Bob Nelson - Freezing People Is (Not) Easy: My Adventures in Cryonics

Freezing People Is (Not) Easy

My Adventures in Cryonics

Bob Nelson with Kenneth Bly and Sally Magaa, PhD

Copyright 2014 by Bob Nelson

The events described in this book are based on the authors recollections. Dialogue has been re-created and names and identifying characteristics have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, except as may be expressly permitted in writing from the publisher. Requests for permission should be addressed to Globe Pequot Press, Attn: Rights and Permissions Department, PO Box 480, Guilford, CT 06437.

Lyons Press is an imprint of Globe Pequot Press.

All photos courtesy of the author.

Project editor: Meredith Dias

Layout: Maggie Peterson

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Nelson, Robert F., 1936

Freezing people is (not) easy : my adventures in cryonics / Bob Nelson, with Kenneth Bly and Sally Magaa, PhD.

pages cm

eISBN 978-1-4930-0778-3

1. Nelson, Robert F., 1936- 2. Cryonics. 3. Undertakers and undertakingUnited States. I. Bly, Kenneth. II. Magaa, Sally. III. Title.

RA624.N45 2014

612'.014467dc23

2013050225

This book is dedicated to Genevieve De La Poterie, a seven-year-old French Canadian child, beautiful beyond words. Genevieve was the worlds first child frozen upon clinical death with the hope of future reanimation. In 1970 her Wilms tumor had no treatment and was usually fatal within three months. Today no child dies from a Wilms tumor, and it is completely curable. One week before her cryonic suspension, Genevieve, her mom, my daughter, and I went to Disneyland in Anaheim, California. On this occasion Genevieve spoke to me in French, through her mothers translation. She asked me, Mr. Robert, would you please learn to speak French so I can explain to you directly why I didnt want to die so young and leave my beautiful family behind?

This dedication also extends to Joseph Klockgether, owner of Rennaker Mortuary and the first California mortician to offer cryonics suspension services to his clientele. Hes always believed that however a person chooses to be interred should be honored, be it cremation, burial at sea, or even placed into orbit like Gene Roddenberry, who is now circling our globe every ninety minutes. This is simply every persons right of choice and must be honored by those entrusted to carry out this final act of interment.

Last, but far from least, are Sandra Stanley and Shelby Dzilsky. This couple allowed the frozen body of our first cryonics pioneer, Dr. James Bedford, to be stored in the garage of their Topanga Canyon home in dry ice for ten days while plans for his long-term encapsulation in liquid nitrogen could be arranged. Sandra also coauthored with Bob Nelson the book We Froze the First Man and acted as his attorney during the appeal of one of the darkest times of his life. Sandra was a powerful force when introducing this new science of cryonics to humanity in the 1960s, the world and I especially owe her an enormous amount of gratitude for her contribution in the struggle to greatly extend the human life span.

Please, God, dont take me away from my family. The one and only time Genevieve spoke directly to me.

Contents

It calls for a change in perspective.

Introduction

The Treasure Chest

by Kenneth Bly

Bob stood in the shadows of the garage, debating between fight and flight. I glimpsed the hurt and betrayal in his darkened eyes. He had locked away the memories in his mind with an even larger padlock than the one now sealing the crate.

He was anxious, looking away, his eyes distant and vacant. A lone lightbulb sent sharp shadows across the floor. Outside, an uncharacteristic Southern California rain pooled at the base of the wooden garage door.

The chest had remained sheltered in Bob Nelsons garage for twenty-five years. He had no desire to open it. Within its plywood walls, darkness shrouded the artifacts of a past life he had intended to shut away forever.

Moeurth, Bobs wife, rubbed his arm and said, We dont have to do this.

I nodded but inwardly yearned to discover this hidden life. Bob, we can do this another day.

No, Bob replied, inching forward. Too many years have passed. Its time to face my demons. He took the key from my waiting palm and bent down before the chest. He wiped a thick layer of dust from a section of the top lid, revealing the gnarled wood pattern beneath. A curious sort of magnetism permeated the air when he touched the crate. Like the telltale heart in Edgar Allan Poes story, the contents of the treasure chest had their own story that needed to be told. Slowly, the key turned in the lock.

Bob was a pioneer; in the sixties he was the first to freeze a man and later several others, hoping they might one day be revived. He was one of cryonics most prolific spokesmen until fate turned on him; he became reviled and retreated from his greatest passion for decades. I wondered what mementos from this past life could be inside the chestcertainly not a thawed bodybut still I felt electric with curiosity.

Moeurth read my thoughts and spoke up, her sweet Cambodian accent soothing the tense atmosphere. I had no idea either, Ken. We were married a year before Bob was able to tell me that he froze the first man, about his fame, and about how it all went bad.

For me the container was a treasure chest, but I could tell that for Bob it was something far more ominous. With the padlock discarded on the garage floor, he opened the lid, casting fresh light on long-obscured memories. The three of us leaned forward and peered into the crate. Looking back at us was a picture of a much younger Bob, shrouded in a cloud of dry-ice fog, newspaper articles, and the lead article in Life magazine. There were also audiotapes, reels of film, photos with Regis Philbin and Phil Donohue, and court documents from the cryonics trialstack after stack of court documents.

Words jumped out at me from the newspaper clippings. Pioneer. Swindler. Expert. Charlatan. Vanguard. Liar. Jesus Christ, I said.

Morosely, Bob replied, I know.

No, I mean thats whats written here from the court case: Bob Nelson pretended to be Jesus Christ with the power to raise the deadall he needed was your money.

A flurry of thoughts tumbled through my mind as I delved into the depths of the treasure chest and into this mysterious and long-buried past. This wasnt just some embellished story that old-timers regurgitate at a bar; I was glimpsing the veneer of a complicated and painful odyssey. What an epic tale Bob had lived in those years!

I studied photo after photo in the treasure chest. Each fog-filled picture of his frozen heroes was permeated with the heady and optimistic belief that a doctors pronouncement of clinical death was merely an interruptionnot an ending. The cryogenic containers looked both crude and innovative, much like the old space capsules from the Mercury and Apollo programs.