The incident involving the Reed family and their 1960's Diner made United States history in 2015 becoming the 1st UFO related case to be officially inducted into state history as historically significant and true. On November 3, 2015, Governor Charles D. Baker signed and issued a citation formally inducting the Reed encounter and Thom Reed into Massachusetts State history. Following a polygraph exam and archives by historians that confirmed the incident had altered the national progression of the area, the incident was then publicly inducted by State and the Historical Society. This decision was celebrated by the unveiling of a 5000-pound monument with live coverage by ABC News NY. The incident and records are now rightfully part of the Historical Society's Collection. The Village on the Green Restaurant was the center for discussion for the UFO Activity during the 60’s and 70’s. The craft observed was issued a C.E classification. Corn growing in the locality of the sighting was photographed at over 16 feet high, with round corncobs. Odd makings have also been reported in Sheffield corn fields, images can be seen from 2012 and 2013, on BLT Research. WSBS FM Radio broadcast the many calls and sightings of that night in 1969; their letter can be seen in the Roswell UFO Museum, alongside the Reed UFO Case. The Reed UFO Park is listed on Google Maps, Roadside America, and has received celebrity sponsorship.
Discovery Channel S1-E1 Alien Mysteries | Science Channels Uncovering Aliens | Travel Channels S1-E1 Paranormal Paparazzi | PBS New England Legends | Willow Tree |
International UFO Museum | Ben Hansen -TV's Fact or Faked | Travis Walton - Fire in the Sky
Thom Reed grew up in the home of William Roosevelt the grandson of President Roosevelt, in Cherry Hills, Colorado. His grandmother was employed by the Roosevelt’s with residence on the property. Thom’s late father Dr. Howard Reed was an Attorney and in public office. As of October 2015, the Reed UFO case of Sept 1st, 1969 officially became the first UFO Case to be inducted into the United States, as Historical Significant and True Event. This is Per the Office of the Governor and that of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts Historical Society. In 2015 a 5000 pound Monument was unveiled on its 46th anniversary, in honor of this modern day history. The “Thom Reed UFO Monument Park” was built this past summer and actually sits at the precise location of that Sept 1st, 1969 encounter in Sheffield MA. The Park Represents Progress and History, and will forever remain the location of the first "historically true" UFO encounter in the U.S. It’s open 24 hours a day and free to the public. This UFO Encounter has been the subject of several documentaries, as well as the S1-E1 launch of Discovery Channels “Alien Mysteries”. He is the founder of the International Model Management Agency, Miami Models and Director of “Paraween” a celebrity hosted Halloween event held in Salem, during Salem Haunted Happenings. An “ABA Top 100 Event”.
* GT Barrington Fairgrounds
* The Village Green Diner
* Sheffield School
* A Jukebox & Banana Seat Bikes
* The Craft Of 1966
* The Craft Of 1967
* The Craft Of 1969
* Doctors Reports
* Polygraph Test
* Police Statements
* News Coverage
* Old Sheffield Bridge
* WSBS FM Radio
* In Public Office
* United Nations 33/426
* Fathers Life Cut Short
* Our Gifted Child
* Insightful -N- Telling
* Historical Society Gets Involved
* Governors Office
* The UFO Monument
* Sponsors & Friends
* The Thom Reed UFO Monument Park
* The International UFO Museum Roswell
Lore Makes History
In the southwestern corner of Massachusetts, bordering New York and Connecticut, the sleepy rural town of Great Barrington rests just below the dense, rolling woods of Mount Washington State Forest. Great Barrington is among the small villages and townships that dot the Berkshires—a coveted vacation destination known for its outdoor activities, fall foliage backdrop, farm-to-table food culture, and thriving arts institutions. In 2012, it was named the #1 Best Small Town in America by Smithsonian Magazine. Through the heart of Great Barrington runs the lazy Housatonic River; zig-zagging in tandem with Highway 7, it threads Sheffield to the next town of Sheffield a mere 12 miles north. On the evening of September 1, 1969, these two towns became bound by much more than the Housatonic. Police calls surged, and the only radio station in town suddenly found itself inundated with phoned-in reports about a strange, disc-shape object seen in the skies performing erratic maneuvers over Sheffield’s Old Covered Bridge. This unearthly event, witnessed by countless residents, and which occurred in an area where sightings have been reported for decades, is now officially inducted into the annals of Massachusetts state history. Covered in mainstream outlets like The Boston Globe, the Great Barrington Historical Society’s January 2015 decision to acknowledge a mass UFO sighting as a “true and significant” event was a first ever for America. A 5,000 lb. “Sheffield UFO monument” has now been erected on the banks of the Housatonic River, and it was done so in a very earthly commemoration on August 26th, 2015. In front of the granite monument with a descriptive plaque, a 55-year old man named Thom Reed is on the verge of tears as he addresses an ample crowd. He dedicates this day to his family—who endured several episodes of high strangeness all those years ago—but especially to his late father and local politician, Howard Reed, who died under mysterious circumstances in 2006. The crowd comprises both Sheffield and Great Barrington locals, tourists, local news affiliates, and eyewitnesses to that notorious sighting, including natives Tom Warner, Gina Paul, and Ed Galata, who, among dozens of others, gave testimony to the Great Barrington Historical Society about what they saw that Labor Day evening in 1969. These are the people who finally feel some vindication after forty-six years of avoiding the subject in fear of ridicule, in addition to, at times, questioning their own sanity. Though perhaps none felt quite as vindicated as the Reed family, who found themselves at the center of the universe on that fateful night. Thom, who was only nine years old at the time, his mother Nancy, his younger brother Matthew, and his grandmother Marian, all got the shock of their lives as they were driving home in their Station Wagon through the Old Covered Bridge. The wooden boards rumbled under the tires as they emerged on the other end, when suddenly a strange, bluish light seemed to arise out of the swampy darkness, flickering hypnotically through the bank of willow trees. The luminous object was accompanied by an eerie, vacuous silence that fell over the woods as it neared their car. As Thom recalls, “it was the same feeling as all the air getting sucked out of the room.” The next thing the family remembers is waking up in a daze, all in completely different positions in the car, and jarred to learn that, in a single instant, nearly two hours had elapsed. The strangeness didn’t start or stop there, and the retrospect of the two young boys, particularly that of Matthew, reveal details of encounters even more disturbing… It was an event that would continue to haunt the Reeds, and not just in a purely supernatural sense. In its wake, the spirit of the community was splintered, and the town became divided between those who were benignly curious, and those who were belligerently dismissive. The atmosphere of the Berkshires, as it was in the 1960s, was already politically-charged. It wasn’t due to what one might expect (i.e. Civil Rights or the Vietnam War), but rather it was attributed to an underbelly of corruption, larceny and horse race fixing. The Great Barrington Fair was the last stop in the now nostalgic Massachusetts Fair Circuit, which prided itself on its small-town horse-racing culture, attracting families, rubes, and gamblers from all over the country. The Village on the Green diner, which Nancy Reed owned and operated in heart of Sheffield quickly became an unofficial public forum for the town to air both their fascinations and grievances about the strange goings-on. Feeling ostracized in a small town can be debilitating, especially if Howard Reed was considering a bright career in politics, and the Reeds eventually moved away after tensions reached their height in the wake of the 1969 event. Locals simply stopped talking about it—better to keep a skeleton in the closet than tear each other apart, like that old Twilight Zone episode “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street.” The same tension still carries on to this day, like a burning fire that can’t be put out, illustrated by the disappointing fact that within a few weeks of the commemoration, the Sheffield UFO monument fell prey to petty vandalism, being damaged and defaced with graffiti, including a big ‘X’ spray-painted across its plaque. Beyond their disheartening nature, such actions indicate a clear trepidation, and a festering denial of empirical evidence that something appeared over the Berkshire skies that night, and that this historic recognition is just the tip of a very preternatural iceberg. Confrontations with supernatural phenomena, as those who have studied such cases can attest, are both something very real to the experiencers, and something that which cannot be caught in the net of rationality. The Reed family, as you’ll come to know them, were an upstanding family with plenty to lose from associating with such subject matter. In addition to Howard’s career in politics, as well as education, the family was very involved in the religious community, making it harder to write them off as a clan of devil-worshipping loons. Nor did any family members have interest in said subject matter. By the late 1960s, not even many UFO researchers were aware of things like inexplicable time losses being connected to these kinds of encounters (Missing Time by Budd Hopkins was published in 1981.) Obviously, there is nuance here. Obviously, this historical incident cannot be simply chalked up to the tired it’s-either-ET-visitors-or-an-elaborate-hoax paradigm. If the paranormal shows us anything, it’s that nothing is ever as it seems. The Sheffield UFO monument now stands no more than 35 feet from the Old Covered Bridge, a famed landmark in of itself and the oldest of its kind in Massachusetts. The 91-foot, Town Lattice-style bridge crosses the Housatonic River in picturesque scenery that quite literally inspired the tranquil Americana visions of Norman Rockwell. Built in 1832, it functioned as a vehicular route until it was ultimately torched by vandals in 1994. A replica was erected in 1998, and has since been open only to foot traffic. For visiting tourists, it’s a nice little nostalgic experience of a quaint and bygone era of Americana. For locals, it’s a time tunnel trip into a formidable and clandestine past that is anything but buried.
[*]In this book, we equate the term Unidentified Flying Object (UFO) to the more current usage of Unidentified Aerial Phenomenon (UAP), recognizing that the source(s) of these encounters continue to allude us, and are the subject of ongoing inquiry.
The Great Barrington Fair: A Crown Jewel
The gap between city folk and country folk was always evident in this neck of the Berkshires. In a lot of ways, it remains that way up to the present day. Great Barrington gets the quaint, yuppie accolades in the press, being named by Smithsonian Magazine, for example, as the #1 Best Small Town in America in 2012 on a list of twenty. Sheffield, on the other hand, flies below the radar, keeping its more rural reputation as a quiet farming community. Each year the clashing between these two elements would reach its pinnacle during the Great Barrington Fair. As the last stop in the golden age of the Massachusetts Fair Circuit, Great Barrington was its coveted flagship. Attendance was known to have reached over 27,000. That may not seem like much until you consider the population of the entire town in the 1960s was roughly 6,624—not much less than it is today. Some came for the culture. Some came for the horse racing. Some came just for the idyllic views. The grounds were directly adjacent to the tranquilizing flow of the Housatonic River. The backstretch was tree-lined with a few weeping willows towering their feathery canopies over the track. The track was impressive for its size, with a club house and a grandstand, both with a capacity of about 1,500 people. There were always long lines for tickets, and the crowds were a constant sea of bobbed hairdos and short-brimmed fedoras. Horse racing writer Bill Finley described the milieu back then in an ESPN article: [The MA fairs] all had a charm that modern-day racing at major tracks so desperately lacks. Part of that was the outside attractions. There were the tractors pulls and 4-H shows, the cotton candy and caramel apple stands, the Ferris wheels and tilt-a-whirl rides. Part of it was the racing. Watching bottom-level claimers whip around a half-mile track might not be for everybody, but there were those of us who thought that brand of racing to be every bit as entertaining and as fascinating as Saratoga. The Reed family farmhouse was close to the grounds, a mere two miles. When the Reeds would arrive, getting out of Nancy’s gold 1966 convertible Mustang, locals would stare and point, as if Twiggy or Julie Christie herself just rolled up. Nancy Reed was quite the fashionista, and hip to the trends of Westport (her hometown), New York, and London alike. She carried a air of Art Deco panache—the famed 1960’s “Biba look,” in fact. On any given day, Nancy was clad in gingham mod dresses, wrap-style dresses, keyhole paisley maxi dresses, or boho tie sleeve tops. It was as simple as this: The Reeds were among the first New Yorkers to call the areas of Sheffield and Great Barrington their home, and their laxed, patriarch-free lifestyle did not fit into their God-fearing world. Nancy did well gaming. She would sit up close to the betting windows, up top of the stands, rather than down close to the track. She could watch the horses better from there, and by the end of the day she had a good idea what horse was running well, and it was quicker to the booths for the next race. One day she even hit the daily double, putting $200 down on it because a local tipped her off. Turns out he was just sweet on her. It was a big pay day for young Nancy. At first, she hadn’t considered where he picked up that inside tip. Nancy was still very much in the throes of her attained idealism in raising horses and her two boys on the same farm property that she herself owned. Her days of serving the Roosevelt family in Colorado and chasing sporadic modeling gigs in California were over. She was home, and everything seemed perfect. It wasn’t much on her radar, or on the radar of most people for that matter—the presence of a crooked culture of local cabals that fixed races and fleeced unsuspecting, out-of-town betters. There was a lot of money to be made. In fact, this dark underbelly was how established families in both towns attained their wealth. The record handle for Great Barrington’s track was $987,306. In today’s money that’s upwards of $7.4 million. Such larceny would reach its pinnacle in 1983, where investigations finally came down and effectively killed rural horseracing in these parts for good. In the meantime, it was cloud nine for anyone who bothered to show up, even if you were among those who lost at the track. The spectacle of the fair somehow made it all worthwhile. The track announcer on the PA could be heard well into town. The bells and prerecorded tapes blasting hits at the time, like “These Boots Are Made for Walkin” by Nancy Sinatra, or “Mr. Space Man” by The Byrds, coupled with the thrilled roar from the stands made for a surreal milieu. When the sun went down, all the blinking lights and illuminations from the rides and booths lit up the area. Nancy and Marian had a place for the two boys to meet—behind the bleachers—if they got separated. Until Thom was old enough to start hanging out with his friends, Nancy and he always went on the first ride together, and that ride was the Ferris Wheel. It would grow to be symbolic of a fun-filled and prosperous week. The ride was Nancy’s favorite, and it did become a tradition for them both. It was a tradition that would bond them not only in good times, but also in bad, when things verged into the unexplainable, the horrific. VW��@'
Flashes of bright light—like lightning—came from outside. It was ten, maybe eleven o’clock at night, and Thom and Matthew were in their respective bunk beds. Matthew was eating animal crackers in one hand, and clutching his favorite yellow tugboat toy in the other. They were having the kind of sleepless, rambling conversation that siblings who share bedrooms have. Nancy came into the room to close their window she had left open earlier. She always came in a second time, being a single mom. She saw the flashes too. She shook off the fact that the streaks she saws were vertical instead of horizontal. She figured it may rain. “A storm must be overhead,” she assured them, “but I don’t hear thunder. Don’t worry, it should pass soon. Get to sleep. I love you. Goodnight.” She shut the door as she left the room, and the boys continued their late-night chatting. It was then their banter was interrupted. They sensed that familiar change in pressure they had felt a year earlier. They felt placid, then funny, inundated with vibratory sensation “like the energy of a full moon,” Thom would later recall. A lighter feeling came again, a dead calm, as if all the air was sucked from the room. A bright light, in the shape of a hula hoop, appeared outside. Almost as if the lightning steaks met to from a circle. Matt sat up on his top bunk to see out the window. Thom leaned over across the ladder to see through the window more clearly. A flash suddenly fired into the room, flooding it with intense light. Thom was hit by a blast of it. It felt like the whitewater of a powerful wave. He went from lying down to standing up, being inverted 180 degrees (legs up in the air, head down), and then he felt he was wrapped up tightly—like packing paper—in white light. Suddenly Thom was gone, no longer in the room. Matt could see nothing but a cloud of light. The violent rattling of metal door latches and bolts on the bed scared him. He yelled at Thom, thinking his big brother was playing tricks on him, but when he looked below his bed, Thom had vanished. Tugboat toy still in hand, Matt jumped down from his bunk, not thinking of his leg brace. He opened the bedroom door and limped across the hall to his mother’s room, where Nancy and Marian slept. “Thom’s gone! Thom’s gone!” he shouted. Nancy and Marian didn’t respond. Not even a stir. Scared, he jumped in the bed with his mother, shaking her, calling her name. No response. He froze when he looked up. Two shadowy figures in the hallway stood at the top of the staircase. They were coming into the room. They were maybe five feet tall, with an egg-shaped head and a tear-drop body stood by his grandmother’s bed and began scanning the room, not really looking at him, but rather past him, through him. When they vanished from the room, the two women finally were responsive. Nancy jumped out of bed and followed Matt into the hallway, peering over the railing and scanning downstairs, as if already keen to the oppressive atmosphere bearing down on her home. Matt was leading her back to his bedroom, wanting to show her that Thom was gone, when what sounded like every door in the house slammed shut at the same time. Nancy was stunned, disoriented, not sure if one second or one minute had passed. When she went to grab Matt, she realized he too was gone. There was nothing there in the hallway. Not even his little yellow tugboat. ___ Thom instantly recognized it as the same craft he was in a year before. He was at the end of that question mark-shaped corridor, standing at the threshold of the all-too-familiar dark and circular room. There was an entity standing to his left, very human-like in visage, not at all ‘alien’ as we typically conceive. Thom stood there, inert, wondering if he was to enter the darkness before him. He could make out two matching, L-shaped tables. They had bronze tops, and what looked like braille, or raised symbols, running across them. A being stood at each of them. Behind the tables was where the large screen stood last time, on which he was shown the vision of the willow tree on the banks of a lake. The screen was off now, showing nothing but black space. Despite falling in and out of his placid state, Thom stood there in defiance, reluctant to cooperate. The being was looking at him, he was looking at it. Where’s my brother? Thom asked in his mind’s eye, almost in a demanding tone. In an instant, Matt appeared in the hallway behind Thom, to his left. Thom wasn’t sure if he was summoned there because Thom was acting insolent, or if he was always meant to be there. In retrospect, Thom feels a bit guilty of his selfishness in that moment. “Having someone there with you… makes it easier,” Thom later remarked. Matt was taken into another room where he remembers the beings examining the brace on his leg, along with his tugboat that he was still clinging to. Thom was then led into the dark room. He sees what was described as a spacesuit, and a box about four feet tall at the very end of the room near the screen. There were more entities in the room than he was able to make out from the corridor. Another hallway ran out the opposite end that seemed to mirror the same question mark shape. ___ The galloping of horse hooves echoed throughout the dark silent New England night. Nancy was desperate to find her two boys. There was a hay bailer on the property that, for the boys, was a no-pass marker. For if the boys ever fell off their horse or got hurt, no one could see from the house. Not just because of the distance, but also because the alfalfa grew very high. Nancy rode well past that, and even high on the Appalachian trail to try to gain a vantage point. Suddenly, the flood light by the barn shined on. She could make out a small figure in the driveway. She gripped the reins and galloped toward the light as fast as she could. Thom and Matt were standing out in the driveway about 15-20 feet apart staring at each other in a placid trance. Nancy dismounted the horse, scooped both boys up and took them back into the house. She set them down in the living room, lit a fire, and gave them baby aspirin with some juice and soda while she wiped them down with towels. Careful not to stress the shell-shocked boys more than they already were, Nancy and Marian did their best to elicit some answers as to their recent whereabouts. There was no response, other than the vibratory hum coming from the tin can in Matt’s tiny hand. “They’re gone now,” Nancy told the boys, as if to reassure herself. “They’re gone now.” With the family huddled together there, on the sofas, in the comfort of the fire, they wouldn’t leave the living room for the rest of the night.