Welcome!
.
Tuesday, July 2, 2024
Tuesday, June 4, 2024
Wednesday, May 1, 2024
MAY 2024
Remembering When Air Travel Was Exciting, New and Fun
Boeing 727: A Legacy of Ingenuity and Resilience
By Rev Protodeacon George A. Haloulakos
The Boeing 727 was a transformative aircraft as it was able to capitalize on a then under-served end-user market requiring a jet airliner that could serve smaller airports with shorter runways while flying routes that called for ferrying fewer passengers in both domestic and international venues. This iconic narrow body aircraft symbolized Boeing's ability to create a family of commercial jet aircraft able to serve multiple end-user markets. From 1962 to 1984 Boeing produced 1,832 units of this amazing tri-jet and presently there are still a number in use for cargo and executive service!
Among the "firsts" associated with the Boeing 727 are having a trio of rear-mounted jet engines, an auxiliary power unit and completely powered flight controls. Its operational capability of flying in-and-out of remote or regional airfields helped make it a versatile, reliable commercial jet airliner.
The 727 represents a vital piece of history as it holds a special place in the hearts and minds of people from all walks of life connected with this aircraft. As a business traveler this was a long-time favorite. I fondly recall the 727 Eastern Airlines Shuttle [Boston (Logan) -- New York City (La Guardia)] with big, wide comfortable leather seats for the entire aircraft [2 on each side of the center aisle]. I also flew the 727 Alaska Airlines Seahawk One [used for the Seattle NFL franchise and having all the names of players, coaches and staff on gold plates in each seat]; similar interior design and comfortable seating as the 727 Eastern Shuttle. And how about the rear entry / exit with the fold-up stairway ramp that allowed passengers to board and disembark simultaneously from both front and rear of the aircraft? Much faster turnaround time! A great benefit for business people on the go! The built-in stairway ramp that would drop down was similar to the science fiction spacecraft seen on lots of TV and movies from the 1960s.
The 727 was also a part of ushering jet travel into political campaigns during that same era. In 1964, US Senator Barry Goldwater was the GOP standard bearer in the US Presidential Election and used a 727 for his nationwide campaign circuit. Mr. Goldwater, a Command Pilot and Maj General in the Air National Guard, often flew the 727 himself during the course of his campaign!
Do you have any special memories or recollections of the 727? If so, please share them by either posting to the Galaxy FACEBOOK page or writing directly to me at: Haloulakos@gmail.com
Monday, April 1, 2024
APRIL 2024
Tuesday, March 26, 2024
Lieutenant Ralph Foulks: 1-5-68
by Margaret Sizemore Clark
This simple inscription was on a metal bracelet my sister wore back in the early 1970’s.
It was kind of a fad to wear one, so a lot of people wore them, but then stuck them in a jewelry box or footlocker and forgot them. To be sure, some of the kids wearing them wore them because “everyone” was, but for a few those names inscribed on the bracelets belonged to real people, and they were worn for the purpose for which they were made: to keep POW’s and MIA’s in the forefront of people’s minds.
My sister is one of those people. In remodeling her home this week, she was going through boxes of things that had been moved several times, but now needed to be seriously thinned out. In her jewelry box she found her bracelet and wondered what had become of that serviceman. Had he been found? Did he return home after the war? Had he been a POW? More importantly, where could she find out how to return her bracelet to Lt. Foulkes or a family member? Her questions started a chain of events that that resulted in nothing short of a modern-day miracle. I assigned that status because had she tried to make her inquiries during one of her previous moves, the bracelet could not have revealed its story. The information wasn’t there, and if it was, she would have to have gotten permission to see it and probably would have to have personally gone wherever it was kept to actually view it. Additionally, the information held some surprises for us as well as some of those people who were able to find the information that was needed.
The Vietnam War ushered in a scary time for those of us who had been born after the Korean Conflict. We had known nothing put peace and safety during our young lives, but the advent of television brought the brutality and violence of Vietnam right into our living rooms every night. Thousands of men and women, some of whom we knew, were being sent to Vietnam to fight a war that was extremely unpopular with the public. Those of us who lived through those years can recall the protests, riots, and marches, and young men burning their draft cards. The numbers of those killed, wounded, or missing in action were in all the newspapers and magazines. All this turmoil was directed at the government with the clear message: the United States needed to get out of Vietnam.
A couple of college students, Carol Bates and Kay Hunter, wanted to DO something positive, but what? They tossed around ideas that weren’t met with much enthusiasm by other students or the public, but they persisted. They went to meetings and talked with others who felt the need to do something to support the families and friends of those who were killed or lost. At one of these meetings, they met Bob Dornan, a former fighter pilot who had survived two ejections and now was a vehemently anti-Communist television talk show host. He was wearing a bracelet he had received from a Montagnard tribesman in Vietnam. The Montagnards were an Indigenous minority who fought alongside American Special Forces, which made them a target of the Communist People’s Army. His bracelet was made from the metal of crashed aircraft and it had the word “Montagnard” inscribed on it. The tribesman had asked Dornan to wear the bracelet while “thinking of my suffering people who are being murdered and killed by the Communists. Do not take it off, till my people are free.” Dornan vowed he would not.
The idea of inscribing the name, rank, and date of loss on a metal bracelet hit a chord with the girls and started the ball rolling, but it wasn’t an instant success. There were those who were concerned about what would become of the money the bracelets made, and who would manage it. Some of the families of the lost service people didn’t want their loved-one’s names being used without their permission. Over the months the objections were ironed out. Carol Bates and Kay Hunter met Gloria Coppin, a wealthy Los Angeles socialite, the adult advisor of VIVA (Voices In Vital America), and she joined their cause. She supplied her checkbook and tireless energy to further the cause of making and distributing the bracelets. Gloria’s husband donated enough metal to make 1,200 bracelets, and the girls found an engraver, Jack Zelder, who agreed to make prototypes of the bracelets. The bracelets caught on, orders started pouring in, and the demand increased. Nearly 5 million were sold, and notable persons such as John Wayne, Johnny Cash, Fred Astaire, and Billy Graham started wearing a bracelet.
My sister’s bracelet carried the name of Lt. Ralph Foulks, a Navy pilot. He was shot down on January 5, 1968 but that’s the last the family heard about him. No wreckage of his plane could be confirmed.
The war ended in 1973 and soldiers began returning home to a country that wasn’t interested in hailing them as heroes. These soldiers had “lost” the war and it stung. Everyone would just as soon forget Vietnam and move on, but not everyone did. Several organizations were born over the years that wanted closure for all the service people that didn’t come home. They wanted answers and slowly they were able to get the information they needed from military records, and the periodic return of remains of service people to the United States. Lt. Foulks’s remains were repatriated in 1988, but authorities were unable to positively identify the remains of Lt. Foulks until 1993.
When she discovered her bracelet my sister put a picture of it on Facebook, hoping to get an idea of where to start looking for any family of Lt. Foulks that might be living, with the goal of returning the bracelet to his family. Within minutes she received replies from several classmates from high school that knew where to go for such information. One classmate was able to find a website that could match the bracelet to Lt. Foulks’s family. Another classmate was able to find that the lieutenant’s remains had been discovered and returned. He also learned that Lt. Foulkes’s city of residence was given as Ridgecrest, the town located outside the gates that guarded Naval Ordinance Test Station. It was where our father worked and where we had been raised. (Lt. Foulks’s sister told me that her brother had graduated from the high school we had attended, and that he had played on the tennis team!
Those helping to garner this information had also gone to the same high school.) Next, a friend of my sister found yet a third website that provided contact information for the sister of the lieutenant, but it was from 2006. My sister wrote to the email anyway and received an immediate reply from her! When my sister told her what she had, Lt. Foulks’s sister was surprised. She recounted the day when she was 12 years old, and the Navy chaplain had come to the door to inform her mother that her brother had been lost in action. She told my sister that she thinks of her brother every day and she was very appreciative to get the bracelet. In just a matter of hours, thanks to the skills and knowledge of several people, the needed information was gathered that would allow the bracelet to complete its journey home. The technology and websites that exist in 2024 allowed all the connections to be pieced together, thirty-one years after the return of the lieutenant’s remains, and 56 years after he was lost. That is a miracle!
I contacted Lieutenant Foulks’s sister, and she graciously agreed to allow me to tell the bracelet’s story. She also supplied a few details about her brother and other members of her family, such as their father was serving in Pearl Harbor the day it was bombed. Another of Lt. Foulks’s sisters was one of the first 16 ‘experimental’ women accepted into ROTC and went on to retire as a commander. She explained that Lt. Foulkes’s medals and Vietnam paperwork are being donated to Naval Air Station Pensacola, and that Lt. Foulkes, along with both of his parents, are interred at Barrancas National Cemetery. The pride and tradition of service to the United States was evident by the profuse thanks Lt. Foulks’s sister gave my sister and me.
My sister summed up the experience best. “It does my heart good to know my bracelet made it back to where it belongs.”
I would like to recognize and thank Coronado Magazine and Taylor Baldwin Kiland for the facts they supplied describing the story behind the POW and MIA bracelets. Additionally, my sister and I would like to acknowledge and thank Kitty Reeve, Michael Peacock, Linda Blake, and Stephen Harrison for providing their expertise in knowing where to start looking, locating military information, providing the answers to what happened to Lt. Foulks, and finally, where to return the bracelet.
###
Wednesday, March 13, 2024
My Show Biz History
I was a constant embarrassment to my older sisters, Marie and Ginger. From the time I could walk and talk, I was always singing and dancing. It didn’t matter the location. I would perform at restaurants in front of jukeboxes, standing on a chair at our converted gas station Baptist church, or simply on the sidewalks of our San Diego suburban neighborhood. After much urging on my part, my mother decided that I could audition for a weekly local children’s television show on Channel 8 called “Tiny Town Ranch.” I was seven years old.
Mom called the television host, Monte Hall, to inquire about an audition. Monte Hall is not to be confused with Monty Hall of “Let’s Make a Deal.” The Monte Hall of San Diego was noted for his children’s variety show and children’s amusement park called “Monte Hall’s Playground.” As a local TV celebrity, he often appeared in parades as a western rider on his horse Comanche. During the initial phone interview with my mom, Monte asked, “Does your son have any talent?” My mom replied, “Well, you’re talking to his mother.” Monte then asked, “Is he photogenic?” Mom responded with, “Well Mr. Hall, you’re still talking to his mother?” An audition was arranged.
What to sing? We approached our next-door neighbor, Mrs. Bennett, who was a classically trained opera singer and a church organist. She agreed to teach me a song. The song choice was “April Love” a pop hit by Pat Boone. I tried not to giggle as Mrs. Bennett sang a Pat Boone song in her operatic style. The song was learned and I was ready for my audition. Mom and I made the trek to the downtown studio of Channel 8. The high ceiling room with a piano in the middle seemed enormous to me. With sheet music in hand, I walked over to the pianist. With all the confidence a seven-year old boy could muster, I burst out in song about young love in April. Apparently, I was a hit, because Monte Hall in his trademark cowboy hat rushed over to me, picked me up, and swung me around the room. It was agreed that next Saturday morning I would appear on “Tiny Town Ranch.”
Since the theme of the show
was western, I thought I should be dressed like a cowboy. That would have come
later. Now the task was to find appropriate clothing for a boy who had outgrown
his Easter Sunday suit. Obviously, my usual clothes of t-shirts and jeans
wouldn’t work, so neighbors were recruited to help out with my television
debut. Mrs. Wooten offered up her son’s grey slacks. With cuffs rolled up and
waist at mid chest, the too large pants would have to do. Our neighbor, Winnie
Graham, who used to have a dance studio, loaned me tap shoes and a shirt. To
this day, I wonder why I wore tap dance shoes when I wouldn’t be tap dancing.
Nonetheless, they were black and would pass as dress shoes. Mrs. Graham also
pulled from her costume trunk a puffy sleeve, mustard-yellow shirt with a
clumsy looking choirboy bow. I recently asked my mom, “Gee Mom! Why did you dress me so funny for my TV debut?”
She said, “I don’t know. I just thought since Winnie was a dance teacher, she
would know what to wear, and I just followed her advice.” Even though I was
chosen to sing, I looked like I was more suited to play “O Solo Mio” on the
accordion.
My one TV appearance would turn into a three-year gig. When I was ten years old, Monty Hall died and “Tiny Town Ranch” died with him. Within two years, I would retire from show biz, a twelve-year-old has-been.
Fast-forward sixty years! Amberlee Prosser asked me if I would play a role as a grandfather for the Voices of California production of “Once Upon a Song” at the Harris Center for the Arts in Folsom. For anybody else, I would have said “No thanks!” However, because the request came from the beloved Amberlee, I agreed. Then she emailed me the script. As I watched the printer spit out five pages of dialogue, I started to panic. “Oh shoot! Why in the heck did I ever say yes to this?” Any senior citizen with short-term memory issues will identify with this. However, just as I had taught my former fourth graders, I decided I would simply “chunk it” into smaller pieces of information to learn the lines. I would retype the script in much larger type, and then tape the pages to the wall. I would also photograph pages into my phone for easy access. Flight or fight definitely kicked-in. But then I figured, “Oh hell, if I forget a line, I’ll just improvise something close.” My teaching career and the ability to “wing-it” would help me here.
Yesterday was the
performance. Actually, there were two performances, a matinee and evening
performance. I kept sneaking glances at my script on my phone to calm my last
minute nerves. My co-star, the wonderfully talented twelve-year-old Christian
Cabral, and I opened the show. I had to make sure I didn’t blow the opening.
“Oh dear God! Just get me through the first lines.” The spotlight was on
Christian and I as we began our dialogue from the audience and then proceeded
to walk onto the stage. We were off and running. Then I was fine. Actually, I
was more than fine. There was a moment when I thought; “This feels oddly
familiar like I’ve been on stage forever.” I guess old show biz ways die-hard.
As I struggled with the preparation for my acting role, I decided that after sixty-years of being on and off stage that this would definitely be my last performance. But then Amberlee said, “Hey, I have an idea for a show where you could. . .”
Performance Postscript
Truth be told, I really didn’t want any friends or family at my “swan song” performance. No flowers or fanfare! I just wanted to do my job, not fall on my rear, and be done with it. My ninety-one-year-old mother, Jeanne Bolstein, would have none of this. She would be there. She would buy her own ticket and arrange her own ride. At the end of the performance, I walked out to the lobby to find her. Carrying two tote bags and a cane, she wanted to give me a present. The gift was a beautiful, leather bound writing journal. Even though I really didn’t want or need any family there, it did warm my heart to see my mom’s beaming, proud face. It did seem especially fitting since over sixty years ago this woman walked me hand-in-hand into my first audition, and now was still here to offer a mom’s support. Boy, how lucky can a man get?
Friday, March 1, 2024
MARCH 2024