A blogger steals someone else's life story and calls it her own.
How William Orr's quest for better, cheaper gas became a crime.
I worked at Kmart with John McCain's director of strategy.
Well, the Maharishi was the pioneer of Transcendental Meditation. You know, "om," and all that stuff. Yogic flying. They have people who can actually levitate. What's that, sir? Has anyone ever seen them? Well, no. That's just for insiders. And it takes a while to get to where you can actually fly. First, you have to bounce. See, a bunch of people sit in the lotus position on a mattress and they all practice hopping around. They believe that if you get enough people hopping around at the same time, you can achieve world peace. They say once, in the early 1990s, they decreased Washington, D.C.'s crime rate. In the early '80s, a bunch of yogic fliers convened in Israel and decreased unrest in neighboring Lebanon.
They also have a host of all-natural health products that have been tested in clinical trials for 5,000 years. What's that, ma'am? No, I'm not sure what kind of clinical trials they were conducting 3,000 years before the birth of Christ. But I did call their 800-number, and the operator assured me that, unlike Viagra, their all-natural boner pills will not produce a four-hour erection. Pardon? I'm sorry, ma'am. I meant no disrespect.This Transcendental Meditation is popular stuff. They've got their own little town in southeast Iowa, where their university is. And they're building "peace palaces" throughout the country. There's one about 40 miles north of here, in a very nice community called The Woodlands. An oilman named Howard Settle bankrolled it, and he offices there as well. These palaces are designed under the principles of "Vedic" architecture. All the main entrances face east, and the actual design of the building itself promotes harmony. What's that, sir? No, you're absolutely right -- there's not a touch of Vedic architecture in the old Holiday Inn. But I talked to Tom Hayden, the guy who keeps the premises secure.
Here's what he told me: "I take care of properties like this. You know, secure them from entry. Do the cleanup. Like, if you walk by that building, sometimes when you walk by a vacant building, you smell urine and stuff like that? You never find that on a property like this."
You heard that right, folks. This building does not reek of urine. Go ahead, take a whiff. Pardon? Do I think they have to worry about piss on the Peace Palace? No, sir, I don't. But you know, I have a saying: "World peace is achieved one white-flight community at a time."
In the early 1990s, the ol' Maharishi went on a spending spree and bought a bunch of vacant hotels throughout the country, including this one, which they picked up for $2 million in 1992. The plan was to convert them into Heaven on Earth Inns and have spaces designated for TM students. It didn't really work out, though.
An ad in the Houston Business Journal last year listed the price for this hotel at $10 million. The building actually changed hands briefly in 2004. The Maharishi people sold it for $8.5 million to a group of investors that included a Colorado Springs outfit called LandCo. Michael Raider, a Houston native who works for LandCo, told the Houston Business Journal in 2005 that the property would be slated for apartments or condos.
Another LandCo guy, Don Nicholas, told the Houston Chronicle in 2004: "An ugly duckling downtown will become a swan."
Unfortunately, the swan kicked the bucket when the investors defaulted on the $8.5 mill, and the hotel went back to the yogis. I tried to talk to Michael Raider to see what happened, but he didn't return my calls. And Nicholas didn't want to talk on the record. Go figure.
I got in touch with Dave Humphreys, a lawyer who's handling the sale. But it was kind of difficult talking with him. After most of my questions, all I heard was the chirping of crickets and the forlorn rustle of tumbleweeds. And some of the answers were...well, they were a little weird. Like, I asked him why the Maharishi hasn't been able to unload the building in nearly 15 years.
Here's what he said: "We've only owned it for a year and a half. No, just a year."
Here's what he was referring to: The Maharishi organization that bought the building in 1992 was the World Plan Executive Council. But LandCo bought the property from a Maharishi organization called the Maharishi Global Development Fund. And when LandCo defaulted, the hotel went back to the Global Fund. So it appeared that that change in corporate filing therefore canceled out the entire previous decade.
So after a few tumbleweeds floated by, I tried phrasing the question along these lines: In the 15 years that the property has been owned by a Maharishi-affiliated entity, why has it been so hard to move?
Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.
"Well, depends on how you define that," he said. "I can only speak for Global Development Fund. That's who I work for."
What's that, sir? You need an Advil? Me too.