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Critical Mass - Blind Man's Bluff = SPLIT THREAD

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  • Re: Critical Mass - Blind Man's Bluff = SPLIT THREAD

    Yep, that's brother Dale with the "high water" pants, and the cap with the bill turned up, but hey, that was "being cool", in those days. Those two beady eyes just to the right,is me, glad you can't see my rolled up pants.

    Larry

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    • Re: Critical Mass - Blind Man's Bluff = SPLIT THREAD

      After returning back to Indy, Sandy and I stopped for a bite to eat before going out to “El Rancho Quagmire. I felt that we should have a talk about how she felt about the race, because she seemed quite un- nerved by the experience. She said that it appeared to be so chaotic, the cars going by so fast, and the noise from the engines was much louder than she had expected. I told her that sprint cars at Winchester was as bad as it gets, other races would seem pretty tame compared to that. She grinned, and said, “I can handle it.” Then she opened up, asking questions about the race, and some of the people she had met there, which made me feel better. I detected some sincere interest in what we would be doing, and had no doubt that she would handle it fine.

      When we got to Joe’s rancho, he started joking with Sandy about the race, knowing that she had never seen one before, and said, “ pretty boring wasn’t it?” She replied, “no, not too bad”. Joe was trying to get a rise from her, but she didn’t fall for it.

      Brother Joe had worked for Herb Porter developing the Turbo- Offy for several years, running them on dyno’s in California. They were using Air-Research aircraft cabin pressurization turbochargers, that were Herb’s choice, because of the availability of different compressor, and turbine components. After they got something that seemed to be workable, they put one of the engines in an old Indy roadster, and took it to a Goodyear test track in San Angelo, Texas. They had it working pretty good, and entered the roadster in the 1966 Indy 500, and qualified fast enough to make the race. Bobby Grim was driving it, and unfortunately he was involved in the big crash at the start of the race. Goodyear gave them a current rear engine car to use for further development, which ticked Joe off, and he quit the job with Herb, “because the engine was in the wrong end of the car”. Joe was “old school”, and there was no way he was going to have anything to do with a rear engine car.

      Joe just, “dropped out”, this was how he got to “El Rancho Quagmire”, and did his own thing.
      It is getting late, it took me forever finding the photos I an going to post, but I will continue with joe next post. Larry
      Attached Files

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      • Re: Critical Mass - Blind Man's Bluff = SPLIT THREAD

        The goat photo was not taken at El Rancho, it was from the house he had later, obvious because of the grass lawn. I’m sure that I have more photos of goats and things from El Rancho, but I have hundreds of photos, some dating back to 1934- 36. It is amazing to me that I have all of this stuff, considering the amount of traveling I did from 1954, in the Air Force, then in auto racing. It would take weeks or maybe months to find the things I want to post, as my story goes along, so I will just do the best I can with things I run across now and then.

        Now, back to where I left off on my last post, and explain the goat thing. The farmer that Joe rented El Rancho from was a friendly old cuss, and he convinced Joe that he needed a goat, or two for some unknown reason.

        When Sandy and I arrived at Joe’s place after our trip from California, we had to sleep on a couch, because he only had one bedroom. This couch was against the wall, with a window just above, and it was open for fresh air. When morning came, I was awakened by a scream from Sandy, there was an animal sticking it’s head in the window, checking us out, and Sandy said, “what is that?” I explained to her that was only Joe’s “nanny goat”, which didn’t calm her down much. I don’t think that she had ever seen a goat period, let alone one up close and personal. Of course Joe and Vivian came out of their bedroom to see what the ruckus was about, and got a big laugh regarding this. There is more to do with goats later, I will add this to the story as it comes up.

        Joe had to generate some income, since he had quit working on Indy cars, and he noticed that there was a lot of old cars, tractors, and old broken down farm equipment in the area, so he decided he would go into business rounding up this stuff, and hauling it into town to sell it for scrap metal. He would go around to the farms and offer to haul away their junk, free of charge. Much to his surprise, they gave him this crap for nothing. Some of the things he was given were “running” cars that needed a little repair. One farmer gave him a big old Dodge truck that ran fine, but looked pretty rough, which didn’t bother Joe at all. Now, he could haul big loads of scrap metal into town. He was happy doing this, but to my way of thinking, he was carrying his rebellion against rear engine Indy cars a little too far.

        He wasn’t out of auto racing completely though, he had a sprint car that he raced , not in USAC, but at local dirt “bull rings”, among them, Bloomington and Paragon, Indiana. The engines in those cars were in the front, so that made it O.K. He would give up on his rebellion soon, and return to Indy cars, as my posts continue.

        I am posting two photos, Joe in his #96 sprint car, and the other is Joe driving Lee Brayton’s roadster type sprint car, leading the pack at one of those “bull rings”, leading the pack at Bloomington. This was a Don Brown built car, that had the engine offset to the left, and the driveshaft ran alongside the driver’s let leg, instead of between the driver’s legs, allowing for the driver to set lower in the car. While I was working on Brayton’s Indy car, I noticed this car setting around, and sneaked it out, so that Joe could drive it. Notice that there is no guardrail on the outside of the track, common to these “bull rings”. If you got off he track, you would end up in the weeds, or trees.

        Larry
        Attached Files

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        • Re: Critical Mass - Blind Man's Bluff = SPLIT THREAD

          Larry, this stuff is great. I had the pleasure of meeting you years ago. I worked for Joe in the early 80's at Machinist Union Racing , great guy. I see Ron on occasion around town. I'm looking forward to hearing about Argentina next time I see Simpson.

          Keep it up, the young guys in the business need to here this.

          Thanks & Regards

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          • Re: Critical Mass - Blind Man's Bluff = SPLIT THREAD

            Looks like that A-frame hoist has seen its share of engines!
            "And if they stare, just let them burn their eyes on your moving."

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            • Re: Critical Mass - Blind Man's Bluff = SPLIT THREAD

              For sure that A frame lifted far too many engines. It wasn't built very sturdy in the first place, but it suited brother Joe just fine. If there had been a tree at El Ranco Quagmire, he would have used it instead, I reckon.

              Larry

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              • Re: Critical Mass - Blind Man's Bluff = SPLIT THREAD

                Joe was the youngest in the family, and us older brothers sort of egged him on to do things that we were doing, like when we were running our “soap box derby” cars down the hill in Matthews, Indiana. He couldn’t have been but about 9or 10, when we decided to put him in one of the cars, and sent him down the hill. He made it almost to the bottom of the hill, then went off the road, and into a ditch, crashing “big time”. Luckily he wasn’t hurt, but it scared the hell out of us, and we hoped that our mother wouldn’t find out. Of course Joe was pretty proud of himself, and when he got home, he told Ma, as we called our mother, all about it. Ma wasn’t very happy with us, and asked what we were trying to do to her baby. A year or so later, after we moved to Muncie, Indiana, there was an airport nearby, and we could see airplanes flying towards there to land. I was determined to go there and get a ride, so I mowed lawns, and other things to get the money needed to do this. I thought it cost $3.00. I don’t know why, but I took Joe with me. When we got there, I asked a man if somebody would take us for a ride, and showed him my money. There was a maroon, Stinson “Flying Station Wagon”, I think it was called, parked nearby with a pilot dusting it off. He said that he would take us up for three bucks a head, but I only had $5.00, so he said that would be enough, since Joe was so little. Off we went, the pilot flew us over Muncie, showing us the sights. Man, we were having a ball! After we landed, I got kind of a knot in my stomach, thinking, oh boy, what had I done now? All of the way home, I kept telling Joe not to tell Ma what we had been doing, and he promised that he wouldn’t. Naturally my mother asked where we had been all day, and I told her we had been out playing. I think she smelled a rat, so she centered on Joe with more questions. He innocently said that we had been over Toughy’s swimming pool. She said, “what do you mean, over?” Joe couldn’t hold it back, and said, “Larry took me for an airplane ride.” Then she came up with that same remark, “what are you doing to my baby!” Ma was mad, but cooled off pretty quick, and said that she was going to tell us a story. She told us that when she was a little girl, back when the ex-WW1 pilots were traveling around flying “Jennys”, landing in towns, giving rides, one had landed on her grandfather’s farm, and she had gone for a ride, and that it was really fun. I had “dodged a bullet”, thanks to the old “Barnstormers”.

                Larry

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                • Re: Critical Mass - Blind Man's Bluff = SPLIT THREAD

                  Originally posted by bluffman
                  <---snip--->I had “dodged a bullet”, thanks to the old “Barnstormers”.
                  Prolly my favorite "chapter" yet Larry!

                  Wayne Sagar
                  "Pusher of Electrons"

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                  • Re: Critical Mass - Blind Man's Bluff = SPLIT THREAD

                    Sandy had some relatives up in Edwardsburg, Michigan, just across the Indiana/ Michigan border, that she had not seen for many years, so we headed north. Since Muncie, and Matthews were north of Indy, I decided that we would take a circuitous route to Michigan, this way I could show Sandy where I was born in my “Uncle Buds” house in Dunrieth, then to Muncie where I had lived. I managed to find the various houses my family had lived in after my dad was killed at Kokomo, during a race in 1951. One of the houses was on Cowing Park Lane, I think I have that right, where from the wooded area where us kids would go to play, we could see the airplanes flying into that airport where I had taken Joe for his ride. I noticed the mailbox out across the street in front of the house, and although it had been repainted, the weather over the 20 years or so had worn away some of that paint, and showing clearly was, “The Burtons” that brother Dale had painted there. We then drove up the road towards Matthews, through the treacherous “S” turn, and into town. I had not been back to Matthews for about 23 years, but it hadn’t changed much. Near where we had lived, I pointed out an old broken down tractor, in a yard, that had been sitting there when we lived there. There were a lot of things like that, as though time had stood still in Matthews for 20 years or so. I took Sandy to the “soap box derby “hill where my brothers and I had spent a lot of time. We also went down the road to “Old Town” where there was a big “covered bridge”, a throw over from the horse and buggy days, where travelers could find refuge from a storm. This bridge was over the Missisinawa River,or something like that, where we would go fishing and swimming. On the far bank of the river, there was a cliff, that was maybe 50 feet tall, but at 13 years old, it could be that I wasn’t much at estimating heights. Something told me that if I built a glider, I could jump off that cliff, and fly down, and if it didn’t work very well, I would land in the river. We had been building soap box cars, but this was a new challenge. I got a bunch of wooden sticks from somewhere, and proceeded to build a wing, I think about 8 to 10 feet long. Dale and I had built “stick “ model airplanes that were covered with tissue paper, so I figured that I knew what I was doing. I had read where the Wright Brothers and others had used bed sheets or something like that, but I knew better than capture some of those from the house. I had a back- up though, I had found several rolls of wallpaper, so I would cover the wing with that. Well, by a stroke of luck, one of those Indiana thunderstorms hit, and washed the wallpaper off, so I abandoned that project, and returned to building the cars, but soon got distracted again, and decided I would build a boat. I got part of it built, but couldn’t find a piece of metal to finish the front, so I put a set of wheels on it and rode around in that for a while.

                    I got a little off track there, but as I am writing, my mind goes back to those years, and the memories that I can’t suppress take over. Now though, I have to get Sandy to Michigan to see her relatives. I met some of her uncles and aunts, and she showed me the house that her father had built, where she lived until the family moved to California. When they arrived there, her dad opened a drive- in restaurant in Upland, called, “Burger Lane”. It turned out to be where the local kids hung out, with their hopped up cars, and all of that. This wasn’t a very happy time for Sandy, she was the oldest of three daughters, and her parents insisted that she work at the drive- in a lot. She missed out on all of the socializing that teenagers do.

                    Since we were up north, I figured that we would take the northern route back to California, that way, I could take Sandy to Lincoln, Nebraska, to show her the Air Force base, where I was stationed when not on Temporary Duty, TDY, to England, or Lybia, and other places in Lincoln where my buddies and I hung out when not on duty. Lincoln was a wild and crazy place, being a college town, and when the base opened with two bomb wings, the 98th, and the 307th, with B-47 jet bombers, it got to really wild, I remember a magazine article, “Lincoln Nebraska, Sin City, USA.”

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                    • Re: Critical Mass - Blind Man's Bluff = SPLIT THREAD

                      Originally posted by bluffman
                      ...I remember a magazine article, “Lincoln Nebraska, Sin City, USA.”
                      Big laugh for me there, Larry. Other than Cornhusker sports (and cow tipping), what was so wild?

                      Larry, thanks for the stories, I've been enjoying every one.

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                      • Re: Critical Mass - Blind Man's Bluff = SPLIT THREAD

                        LOL!! The Airmen at the Airbase made Lincoln "Sin City"... Tell em' Larry...

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                        • Re: Critical Mass - Blind Man's Bluff = SPLIT THREAD

                          FlyKidChris, I see that you were born in December 1959, it had calmed down in Lincoln a little by that time. I finished my 5 years in the Air Force in January 1959, and was there when the B-47s arrived. First the 98th Bomb Wing came in, after completing their missions out of Yakota, Japan with B-29s, and transitioned to the 47s. A little later the 307th Bomb Wing arrived. So there was two SAC Bomb Wings, with 47s, and also KC 97 Tankers. I will get into that in a post soon, but just imagine, there was suddenly hundreds of Air Force personel stationed there, and most of them were looking for a good time. I don't know where all of the "ladies" came from, but believe me it got real wild.
                          Larry

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                          • Re: Critical Mass - Blind Man's Bluff = SPLIT THREAD

                            Larry, thanks for the response. I can appreciate the situation you've described.

                            Over the years, I've spent many days in Nebraska and have come to respect and admire the many, many fine folks from that state. However, it is beyond my experience to imagine the natives getting too wild, other than perhaps too much alcohol whilst watching the Huskers.

                            But you weren't describing the natives, were you?



                            Thanks for taking the time to post your memories; your "chapters" have been treasures.

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                            • Re: Critical Mass - Blind Man's Bluff = SPLIT THREAD

                              When Sandy and I arrived in Lincoln, I decided that I would show her some of the “hang- outs” where my buddies and I had frequented. One of these was “Lucky’s Tavern”,where we had many a party. Lucky’s was certainly not a fancy place, but they never bothered to ask for I.D.s to check our ages, their thing was to sell beer, and food. A guy named Hank, and his wife, I believe her name was Arleta, owned the joint, and they were really nice people, they would extend, “ credit till payday” for us. Now, is that nice, or what? They served regular sandwiches, but now and then they would have “specials”, like a “possum fry”, or “mountain oysters”. The sign of a real class place, right? I never considered the idea that it wouldn’t still be there, I really wanted Sandy to see Lucky’s. Well, much to my surprise, the sign had been changed, it was now a Cross, that said, “Jesus Saves”, Lucky’s was now a “Mission“, I think it would be called. I decided that I wouldn’t take Sandy to see any more of our old “Hang-outs”, and headed down the road to Lincoln AFB, surely it would be the same. The last time I had seen the base in 1959, with 70 B-47s, 30 KC-97 tankers, at least 6,000 personnel, and dozens of buildings, simply did not exist anymore. It was barren, except for the parachute drying tower, a few small homes, and the “brig”, where I had spent twenty days for punching a Sergeant in the nose in a dispute over a young maiden. This occurred off base in a small town several miles from Lincoln, in a tavern, but this jerk reported me, costing me a stripe, and the 20 days. A funny thing about this is that I was Armament and Electronics crew chief on B-47 # 372, and the Aircraft Commander, Captain Haston, and the Bombadier/ Navigator, Captain Jackson, would come each day to check me out so that I could work on the airplane, then return me for the night. They had done real well on RBS (radar bomb scoring ) missions, and didn’t want anyone else working on their Bomb/ Nav system. When I told Sandy this story, she chuckled a little, but I don’t think she was impressed by this caper. I had seen enough of Lincoln by now, and we took off for Phoenix. I wanted her to meet some of my friends there, my best buddy from the Air Force, and a few of my auto racing “cronys”.

                              Larry

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                              • Re: Critical Mass - Blind Man's Bluff = SPLIT THREAD

                                I hadn’t told Sandy much about my being in the Air Force, but on the way to Phoenix, after seeing the base, she noticed my reaction to how it had changed, and wanted to know what it was like back in the years when I was there, and she counted back how many years it had been, then compared that to my age. She made a remark something like, “ how old were you when you got there in 1954?” She thought maybe I had lied about my age when we met, and I was much older than I had said. I told her that I was 17 years old at the time. Her response to that was, “you must be kidding, are you telling me that you were working on jet bombers at that age?” I told her that, “yes, that was how old I was.” I could tell by the look on her face, that she wasn’t buying this story, so I had some explaining to do. This is the way it went, although I am jumping ahead some, past where brother Ron and I played on the same football team, and wrestling team in school. Those were fun days, maybe I can bring that up later, or save it for a book. Anyway, I became bored with school, and since my fathers death, my mother was having a hard time raising five kids, finances were tight. I think it was about August of 1953, that I told Ma that I wanted to join the Air Force. She said that if that’s what I wanted to do, it was up to me. I went to the recruiting office in Muncie, and told them that I wanted to join, and they told me that I had to be 17, and I told them that I was, but they wanted proof. I went home, and told Ma this, and she said that she would write a note saying that I was in fact 17. The recruiter wouldn’t buy this story, and to come back with a birth certificate. I couldn’t do this until December 8th, but when that time came, I went back, signed up, and was told to report on January 24th, 1954. On that date I was sworn in and shipped off to San Antonio, Texas for Basic Training. I had been asked for my choice of duty, to which I replied, “I want to be a tail gunner”. Having seen the ‘war movies” of those days, that seemed like it would be fun. When I got out of basic training, I went to a “briefing”, where I was told that they didn’t need gunners anymore, most aircraft were switching over to remote turrets. They said that they were sending me to Lowery AFB, in Denver, Colorado, for training on K-series bomb/navigation systems. I had no idea what this was, but it sounded good to a 17 year old.

                                Larry

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