Bare-Faced Messiah (PDF) - Apologetics Index

But further along O'Donovan Road, the rural landscape is clearly manicured by money. Rolling hills
of green velvet are stitched with white picket fences and the houses stand well back from the road
behind meadows sprinkled with wild daisies and studded with twisted oak trees. Four miles out of
the town there is a graded track off to the right and a metal sign indicates it is a private road leading
to the Emmanuel Conference Centre. This track winds up the hillside along the edge of the
Whispering Winds Ranch, a 160-acre spread which, according to local gossip, was once owned by
the actor Robert Mitchum. The gates to the ranch may be found after about 400 yards and the track
then forks to a small cedarwood house on the right, continuing on the left up the hill to the Camp
Emmanuel ecumenical retreat. It is a quiet place, a perfect place to hide.
In the summer of 1983 the ranch was bought by a young couple who called themselves Lisa and
Mike Mitchell. The San Luis Obispo real estate agent involved in the sale guessed by his accent
that Mitchell was from New York. He walked into the office straight off the street and said he wanted
to buy a large, secluded ranch where he could breed Akitas, a rare Japanese dog. The realtor took
Mitchell out to look at Whispering Winds, which was on the market for $700,000. He examined the
ranch house with great care, even climbing up into the roof, where he seemed disconcerted by the
insulation. 'I'll have to get that out of there,' he told the agent, explaining that his wife was allergic to
fibreglass. Nevertheless, he liked the property and said he would buy it. Money was no problem -
he had just come into an inheritance worth several million dollars. Good as his word, Mitchell paid
the full price in cash, with thirty cashier's cheques drawn on several California banks.[10]
The Mitchells moved into the ranch shortly afterwards, along with their elderly father. They kept very
much to themselves, avoiding all contact with their neighbours. Maxine Kuehl and Shirley Terry,
who ran Camp Emmanuel, rarely spoke to either of them and knew nothing of the old man except
that his name was Jack. Robert Whaley, a retired marketing executive from New York who lived in
the cedar house overlooking Whispering Winds, similarly saw little of them, although he was
intrigued by what was going on.
It seemed to Whaley that his new neighbours had more money than sense. The three-level ranch
house was gutted and re-modelled not once, but several times. A lake in front of the house was
widened and deepened and stocked with bass and catfish. A race-horse track, with an observation
tower and viewing stands, was built to one side of the house and never used. Miles of white picket
fence went up, either following the contours of the land or running absolutely straight. One section
of fence was torn down three or four times, apparently because it was not straight enough.
Thoroughbred horses, buffalo and llamas were soon grazing in the fenced paddocks, and swans
and geese graced the lake.
'I was amazed how much they were spending on the place,' said Whaley. 'There was absolutely no
regard for expense. When they were having new irrigation lines installed, they put in a twelve-inch
pipe, big enough for a town. None of them was very friendly, but I once asked Mitchell who was
doing all the planning and he said his wife's father, Jack, was handling most of it as he used to be
a civil engineer.'[11]
While the renovations were under way, Jack lived in a $150,000 Bluebird motor home parked on
the property, but he could often be seen pottering around in baggy blue pants and a yellow straw
hat, taking photographs. He was overweight, and with his white hair and white beard, reminded
Whaley of Kentucky Chicken's Colonel Sanders. Once Whaley walked across to Whispering Winds
to see if he could borrow a tool and surprised the old man in the stable. Jack was busy filing a
piece of metal and was evidently not pleased to see his neighbour: he glared suspiciously at
Whaley for a second, then scurried off into a workshop without a word, locking the door behind him.