Word count: 1050 | Reading time: 5 min read
Pretzel Logic
Now available: an underground mound for a paranoid pitcher.
Ever since I read about the plight of poor, demented Steve Carlton in Philly Mag, I have been thinking about what I could do to help.
I know how tough it can be when you can’t sleep at night because you are worried that International Bankers flying black helicopters are about to storm your house at any minute.
And it must be especially tough for Lefty because he hasn’t been able to finish off his bomb shelter properly, due to some kind of conspiracy by said bankers who are preventing him from obtaining a construction loan.
Can’t hide from the chopper boys if your bomb shelter ain’t done.
Which takes us to the pastoral outskirts of Topeka, Kansas, home of dairy cows, slighly rolling hills and a few relics of the cold war that are the perfect solution to Carlton’s conundrum.
Old, abandoned Atlas missile bases.
Each one on a secluded plot of land, with lots of underground space and enough 18-inch-thick cement to withstand anything that the International Bankers can throw at you.
I found out about the Atlas bases the other day while noodling around the Internet. And as soon as I read the post, offering “abandoned missile base for sale,” the vision of poor Steve Carlton, suffering in his unfinished shelter, popped into my head.
This was, I knew, just the place for Lefty.
Ed Peden says his family loves its subterranean home.
But, if the right deal comes along…
“This is defintely an unusual living arrangement,” says Peden, who is speaking to me from 15 feet underground, in what used to be a missile command center. “This is an unmatched experience.”
Peden says that, all told, he has 16,000 square feet of usable space in his underground lair. A quarter of the area, the missile command center, he uses as living space. The rest, the former missile silo, is connected to the command center via a 120-foot underground tunnel. Peden uses the silo area for his ultralight aircraft business, Higher Planes Inc. The silo area is covered by a 940,000-pound cement door that can be opened or closed depending on Peden’s mood.
Though Peden is tickled to be living in a ghost of the cold war, his daughters, 10 and 12, have been known to grouse.
“There are days they love it and days they complain,” says Peden. “They wonder why their house is different from others.”
How does Ed Peden, parent, handle that?
“I tell them, look, you can jump on a trampoline inside the house and not worry about hitting your head on the ceiling. We have a large, large playroom. Nobody has a playroom like that. We have towers on the property. So they have a playhouse. There are a lot of options here.”
One option, says Peden, is to forget selling the place, build a nice pond on the property and settle down with his family and continue building airplanes.
“I bought the place about 10 years ago, for about $40,000,” he says. “The government built the bunkers between 1960 and 1964 for $3.3 million each.”
Peden and a partner purchased four of the sites, which were scattered across unpopulated areas of the country.
“They built them away from population centers because they knew what they were attracting,” says Peden, who purchased the bases from salvage operators who bought them from the government.
Peden says it took him about 10 years to finally clean out his bunker.
“It was flooded, about eight feet of water in there,” he says. “It was a very smelly job, getting rid of all that muck in there. I found a number of skeletons of rats and rabbits, because, once they fell in, there was no way out.”
The cleanup was well worth the effort, says Peden.
“These are historic sites,” he says. “There are no more being built and, because of the SALT treaties, a number of remaining sites are being blown up or filled in. So this is one of the few relics of a very historic period.”
If that sounds like a sales pitch, well, brother have I got a bunker for you.
For $700,000, says Peden, the whole shooting match — 33 acres including a 1,750-foot landing strip, with paved access, three-phase electric capacity and landscaped drainage — can be yours.
What?
You don’t have that kind of coin?
Don’t worry. Easy Ed’s got just the place for you.
“We do have one parcel for $85,000,” says Peden, who refuses to divulge the exact whereabouts of these bunkers lest he be inundated by a flood of curiosity seekers.
For $85,000, you get a still-flooded bunker on about 24 acres, with a lot of the fixtures and hardware long gone. Including the massive 47-ton cement door that covered the missile launch building.
Not good enough, you say?
You like gadgets?
Well, for about half a million, Peden will sell you a place that has never been flooded, with most of its hardware intact.
Including the door.
“You could push a button in that place and open the 47-ton door,” says Peden. “We have to hand-crank ours. At that place, you could push a button and open the gate. This is the most intact site I know.”
Though Peden is actively looking for serious buyers for three of his properties, he has mixed feelings about selling the one he and his family call home.
Still, he does have some advice for would-be bunker dwellers.
“The bunker has almost estate-like proportions,” says Peden. “My advice to a buyer? Build a very nice home over the bunker and you will have the biggest, most special basement anyone ever had.”
And that’s just the place for Steve Carlton.
After all, if he doesn’t deserve the biggest, most special basement anyone ever had, who does?
Now, I know $700,000 is a lot of loot. I know that Carlton probably couldn’t squeeze together two nickels these days.
So, I am calling on all Carlton’s friends to chip in and help him out.
Send what you can to “Lefty’s Lair,” c/o City Paper, 206 S. 13th Street, Philadelphia, PA 19107.
Not convinced this is a worthy cause?
Well, here’s one more reason to give.
There’s plenty of room in the bunker for Mike Schmidt. I know most Phillies fans would love to see him 15 feet underground.
