Way Down Home in a Missile Silo: The Cold War Goes Condo

"The first-generation systems weren't intended to work," claims another missile-base owner in Wamego, Kan., who has compiled an archive of the Atlas E system. "We leaked the blueprints so [the Soviets] would spend themselves into the ground," he said, requesting anonymity.

US missile officials deny such charges.

Still, after only five years in service, the military shut down the Atlas installations and replaced them with new Titan II and Minutemen sites. Labeled FUDS (Formerly Used Defense Sites), about half of the old bases were handed over to cities, counties, and school districts. North of Holton, Kan., for example, Jackson Heights school district bought an Atlas E complex for $1 in 1969. "It was a very economical way to put up a new high school," says superintendent Don Stockstill. Subterranean science, math, and art classes are linked by stairs to an above-ground conventional school.

The rest of the silos fell into private hands. Peden first heard of the Dover base in the early 1980s, when he was teaching history in Topeka. Having learned about environmentally friendly housing during the energy crisis a decade earlier, Peden was intrigued. He had to tour the gutted, flooded, cave-like structure using a canoe and flashlight. Still, he was impressed by its sheer size and permanence. He eventually bought the 33-acre site, which came with an airstrip, and set up a business manufacturing ultra-light aircraft in the former launch bay. In 1994, he finally moved in.

In the post-cold-war era, Peden views his dwelling through a prism of history and archaeology. "I feel my role here is almost one of a steward," he reflects. "These structures will be here for hundreds of years. They are the castles of this century."

Indeed, Peden has created a lucrative business reselling other missile silos, which he markets as "Twentieth Century Castles." He has sold more than a dozen, described in a brochure as "historic, collectible, underground properties." A Texas man even teaches scuba in his flooded silo.

The structures do have drawbacks. For repairs, "You can't just go to the hardware store and buy the typical home products," notes Peden. He is planning to launch a newsletter with practical advice for missile-base owners, such as "how to refurbish the sewage system on an Atlas F."

Peden's teenage daughters sometimes complain about living underground. And no matter how hard he and his wife, Dianna, try - the "Welcome Friends" sign, the lavender hanging out to dry, the quaint kitchen spice rack - the place will never be exactly homey.

"The thing we really lack down here," he says, completely deadpan, "is a view."

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