The Uranium Upgrader

Into Texas' unpredictable political picture has swept a new name, a new face, and a new third party--all rolled into the form of a squat, barrel-chested, brass-voiced character named John Milton Addison. A man of infinite talents, Addison, 36, is the announced candidate for Governor under the party banner he created for that purpose: the "Clean 'Em Out Right Party." The label was designed to fit the Democratic "ins," but may apply also aptly to Addison himself. A federal grand jury in Fort Worth last week returned a 24-count indictment against Addison and six associates for fraud and conspiracy. The gist of the charge, as filed by representatives of the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission: in the past four years, John Milton Addison (ne Milton Patrick Addison) has cleaned up about $1,250,000 from some 500 suckers in 24 states.

Addison knows how to use the magic of the pot-of-gold word, uranium. His principal asset is a machine called the Benson Upgrader, with which it is theoretically possible to refine low-grade uranium ore several times over until it is fairly bursting with creamy-rich atomic goodness. The only difficulty is that the Benson Upgrader, which is something like a gravel washer, does not work very well.

Gratitude. Born in Brooklyn, Addison was a fast-talking operator and fight promoter before he discovered uranium. Amassing leases that, by his word, cover 300,000 acres in Western states, he began borrowing money from friends in 1956. When he hooked onto the Benson Upgrader, he borrowed some more. His battle cry was: "We just need another $30,000 to get this thing off the ground."

The thing was terribly heavy, but the friends who lent him money told other friends (who lent), and they told still others (who also lent). Addison never promised anything but a 10% annual interest on the money and "my gratitude," which all his eager, misty-eyed lenders translate as barrels of money. To date, Addison has paid off the 10% interest to some of his investors, has even fully paid off a few nervous investors who demanded their money back. But most of the money was devoted to the business--including two executive airplanes and a big house near Denver. So far, the mines have turned out $283.93 in uranium ore.

"Yes! Yes!" Curiously enough, Addison's biggest defenders are some of the lenders themselves--dentists, schoolteachers, businessmen, an accountant, and lots of old ladies. When he was on trial for theft and conspiracy last year in San Antonio, his supporters showed up in the courtroom wearing white ribbons that proclaimed: I AM A SATISFIED LENDER TO JOHN MILTON ADDISON (he was acquitted). Twice, in the past five months, his satisfied lenders gave $200-a-plate dinners for him. They have also turned out regularly for revival-style meetings to cheer him on in his fight against "the interests." Typical performance: "You understand I can take your money and tear it up, burn it, throw it away, or spend it on wild, wild women--don't you?" (Screams of "Yes!") "And you want it that way?" ("Yes! Yes!")

Freed on bond last week, John Milton Addison seemed characteristically unperturbed about the annoying grand jury indictment, although his considerable following raised a properly outraged cry in his behalf ("If they'll just quit harassing him with all these court actions," declared a San Antonio dairyman. "I still believe he can do wonderful things on this earth"). And the publicity, he figured, would help him get certification for his "Clean 'Em Out Right Party" and get his gubernatorial campaign under way.

Of course, it may take just a little money to get the thing really off the ground.

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