Just For My Boys

Monday, July 22, 2013

More From the Chronicles of Wasted Time

Since I wrote my last “Notable People” post I've remembered a few more. I've been waiting some time to post this as I sincerely hope that this will be the last post of this sort.

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In the Fall of 1992 I was finishing up my University of Nevada journalism degree by serving as an intern for two aviation magazines, Private Pilot and Kitplanes. These magazines are both owned by the same publisher and, at that time, worked out of the same office in Orange County, California.

A lot of interesting things happened while I was there, but the most memorable thing was when an editor from each of these magazines and I were sent up to the Santa Monica airport to do a story on Dick Rutan and a new high-performance aircraft he was investigating.

Rutan is well-known for piloting the Voyager – the first plane to fly around the world without refueling. It was designed and built by Rutan’s brother Burt and the aircraft is now displayed in the Smithsonian.

Anyhow, we flew up to the Santa Monica airport, met Rutan and the builder of the Berkut, an aircraft based on a design by Burt Rutan.

We took of in a three-plane formation – the Berkut, piloted by Rutan, a video camera plane and we were in a Grumman Tiger taking stills.

We talked with Rutan quite a bit as he and the designer were explaining the Berkut’s features to us. The conversation was mostly technical and we did not share a lot of “small talk.”

Rutan was running for Congress in the election that fall (he lost) and he had somewhere to go as soon as we landed. Until I was investigating this story online I had forgotten that I wrote the story that appeared in the magazine about this subject.

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Sometime around 1990 I went to Ohio for an extended visit. I decided to take my dog, Morgan, with me, so I purchased a travel cage for her. Just before she was taken into the baggage I gave her a sedative so that she would sleep. I had a couple of hour layover in LA and I made arrangements with the airline to have her brought out to the luggage retrieval area so that I could take her for a walk during this time.

Morgan & her daughter Muzo at McLeod Lake near
Mammoth Lakes, California

As I was walking through the LA terminal I noticed two blond young women cross the walkway some distance ahead of me. As I neared where I'd seen them cross they came out of a shop and now I was close enough to them, about 20 yards, to see that they were twins and uncommonly attractive.

They went on their way and I mine. I retrieved Morgan and let her out of her cage. Putting the leash on her I headed outside to find a place to walk. As I approached the door I heard a woman behind me say, "That's a beautiful dog."

I turned to thank her and saw that it was the twins. I stopped and they gushed over Morgan for a few minutes. We exchanged pleasantries and after a few moments we went our separate ways.

I'm not sure how long after this, but it wasn't long, these twins, their names are Sia and Shane Barbi, were on the cover of a major magazine and featured prominently in a story inside. They also had best selling swimsuit calenders for several years around that time.

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In 1974 when I started teaching skiing at Sandia Peak in the Cibola National Forest in New Mexico. There was a Forest Service Snow Ranger working there named Pete Totemoff. Some of my co-workers worked for the Forest Service in the summer (as I would come to do). They told me that this Pete was a somewhat well-known character. Sports Illustrated had named him one of America's top Skiers a few years earlier.

He was one of the Forest Service's top winter sports experts and had laid out a lot of ski areas built on National Forests in Colorado and New Mexico, including Taos Ski Valley. There is a run named for him at Taos.

He was also a top Fire Boss, being sent to put out forest and brush fires all over the Western U.S.

I skied with him a few times that winter although he wasn't at Sandia often. Then, the following Spring, when I was hired as a Forest Ranger, he ended up being my boss's boss. Again I didn't see him often as he was frequently gone on some other assignment.

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I finished up my Bachelor's degree in journalism at the University of Nevada, attending classes there from 1988 to 1992. Bob Laxalt, the author of Sweet Promised Land, was associated with the J-School as he ran the University of Nevada Press.

Bob was the son of a Basque sheepherder and a very friendly guy. His book is about his immigrant Father's return to his Basque country homeland in northern Spain after a fifty year absence.

Bob and I got along well. He knew I was a Forest Ranger and when we spoke he would "threaten" to come up to Truckee and show me some Basque Tree Carvings which would "knock my socks off." (These carvings have a reputation for being somewhat risque.)

Bob was the brother of Paul Laxalt US Senator from Nevada and Reagan's campaign manager for his Presidential runs.

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Click here and here to see the other posts about notable people.

Thursday, July 4, 2013

Independence Day Tribute

On this Independence Day I think about the many people in my life who have served our country. I am grateful for their sacrifice and willingness to serve. For some of these people their military service was just a minor detour in life and maybe even a bit of an adventure. Some found years of discomfort, fear and drudgery and others gave that “last full measure of devotion.”

My apologies to anyone I may miss.

Of course the first person I think of is my Dad, William Locker Jr., who served in the US Navy from 1947 to 1950. This was very fortunate for me since he met Mom in Charleston, South Carolina where he was stationed. It’s hard for me to imagine how they would have ever met if Dad hadn’t joined the Navy.

81st Division Emblem

Both my Grandfathers served. Grandpa William Locker Sr. in the US Navy in the 1920’s and Daddy Con, Cornelius Callahan, with the 81^st Division in WWI.

My best childhood friend David Bryant served in the US Army in Vietnam in 1967 & 1968. He died there on February 8, 1968.

My good friend George Youngerman was an artilleryman in the US Army in Vietnam. He was killed on April 1, 1971.

My cousin Daniel Meade, a Corporal in the US Army in Vietnam was from New York. I barely knew him as he was quite a bit older than me. He was killed the same day as David, February 8, 1968.

My Uncle Johnny Cranford, husband of my Mom’s sister Jo, served as a rifleman in the 45^th Division in Africa, Sicily, Italy, France and Germany from ‘42 to ‘45. No US unit spent more time in combat than the 45^th Division.

45th Division Emblem

My Uncle Bob Coehick, husband of my Dad’s sister Norma, served as an Army combat engineer in Korea in ‘52 and ‘53.

30th Division Emblem

My cousin Roland “Jack” Hale was fatally wounded fighting the Nazis in February of ‘45 while serving with the 30^th Infantry Division.

Hawaiian Division Emblem

My cousin Vernon “Bud” Hale (Jack’s brother) served with the US Army’s Hawaiian Division. He was at Schofield Barracks in Hawaii on December 7th, 1941.

James Tipton was the older brother of one of Dad’s best friends from his youth. Jim joined the US Armed Forces in the late 30’s while he was still in his teens. After finishing his training, Jim had the misfortune to be assigned to the Philippines Division.

Philliipines Division Emblem

His unit fought in the Battle of Bataan. He survived the battle and then endured the Bataan Death March. When he was liberated after the war he weighed less than 80 pounds.

My nephew Mason Maxwell served in the US Army in Korea and Indonesia. He suffered a permanent disability from injuries suffered during rescue efforts in the aftermath of the 2004 Indonesian tsunami.

US Marine Corps Emblem

My Uncle Tom Callahan served in the US Army from 1946 to 1948 in the Aleutian Islands.

My cousins Bobby, Mark & Craig Cox all served. Bobby & Mark in the US Marine Corps in California during and just after the Vietnam era. Craig was in the US Army sometime later.

I also wanted to mention my Uncle Reggie Whitby. He did not serve in the US Armed Forces, but he contributed to the cause of freedom during WWII as a member of the Royal Air Force.

To each and every one of these fine men I offer my sincerest gratitude.

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Sense of Direction

I’m often accused of having a good sense of direction. I usually have a feeling for which way North is. I can usually find my way anywhere I’ve been before and sometimes even to places I’ve never been. Here are a few stories about this.

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Murlin Heights Elementary

When I started school in Vandalia, in 1956, the town was growing quickly. There were so many new homes going in, and we were in the early wave of the “Baby Boomer” kids, so Vandalia didn’t have enough schools for all of us. They were building a new school, Stonequarry Elementary, that I was scheduled to go to (at the southeast corner of Dogleg and Stonequarry Roads, it's now a church), but it wasn’t ready when the year began.

So I began school at Murlin Heights Elementary, but was only there for a few days. Then we were sent to Vandalia Elementary (VE) where our class was seated in the gym, with about three other classes. The “classrooms” were divided by curtains hanging from ropes stretched across the gym.

Vandalia Elementary

We attended “VE” for a good while, not sure how long, but I remember that the first day we went to Stonequarry the weather was a bit cool.

I remember, very clearly, another thing about our first day at Stonequarry. The School Bus picked us up that morning as usual and took us to VE where the students who attended that school were to get off, while those who were to go on to Stonequarry remained on the bus. But for some reason, the driver decided that I and other boy, Rickie Heeter, who was my best friend in First Grade, were confused about where we were supposed to go.

Tommy Locker

We told him we were now at Stonequarry, but he insisted that we were VE students and had to get off the bus. So there stood two six-year-olds, outside a school which wasn’t theirs, where none of their classmates, teachers or friends were, watching the bus drive off. Rickie started crying. I don’t remember feeling scared. I knew where I was, I knew where I lived and I knew how to get there. I told Rickie, “I’m going to get my Dad!” (At that time Dad worked the evening shift.)

Rickie Heeter

So off I went. I had started walking towards my house before the bus was out of sight. Our house on Spartan Avenue was more than a mile from VE and on the other side of US 40, at that time one of the Nation’s major east-west highways. I think I knew the route partly because Dad worked evenings and, as we only had one car, we would sometimes walk from our house over to the library, which was then near the corner of Dixie & Kenbrook (Kenbrook was called Nelson at that time), very near VE.

It probably took me about a half-hour to get home. My Dad’s sister, Aunt Norma, lived on Donora Drive, very near us, and I had to pass her house to get home. She noticed me walking past and, realizing that I should have been in school, called out to me, “Tommy, where are you going?”

Our neighborhood was so new it wasn't on the map yet!

To get my Dad!” I responded.

Well, Mom and Dad were a bit surprised to see me! I explained what had happened and Dad drove me back over to VE. We found Rickie in the office, still crying (why we didn’t think of just going into the office initially I don’t know – we were six). Dad took both of us to Stonequarry and explained the situation to our teacher, Miss Cole.

Stonequarry Elementary

One last memory of this event – Dad often told this story and he would say that I had “walked a mile and three tents.” I couldn’t remember seeing any tents while I was walking home. Sometimes when we would drive along the route I’d walked I looked for those tents. Eventually of course, it dawned on me that he was saying a mile and three tenths.

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One summer when I was 19 or 20 I drove with Mom and some of my younger siblings up to Boston for vacation. Driving home it was getting late and I was pretty tired, having driven most of the way. By this time we were just north of Columbus, maybe an hour and a half or two hours from home, but I was just getting too sleepy to continue.

I woke Mom up and told her that I was going to pull over and sleep for a while. She said that she felt fine and would drive the rest of the way. I climbed into the backseat and soon fell asleep.

At this time, the Interstate Highway system was not complete and to get on the Interstate from Columbus to Vandalia required several miles of traversing city streets.

In the backseat I felt the car turn and was suddenly wide awake. I sat up and said, “We’re going the wrong way.”

Mom explained that no, we had just gotten to US 40 and we’d be home soon. Just at that moment the headlights illuminated a sign very like this one.

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In May of 1994 I visited my friend Mark in London. Mark grew up in London and enjoyed showing off his city to me.

Late one afternoon he said to me, “There’s something I want to show you over in the Docklands part of East London, down by the Thames.”

So we jump in his car and head from Hammersmith, west of London, towards the Docklands. Now, we were traveling generally east, and since it was late afternoon the sun was right behind us. We drove along, talking and laughing. As Van Morrison says in Coney Island, “The Craic was good.”

Mark was driving, of course, but as we drove along I noticed that the sun was gradually moving from more of less directly behind us to coming in the windows on the left side of the car. We were going north.

Now, I knew that we were north of the Thames when we started and that the Docklands were near the river, so it seemed to me that we were not getting any nearer to our destination, but it was Mark’s city and I assumed he knew where he was going.

But after driving another little while, Mark said, “I thought we’d be there by now.”

I told him that I didn’t think we were getting any closer to the Thames. He was surprised and wanted to know why I thought that. When I explained my reasoning he couldn’t believe it, “I’ve lived here all my life and never used the sun to help me find out where I’m going.”

"But Mark," I said, "we were north of the Thames when we started and we're going north now. We can't possibly be getting any closer to the River."

We never did get to the Docklands and he wouldn’t tell me what he had wanted to show me.

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In 1993 Mom and Dad visited California. Accompanied by Bill we spent about a week driving around the state from Truckee where Bill and I were living then, down the coast to San Diego and back up through Bishop and Mammoth returning to Truckee.

We visited several friends and relatives along the way and we had been on the road several days when Mom mentioned that we hadn’t looked at a map the entire trip. Then it became a challenge to complete the trip without using a map.

Over the years my career as a Forest Ranger had taken me to many nooks and crannies of California over the years -- going to fires in different places -- so I was pretty familiar with the road systems and the general “lay of the land” and we were able to do it.

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Butler High School Directory

During the 66-67 school year the Class of '67 made and sold a Student Directory as a fund raiser (click image for a high resolution view).

Here is a scan of the page my name was on. When I recieved my copy I was dismayed to find that my phone number was wrong! At that time our number was 898-2246. So I want to take this moment to apologize to all the Butler girls who tried to call me during these days (and I know that was most of you!). I wasn't ignoring you. It was the fault of the Class of '67! And really girls, you have no one to blame but yourself - my address was right so you could have come over.

I remember a day shortly after I had gotten this, my cousin (Beavercreek HS) and a good friend (West Carrolton HS) saw it in my room. Both of them were really excited. My cousin said, "It's better than a 'little black book'!" My friend agreed with him, "You mean you've got the phone number of every girl at your school? Oh my gosh, what I wouldn't give for that!"

After this, every time we were out in Vandalia and saw a good-looking female Butler student (in other words - any Butler co-ed!) as soon as we got back to my home they would rush to look her up in it . Neither of them every had the nerve to call anyone though.