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Ralph A. Multer’s blue-collar life collided with the extraterrestrial in Canton many years ago. A wounded World War II veteran who walked with a limp, Multer exhibited a gruff exterior. He liked to spin stories about his days as a gunner’s mate on a Navy warship, including ones about the Battle of Iwo Jima. Multer worked on cars and rode a motorcycle. His nickname was “Bear,” a reference to his large frame. And on occasion, he enjoyed a few swallows of vodka.
At 22 and married, Multer worked hard to support his wife, driving a truck for the Timken Co. He wasn’t normally given to far-flung tales of flying saucers and little green men. Until, that is, the summer of 1947. Multer is said to be Canton’s connection to the most famous UFO story in world history: The alleged crash of an alien spacecraft near Roswell, N.M., in July 1947.
He told loved ones he hauled material from the crashed spaceship to one of the Timken plants in Canton that summer. A Timken furnace could not dent, damage or melt the UFO wreckage. Not even slightly.
An FBI agent made it very clear. Don’t tell anybody about the covert operation. Keep it hush-hush.
That’s a fascinating story. A whopper. Is it true? Can it be verified? Especially when you consider Multer died in 1982. Could a company of Timken’s iconic stature be complicit in perhaps the greatest government cover-up of all time?
SUMMER OF ’47
July 8, 1947. UFO historians consider that a monumental date. It is when the Roswell Army Air Field issued a press release that a crashed flying disk had been recovered in the New Mexico desert.
The military quickly changed its story. A second press release stated the 509th Bomb Group at the Roswell base mistakenly had identified a weather balloon as flying saucer wreckage.
Legions of UFO buffs believe the Roswell story. Researchers and authors have interviewed hundreds of people on the subject, including former military officers. Some believers have obtained once-classified documents, connecting the dots to conclude that the government concealed the crash and stashed away dead aliens with balloon-shaped heads, large eyes and child-like bodies.
Others declare the Roswell story to be a ridiculous myth borne out of wild imaginations. They contend it’s utter nonsense concocted by nuts who are loose with the facts and heavy on speculation. They argue the UFO crowd has yet to produce hard evidence, such as a hunk of the damaged flying saucer.
Multer was a believer. He became one 63 years ago while working a four-hour shift for Timken. Multer told his wife the story. Years later, he shared it with his daughter. It was August or September. Multer had hoped to finish the shift and meet his wife for lunch. But the normalcy of the day quickly faded.
Multer said he and two other drivers were asked to pick up loads at a railroad yard. Three flatbed trucks, covered with canvas, carried the loads. The load on Multer’s truck was the largest. The convoy of trucks was escorted by officials of some type. Multer had some level of security clearance at the company.
FBI agents had met the trio of truck drivers. Multer asked about the loads. An agent told him they were parts of a flying saucer recovered in New Mexico. The strength and durability of the material would be tested in a super-hot Timken furnace.
“They talked to a person later who was there that night (at one of the Timken plants), and they said they couldn’t cut it, they couldn’t even heat it,” said Sundi Multer-Lingle, Multer’s daughter. “The piece of metal, well I don’t know if you can call it metal, the object was absolutely impenetrable.”
Metallic. Lightweight. Silver or dark gray. That’s how her father described the mysterious material.
“We grew up with the story,” said Multer-Lingle, 58, who was born in Canton and lives in Knoxville, Tenn. “Dad would put us up on his lap, and he would tell us the story.”
He never changed his story. Or added details, she said.
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