So much for what might pass as Corky’s obituary. What else
can we learn about him?
In 2007, Jared W. Blackley, a writer for the anti-establishment
Salt Lake City Weekly, did a piece on
Corky titled “Ra’s Deal: If You Like Sex, Wine, Pyramids, And Egyptian
Philosophy, Corky Ra Has Your Religion.” Blackley gives a physical description
of his subject: medium build, late 50s, stereotype of the aging hippy, bald in
front, gray hair gathered in a ponytail descending halfway down the back, calm
confidence, soft voice (summum.us features a headshot of Ra with black hair but
without ponytail). For this piece Blackley also interviewed Ken Sanders, one of
Corky’s former colleagues at a printing press and design shop, who recalled
that Corky Nowell was “a salesman who got the firm lots of job contracts but
never quite got the hang of some crucial pragmatics”—for example, he made contracts
for jobs that were impossible to fulfill. Corky, he said, would also come to
work “carrying what he called an unbreakable ‘bonum rock’ of pink quartzite
purportedly from another planet.”
Then there are the miracles Corky is said to have performed.
According to sworn affidavits, he’s turned a blue sky into a rainstorm, lit a
candle by staring at it, and impregnated “several fully-clothed women just by
using the energy from the penis of a fully-clothed man standing on the opposite
side of the room.” Most of the women escaped their unwanted state by directing
their energy toward releasing their embryos, though what this “releasing” was
all about is never explained.
∆
What does Corky Ra allege happened on that day he was
relaxing on his girlfriend’s couch?
Corky’s account of his revelation appears twice on the Summum
website, once in a written essay, the other in an informal question-and-answer
session on the subject of his first encounter with the Summa Individuals.
“References to encounters with Beings not of this planet can
be found in all major philosophies and religions dating back to the beginning
of recorded history,” Corky’s essay begins, without giving either examples or
arguments. He then recounts his own encounter, taking care to say that before
the event, he had always supposed that those who’d reported having had personal
revelations were “either lying or mentally ill.” (As a backslidden Mormon, he
might have been thinking of Joseph Smith.)
Several months into his meditative regimen, he says, “I
began to notice a ‘ringing’ in my ears.” Then, on October 28, 1975 it happened.
The noise in Corky’s ears “became very intense.” His body began to vibrate; he
opened his eyes and found himself alongside “an enormous pyramid,” made of
something like graphite, half a mile long at the base but without doors.
Everything was quiet, and perfect. Then he noticed another structure, with “a
round, convex shape, like a flattened ball,” a hundred yards in diameter. He
walked through its wall and found himself in a large room full of beautiful,
elegant, divine humanoids of both genders. “They established a high level
telepathic link with my mind, and instantaneously I understood them.” These
Beings were what he came to call the “Summa Individuals,” meaning, he informs
his Latin-deprived readers, the “Highest Individuals.”
Then there were the crystals. Once inside the structure, he
was shown a glass-like shaft rising from the floor. “Concepts started streaming
through my mind.” As he looked at the shaft, another shaft came down from the
ceiling and headed towards the back of his head. Later he learned that this
shaft was crystalline, reminding him that communication occurs by way of
crystals, as mentioned in the Bible, the Torah, and the Bhagavad Gita. Maybe, Corky thought, these crystals were “a
contemporary Urim and Thummim.” (These were a pair of rocks used as divination
devices; they are first mentioned in the Biblical book of Exodus and were later
said to be used by Joseph Smith, purportedly to help him translate the Golden Plates
he claimed to have discovered in the Hill Cumorah in upstate New York into The
Book of Mormon.)
Corky continued to have these visitations. At first he
resisted the Summa Individual’s demands, he said, but he “came to understand
the nature of the work I was responsible to complete, even though I had no
details of how to accomplish this task. . . . These advanced Beings work with
those ready to take up the labor of universal progression and divine
evolution.” Then he started to tell others of these encounters. His life was
changed; he became “a well-known person,” achieved peace of mind, and came to
understand Creation Itself.
At the end of this account, there is a Summum version of an
altar call. To the open-minded who “have evolved far enough to understand,”
etc., he promises: “You too can have the wealth of the wealthy, the fame of the
famous.”
Corky’s informal talk in his pyramidal temple tells much the
same story. He expands on his experience with the Summa Individuals—for
example, he reports that they led him to a “piece of energy, what looked like a
very large crystal came out of the floor and I looked into it and I saw all the
things that were going to happen about building the pyramid and making the nectars
[wines].” He anticipates skeptics who might suggest that he got all this sacred
knowledge from books: before meeting the Individuals, claims the former
philosophy student, “I had not read any religious or spiritual books other than
the Bible and the Book of Mormon.” He reports that he struggled with the
Individuals, resisting their demands to spread their gospel, though he finally
succumbed because “there is no room for argument in their presence.” He also
tells us that “they work with lots of people on this planet, in different
states of evolution.” They have names, but they didn’t introduce themselves to
him. They speak telepathically, both among themselves and with humans, but in
concepts, not words.
The questions from his audience keep coming, and Corky
becomes expansive. Again and again he refers to the Egyptian Book of the Dead. He says there are “lots of gods,” but
that “the Creator is not a person, it is a force.” Do the Summa Individuals
ever appear in this pyramid? “They are always sort of hanging around to be
honest with you.” They speak to you. If you’ve committed yourself to do their
bidding, they ride you to perform your appointed task, like an old-style
schoolmaster or the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
Throughout his descriptions of his purported revelations,
and elsewhere, Corky insists that he is only one of many persons who have had
such experiences. “Ronald Reagan and Jimmy Carter . . . have reported
mysterious encounters.” “My experience was very similar to Moses and many
others down [to] Joseph Smith.” And “all religions have founders who had
revelations.” If you believe any or all of these founders, he seems to be
saying, you have no standing to doubt the truth of what he’s been taught by the
Summa Individuals.
D
“This is what you have
got to do,” the Summa Individuals instructed him. “This is what your life is
all about. You have to go tell people these concepts and then go build a
pyramid and make this nectar.” Thus spoke Corky Ra in a Q&A session after giving
his informal talk about his first encounter with the extraterrestrials. Blackley
reports that Corky also told him that those visitors from beyond also commissioned
him to publish a book.
The pyramid was built
near downtown Salt Lake City, adjacent to an industrial area and less than 200
feet west of the lively, jam-prone I-15 freeway, and two and a half miles from
the LDS Temple as the cab flies. At the time of its construction, the roof was
made of asphalt roofing tiles topped off with a stainless steel cap. The
asphalt was later replaced by an attractive copper-colored metal. The sides of
the pyramid are 40 feet long; its cap juts 26 feet into the empyrean. The
website invites the general public to a Wednesday evening one-hour philosophy
class. Saturdays there are “Evenings with Amen Ra,” when the works of Corky Ra
are read and discussed by those who have some knowledge of the house brand of
meditation. Blackley, writing before Corky was transferred to the mummy state, reported
that the regular Saturday meetings drew as many as 10 to 15 Summum supporters.
Inside this temple
there are texts from the Quran, the Hebrew Bible, and The Book of Mormon. As of
February 2009, there were mummies of 50 animals but only of a single
human—Corky himself, who at the time was in the final stages of mummification,
just before being encased in a custom-made $40,000 golden bronze “mummiform,”
the Summum version of a casket.
In Summum,
mummification, as in ancient Egyptian religion, is life after life. The body is
transformed, but the “essence”—apparently the equivalent of what is commonly
called the soul—of the individual remains. “In mummification,” the website tells us, “the preserved body serves as a
reference point for your essence, a ‘home base’ if you will that allows
communication of instructions to help guide you to your new destination.” Or,
as Blackley puts it, “the person wandering suddenly finds a Global Positioning
System in his pocket.”
Then there are the
sacramental nectars. The temple also boasts several wine vats, each one large
enough to fill the flatbed of a good-sized truck. Summum calls the
nectars “publications” because they contain spiritual information and concepts.
They are used in meditation by those who have learned how to meditate in the
patented Summum manner. The instructions are given on a webpage. The Summum
disciple is to start with one or two ounces of nectar. The alcohol in it “acts
as a vehicle for transporting the concepts that are stored as a form of energy
or resonation within the liquid.” Once inside the brain, “the resonations are
released exposing you to the concepts that are held within.” The result? If you
continue to use them, your perception will be changed. (One might wonder: if
Corky’s first wife had had long-term access to this beverage, could that
marriage have been saved?)
On the Summum webpage called “The Summum Nectar
Publications,” we find Summum’s version of the New Age theory of chemical
reactions: “Crystals will form inside the nectar when it is stored inside the
pyramid.” This version also holds that there are currently just nine of a future
27 different nectars (for example, Transformation, Song of Creation, and Sexual
Ecstasy), each of which bears its own message for those who use it often and consistently
and are sensitive to “deeper values of life.” All in all, the page concludes,
the creation of these publications “is a wonder of transubstantiation,” a
process that gives new meaning to that Catholic doctrine.
Not everyone who has used these beverages adheres to their
intended purpose. Ken Sanders, the one who once worked in a printing firm with
Summum Bonum Amen Ra—then in his Corky Nowell incarnation—and who now owns a
Salt Lake City bookshop dedicated to antiquarian tomes (“Ken Sanders Rare
Books: ‘creating chaos out of anarchy for a better tomorrow’”), is reported to
have said about the liquid, “I wished I’d saved a bottle of it. I used to buy
it and take it on camping trips. Even though it wasn’t very good, it was a
great novelty item. A wine made by a UFO-pyramid cult in Utah
is pretty hard to beat.”