described as ethereal, orb-like shapes. One object displayed a shaded center, suggesting an indented surface. These objects were not visible to the naked eye during the photography session. A commercial photographer examined the negative and dismissed lens reflections as the cause.

I finally tracked down a copy of this photo—and if you’re not watching on YouTube, you can see it at mydarkpath.com—and the spheres are unusual. Seeking further insight, the sisters sent the photographs, along with explanatory letters, to National Geographic and Life magazines. Both returned the submissions, suggesting they consult a scientist or astronomer. At the Adler Planetarium, a spokesman dismissed the images, stating they showed no evidence of “flying saucers” and emphasizing his directive to debunk such theories. The sisters even showed their prints to Leslie Desmond, a former RAF flyer and British Air Ministry member, co-author of Flying Saucers Have Landed. Desmond told them that two Norwegian scientists, who had photographed the same eclipse from 15,000 feet, had captured similar objects.

Then, just months later, the sisters photographed another UFO event on August 21, 1954. The Baha’i Temple in Wilmette stood fully lit, marking the final evening of the World Council of Churches. The dramatic white building caught the attention of Marie and Mildred. Eager for a striking photo, they arrived at the site and, at approximately 9:30 p.m., began their work. Using the same Speed Graphic camera from their first event, they captured two exposures: one lasting a minute and another a two-minute exposure.

When the negatives were developed, the results startled the sisters. Five unidentifiable objects appeared on the film, divided into two types. Two resembled the anomalies from their eclipse photo, while the remaining three had elongated, teardrop shapes, their pointed ends converging like arrows aimed at a single target. Though positioned asymmetrically, imaginary lines through their tips met at one point. Despite my best searches, I’ve been unable to locate these photos. Remarkably, none of these objects had been visible to the sisters during the photography session.

Though skeptics might attribute these events to lens flares, they led the sisters to tune into the Jim Mills show on November 28. That evening, Mills and John Otto recounted multiple UFO events from that year—little did the sisters know, this was just the beginning of their journey into the unknown.

Part 6

After the Maier sisters called WGN to complain, the station recorded their contact information. Within days, Otto reached out, assuring them over the phone that the time slot was indeed left open and no music, like Jingle Bells, was played. He then arranged a meeting to hear their account firsthand and obtained a copy of their recording.

The recording was described as follows:

“…it sounded like a code being keyed at extremely fast speed - possibly machine keyed. The recording was slowed down to about 1/8 speed and it is reported that the code then sounded like weird musical tones belonging to a scale not associated with the familiar tempered scale of tones used in music.”

Otto shared the recording on various radio shows, including his own Out of This World on WGN. Listeners described it as resembling Jingle Bells overlaid with an eerie, telex-like hum. Unfortunately, no audio of the recording survives today.

The story could have faded into obscurity, just another of the 10% of cases General Twining deemed unexplainable—odd, but unresolved.

Given their determination with their UFO photos, Marie and Mildred refused to let the story die. They shared their experience with local UFO groups and even the Journal of Space Flight, which published the following account:

"The last event occurred on November 28, 1954 at 11:25 AM. The Maier sisters were wire recording the Jim Mills program over WGN because a review of UFO events was being made. During the program a message was broadcast inviting an answer from space craft if they were listening or present, and a 15 second period of silence was allowed for any possible answer that might be forthcoming. During this period, what sounded like an extremely fast code was heard and duly recorded over the Maier’s radio. This was not received by WGN and only a few people listening in heard it at all as was reported later."

The article in the prestigious Journal of Space Flight caught the eye of the CIA’s Office of Scientific Intelligence, which was eager to learn more about the mysterious recording. The CIA contacted other listeners who reported hearing the code, but with no other recordings available, the Maier sisters became the primary focus of the investigation.

After reading the article, the Office of Scientific Intelligence contacted its Scientific Contact Branch to recover the tape. The CIA would later come clean when Gerald K. Haines, an agency historian, wrote The CIA's Role in the Study of UFOs, 1947-90. This document provides a chronological examination of the CIA’s involvement in UFO investigations, spurred by pressure from ufologists for transparency.

As we now know, the CIA's role in UFO studies began in the late 1940s, coinciding with the Cold War and the first wave of UFO sightings. On June 24, 1947, Kenneth Arnold, a private pilot and reputable businessman, reported seeing nine disk-shaped objects flying near Mount Rainier, Washington, at speeds exceeding 1,000 mph. This sighting, dubbed the "flying saucers," marked the beginning of modern UFO phenomena and captured public imagination. Given the geopolitical tensions with the Soviet Union, the U.S. government, including the newly formed CIA, feared UFO sightings might be misinterpreted as advanced Soviet technology or other security threats.

So, two officers from the Chicago Contact Division—Chief George O. Forrest and officer Dewelt Walker—met with the sisters to recover the tape. Because the CIA publicly claimed no involvement in the UFO phenomenon beyond their brief role in the 1953 Robertson Panel, they couldn’t reveal their true affiliation to the Maier sisters. So, they did what any good, self-respecting CIA officer would do. They lied.

To complete their cover story, Forrest and Walker dressed as Air Force officers, knowing the Air Force was publicly associated with UFO investigations. We know from multiple stories I’ve covered here that the CIA was deeply involved in UFO research. Among the strangest is Senator Russell’s 1954 sighting of a UFO in the Soviet Union—an event the CIA covered up after Russell and his companions reported it.

Dressed in their false Air Force identities, Forrest and Walker knocked on the door of the sisters’ apartment. Upon entering, the CIA officers later reported that they had stumbled upon “a scene from Arsenic and Old Lace…the only thing lacking was the elderberry wine.” This reference puzzled me at first, but the story is a surprising one. Arsenic and Old Lace is a dark comedy about Mortimer Brewster, who discovers his elderly aunts are serial killers, poisoning lonely men with arsenic-laced wine as an act of “charity.” Mortimer also grapples with his delusional brother, who buries the victims in the basement, believing he’s digging locks for a canal. The play, and its 1944 film adaptation, remained a cultural touchstone a decade later.

There’s no indication whether the CIA officers were offered food or drink, but the sisters’ welcome was cool, though polite. They shared a scrapbook of clippings from their successful stage, musical, and advertising careers. The officers, wisely, feigned interest, earning the sisters’ trust. Ultimately, the sisters gave Forrest and Walker a copy of the tape, which the officers promptly forwarded to CIA headquarters upon leaving.

In his meeting notes, Forrest wrote that he believed the case was not a hoax. "In all seriousness," he wrote, "we don't think that the sisters themselves are trying to fake anything." He also expressed hope that the Chicago office would be informed if an answer emerged.

And now, we reach the final source of controversy—the CIA’s publication notes state that the CIA “analyzed the tape and found it was nothing more than Morse code from a US radio station.” As you’ll see, this is a rather blithe statement for what would amount to a cover-up lasting a decade. The Maier sisters and their recording might have faded into obscurity had it not been for one man: Dr. Leon Davidson.

Part 7

Leon Davidson, a chemical engineer at the prestigious Los Alamos Scientific Laboratory, saw UFOs not as alien visitors but as a sinister, terrestrial deception. He believed the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), under Allen Dulles, was orchestrating a psychological warfare campaign. Davidson’s theory? UFO sightings were fabricated by the U.S. government to manipulate public perception, mislead Cold War adversaries, and secure space race funding.

Born on October 18, 1922, in New York, Leon Davidson earned his doctorate in chemical engineering from Columbia University in 1951. His career took him to Los Alamos in 1949, where he worked on cutting-edge projects during the Cold War’s tense early years. It was here that Davidson’s fascination with UFOs began—not as a believer in extraterrestrials but as a skeptic convinced of a human-made agenda. By the early 1950s, he suspected the CIA, led by Director Allen Dulles, was exploiting UFO sightings for geopolitical gain. In writings later published, Davidson argued that Dulles used the public’s “flying saucer” obsession to trick the Soviet Union into wasting resources on nonexistent alien threats. Drawing on Carl Jung’s psychological theories, Dulles also promoted the idea of benign alien visitors, blending real military test flights with staged sightings, landings, and even alleged alien contacts.

Davidson’s central thesis was chilling: the CIA wasn’t hiding “aliens on ice” but actively promoting belief in extraterrestrial cover-ups. He pointed to Electronic Countermeasures (ECM)—a technology used since 1945 to create false radar blips—as a key tool in this deception. By generating anomalous radar signals, the CIA could corroborate eyewitness accounts of strange objects, lending credibility to the UFO myth. Davidson’s equation—ECM + CIA = UFO—encapsulated his belief that these signals, combined with sightings of experimental aircraft, were passed off as alien craft to obscure U.S. military capabilities.

Two pivotal events solidified Davidson’s convictions. The first occurred on May 17, 1950, when he sought access to the Grudge Report, an early government UFO study. Expecting data for his Los Alamos research, Davidson was stunned when the Air Force reclaimed the lab’s copy and ceased supporting his inquiries. The report contained intriguing details, including a RAND Corporation letter requesting access to files on the 1947 Maury Island incident, which Davidson later linked to figures in the Kennedy assassination investigation. He also noted that the green fireballs reported in the Southwest, discussed in the Grudge Report, were likely tied to U.S. research, a view shared by astronomer J. Allen Hynek.

The second event was the 1952 Washington invasion. Working in Washington at the time, Davidson gained access to classified photographs of a Navy guided missile that contradicted Air Force denials of UFO-like technology. He uncovered suspicious details: jet interceptors were inexplicably moved from Andrews Air Force Base, just four miles from Washington, to Delaware, 90 miles away, during the sightings, preventing visual confirmation. Edward Ruppelt, the Air Force’s chief UFO investigator, was barred from interviewing witnesses due to a sudden lack of available vehicles and was denied reimbursement for taxi fares. Most damningly, Ruppelt revealed that a CIA employee had predicted the Washington events days in advance. For Davidson, this was clear evidence of a CIA “field evaluation” of psychological warfare tactics, a view echoed by UFO researcher Donald Keyhoe in his book Flying Saucers – Top Secret.

Davidson’s suspicions deepened in November 1952 when he was invited to the Pentagon to discuss his theory that UFOs, if real, were American-made. Presenting a four-page list of questions to Colonel W.A. Adams and Major Dewey J.J. Fournet, Davidson found the Air Force’s investigation lacking, suggesting it was a cover for something else. A private screening of the Tremonton films—UFO footage from 1952—briefly convinced him that saucers might be real, but he later saw this as part of the deception. In 1953, he wrote to the Secretary of Defense, warning that the Air Force’s dismissal of UFO sightings could allow enemies to infiltrate U.S. airspace by disguising missiles as UFOs with flashing lights. His arguments may have influenced the Air Force’s 1954 policy shift, which took UFOs more seriously and stopped denying they might be American devices.

Davidson’s most enduring contribution to UFO research is his analysis of Project Blue Book Special Report No. 14, prepared in 1952 for the CIA’s Robertson Panel. The panel’s report, kept secret until 1958, was designed to assess public reactions to UFO sightings for potential psychological warfare applications. When the report was leaked to Keyhoe for a CBS interview, Davidson and Keyhoe pressed the CIA for answers. While Keyhoe was treated with respect, Davidson faced hostility. CIA officer Frank Chapin suggested Davidson had ulterior motives, even proposing an FBI investigation. Undeterred, Davidson published the report and his analysis in five editions. Though legendary in UFO circles, his work remains controversial.

Davidson traced the UFO myth to a broader CIA campaign under Dulles, who he believed sponsored saucer clubs, publishers, and contactee stories to amplify the phenomenon’s psychological impact. He pointed to George Adamski, a famous 1950s contactee who claimed to have met Venusians, as a government pawn. Adamski’s encounters, Davidson argued, were staged at Camp Irwin, California, using film technology and drugs, with military personnel orchestrating his “alien” meetings. A 1952 Life magazine article, “Have We Visitors from Space?,” was prepared with government assistance, further embedding the UFO myth in popular culture.

Davidson also scrutinized the UFO abduction phenomenon, drawing parallels between the 1961 Betty Hill case and the story of Candy Jones, a CIA courier subjected to hypnosis experiments. Both involved strange sounds and men “playing doctor,” leading Davidson to suspect CIA involvement in abduction narratives.

And this is where Dr. Davidson connects to the story of Marie & Mildred Maier.

Part 8

In 1957, Davidson stumbled upon the story of the Maier recording and reached out to the Maier sisters. Marie and Mildred shared their experience, revealing that they had given the recording to the Air Force for analysis but had never heard back. Intrigued, Davidson wrote to Walker, believing him to be a U.S. Air Force Intelligence Officer stationed at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, to ask whether the tape had been analyzed at the Air Technical Intelligence Center (ATIC). 

Walker's reply was vague and evasive, raising Davidson's suspicions that Walker was actually a CIA agent. Determined to uncover the truth, Davidson escalated his inquiry by writing directly to CIA Director Allen Dulles. He demanded to know what the coded message revealed and who Walker really was. The CIA, eager to protect Walker's true identity as one of their own, responded that another government agency had analyzed the tape and that the Air Force would follow up with Davidson. On August 5, the Air Force wrote to him, claiming that Walker "was and is an Air Force Officer" and that the tape "was analyzed by another government organization." They confirmed it contained only identifiable Morse code from a known U.S.-licensed radio station. 

Unsatisfied with the response, Davidson wrote to Dulles again, this time demanding the identity of the Morse operator and the analyzing agency. Both the CIA and the Air Force were now cornered—each had previously denied analyzing the tape, and the Air Force had falsely claimed Walker as their own. Desperate to maintain the deception, the CIA opted for an audacious ruse. They dressed officers in Air Force uniforms and sent them to meet Davidson in New York City, posing as Air Force representatives. The CIA officer insisted there was no shadowy super agency involved and that Air Force policy prohibited disclosing operational details. Davidson, however, pressed for the message’s content and origin. The officer promised to investigate, but later called Davidson to report that, since the signal was of known U.S. origin, the tape and related notes had been destroyed to save file space. 

When Congressman Joseph Karth intervened, forwarding a letter about Davidson’s claims of CIA deception, the agency doubled down. They told Karth that, aside from a brief role with the Robertson panel, the "CIA has not participated in any flying saucer activities and has referred all correspondence to the Air Force." They dismissed Davidson’s accusations, stating, "Mr. Davidson’s belief that this agency is involved in the ‘flying saucer furor’ and is using this as a tool in psychological warfare is entirely unfounded." Unfazed by the denial, Davidson accused the CIA of destroying evidence, boldly telling the officer, "He and his agency, whichever it was, were acting like Jimmy Hoffa and the Teamster Union in destroying records which might indict them." Fearing further scrutiny, the CIA’s Contact Division decided to sever ties, reporting to the Director of Central Intelligence and ATIC that they would no longer engage with Davidson. 

Years later, government historian Gerald K. Haines cited the incident in a report on the CIA’s UFO involvement from 1947 to 1990. He described it as "a minor, rather bizarre incident, handled poorly by both the CIA and the Air Force," which "added fuel to the growing mystery surrounding UFOs and CIA’s role in their investigation." Though Haines downplayed its significance, he inadvertently confirmed Davidson’s suspicions: the CIA was entangled in UFO matters despite their official denials at the time. Davidson concluded that the CIA was the mastermind behind the UFO phenomenon, fabricating major reports to mask experimental aircraft tests or conduct psychological warfare on American citizens. His theory challenged the popular belief that UFOs were extraterrestrial and that the government was hiding alien evidence. Instead, he asserted that the CIA "was solely responsible for creating the Flying Saucer furore as a tool for Cold War psychological research." 

The CIA’s strategy seemed to be: keep lying until you get it right. Strangely, this approach of simply ignoring Davidson worked. Eventually, Davidson appeared to abandon the case, and the tape from outer space faded into obscurity—until 1997, when the CIA revisited the story in their report about the CIA’s Role in the Study of UFOs. 

In 1968, the sisters moved into a grand house on Miami Beach. Mildred thrived as a real estate agent, while Marie became an optician, though she never left her advertising roots. Marie passed away in 1992, Mildred in 1997, and both were laid to rest in their hometown of Baldwin County, Alabama. Leon Davidson departed this world in 2007.

The Maier sisters and Davidson are gone, but their tale lingers—a whisper from the unknown. Was it aliens, or a government lie too clever to unravel? One thing’s certain: the truth remains just out of reach. One lesson remains: expect the government to lie about matters great and small—and act accordingly. 

This is My Dark Path, and I’m MF Thomas. Thank you, dear friends, for walking the Dark Paths of the world with me. Until next time, good night.