Season 8, Episode 1
David Wilcock: All right. Welcome to “Cosmic Disclosure”. I'm your host, David Wilcock, and in this episode, we have a true special surprise for you, one of the original and probably the heaviest of the original Disclosure Project lineup from 1997, the most intense insider in that original meeting, David Adair.
So David, welcome to the show.
David Adair: Thank you. Glad to be here.
Wilcock: Tell us a little bit about . . . Where were you born, and what were some of your early childhood experiences that brought you into this bizarre arena?
Adair: Ha, ha, that's well-phrased. I was born in Welch, West Virginia in Number 10 Pocahontas Coalfields.
Kind of like Hunger Games, you've got different districts. I was Number 10 District.
Wilcock: Ha, ha.
Adair: And being relative, about three miles from where I was born is Coalwood, and that's where Homer Hickam of October Sky was born.
And he and I both agree there must have been something in the water in that place. But when . . . I knew there was something different about me.
My mother told me a story. She said I was only one and a half years old, and I was playing with a toy, and, of course, it's a model rocket, but it got caught between the refrigerator and the wall. And she didn't do anything, just watched me.
I was looking around, found a broom, could barely walk, get over there, sweep the rocket out, pick it up and take off.
And my mother said to my dad, Fred, “Fred, there's something not normal about that child.
Wilcock: Ha, ha.
Adair: “You know, he's already got tools and recognition. He's only one and a half.”
Adair: So by the time I was seven, I would go to the local library, and boy, that's when it started. I started reading books in the 600 area, the science, really hard science, and then mathematics.
And this elderly librarian named Mrs. Hunt, she was watching me and said, “Are you reading those books?”
And I didn't mean to be smart, I said, “Well, there's no pictures in them.”
And she looks at it, and she goes, “Okay, let's see what you know.” So she grabs a book, just a random . . . I think it was one on singularities with black holes, and it's just really basic theorems, because around 1962, '63, there wasn't a whole lot on the subject.
Adair: But you know, I read up on it, and I started explaining to her exactly how in detail it works with the mass star collapsing and graviton fields, event horizon, the opening.
Adair: And I was kind of drawing pictures for her, and she's watching me. And she said, “Man, you really do read this stuff.”
I said, “Yeah.”
Well, how many of these books have you read?
I said, “All of them.”
And she goes, “Why are you reading them now?”
“I'm going through them and correcting the mistakes in the books.”
And she just kind of stared at me, and I couldn't tell whether she believed me or not or just thought I was being smart.
But she said, “Tell you what. Would you like to get other books?”
I was like, “Oh, God. How can I?”
“Don't tell anyone, and I'll use resources and order them for you,” and she'd get stacks of them.
Adair: And from other books, there'd be references to other books. So that's how I built my list, and I must have read about, oh, God, 1,800 books in a few years.
Adair: And that was a real basis to work from at that point.
Wilcock: What ignited your passion the most in these 1,800 books or so that you read?
Adair: Space travel, pretty much so. Although I really liked all sciences – Earth science. I really liked Earth science, but space travel and propulsion, where it could go from then to maybe 100 years from now.
I just liked reading what people were trying to do or thinking of doing.
Wilcock: What was the most surprising mistake that you found in the books?
Adair: Their math. The math was off. I could tell right away. And there was a good reason for it. Nothing bad about the authors. They were just going on data that was coming off of satellites and probes and other research material, but we didn't have big computers then.
I could rework the math, extend it out and find where the errors are. And they really couldn't because they didn't have the support mechanism to do so. I don't know. I just could do it.
Wilcock: How did you start to apply this knowledge? Obviously, you're not just going to read books. You're going to want to do something with it, so how did you start to apply the knowledge?
Adair: That's a good question. There's a step that we can do, scientific method. You'll look at theoretical stuff, and then you move on to applied science.
Adair: So what does that mean in normal terms? It means that I was studying propulsion, so I started building rockets. And I started off by solid propellant, which I made my own solid rocket fuel just like Homer Hickam did.
There were no . . . The Estes kits didn't come out until later.
Adair: But they were just too slow and too primitive.
I mean 4,000 years, China with gunpowder.
And so I jumped to the cryogenic fluids, liquid hydrogen, liquid oxygen.
Then we got some power out of that.
And cryogenic fluids with their temperatures running around 325° Fahrenheit below zero . . . when you detonate something like that, you get a lot of BTUs, so you get thrust.
And now you can start working on all kinds of math tables with that kind of stuff.
But it was all leading to something, and I wasn't even aware of it.
There are only two types of rocket engines today – solid fuel and liquid fuel.
Adair: We don't use anything else. Well, the big one that I built, Pitholem, she was neither one.
Wilcock: When you say “Pitholem”, what's that?
Adair: Pitholem is the name of my rocket. I was working on it, and I hadn't named it yet. My mother came in. “I just had a strange dream with you.”
I went, “Oh, this out to be good,” because she had some really interesting dreams.
And I said, “So what's the dream?”
So I'm just working away with my back to her, and I'm working on the bench. She said, “I saw these giant bleachers out in the desert, you know, grandstands. And there's railway tracks between them. Big railroad locomotives, several of them, were pushing this giant rocket laying sideways on like a sled. And it stopped, and there was a gantry built way up to meet the door.” You opened the doors, stepped out.
And she goes, “You didn't have any hair on top, but the hair on the sides was white.”
I'm going . . . That's about all I heard for a few minutes. I didn't have any hair? That's not good.
However, she said, “You addressed everybody, thanked them for coming out, and said, 'Let's see this thing. You know, let's not talk. Let's just do this.'”
So I get back in. The locomotives pushes about a mile or two away from the stands. Then they come back, and then the thing just turns on. The sled motors turn on. It takes off across the desert floor. It goes up the side of a mountain, and then she said, “I guess the main engines come on and just . . . you know, you're a welder. How bright it is?” She goes, “It was way brighter than that. It was like the Sun.”
Adair: And she said, “We never saw you leaving. We just had an explosion, and it was gone. And the only thing left trailing in the vapors was like a rainbow.”
And I went, “My God, she described electromagnetic fusion engine in our atmosphere perfectly.” And my mom doesn't . . . My mom didn't know that.
So I'm just, “That's interesting.”
And she goes, “Oh, one other thing. There was a name painted on the side of it.”
“Really? What is it?”
She said, “Here, I wrote it down for you. I woke up spelling it. P-I-T-H-0-L-E-M.”
It looks like “pithole”, but with that M on it, it becomes Pitholem.
So anyhow, that's Pitholem. That's where it came from.