Fenway @ 100

On the 20^th of April in 1912, Fenway Park opened its doors for the first time to Major League Baseball. Today marks the one hundredth anniversary of that occasion—that is 100 years for you that are numerically challenged. Fittingly enough, the Red Sox’s opponents on that day were the New York Yankees. Again, today’s Red Sox opponent will be the New York Yankees—100 years later. In 1912 the Red Sox won and the rest is history, right up to today.

I have never been to a game at Fenway—have always wanted to but so far the stars have not aligned—far too many armadillos in the back yard is my best guess. So, I’m guessing this desire calls for the formulation of that great American nostalgic undertaking—a Road Trip. Maybe I can talk my son into a short jaunt to the New England area in the near future. I would really like to take in a game at Fenway. I think my son may have already been there; he’ll probably let me know just as soon as he sees this peace. I was in town (Boston for those MLB challenged out there) one weekend when the Red Sox were in town, but was accompanied by a bunch of fuddy-duddies that were not baseball fans and the opportunity escaped my reach—I have been told that there are six or eight Red Blooded Americans that aren’t MLB fans out there some where.

How often do you get to be connected with history? The chance to watch and feel the tingle of a game (any game for that matter) being played in a stadium that reaches back into history one hundred years should not be looked on with the slightest bit of trepidation. If ya got the chance, take it,

I have encountered the opportunity to do so several times over the span of years I have been walking this Earth and have never regretted taking the chance any of those thrilling times. Sometimes it has to become a memory that comes back to you later when you realize that the chance of it ever happening again is now gone forever. Twice while stationed in the New York area in the early 80s my wife Patsy and the kids, Joe and Stephanie, had a like opportunity. A visit from my parents, Dutch and Anne from Texas, found us at the top of the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty on the same day. Both of my parents are no longer with us, but Man, what a memory? The other opportunity that I will never forget was the trip the wife, kids and I took into Manhattan one weekend and rode the elevators to the top of World Trade Center #1. Walking out on that observation deck and realizing you were a quarter mile closer to Heaven was amazing—but never again!

Watching the news on CBS this morning, they had a segment on Fenway @ 100 and Erica Hill ( a self professed “life long Yankee fan”) said that she had attended school in Boston and her dad had reminded her not to root for the Red Sox, but her impression of exiting the tunnel to gaze upon the grounds at Fenway took her breath away. This also got me to remembering back.

I have written here in the past about my early trip to see the Cardinals play the Dodgers in 1951 and the thrill that was to me—eight future Hall of Famers on the field that day. On equal stance within my memory vault is another trip in April of 1979 that three of us from my Army days (Dick Ellis, Mike Longwell and I) stopping off on our way back to West Point at Yankee Stadium to buy a scalper’s ticket to see a Yankee game that evening.

Upon arriving on the scene of Old Yankee Stadium—not the New Yankee Stadium on today, the Old Yankee Stadium, the House that Ruth built—we happened upon a group of cops who just so happened to be members of the same National Guard unit we had visited just that same day. They parked our van on the street right in front of the stadium and promised us it would be safe and there when the game was over—they watched it and it was there when we exited for our trip home.

But—I need to get to the memory—the best and most amazing part of the entire night was not the game, who was on the field or any specific play that night. No, the thrill was exiting the tunnel and first casting my eyes on the playing field of Yankee Stadium for the first time. Your breath departs your body or you forget to breathe; whatever it is, you are stopped dead in your tracks. I’m not sure you heart beats for a moment or two. It is a feeling you have to experience; one can not adequately describe. It has to be lived.

If you have the chance some time today, take a moment and dig into your vault of memories and dredge up a connection with history. See how it makes you feel. I recommend the trip. Leave me a comment describing your discovery. Your day will be the better for doing so. Take my word for it.

D. B. Cooper - The Myth and My Folly – a small world

Is there anything that every time it rears its ugly (or not so ugly) head that it gets you excited beyond the norm?

A blurb in the newspaper and a TV news teaser I heard just the last several words of this past Monday evening did it to me again. Why am I so tied to this one weird event that I dig for every little tidbit I can find and watch every TV documentary on it that I can find? You tell me. I just can’t get enough of it.

It seems that the FBI is now investigating a “suspect” that died over ten years ago as the possible 1971 hijacker D. B. Cooper. Ole DB, can you believe it? He’s back in the news again. He became infamous some forty years ago come the 24th November of this year. Forty years is a long time to be a reoccurring infamous celebrity.

I remember the day well—24 Nov 71. Again, I ask you to tell me why? I had been in Alaska (US Army) a little over a year when we were alerted that we may be involved in a possible search and rescue mission due to a airline hijacking that had taken place in the Lower 48 with a possibility of heading our direction. It didn’t; but we were ready in any event. According to those flying the aircraft departing SEATAC, they headed to Mexico instead.

The hijacker, originally identified as “Dan Cooper” allegedly jumped out the back door ramp somewhere over western Oregon. A later goof-up or typo misidentified Dan as D. B. and that is what has stuck for ever more.

Original FBI sketch of hijacker

Any logical thinking individual might think a first lieutenant in the United States Army would never again become involved with the myth of D. B. Cooper. I went home to the family that night thinking that exact same thing—I would never hear another word or ever again be involved with D. B. Cooper, ever again. Well, maybe most of you reading this just might not fit that category. I’ll tell you why if you stick with me for a moment.

FBI wanted poster

I eventually finished my tour in Alaska (4 years) and rotated back stateside to Ft Lee, Virginia (4 months) and eventually landing up in the Corps Support Command at Fort Bragg, North Carolina—December 1974.

Some two years later while serving as the Commander of Headquarters and Headquarters Company of that same Corps Support Command my First Sergeant came into my office and alerted me to the fact that there was a FBI agent in his office that wanted to talk with me. 1SG Juntiff ask: “Have you been up to something?”

I responded: “No Top. I have no idea what he could want. Maybe it has something to do with Denny.” Denny (name changed to protect me from a long standing murder threat) was a soldier I was currently court-martialing primarily for lying to me. There’s more to that small world story I will have to tell another time, not right now.

“Show him in Top and let’s see what this is all about.” Juntiff went back to get the agent. Presently they came in; the agent sitting in the chair in front of my desk and Juntiff took a seat to my right. Immediately the agent asks Juntiff to leave stating that our conversation was to be confidential. Juntiff didn’t like this but complied.

Over the next thirty minutes or so this FBI agent relates the particulars of his investigation and the task he wants my help carrying out. It just so happens he’s the lead investigator on the D. B. Cooper investigation. Right! If I recall correctly when he told me this might open mouth, jaw dropping response was an extremely intelligent: “What?” I just sat there dumb founded for a minute, maybe more then I related my previous involvement to him. It was his turn to utter an intelligent response. He didn’t. He just lept moving forward with his plan, his thoughts and his request. He was an old hat at this. He had probably ran across smart guys like me before—maybe not many, but a few.

He explained the FBI’s current line of thought: (1) D. B. Cooper may have been in the military at some time or was still currently serving; (2) D. B. Cooper may have been jump qualified; (3) D. B. Cooper may have been active military at the time of the incident, but on leave from his current assignment; and (4) D. B. Cooper had a fairly rigid physical description—the aircraft crew had spent quiet a bit of time with him during the two flights involved in the hijacking. His task was to get a close-up look at a particular master sergeant (E8) within my company to determine his match to the situation or cross him off the list.

The subterfuge for getting close to the suspect required my assistance. Right, the FBI needed me to help find D. B. Cooper. Can you believe it? The FBI wanted me to lead them to D. B. Cooper.

The agent then told me who we were gonna go look over. I again donned my dropped jaw and open mouth attitude. I couldn’t believe it. I knew the guy well. I had worked with him previously several times in both garrison and on field exercises. He was probably the best thought of NCO in the Deputy Chief of Staff for Security, Operations, Training and Intelligence (SOTI) department. He wasn’t just well thought of; he was a great guy to work with.

It seems that MSG L*******, jump qualified and serving with an airborne unit in Germany was home on leave in the Pacific Northwest and the actual time of the hijacking. The FBI had made an extensive search of all military personnel records of those soldiers serving at that same period of time. MSG L****** fit the profile perfectly.

OK, so we’re gonna go scope him put. I could get us easily into the section where he worked, then what? We mutually agreed to work our way through the entire building (an old World War II style operations building) acting as though we were inspecting the air conditioning duct work along the room ceilings while taking notes on conditions and specifics as we moved through the areas.

We left my office and walked the ¾ miles down to the SOTI building and started our ruse. As you might imagine, not one sole questioned our presence or actions. We quickly went from room to room acting out our plan eventually ending up in the operations area where MSG L****** worked. As we worked our way around the office, we eventually wound up next to L******’s desk. I surprised my comrade by introducing him directly to MSG L******. He never flinched and actually asked several questions about the ductwork.

Soon we were back on our way to my headquarters and Juntiff. I asked the agent what his thoughts were at the time and he never gave any indication one way or the other as to what he might be thinking—he might have been mad at me for stretching the encounter out; he never said. As soon as we got to the HQ building, he broke off, went to his car and left; first giving me the warning that I was to talk with no one about the encounter we had just conducted.

Going inside, Juntiff followed me straight into my office and grilled me about what had taken place. I responded to his questions by commenting that the information was confidential, close hold and I was not at liberty to divulge. He understood—a NCO with 27+ years in the service knew when to let go.

Some four years later while I was serving as an adviser and consultant to the Army National Guard and Reserve units in New York City, on Long Island and eastern New York state and stationed at the United States Military Academy (West Point), I heard that an eight year old boy had found something like $20,000 (in $20 denominations) while hiking along a river bed of the Columbia River near Portland, Oregon.

Money recovered in 1980

Then for a long time I heard nothing, except maybe on every 5^th or 10^th anniversary of the hijacking. The national news broadcasts would run a short blurb and everybody’s brother would tip off the authorities on their dis-favorite brother-in-law.

That was the last I heard of D. B. Cooper until March 2008, the man who had found the cash as an eight year old decided to sell some of it and again in April of 2008 a decaying parachute was recovered in the presumed landing area.

Updated sketch with age added

Over the years D. B. Cooper has become an American Hero; even as a criminal he has a following. There are websites all over the net dedicating space to him. Here are a couple that I found interesting; not for their content but for the way they present the information: http://wn.com/D_B_Cooper (The greatest unsolved mystery.) and http://www.pakistan-karachi.info/D._B._Cooper (It connects all the dots). Check them out.

Composite of all sketches with color added

D. B. Cooper portrayed as an American Hero

Now we are being told that ole D. B. might have past away of natural causes some ten years ago. Can it be? I just know that it can be a small world when far flung events keep coming back right at you over and over.

I bet you a dollar to a doughnut that there’ not a man, woman or child out there that hopes that this claim is not true.

Tearing up -13 Oct 10

I’m setting here watching the miners come outta the ground from that Chile mine disaster and its hard to not tear up when an event like this takes place – real hard. I don’t care what kind of tough guy you might think you are – emotions are emotions.

Over the years I have been involved in many search and rescue missions, the great majority while I was in the Army. Most of my experience was gained during my Army career while in Alaska. Every spring, we were constantly on some kind of rescue mission especially with the spring run-offs of the rivers and the native villages along them.

I also recall the Baby Jessica rescue from that backyard well that took place out in West Texas not so long ago. Do you remember the elation you felt when she was finally out of the well and seemed to be perfectly OK? Its like that today.

I guess my best memory of all came on 25 January of 1981. That’s the day the 52 Hostages that Iran took when they stormed the U.S. Embassy in Tehran and held the hostages for 444 days. Now I didn’t have the slightest thing to do with the rescue of the Hostages. But I was one of the few who saw them first set foot on American soil after their release.

At the time I was stationed at the United States Military Academy (USMA) and living at Stewart Army Sub-Post where their plane actually landed upon return to the U.S. We were not allowed to get anywhere close to the Hostages but we could make them out as we squinted to see inside the busses that transported them to the Thayer Hotel at West Point. There was some cheering that day – just as there is in Chile every time a new arrive is seen atop the shaft and freedom is once more gained by the miners.

Try to keep a tear outta your eyes.



1st Look at the Busses after Hostage arrival









Busses rolling out.







As close as we got to the Hostages










Bus headed to West Point - Everybody HAPPY