An eagle-eyed YouTuber noticed that a small block has been added to the Georgia Guidstones with the year ‘2014’.
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Decoding the Georgia Guidestones
Isn’t the only hope for the planet that the industrialized civilizations collapse? Isn’t it our responsibility to bring that about? – Maurice Strong, founder of the UN Environment Program
It’s a beautiful, warm, November Saturday in Georgia and the defaced granite monument looms above Mart Clamp while he uses a stonemason’s hammer and chisel to patiently chip away at the stubborn polyurethane splattered across the Swahili lettering his father sandblasted into the hard rock thirty years ago. Inexplicably, branchy tufts of hay rain down in slow motion from high up in the blue skies overhead like a vast army of eight-inch pagan fairies who are too tired to keep afloat in the still air. Children nearby playfully roll the hay from heaven into a wispy ball about four feet across.
A large man with broad, square shoulders and a crushing handshake, Mart Clamp was born to work stone. Quick to smile with a youthful face, Clamp is a friendly man whom children instinctively like. “I don’t understand why people would do something like this,” Clamp remarks as he cleaves off a piece of polyurethane taking along with it a thin sliver of underlying granite. “Up until the last year or two, the worst thing they’d do is smear chicken blood everywhere.”
It’s all more than a little surreal.
Crowded next to the South Carolina border in northeast Georgia, Elberton, aptly the county seat of Elbert County, is the self proclaimed “Granite Capital of the World.” Home to at least 42 active quarries, chances are good that regardless of where you live in the United States there’s a chunk of Elbert County nearby. For the last century, buildings, monuments, countertops and, of course, gravestones have been built and laid all over the world using Elberton granite.
Elbert County is so rich in the durable igneous stone that practically everything there is built of granite. Homes, road signs, banks, the community center, the county jail and even the grossly oversized, 20,000 seat Blue Devils high school football stadium are all constructed out of the 400-million year old, sparkling rock, a combination of gray feldspar, quartz and mica. Unsurprisingly, little Elberton, with a population under 5,000, probably has the highest concentration of monuments in the world.
Elbert County is also the home to thousands of stoneworkers: explosive experts, stone cutters, sand blasters and heavy equipment operators specializing in handling huge blocks of granite. Almost exclusively male, these stoneworking men combine to form the backbone of the Elbert County economy. For the most part, these men are the hardworking, salt of the earth types that have come to symbolize classic Americana. But it shouldn’t be much of a surprise that Elbert County is also home to a thriving community of Freemasons. After all, at least one major branch of modern Masonry got its start among the stonemasons of England, Scotland and Ireland in the late 16th Century.
“I know nearly all of the men who worked on this monument and nearly all of them were good Christians and good Masons,” Clamp maintained. “I know that none of them would have worked on the Guidestones if they believed that there was anything evil or untoward about them.”
But that is not quite accurate. Nearly thirty years previously to the day, Mart Clamp’s father, Charlie Clamp, was sandblasting over 4,000 4-inch letters into the eight faces of the four Guidestones. Forebodingly, as he carved the words “to an age of reason” into the Pyramid Blue granite capstone, Charlie Clamp says he heard “strange music and disjointed voices.”
The Elberton Granite Museum attendant, a warm, amiable man in his sixties, also revealed that the Guidestones have been a persistent source of controversy with the local churches. “The churches in this area have never been too happy about it,” he said in a perfect, melodious Georgia accent. In a Los Angeles Times article, the man who constructed the monument, Joe Fendley, remarked that he “got a lot of poison calls and poison letters” over the Guidestones. “I’ve heard preachers say it’s evil,” confided Hudson Cone of the Elberton Granite Association in that same article.
In his interview with us for this article, retired banker Wyatt C. Martin, the one man who knows the true, secret identity of the initiator of the Georgia Guidestones, lamented about all of the attention he has gotten over the years from witches, pagans and “nutcases.” Mr. Martin, a devout Christian man who is now nearly 80-years old, nevertheless remains proud of his contributions to the Guidestones.
Gary Jones, publisher of the Elberton Star newspaper, probably best summarized local feelings when he told us, “None of the churches around here ever liked the monument much, but the Guidestones literally put Elberton on the map, so people in Elberton are pretty protective of them.”
After a recent spate of increasingly severe vandalism, Elbert County was protective enough to put up two wireless surveillance cameras, even though the cameras remained unpowered during our recent visit to the monument.
Our investigation in Elbert County led to the discovery of an apparent, ongoing attempt to topple the English language Guidestone. We passed on photographic evidence to Jones showing that a
large notch was recently cut from the top of that Guidestone near the support pin attaching that stone to the capstone.
Anger directed against the monument has only grown more intense over the years. Many believe the Georgia Guidestones advocate – if not outright promise – genocide at an almost unimaginable scale, promote eugenics and hint towards a New World Order global government where personal rights are only granted through service to a tyrannical world state. Some even claim the Guidestones are the product of a Satanic cult.
Interestingly, we have found evidence that a date is encoded in the Guidestones – a date that is only a few days away – and an event planned for this date may very well lend credence to the very darkest of sinister theories.
What is the truth about this modern, mini-Stonehenge? Do the Guidestones contain secret messages? Who is behind this enigmatic granite edifice? What’s going to happen on January 4th, 2010, a date that appears to be deliberately hidden in the design of the monument? Can we decode the Georgia Guidestones?
The Mystery of Robert C. Christian
If I were reincarnated I would wish to be returned to earth as a killer virus to lower human population levels.– Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, patron of the World Wildlife Fund
The official Georgia Guidestones creation story is centered on a mysterious character who used the pseudonym “Robert C. Christian.” As the story goes, a middle aged man walked into Elberton Granite Finishing Company on a Friday afternoon in June, 1979. It just so happened that no one else in the office was available to talk to him, so the company’s president, the energetic, ambitious and reportedly quirky Freemason Joe Fendley, greeted the man who introduced himself as Robert C. Christian.
Busy with payroll, Fendley initially didn’t take Christian seriously when the odd stranger began describing an elaborate granite monument that he wanted Fendley’s company to build. However, as the refined, silver-haired and well dressed Christian elaborated on project details involving solid granite slabs larger than anything anyone in the area had ever produced, Fendley took notice.
Joe Fendley whipped out a calculator – and a metric conversion table since R.C. Christian made all of his specifications in meters, an unusual metrology for Georgia during the 70s – and quickly provided a rough cost estimate. Fendley deliberately made sure to err well on the high side, but Christian didn’t flinch at the price. Fendley then carefully explained that no monument that big had ever been quarried in Elbert County and that consultants would have to be hired to provide the necessary astronomical and language translation expertise, so the price he quoted was only a rough estimate and could not be guaranteed.
Undeterred, Christian went on to explain that he represented “a small group of loyal Americans who believe in God” and want to “leave a message for future generations.” He then asked Fendley to suggest a local bank to serve as a financial intermediary.
As soon as Christian walked out of his office, Fendley telephoned his friend and Granite City Bank president Wyatt C. Martin and warned him of a “kook who wants to build some kind of crazy monument.” About half-an-hour later, Christian appeared at Martin’s office and quickly dispelled most of banker’s skepticism with his expensive suit of clothes and intelligent, articulate demeanor. After introductory pleasantries, Christian recounted his mission to Martin and explained that “Robert C. Christian” was a pseudonym that he chose because he was a Christian.
As a banker, Martin insisted on knowing Christian’s real name so that he could investigate his finances before the project could begin. Christian complied, but conditioned that he and the group he represented wanted to remain anonymous forever. Martin agreed to never disclose Robert C. Christian’s true identity.
According to the Guidestones’ official story, Joe Fendley, who died recently, and Wyatt Martin were the only people to have met Christian. By that same story, Martin is the only person who ever knew Christian’s true identity. When we spoke with Mr. Martin several days ago, he remained committed to his vow of secrecy taken more than thirty years ago. However, we have made discoveries that shed light on who might really be behind the Georgia Guidestones and we will discuss our findings later in this article.
Christian asked Martin to find him five acres of land for the monument. He initially wanted the land to be in Hancock County on a line stretching west from Augusta. However, Martin argued against that location and said Elbert County would be cheaper and easier to accommodate. Christian agreed and, at a later date, settled on a five-acre plot on the Mullenix farm, a spot Martin favored. Purchased for $5,000 on October 1, 1979, the location is a little over seven miles north of Elberton on a ridge that is supposed to be the highest point in Elbert County. Christian had the land deeded to the county with grazing rights given to the Mullenix family for at least twenty years. The land is to remain otherwise undeveloped in “natural conditions.”
Over the years, a number of inconsistencies with the official story have arisen. For instance, Christian originally maintained that he was only one of a group of individuals who had planned the Georgia Guidestones for more than 20 years, but in his book written more than five years later, Common Sense Renewed, he is listed as “the author and sponsor of the Georgia Guidestones Monument.” Later in the book he writes that he is “the originator of the Georgia Guidestones and the sole author of its inscriptions.”
“Over the years, I’ve begun to suspect the same thing, that the whole thing came from only one man or at most one man and his family,” Martin told us recently.
In the Elberton Granite Museum’s extensive guidebook on the Georgia Guidestones, Christian is said to have vanished for so long after his initial visit that Fendley and Martin came to believe Christian’s appearance was simply a prank pulled off by Fendley’s Shrine Club buddies. However, in a later interview with Wired Magazine, Wyatt Martin claims that Christian returned on the Monday following the Friday of initial contact.
Also, the museum guidebook reported that “upon completion of the project Martin said that all material concerning the project was shredded,” but in his recent Wired interview, Martin admitted that, in fact, he still has all of the Georgia Guidestone records along with all of the letters from Christian. Every last document related to the monument are packed inside a 1983, hard-sided, plastic, IBM computer case sitting in the back of Wyatt Martin’s garage.
Fendley meticulously documented the quarrying and building of the Georgia Guidestones monument, a tactic that backfired on him because his deliberate preplanning for a media blitz gave fuel to the critics who saw the Guidestones as nothing but a big publicity stunt Fendley and Wyatt concocted. People liked to say that “Ole Joe” was the most famous Elbertonian since “Old Dan Tucker,” the 18th century preacher who was memorialized in the still popular folk song of the same name. To his grave, Fendley denied these allegations, but he nevertheless enjoyed the attention the monument brought and used the publicity as momentum to gain the mayoral office of Elberton in 1980.
Nevertheless, Fendley’s photo record of the Georgia Guidestones construction project is included in the museum guidebook and is valuable for the many details it documents.
About nine months after the secretive first meetings with Christian, the monument was formally unveiled on March 22, 1980, in front of a crowd of around 400. The guidebook lists more than eighty people involved in the project. U.N. language experts and college professors were used for the challenging language translations and transliterations. Scientists and engineers were contracted to oversee the project’s astronomical details.
The crowd for the unvieling was impressive, but one important character was missing. “I don’t think R.C. Christian has ever even visited the monument to this day,” Mr. Martin confided to us.
Although there are reasons to believe that the R.C. Christian story is almost a complete fabrication, the few “facts” about him from the story are:
- R.C. Christian visited Stonehenge before designing the Georgia Guidestones.
- He was over sixty years old when he wrote Common Sense Renewed in 1986.
- He claimed to be a Christian, but his writings suggests that he might instead be a follower of Alice A. Bailey’s New Age movement who venerate “The Christ” but also worship other deities.
- He had a great-grandmother from Georgia.
- He served in World War II.
- He was very well traveled and sent checks to Martin to pay for the monument from banks located all over the country.
- He was at least moderately wealthy.
- He liked Thomas Paine.
- He distributed his book to “several thousand political officials and shapers of public opinion throughout the world. All members of the United States Congress received copies.”
- He quoted Henry James’ remarks about Stonehenge.
- He was described as a “gray-haired middle-aged gentleman” when he met with Fendley and Martin in 1979.