This crystal skull holds centuries of history, mystery and energy. Why is it in Indiana?
A lazy Susan on a cloth-covered card table elevates the guest of honor. Pink hydrangeas plucked from the garden flank the pedestal, and a towel shrouds the object in secrecy.
The pomp and circumstance seems a little much, but Bill Homann likes to play this up. Though he’d done this countless times, he has the enthusiasm of someone brand new to the gig.
And the object — centuries of history and mystery, 7 inches of height and 5 inches of width that caught Peter O’Toole’s eye and gave Steven Spielberg the creeps — deserves the grandeur. It’s not every day you come face to face with the stuff of legend.
Homann’s hand hovers over the towel, eager for the big reveal. He tears it away and looks at his guest expectantly.
“Meet the Mitchell-Hedges Skull.”
It goes by several names — the Skull of Doom in pop culture, Q’uq’umatz (an ancient Mayan god, pronounced “cuckoo-mots”) historically, “my friend” familiarly — and has lived a million lifetimes, allegedly. Legend says it’s one of only 13 crystal skulls in the world, all possessing the knowledge of the ancient societies where they were found.
F.A. Mitchell-Hedges, a British explorer who traveled the globe through the late 19th and early 20th centuries, was the first to own the skull, and many a travel writer has retraced his steps through Central America and beyond. “Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull,” whose own skull was inspired by the Mitchell-Hedges discovery, put the artifact on the map for the public.
Its Indiana ties don’t stop there: Homann who’s possessed it since 2007 is a Hoosier himself. IndyStar photojournalist and resident history whiz Michelle Pemberton sought him out, and we arranged to meet at a friend of Homann’s house in north Indiana. He prefers to keep the exact location discrete — he never knows who could try to snatch the skull from under him.
A proper session with the skull requires ritual, and Homann is an expert. He asks guests to cup their hands around it and concentrate as they get a good look at the man of the hour (or woman, or something in between — Homann says its gender is up to the person in front of it).
First thought: Is this thing smiling at me?
Maybe it’s a permanent fixture, detachable jaw and everything, but I swear the skull wears a smirk. I’m probably right, Homann says: The skull has sense of humor.
“If he’s happy, he smiles,” Homann says. “I’ve seen him when he’s not.”
It’s time for me to feel its energy, he says. I give the smirking skull a once-over, offer my hands, and hope for the best.
What is the Mitchell-Hedges Skull?
The legend, at least the part we can trace, starts in 1924, when Anna Mitchell-Hedges discovered the skull. She’d accompanied her father to one of his several expeditions to Belize (then known as British Honduras) and spent time exploring the ruins of Lubaantun, an ancient Maya city, with local kids.
The way Homann tells it, Anna Mitchell-Hedges saw a beam of light illuminate an object inside the abandoned pyramid she’d found. On New Year’s Day — her 17th birthday — her father and the group they were traveling with lowered her by rope inside the pyramid, and after she fished around in the dark for a while, she came back up with the crystal skull.
The way skeptics tell it, F.A. Mitchell-Hedges bought the skull from an auction at Sotheby’s in 1943. He refuted the claim in his book “Danger My Ally,” explaining that he bought the skull back when family friends mistakenly put it up for sale long after its discovery.
Interest in the skull surged after the 2008 Indiana Jones movie, spurring the Smithsonian Institute to research crystal skulls across the world. Jane MacLaren Walsh’s studies on the Mitchell-Hedges Skull determined it probably wasn’t carved until the 1930s based on the tools used.
Doubt persists, but so does the lore. Homann defends it with fervor.
With its quartz devoid of carbon, scientists can’t use the carbon dating technique to assign the skull an exact age. Plus, its embedded prism and reflectors shouldn’t be there — especially with no marks to indicate where the maker would’ve cut into the crystal to insert them.
Homann often cites a 1971 Hewlett-Packard study that was inconclusive on how the skull came to be as proof of its extraordinary origins. The HP testing produced nothing but a bunch of puzzled scientists and a crack down the left side of the skull’s mouth, but Homann said the answers lie in the lack of them.
If no one can explain how it got here, he said, maybe it’s not for us to understand.
“They said, ‘This thing shouldn’t exist,’” Homann said. “It was a technology that’s different than anything we know.”
Who is Bill Homann?
How does an average guy from north Indiana end up with one of the most infamous artifacts in the world?
It’s trick question: He doesn’t. Homann’s not your average guy.
He’s an Air Force veteran and 10th degree black belt. He’s rubbed elbows with everyone from Lester Holt to Spike Lee (both, evidently, were interested in the skull), and he travels the world with the skull in tow. He gives the Dos Equis man a serious run for his money.
We eventually made it to Panama. Homann was stationed there during the Vietnam War, during which he maintained a strong interest in crystals and spiritual healing. After his service, he took a class on them, and the instructor happened to be close with Anna Mitchell-Hedges.
One photo of the skull and Homann was hooked. It reminded him of something, perhaps from a past life, he said. He found himself on his way to Anna Mitchell-Hedges’ residence in Canada to see the skull.
“There was something, a memory that came back,” Homann said.
The two hit it off and formed a close friendship, traveling and even living together at times until Anna Mitchell-Hedges died in 2007. All the while, she’d been teaching Homann about the secrets of the skull. By the time she passed, it was all but his.
Homann likes to say the skull chose him, as it does every owner. It can’t be sold or bought, only gifted. That’s how it ended up with Homann, and that’s how he’ll select his successor.
Until then, the skull sticks with him. He travels the world to speak at conferences, appear in documentaries or TV episodes, consult with experts and meet fellow enthusiasts for a session with the skull.
Homann’s friend, as he calls it, represents peace, love and clarity, and some are just drawn to it. Distance doesn’t deter them.
“Certain people, they really need to see it,” Homann said.
He seems content to spend the rest of his life as a conduit for the skull’s message, seeking connection with whoever wants it. The price of globetrotting has started to stack up, so Homann’s started to charge a fee for his visits, but he’s happy to make a stop if someone seeks him out.
It’s what the skull wants, after all.
“I do what I feel, and I say what’s in my heart,” Homann said. “If it resonates with you, I’m there to help.”
Is the crystal skull really magic?
True to his word, Homann is certainly here to help me now.
He guides my hands above it, beside it and behind it to absorb its peaceful, loving energy. I mirror his movements, careful not to make contact with the skull but close enough to get a sense of the shape.
He asks me if I feel it yet. The answer, honestly, is no, maybe a coolness from the stone in the middle of my palms if anything. Then I look up.
In his eyes, I can see excitement, earnestness, adventure. I see a man thrilled with his life, happy in this moment and eager for the next ones.
“Yes,” I decide “I do feel something.”
And that’s the truth. Whether I’m healing or achieving some kind of spiritual transcendence, who’s to say. But Homann’s excitement is infectious: There’s a giddy smile on my face and a slight shake in my hands.
I want that to be the energy, and honestly, isn’t that what everyone else – the movies, the Mitchell-Hedges, the believers – wanted, too?
Contact Pulliam Fellow Heather Bushman at HBushman@gannett.com. Follow her on Twitter @hmb_1013.
This article originally appeared on Indianapolis Star: The Mitchell-Hedges skull: A transcendent tale of mystery and intrigue
