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stevetuba.co.uk
Stories V
and How I became a legend in my own mind. A work in progress.
Throughout the years, one thing that's struck me (odd) was that people tend to repeat themselves over time. That is, they tell, either the same exact story, or almost the same story over and over again. These "stories" are usually about themselves, their lives...experiences (supposedly). (Yeah I walked twenty miles to school in the dead of winter...bare foot...in drifts ten feet high, carrying a hind quarter of beef...and this was when I was only 12.) I first picked up on the universality of this during my time in the USAF when I'd relocate and met a new set of people at which time the "story clock" would start all over. Most of my tours lasted over 12 months and at one point I would be aware that THIS was a story I'd heard before. Years later, I began to wonder about some aspects of this observation. The most interesting one was; Isn't it amazing that a persons life could be reduced to just a handful of stories? Granted, these were the highlights as it were, but this was what people tell you. The telling of which, when strung end to end wouldn't take but a few hour or so. Another purpose of stories it to "compare notes" as it were. This in itself is an interesting thing. I mean, before we can "talk", we need to know at what level. To that end we tell and then compare stories to gauge the level of our experience. The scene from Jaws comes to mind as a classic example...as Dreyfuss and Shaw compare scars. "I've been there, done that"! Ok, not exactly THAT but close enough. This is the "good" reason for stories. The other one is of course the telling of (true?) history. Some people make the mistake of thinking that THEIR personal path to knowledge (experience) is THE only way to have gained that knowledge. (They don't take into account the concept of "the essence of knowledge" which can be gained in numerous ways.) Believing that, they tell their stories not with the intent to "compare" but to convince you that they are in some way superior to you since you didn't have the same, exact, experience. Now it could just be a case of "what went around, came around" (in their case) but then who gives a damn, since you are now on the receiving end of their Bravo Sierra. As far as I'm concerned, given a choice, I stay away from people like that. They waste my time. Then...I've known people that would repeat the stories yearly...for years! They seemed to work on the premise that it was more important to tell their story (true or not) than your discomfort at hearing it again for the tenth time since they've conveniently forgotten that you had heard it all before. Plus, they'd change the story! Some people steal stories and after telling it a few times, they seem to really believe that they lived it or at least want you to believe so. I really hate people that tell stories that they know can not be corroborated...the ultimate Brovo Sierra. I guess it just means that our lives are REALLY a bloody bore! Or...we just don't talk about the things that REALLY matter! Some of both? Interesting stories are extraordinary...experiences. It is to this end that I'm telling as many of my stories that I can think of. By writing these stories out, it's on the record as it were. Some of my stories are memoirs of my war buddies. I've lost track of most of them. Some may be dead and gone, but in telling the stories, they live on. Some are tributes. Other are stories I thought would be of interest...or just funny. Yet others are just plain bragging on my part. In progress...
The 44th page... I do not believe in the paranormal, psychics, UFOs, astrology, biorhythm, divining rods, Tarot cards, fortune telling etc...ad nauseam. But... I was at the University Book Store, on the Ave, where I was having no luck trying to get a document. It was out of print, I was told. Rats! This was the definitive text on circular polarized hemispherical radiation pattern antennae. I was building a Lindenblad and wanted as much information as possible. I had parked my car at the parking lot down the street. Later, I'd have the ticket stamped by any number of stores in the area, thus free parking. So there I was, feeling guilty about asking to have the bloody ticket stamped and not having bought a thing... Yeah...I know! I know! There was nothing for it...I'd have to find a book. They had reduced prices on books that hadn't sold well. I do like books with old photographs. Historical, photographic portfolios of places...like...Seattle! Gads! There was one right there...in front of me. Wait for it... As was my practice...at the time...I would take a book of interest and turn to page 44. As in 1944, the year of my birth. For that matter, I could see looking at ones "age page" too...unless of course the books you're used to looking at don't have that many pages! So it was...that if this book wanted to come home with me...it would have to show me something cosmic on my birth page...and that was that, there would be no fooling around! And, I was "unanimous in this." (AYBS). The book that I was looking at was a collection of photographs of Seattle, by Asahel Curtis, you've probably heard of him. No? Then perhaps his more (in)famous brother, Edward? You never heard of Edward Curtis either? Well...What can I say? Asahel took a lot (60K) of photographs of turn-of-the-century Seattle. Some were properly recorded as to location, and I'd guess, why...as in, was it a commission etc.? Other photographs were not so well documented, if at all. Flipping from the back toward the front, I looked at the photos...while keeping track of page numbers. 104...86...64...52...44!...30...WHAT WAS THAT? I backed up a number of pages and started again. 50...48...44! (You have to realize that I didn't forget page 46. When writing a story like this, particularly with pages and numbers and stuff, the writer, me, has to kinda...well...fake it a bit. There! I said it! But it is true that when flipping through a book, all the pages don't go by in straight page sequence. Sometimes a page or even two or more "just" skip by! So to give the reader a very genuine feeling of what all real page flippers experience, I skipped, on purpose, page 46.) Where were we...? As page 44 went by the first time I caught a glimpse of the photo and it triggered a strong reaction...a memory. I remember thinking in that instant that I KNEW...I knew what it was. Sure as hell. I looked and looked...HARD to bloody believe but there it was in living black and white. Calmed down...I read the caption.
I put the book down and left the store...shaken to the core...though not stirred. Just kidding! I bought the book and got my ticket stamped. The next time I went to the OM's (Old man's) I told him the story and showed him the book and naturally...page 44. He got a real kick out of it. I left the book with him since he wanted to show his neighbors. The more I thought about it the more convinced I became that I should go back and buy one for the OM and one for my sister before the book store ran out of them...a real possibility. It was not long afterwards that I got a call from the OM telling me about the reaction of the neighbors. On the one side...to the south, it was of disappointment since that house doesn't show at all. To the north it was a much different response...one of joy. The neighbor Jonathan, called the Washington State Historical Society Museum in Tacoma. It was possible to order prints from the original glass negatives and it turned out that the photograph in the book was not the only one taken that day. There were more. In the end, everybody was able to order a print showing their house, and happiness spread over the land.
Photo: Asahel Curtis 1924. © Washington State Historical Society Museum. Tacoma, WA.
The Dose House, April 2002. Built in 1911. There we have it...The DOSE House...of page 44. PS. In 1953, the year we moved into the house, the parking strip was as pictured in 1924 with the rose bushes along the entire block. Over the years the bushes were all removed. Today there are a few trees in their place! It pays to look...sometimes...you might be surprised...in the twilight zone. The book is "Seattle" An Ashel Curtis Portfolio. ISBN: 0-87701-339-X. Dateline: Velence, HU. 2008. It's just as I wrote a few lines back. I find it truly amazing how some people have no conscience or that their life is just too plain...that they will steal a story...AND then tell it to the main character (me)...whom they've written out of the story altogether...having replaced me with themselves. So it was back in 2004 that I was in Seattle to take care of my belongings that had been stored at the OM's. The OM having died. There to help me on that day was my friend Greg Schilling. There in the foyer along with a lot of other stuff were a pair of framed photographs...that had been taken by Curtis. Greg picked them up and looked at them...and that was my opening to tell the story of their existence. The story is the one you've just read I presume...above. I tell the story...adding nothing. At that point we decide to take the two photos out...just to see from where they were taken...up the street. It meant crossing the street...and after satisfying ourselves that we'd located it...head back down the street. We get about to the point where we would have crossed back over...and were intercepted by a neighbor and greeted him. I introduce them...and it's then that Greg volunteers to tell him why it was that we were out and about...photos in hand. Without hesitaion...the neighbor begins to tell the story of thier existence. As soon as he said that "he" had been at a book store...I knew that I was now in the twilight zone. It had not been twenty minutes before that I had told Greg the story...and now here is this other guy...with the SAME story. I would have been beside myself if it were possible. The guy telling the story was not uneducated. I let him finnish because I wanted to hear the whole story...but while listening...I was already aware that I would have to nail the sucker...hard. I have to stop for a thought. Scenerios. Let me again state that the story is exactly as I wrote above...but...what if from that point on...unbeknownst to me...others do not. The OM shows the book/photo to Jonathan....AND he (the OM) "writes" me out of the story. The other neihgbors are contacted along with a show and tell...and eventually prints are ordered through Jonathan's efforts of having contacted the museum. If this is in fact the scenerio...then with the OM's death...the story is up for grabs. If they only heard the OM's version...me having been written out...then they would not think twice in telling me...my...story...without me...with a straight face. Anyway...there we were...listening to the story...which by the way was a very loose version...as in he didn't remember the book store's name...and not mentioning that Jonathan had ordered the prints. AND naturally nothing about the photo being on page 44...which was the main point of my story. Had the image NOT been on page 44 I may not have bought the book...since I would not have looked at every page in said book. [Obviouly if the OM ignored that little detail in his retelling of the...my...story...none of them would have known the truth.] I wish now that I had said..."Damn...that's amazing...that's exactly what happened to me!"...but that was not to be...I went on to tell him the "real" story...to which...he says...wait for it..."Well...then...That's the way it must have been". "That's the way it must have been"? Give me a bloody break! No explanation...no apology...no acknowledgement...no regret...no shame...no attempt to perhaps get clarification...nothing. I would be interested to hear Jonathan's version...or at least how he heard it from the OM. At this same time...while in Seattle I was told that one of my stories had been read to the OM...and a response solicited...to what end I don't know...at the end of which...the OM says..."...Well...it was something like that...but Steve (me) was not there."! The fact was again...that the story was exactly as I wrote it. He only remembered the parts after my story...(given that it was in fact he that had not been there)...and it was true that I didn't participate in those activities...though I was in the house. So naturaly it was "something like that" from his point of knowledge. There was no "hero" in the story. It was just a collection of facts. By stating that I was not there...meant what...that factually he was? Was my story just too good to pass up a chance to write himself into it? [I write extencively about other instances such as this in my March 2010...blog pages...where the OM falsely takes credit for event.] I guess what really shocks me about all of this is its pervasiveness! What is real?
Russell W. Porter 1871-1949. A few months before the (Curtis) photo above was taken (1924), the newly formed Springfield Telescope Makers of Vermont were finishing the main part of their club house on Breezy Hill. The name for the building was to be, "Steller Fane" as suggested by the club's founder and first president, Russell W. Porter. The name was later contracted to "Stellafane". I first became familiar with the name (R. W.) Porter as a result of my interest in astronomy. I already had a modest refracting telescope of 50mm aperture (f/10) that I bought for $60 with "paper route money" back in '58. I had looked at the Sun (spots), Moon, Venus, Mercury, Jupiter and at last one day I spotted Saturn. I was hooked and I wanted a bigger telescope. (I still have that telescope. And it is superior to the garden variety "department store" telescopes available today!) Perhaps a year or so before, I had asked for a subscription to Mechanics Illustrated magazine. Besides the usual articles, there were articles on telescope making and ads by Edmonds Scientific. There-in were kits for various sizes of mirrors for the construction of a reflecting telescopes. A trip to a local book store revealed a series of three books published by Scientific American magazine, dealing exclusively with all aspects of the technical side of amateur astronomy and of course all aspects of telescope making. The initials "R. W. P." were nearly ubiquitous throughout the series (mostly ATM book 1) as the artist responsible for many of the illustrations and chapters. And in a section dealing with telescope mountings, the inventor of the Springfield Mount. And there was more! Anyway...I ordered a kit from Edmonds, consisting of a 6 inch diameter Pyrex blank and a plate glass "tool". Included were various grades of abrasive to grind and polish the one inch thick Pyrex blank into a parabolic mirror suitable for a telescope. I must have mentioned my plans to one of my classmates in as much as I needed a weighted stand on which to grind the mirror, and his dad had one, left over from his own telescope project. Having read and reread the section dealing with grinding a mirror...I started. All went well...and after 40 hours (spread over days) of grinding...and more than a few day of polishing and (Foucault) testing...it was finished. It would take me another year or two to get the mirror mounted properly in the form of an 8 inch diameter aluminium tube. I think it was 1962 that I was asked to bring my telescope to school. I don't remember if it was to be a science fair...or what...but I declined on the grounds that, indoors, it would not be feasible to view anything of meaningful value. Just looking into the eyepiece would not only show nothing...but worse...the viewer would walk away more than disappointed. About 25 years later I was asked to bring my telescope...a Celestron C-8 (Orange) at the time...to a junior high school. The kids lined up to look through the scope at real objects in the night sky. During my lunch periods (at school) I'd go to the library and read Scientific American magazine. It had a section devoted to amateur telescope making which I enjoyed. By 1965 I was in the Air Force, stationed on Okinawa, where I frequented the base library and picked up where I'd left off reading SciAm. Not long after, I subscribed, and did so continuously for 30 years. It was at the base library that I first picked up a copy of Electronics . This was one hellava magazine. Thick and it was published biweekly. After getting out, stateside...a subscription was in order. I don't remember exactly when, perhaps the late 80's, as a bonus for re-subscribing, SciAm offered as a choice, a book titled "Russell W. Porter". By this time R.W. P. was a legend in my mind and I looked forward to it. Well now...Russell truly became one of my "heroes" after reading his lifes story! In his early years he was an arctic explorer with Peary, Fiala and later with Cook. Though exciting...all failed to reach the pole. Cook then decided to climb Mt. McKinley, which had not been conquered as yet, and persuaded Porter to join the expedition. The expedition started in Seattle. After struggling in vain to find a suitable approach to the mountain pursuant to an assault, Cook returned from a "short" exploratory trip...and claimed to have not only found a way...but reached the summit! Porter heard it all first hand. It wasn't true...of course. After many years in the grip of "arctic fever"...Porter settled down...a bit. Through his acquaintances in amateur telescope making and his acknowledged extraordinary talents, he was asked to join the effort to build what would become the worlds largest telescope...the 200 inch Hale. Its ultimate location would be determined by survey, with telescopes designed by Porter. Site surveys were done and Mt. Palomar was chosen. From nothing more that blue prints, Porter would create 3 dimensional drawings of great clarity and artistry of the purposed design.
"Every once in a while a body would like to go out and tell the world something. I had this feeling when looking at the remarkable drawings by Russell Porter for the great 200" telescope now in the course of construction on top of Palomar Mountain in California. If these drawing had been made from the telescope and its machinery after it had been erected they would have been of exceptional excellence, giving a uncanny sense of reality, with shadows accurately cast and nigh perfect perspective: but to think that any artist had his pictorial imagination in such working order as to construct these pictures with no other material data than blue prints of a plan and elevation of the various intricate forms--is simply beyond belief. These drawings should be in a government museum of standards, in a glass case, along with the platinum pound weight, yard stick, etc. to show the world and comes after just what a mechanical drawing should be. Not only that, but the rendering is a work of art, exact and life like, and done with a delightful freedom of technique. They have a decided decorative quality, and in an appropriate setting could very well serve as unique mural decoration. I doubt if there are drawings anywhere which can in any way compare with these for perfection in showing what a stupendous piece of machinery is going to look like when finished. The pity is that comparatively few will know about them, for their creation should be world news. Cornish: New Hampshire Maxfield Parrish December 15th. 1938" I don't wish to turn this into a biography of Porter but I shall finish by quoting a citation for the Degree of Science bestowed by Norwich University in Northfield, Vermont where Porter had attended for one year...1889-1890. On June 6, 1946 he returned to the campus as one of five men to receive honorary degrees. "Russell William (s) Porter--A cadet at Norwich in 1890; arctic adventurer and a scientist who contributed photographic records, collected specimens and surveyed maps of hitherto unknown regions of the Far North, mechanical genius in the planning and construction of telescopes and mirrors; founder of the Amateur Telescope Makers Association, under whose influence and guidance thousands of people of all ages and all parts of the world have been enabled to enjoy the marvelous beauties of the sidereal universe with instruments of their own handiwork; recognized leader in the most ambitious observatory project in all history; whose poetic skill with pencil and crayon has given structural beams and trusses a glamour appropriate to the 'music of the spheres' which they will help to interpret. Architect by training, mechanical designer, inventor and builder by profession, artist by native ability, giver of avocational enjoyment to numberless common people of whom he is proud to be one, living example of the truth that the most effective instructor of human beings is himself most human--Norwich University takes pleasure in conferring upon you the degree Doctor of Science." Oh! One of the other four men...(?)...was (Gen.) Dwight David Eisenhower...future president of the United States of America!
Ok...one more hero. (Dr.) James G. Baker. In an issue of Mechanics Illustrated (MI) there was an article about building a camera for taking photographs of the night sky. I found it most fascinating. The lens for this camera was a salvaged WWII aerial reconnaissance camera, a Kodak Aero-Ektar of seven inches focal length...f/2.5, which naturally I didn't have. Years later I bought ATM book 3 where the very first chapter dealt with lenses most suitable for taking photographs of the stars. Not just that, but the design and construction of such a lens. GADS! The author was James Baker. At the back of this same book there were short biographies...including one for Dr. Baker. Born in 1914, by 1953 the publishing date for ATM3, he was already a legend in his field of lens design. Ok?..Are you with me so far? Years pass. My interest in optics continued. On 4 October 1957...Sputnik is launched! The world changed. There was now a need to detect and "track" satellites for the purposes of ascertaining their orbits and launch locations. Later computers were available to "crunch the number". To detect unknown satellites and refine the orbits of those that were known, photographing them in the twilight sky and capturing a trace of the passing satellite superimposed onto a background star field was the solution at that time. From these photographs it was possible to calculate the orbits. These cameras were known as "Baker-Nunn" cameras and were part of a 12 site system. The Baker-Nunn camera was superb, 500mm fl...f/1. It could reach 20th magnitude in a 100 seconds exposure. Another one of my heroes was Bernard Schmidt...the inventor of his namesake camera...that saw "first light" in 1930. Porter would be involved in the design and construction of the largest practical Schmidt Camera during the Palomar 200 inch project.
Baker would use Schmidt's design as the basis for his camera, except that instead of a relatively thin corrector plate...he designed it as a triplet! Gads! New spy planes were on the drawing board, as were designs for the lenses for the cameras. I remember thinking, as I saw on television the wreckage of Francis Gary Powers' U2, whether or not the optics survived being shot out of the sky by the Soviets. In a way, this brings to mind..."Ice Station Zebra". As a result of the U2 incident, work was started on the SR-71 Blackbird, and the requisite cameras systems. I just missed the SR-71's deployment to Okinawa by a number of months. Anyway...to make a long story short...Dr. Baker was involved with all these recon systems, U2, SR-71 among others. The point I'm trying to make is that here was a guy that saw fit to contribute to the amateur cause, while involved in some really serious (top secret) work. It was as though the top people contributed in an unselfish manner...all in the interest of disseminating their knowledge. I don't think that the compellation of the three ATM volumes will ever be repeated and I can not think of any other field...optics...where historically it has happened since. The basics are still the same. I truly cherish these books. Oh! I'm guessing...but sometime in the late '80s...I scored a 12 inch fl f/2.5 Aero-Ektar! A few years later...wait for it...scored the much wanted 7 inch.
One last note on Schmidt...It turns out that his design was used backwards by RCA engineers and perhaps other in some of the early rear projection televisions. The cast aluminum assembly was in the shape of truncated cone. A 17 inch spherical mirror at the bottom and a plastic corrector plate at the other. In the middle...in place of what would normally have been the film holder was a high brightness CRT (cathode ray tube) pointing down into the mirror. The projected image was then reflected at 90 degrees onto a fairly large translucent screen.
Some film bufferie...A few connections in time and space. Also about the same time (1924) that Curtis was taking the photographs of "my" neighborhood, a film was being made in Hollywood that would be released in 1925...The same year that a young girl named Mary Cecilia Ramone Therasa A.. R........., age five, would make her stage debut. This story actually started when I came across an ad in a magazine that, in part, used a reproduction of a poster for a film. I had heard of the film's title before...and naturally Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's book..."The Lost World". Conan Doyle was perhaps better known as the creator of Sherlock Holmes. I was struck by the fact that the artwork was in color while I knew that the film must have been shot in black and white...and silent at that! My eyes were then drawn to the names of the principal actors...Bessie Love, Lewis Stone and Wallace Berry. How interesting...I thought...Lewis Stone...was playing the (romantic) lead character! And "Bessie Love"...what a name...huh?
By the time Lewis was 20 years old...he'd turned prematurely gray...having served during the Spanish American War...and later in the U.S. Cavalry during WWI.
So anyway...the real 'babe' of the series (Andy Hardy) was...Andy's love interest...Polly Benedict. Ahhh. She was...in not only my mind but many others I'm sure...the hottest creature we'd ever seen.
Another love interest was played by...Frances Ethel Gumm...better known as Judy Garland. Judy went down the yellow brick road and over the rainbow to...'The Wizard of Oz'. Lewis Shepard Stone died tragically at age 73, collapsing of a heart attack while fending off some rowdy teenagers from his carefully tended garden. He had appeared in over 200 films. On June 22, 1969 Judy Garland died of a drug overdose...in Chelsea, England. A virtual stones throw from me now [then]...about 8 miles. That same year...Bessie Love play a bit part in the James Bond flick...'On Her Majesty's Secret Service'.
She received an Academy Award nomination in 1929 for 'The Broadway Melody'. But by 1931, her career was over. She moved to England in 1935 and entertained the troops during World War II. 1935 was the approximate year that our house was built here in Berrylands, Surbiton, Surrey. [At the time I wrote this story I was living in UK Land...hence the reference. As of 2007 I have been living Velence, HU Land.] Born (1898) in Midland, Texas U.S.A....she died on 26, April 1986...in London, England! Judy Garland's favorite actor was Robert Donat in...'Goodbye Mr. Chips'. I liked that film also, along with, and perhaps a bit more...Donat and Kerr in (1945) 'Vacation from Marriage'/'Perfect Strangers'...co-starring Glynis Johns...another of my favorite actresses. Glynis co-stared with Jimmy Stewert in (1951) 'No Highway in the Sky'. Guess who was an uncredited actress playing a passenger on the plane? None other than...Bessie Love! My most favorite Donat film was Hitchcock's 'The Thirty-nine Steps' co-staring Madeleine Carrol...which was made in...you guessed it...1935. My favorite scene, because of a short musical piece that I found quite charming...takes place at the inn to which they've gone to seek refuge...while still handcuffed together. Someday I'll track down that piece of music...it's a very haunting little number...and way too short on screen. Anyway... In 1951 another film was released, staring Alec Guinness...'The Man in the White Suit'. Co-staring was...Joan Greenwood. Joan co-stared, two years earlier, also with Guinness, in 'Kind Hearts and Coronets'...another favorite. Sir Alec played eight parts in that film. Joan died in London 14 months after Bessie Love. Madeleine Carrol died six months after that...in Spain. And...Joan Greenwood?...She was born in...wait for it...Chelsea, London...the place of Judy Garlands death. The end...or maybe not...
Three stories that the kids want me to tell... 1.1
Left to right: Me (14), Roy (Bud) Duncan (14), (my brother) John Jr. (13), Dan West (14) and Larry (Wow) Elfendahl (15). Aug. 1958. Dan and Bud were my flying buddies (model airplanes) and we'd generally hang out during the summers. Bud and I lived closer and sometimes it was right out of Wayne's World. We'd end up, late at night, on top of someone's garage, staring up at the stars, and trying to figure out the meaning of life (which I've subsequently done). On this evening, I was at Bud's place. It just happened, that we decided to engage in some "chase"...called "manhunt" these days. It was like hide and seek, but you could/should move to a new location to escape...as it were. Moving also allowed you to at least be detected, hence continuing the chase. It was best with more players, but on this night, two would have to do...mano a mano...a hunt to the death. We stuck pretty close to his house, but there were no limits. It was all about the "chase". Now...There was no fence between his house and the neighbor to the north but there was a shear drop off of about a foot in places, Bud's being the low side. Running parallel to and close to the property line was their clothesline, about twenty feet long and a four banger at that. We'd run all over the place back and forth and it was getting pretty dark when I found myself in the neighbors yard heading into his at full speed. I knew about the drop off and instantly judging my takeoff point, took it in one hellava flying leap. For a second...I thought that I'd achieved human flight... I'd flown many times before...in my dreams...but this would be a first...actual...conscious at the time...no doubt about it...human powered FLIGHT! Well...hover anyway...suspended in the air, held there by the four lines. I recovered and the game ended sometime later. The next day I was there again, and we ended up in the back yard. Bud then saw the clotheslines for the first time which normally were quit straight, now bowed to within a foot or two of the ground...(exaggerating). Dumbfounded, but trying to rationalize it, he exclaimed... "Jees! There must have been a hellava wind last night". "Good observation!" I thought...and I agreed with him! In the film version I'd have said something like..."yeah...about 60 (mph) or 70 I reckon...maybe more...like a hurricane!" I never did tell him the truth of the matter. In defense I didn't know until I saw the lines and thought about it. It was so dark...I never knew what had happened to me the night before. Besides...they shouldn't have put the lines there in the first place...a hazard to low flying aircraft. This had been my second attempt at flight.
2.1 Dateline: Germany ~1950 My first attempt at flight took place in Germany. I would have been six or seven. We lived on the second floor from which it was possible to climb out a window onto the sloping, metal covered roof of a leanto. One day, armed with nothing more than an umbrella and without benefit of a countdown (they didn't have them yet), I jumped. It was a very short flight. "Uneventful"...would be overstating it...the landing being the major event. The opportunities for discovery can be painfully short. Kids don't picture you their size, they envision you as now...jumping of the roof with an umbrella, which of course is pretty damn funny.
2.2
I joined the Keesler AFB Aero Club during the latter part of my tour at Keesler. Rightmer, of Texas, had brought his car back...I guess after a leave. I contracted $ with him to drive me to and from Gulfport so I could fly on Sundays. Getting up early was not his idea of fun so at one point he just let me take the car while he slept in.
My timing was not very good as to the time I had left at Keesler and the time it would take to solo. There were also some no fly days because of weather. So, I ended up with enough hours to solo, but time ran out. PS. Cut Bank AFS, my next tour, was not conducive to flying. Interestingly though, it was at Cut Bank that I heard about an AT-6 (Texan) up for sale...$600.00 as I recall. I seriously thought about it...for a minute.
3.
It was well past summer when on this day Roy and I were on the shore of Lake Washington. I had just finished installing radio control into my biggest boat and it was time to try it out. Dan, Roy and I were the big modelers of the neighborhood. Dan built not only control-line planes, but fast boats with big engines. Roy was into small scale planes and the larger control-line planes also. I was into control-line planes, gliders, and boats and ships. Early on we'd buy our models from Peterson's Hardware store at the Mt. Baker business district. It was Mrs. Peterson that one day caught me with an issue of MAD magazine that I'd just bought at (Barney) Dahls' Drug Store. I told her that THAT was my first time...yeah sure. Anyway... They would hold model building contests and the year before, I won first place with the very boat we were about to try. The prize was a model outboard electric motor. I took two first places and ended up with two motors. Our family doctor had been Dr. Malarkey. The Malarkey's lived up on Cascadia...and had a son named Pat(rick). It was Pat who had this un-utilized tube type radio control transmitter, receiver with servo and he sold it to me. It was single channel! It took some time to integrate the receiver and servo into the boat, but with some effort, it was done. So...there we were at the bathing beach area just north of the Dose Stairs. I had Roy hold the transmitter while I turned on the power to the receiver and motor. I'd already tested the range, so it was just a matter of setting the boat in the water, which I did. The little boat headed out toward deeper water in a light chop as I took over control of the transmitter from Roy. I tested the steering...and it seemed to work ok. This was a single channel remote, which meant that to turn, let's say to the right, you just keyed the transmitter once. To go straight again you'd key it long enough to go past straight and left and then it would stop on straight. To turn to the left you'd key it twice, but not too fast because the servo had to go through turning right first and straight...and once it got past, straight, it would then stop on left. There was no control of the electric motor at all...no speed...no stop. I don't know why it is...but it does seem universal...like a moth to the flame...whatever...The urge to see just how far out the little boat could go. The boat was not that fast...so I gave Roy a shot at "driving." Then it happened! I took back the transmitter...and sure as hell...there was no response from the boat. It just kept on going...on a heading of 090, toward the distant shores of Mercer Island about a mile away under a cloudy sky. Try as I would, there was no response whatsoever. It was decision time. I took my shirt, shoes and socks off and dove into the chilly water. I knew I could swim faster than my boat, but it did have a hellava head start. It's funny how thoughts come to you at the oddest times. Years before another neighbor kid, Bill, and I thought we'd "just" swim across the lake. We planned to swim next to the floating bridge. For what reason I don't know since there was nothing to hold on to that I knew of. It seems the subject of doing it came up every year...but we "just" never got around to it...as it were. Those memories came back to me as I started to chase my boat across the lake. I was well past the location where the summertime rafts would have been. I was gaining stroke by stroke helped by a wind blowing from the north. I noticed that I kept having to adjust my heading to compensate for the change of heading for the boat. It seemed that the closer I got, the greater the heading changed, now 180. Jeez, at this rate I'll catch up to it...wait for it...just about the time it hits shore...about where I dove in. I was swimming in a great circle. Well...to make a short story longer...Roy regained control about that time and steered it toward shore. I swam in a following pattern. Overall, I felt good about the whole affair...given that it could really have turned out badly. I mean, there could have been someone out there in a boat, whom I was able to attract. After explaining the problem, they'd go out looking for my little boat...ONLY to then run right over it! I mean, that could have happened...no? Or... A group of guys with model (u-boats) submarines just happen to be conducting maneuvers, waiting for a convoy to pass and spot my little boat. They attack in wolf-pack fashion...with miniature torpedoes and sink me. Could easily have happened! Or... A tough band of ducks, led by a crazed Canadian goose, takes revenge on MY boat for all the years of abuse by others, having had to put up with being chased by remote controlled boats. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time! I could go on and on.
I had been doing freelance consulting, troubleshooting and repair work for a number clients. These clients would come to me by word of mouth. They included photographers, photographic studios, manufacturers, elevator companies, apartment buildings, film processing labs, you name it, if they had a problem...I'd at least look at it and in most cases, fix it. One day I got a call from Pike Elevator Co. Al the owner explained that he'd called my OM and was give my number. The contact was through a mutual friend of the OM's, Leon. Leon was the manager of the Panorama House a high rise condo. He went on to explain his problem. I took on the task of repairing solidstate boards used on elevators. I knew nothing about elevators but electronics was electronics. I would also draw out a schematic, for which I'd impose a one time charge. A new card, another schematic, another charge. My rates were stiff. After a fair number of rounds, he suggested that I work for him full time on an hourly basis, I was costing him too much...or so he thought. To make a short story longer, I said ok. A few months later he suggested that I take the union entrance test with the purpose of getting into the elevator trade...I was costing him too much...for real. I went to the union hall and was informed as to the date of the next test. The test was to take about three hours (sometime later the test was made shorter). At one point I was satisfied that I'd done the best I could, and as instructed, raised my hand to indicate that I was finished. A short, red bearded fellow, speaking with an accent, asked me if I was done while glancing at his watch. I said "yes sir". "Completed?" he asked..."yes sir" I replied. I left the hall and waited outside in the foyer. It was thirty minutes before the next applicant came out. It was a few weeks later, as I recall, that I got "the" call. It was John Hunter, the construction superintendent for Otis Elevator. I was hired. John had been the Irishman to whom I'd handed my test form. I found out later that I was the sixth highest score out of well over a hundred applicants. Thus started my "Elevator Period" which would last for fourteen years. Six years (in the field) with Otis Elevator which became a United Technologies subsidiary during the time I was with them and seven years (engineering) with Sound Elevator, a Dover Technologies Company, which promptly imploded after I went on a six month sabbatical. [The story is now told on the Stories 12 page.] Seven and six do add up to fourteen if you add a "gap year" in between...during which time I was corporate Vice President of Kromatic Systems Inc.
The making of a legend...
The designer of said Avante would later go on to designing the exterior "look" of Air Force One. Over the years we'd work together on numerous job, and I always enjoyed his company. I learned a lot from him. His sons are carrying on the tradition. Good to have known you Dan. I was assigned to work with John B., an adjuster, one of three at the time. John was the lead adjuster on this job. I was assigned to work with John in as much as I wanted to do adjusting also. Adjusting was troubleshooting and I thought I was pretty good at it...and there was the prestige. You'd be the last person to be called. Locally, there was no one else! We were at the Sea-Tac (Seattle-Tacoma International Airport) Red Lion Hotel. This building's main feature was to be four, glass enclosed, outside elevators running from a common machine room located below ground level.
I took the photo above in 1961...while still in high school. At the time, I would not have believed that one day I'd be working for the forman that was running the job...much less actually work on the Space Needle elevators...someday. Kate Sparks was the project coordinator for the contractor. I mention her because she'd asked me during a (very!) private conversation, whether Otis was in fact meeting its contract obligations regarding having its top personnel assigned to the job. Well now...the short answer was...yes. The reality was that at that time and on that job, everybody at Otis was on it at one time or another. And...hell...I was there! I really am a modest fellow! At the early stages of construction it was the job of the adjuster(s) to check the prints over to make sure everything was right and make up wiring lists etc. There was nothing for the adjuster's helper at this stage, so I was loaned out to construction. By the time John and I arrived on site...the four controllers had been set in place, as were the four traction motors and the four selectors etc. As I said before, all this equipment was below ground level and open to the elements, which in the Seattle area meant rain. It was not uncommon to find the machine room flooded. It became my daily task to rid the place of water...kinda of a reverse Dutch Boy. This could take hours. There would be 4, 5, 6 inches of water to deal with. At one point, a pump was rigged up, but it was still necessary to push the water toward the sump pump. This was a daily event during rainy days! So it was that one day, after getting most of the water out, I took a break. Supporting the open space of the machine room were four columns about 24 X 24 inches. On the inboard face of each was a drawing in chalk. These drawings were a representation of the path the selector tape was to take up and down the hatch. I'd glanced at these drawings a number of times as I swept the water around the floor. One game I played was to see if in fact they were all drawn the same. The selectors were offset from the hatch requiring the tape to be deflected both top and bottom. Interestingly, the tape ran from car to counterweight! You read right! As I think about it now, I guess they didn't want to see tape below the car. So the tape was run from top of car to the counterweight! Normally top of car to bottom of car. The traveler was run inside a sheet metal enclosure. The counterweights ran out of sight also. I would memorize parts of the drawing on one column, and check the same detail on the next. They were all the same. The next day, same routine re the water. Back to the hieroglyphs...or should I say hydroglyphs. Anyway, I took time to actually study the diagrams. The car goes that way, the counterweight goes that way, this part of the tape goes this way...the other part went that way...up...down...sideways. Ok...reverse the whole thing. Well...At one point I was getting convinced that it would not work! So I ran the whole thing again...both directions. Sure as hell...In fact, it would have been impossible to run selector tape the way it was shown. I don't mean impossible, like it won't work, which it won't, but impossible to actually...do. Assuming that the car-counterweight-selector could be hooked up in an instant as per the drawing and one were to run the car; in one direction the tape would break immediately or if run in the other direction, the tape would go totally slack. Just about this time, Jay shows up with an old guy to help me with the water. The old Polish gentlemen (OPG) was ready to retire but needed a few more "hours" to improve his pension. His status was, helper. There was not much left of the water, so I asked Jay if the drawings were there officially to represent the selector tape hook up. He indicated that it was. I then said...in my best Jimmy Stewart..."Well...ahhh...I don't know how to tell you this...but...but...ahh...that (pointing at a drawing) won't work." Brows go up! Now, I don't know how they thought I'd come up with this...idea. Did they think that it just popped into my head. So maybe the OPG was just reacting...in shock! Before Jay can get a word out...the OPG starts sputtering at me. "Why?" "How?" "How come?"..."How do you know?"...on he went. It just occurred to me that maybe it was the OPG that had been instructed to draw the diagrams on the colunms...possible...which then raises the question why didn't he double check the functionality...and hence the...stuttering...or he may have thought he'd drawn it wrong. Jay just watched until the OPG ran out of steam, which he finally did...just taking a break though. I went on to explain that it would not work by putting a finger on various parts of the drawing and then pretending to move the car. I tried at least three time, but the OPG kept butting in. It was clear that he, the OPG, didn't understand my explanation, worse, he didn't stop to figure it out himself but kept objecting to what I was saying. I think that Jay was just waiting to see who won. I was really enjoying this. After the forth time around...Jay asked what I had to say per the OPG's last objection...Shrugging, I said..."I've said my piece." At this point I was implying that he could take it or leave it...I'd done the best I could. I would have told John at one point if nothing had been done. Jay realized that I was not backing down, turned on his heels and left. The OPG stayed. He never did get it! This took place about nine in the morning. At ten, we headed back to the shack for coffee. On this day we had all the Otis adjusters on site. So the first thing I see is John and Tommy (Mike hadn't shown yet)) starring at a set of prints. Jay was getting a second opinion, as it were. I'd like to have been a fly on the wall... I'm not that sure about the time difference between when I'd told Jay and the ten o'clock break. I am basing my statement on the fact that if Jay thought I could use help, then it should have been sooner not later...i.e. not close to the break. The point is that at ten...the adjusters were...what(?)...still looking at the prints an hour later? It wasn't that hard to figure out. There is another factor to consider. I guess I could have brought this to John's attention and let him deal with it. But...(1) he had turned me loose and (2) he never came to check up on me...not his concern...as it were. Like what?...I was going to find something wrong that would have serious consequences...while sloshing water in the machine room...NOT likely! It's more than likely that I would have told John, had he come down about that time. So there they were starring at the original from which the chalk drawings were derived in the upper left hand corner of the page...the only thing on the page for that matter as I recall. I went to my usual location at the far end of the table, so I didn't hear everything, but at one point Jay gets up and announces that he's calling Otis-San Francisco. By this time the shack is filled. It got quiet as Jay started to talk to whomever. He was pissed! He had copied the drawing correctly. He now realized that had the job proceeded as drawn...well...it would have been a real disaster in lost time and pride and a great deal of confusion if not down right danger. So it was that Jay relished chewing out the turkeys on the other end of the line...Saying...at one point, that..."it was a probationary (sic) helper that found it..." (and you call yourselves engineers?). Oh! Now the best part of all... He hung up...and after casting a few well chosen phrases at the now dead line, Jay thanked me...in front of the whole crew. It was a simple thing, "Thanks Steve" that not only made my day but he gained my respect...I hope I had gained his. I don't recall getting any acknowledgements from the adjusters. ..."be patient...grasshopper..." I was... In all fairness, it wasn't that I was some kind of genius, it was just that I was curious and had the free time to look and think. In fairness to myself...I would have checked the original drawing because of a sixth sense about what looks at first glance, simple or easy, not being so. Had I been the one to have made the chalk drawings, I could not help but check to see if it would work...before I ever drew it. On the other hand I have known people in some positions of power that would object, telling you to "just" do as you were told...don't think! They are with us...sadly. The legend had begun.............. PS. It was while on this job that I saw my first and only DeLorian. It was to be on show at the hotel. Jay Gould had another distinction. For 30...or was it 35 years, Jay would buy a brand new Ford pickup...every year! It was some kind of record.
The Otis Elevonics 101 was brand new and full of bugs. We were getting close to integrating the last of four cars into the group. Step by step we were knocking out all the minor problems. There were hints that we were not in the clear...yet. There was a push to get things finished as soon as possible. Money was not the question, overtime was the norm...as much as possible in fact. So it was, Fourth of July weekend, four days as I recall. Overtime was at double time, the two holiday days and the weekend. There we were, three adjusters, Mike, Willie, and I. Willie and I were the only ones with experience on the 101. We'd both been sent to San Diego (the first 101s on the coast) where Willie did one and left, while I remained behind, and did two. (Reminder to tell the one about the waitress and Jay showing up). We'd already been working overtime as such, but this was to be straight through until we nailed it. Around the clock. In the end, the problem was that it was not possible to run the last car in the group. Without getting too much into the technical stuff, we tried everything. If it had the remotest possible effect, we'd try it. No matter how obscure it sounded, we'd check it out. It was a process of elimination. As long as you could come up with something to check...we did. We checked and double checked. At one point I hit the wall. The simplest things...I'd find funny. Hysterical laughter was common and contagious. This was on the third night. No sleep. Troubleshooting is a process wherein you keep coming up with new things to check until you find the right one. You are beaten when you are no longer able to come up with new ideas to try. We were beaten. I had the last car parked at the top floor, ready to go, unable to run...in the group. The group controller was on, necessary for the operation of the other three cars which were running fine. The three of us are standing in an open triangle, which could have been an equilateral or perhaps an isosceles, maybe a right triangle, it doesn't really matter. Willie to my left, Mike to my right with his arm resting on top of the group controller rack. We were discussing the problem, and what to try next, when the office bosses arrived. Coherence is not the best thing to ask for at a time like this, but I gave it a shot. Blah...blah...blah...and I finished with...(I had been thinking out loud as much as anything)..."well...that ONLY leaves one thing..." I'd like be able to say that you could hear a pin drop after my proclamation, all eyes looking at me, secretly admiring my massive brain power at having come up with the "ONLY" possible thing it could be. But that was not the case....and I finished my statement..."the group controller!" Before the echo of my last word faded into the noise, Mike dropped his hand across the front panel of the group power supply, tripping the switches hence killing the power. I remember being surprised at the sight, it was surreal. An instant later, my "trapped" car took off. My jaw must have dropped. It was a great moment. The significance was totally lost on the office types except for seeing our reaction. It turned out that the group comm wiring had been incorrectly labeled. They were hooked up correctly per the label but the labels were on the wrong wires! Another 'Factory Error'! Needless to say I'd never fall for that problem again. At one point I'd worked on every Elevonic 101 job (10) in Seattle, and I never saw that problem on any of the others. After the fix, we went down to the lobby and ordered drinks. It was great to just sit there in the glow of victory! "...the only thing it could be...." YEAH!
Continued: Stories VI
Copyright © Steve Tuba 2003-2010. Photography Copyright © Steve Tuba 1999-2010. |
War
stories
Dateline: Seattle ~1993
You've
gotta love it. Sure as hell, that house was not only still
standing, but there was an actual person living in it. I could also
tell them where that house was. This was way too cosmic...so...
In
1928, Maxfield Parrish (one of my other heroes) would paint
"Ecstasy". In 1938 he will write:
The
"Four Foot" refers to the diameter of the corrector plate
at 48 inches. It should be realized that the diameter of the
spherical primary mirror is 72 inches! The
camera produces 14 x 14 inch glass plates!
One
of Porter's "cut a way" drawings of the "48 inch
Schmidt Photographic Telescope (Camera)".
Interestingly,
years before, I came across, and purchased, a mint, electric lens de-fogging
attachment (in the partially open box) for a, at the time unknown,
military lens. Well now...After getting the 7 inch home, I remembered
the de-fogger...sure as hell it snapped right on! What luck!
I
remember watching, mid
to late 50's, television, in
particular, the Andy Hardy series staring Mickey Rooney which
started in 1937. The series was about the "life and times"
of the Hardy family, living in smalltown (Carvel) USA. The head of
the household was the white haired(!) "Judge James K. 'Jim'
Hardy"...played by...wait for it...Lewis Stone. I hadn't
pictured him as a leading character in an adventure flick. Hell...he
looked old in the Hardy series. Gads!..He was! In 1937 he'd have been
nearly 60 years old...my age now (2004)!! 
Upon
his return, with his distinguished good looks and gray hair he'd
gotten roles playing well mannered romantic leads...he even got roles
opposite Greta Garbo! And was nominated for a Academy Award for 'The
Patriot' (1928).
She
WAS..."el perfecto"! Polly was played by, the now 18 year
old, Mary Cecilia Ramone Theresa (Ann Rutherford). Ann would, in
1939, go on to a role, in arguably the most popular film of all time,
'Gone With the Wind' as Scarlet's younger sister, Careen O'Hara. 
Bessie
Love's first part in a film was D.W. Griffith's...1915...'Birth of a
Nation'. She'd gone on to appear in 125 films. "DW" also
gave her the screen name. In 1925 she was credited with the first
"on screen" Charlston.
Keesler Air Force Base Aero Club patch.
It
had been over six months since I'd started with Otis. I was now
officially a "Helper" having completed a six months
probationary period. I was started out with Dan Huckins. We had a few
things in common. We were both ex-Air Force. We both smoked Viceroys
and we both liked the styling of the (then new) Studebaker Avante.
The
job foreman was the legendary Jay (O.) Gould. Jay had been the
foreman on the Seattle Space Needle job back in 1961-62.