One this day fifty years ago ( March 15, 1973), Special Agent Gregory W. Spinelli was shot and killed in a gun battle with a suspected bank robber on a street in Charlotte, North Carolina.
Special Agent Spinelli was born in March 1949 in Johnstown, Pennsylvania. He joined the FBI in 1970 as a Physical Science Technician and was assigned to the FBI Laboratory. In 1972 he became a special agent and transferred to the FBI field office in Charlotte, North Carolina.
No I didn't watch the Oscars and there's a solid chance you didn't either. Still it is nice to have some knowledge of who won and who lost (Angela Bassett - Black Panther: Wakanda Forever) without having to listen to endless yapping from television news talking heads so in case you missed it here we go:
Best Picture
Everything Everywhere All at Once - WINNER
All Quiet on the Western Front
Avatar: The Way of Water
The Banshees of Inisherin
Elvis
The Fabelmans
Tár
Top Gun: Maverick
Triangle of Sadness
Women Talking
Best Director
Daniel Scheinert and Daniel Kwan - Everything Everywhere All at Once - WINNER
Martin McDonagh - The Banshees of Inisherin
Steven Spielberg - The Fabelmans
Todd Field - Tár
Ruben Ostlund - Triangle of Sadness
Best Actor in a Leading Role
Brendan Fraser - The Whale - WINNER
Austin Butler - Elvis
Colin Farrell - The Banshees of Inisherin
Paul Mescal - Aftersun
Bill Nighy - Living
Actress in a Leading Role
Michelle Yeoh - Everything Everywhere All at Once - WINNER
Cate Blanchett - Tár
Ana de Armas - Blonde
Andrea Riseborough - To Leslie
Michelle Williams - The Fabelmans
Actress in a Supporting Role
Jamie Lee Curtis - Everything Everywhere All at Once - WINNER
Angela Bassett - Black Panther: Wakanda Forever
Hong Chau - The Whale
Kerry Condon - The Banshees of Inisherin
Stephanie Hsu - Everything Everywhere All at Once
Actor in a Supporting Role
Ke Huy Quan - Everything Everywhere All at Once - WINNER
Brendan Gleeson - The Banshees of Inisherin
Brian Tyree Henry - Causeway
Judd Hirsch - The Fabelmans
Barry Keoghan - The Banshees of Inisherin
Daniel Scheinert and Daniel Kwan - Everything Everywhere All at Once
That’s hard to say, but probably not.
We’ve all seen the contentious school board and city council meetings. From small towns with folding chairs and tables, to large cities showcasing a grand dais with marble floors, angry citizens are confronting elected officials in stunning spectacles of disorder.
I doubt anyone’s voice was heard during those meetings.
But why the outrage?
I suspect that citizens and taxpayers
are fed-up. It is not out of control crime, CRT or gender madness, or even mask
mandates. It is the lack of response, simply stated the inability or
unwillingness of elected officials to engage the public.
Countless Charlotte neighbors have sent emails to Charlotte
City Council members in the past two weeks objecting to the Gillespie Property Rezoning in South Charlotte.
Some received canned replies, most did not receive any reply at all.
My wife emailed Charlotte Mayor Vi Lyles and promptly received
a polite and considerate response which in part said. “Thank you for your email
and for sharing your concerns. I would
encourage you to also share them with the City Council.” Which she did.
Ed Driggs did not respond, neither did LaWana Mayfield, Braxton
Winston, Tariq Bokhari or James Mitchell.
Dimple Ajmera responded with a “I’ll continue working with
the district 7 representative” not actually naming Ed Driggs but suggesting
that the appropriate source of contact was the unnamed “District 7 Representative”
and not an at large city council member.
So, my wife wrote back:
Council Member Ajmera,
Thank you so much for your reply.
I am grateful for your willingness to work with Mr.
Driggs. However, as an “at-large" council member I would appreciate it if
you wouldn't mind working with me directly on this petition. In fact, what I'd like to do is invite you
and your family to come out to Piper Glen and allow me to introduce you to our
eagles, "Piper and Glen" one afternoon. (Informally of course.)
I think if you see firsthand their home, their recently
hatched offspring, and the proximity to this proposed project you will be able
to obtain a greater understanding of the area and why this project is a
terrible idea.
Please let me know I'm happy to work around your busy
schedule.
And as you might expect, nothing but crickets.
In the years past my experience with Charlotte’s politicians
has been exceptional.
I knew Dan Ramirez and his wife CeCe and considered him a good
friend. Andy Dulin was always happy to meet for coffee. Richard Vinroot for
years had the seats in the row behind ours at Kenan Stadium in Chapel Hill. We talked
about football, we talked about crime and traffic, but mainly football.
My wife served on Sue Myrick’s small business advisory
board. Roy Cooper, always recognizes me but can’t remember my name. Jim Martin thinks
I’m my father. Harvey Gannt, Matthew Ridenhour, Parks Helms, Pat McCrory, Joel Ford
just to name a few have always been engaged and ready to listen.
I’ve never not received a response from Erskine Bowles, even
when he was White House Chief of Staff for Barack Obama. Always felt honored,
until I learned that Bowles responds with handwritten notes to everyone! The
man is pure class.
D. G. Martin was beyond a doubt, the most personal and gregarious
Charlotte politician I’ve ever met. With a huge smile on his face, he’d thrust
his hand out, and announce “Hi, I’m D. G. Martin”! Never mind you’ve just rear-ended his brand-new BMW. He too would personally answer any email or letter.
Last fall, my wife ran into a bureaucratic road block in Washington, and emailed Tom
Tills' office for help. Within 2 hours she had a response and inside 72 hours a solution. And a
week later a follow-up letter from Senator Tillis.
Sadly most of Charlotte’s politicians today are aloof, full
of hubris, indignant when questioned, and self-serving.
Guess how we are going to change that?
You can't argue that the current system to fund the US Federal Government is nuts. Unyielding, Unmanageable Bureaucratic nightmare that has the efficiency of a blind dealer at a blackjack table in Las Vegas.
But 30%? Seriously?
Lets think this through. Yes we need a national sales tax. As Joe Biden often says in a creepy whispering voice "the rich need to pay their fair share".
But if you taxed Elon Musk 50% on his annual income it still wouldn't put a dent in the annual federal budget and then lets say you also taxed the next 1000 richest Americans also at 50% and still you would have less than .01% of the national budget.
Do you know who doesn't pay their fair share? Millions of everyday Americans.
Panhandlers
Drug Dealers
Laborers
Prostitutes
Skilled Contractors
Stripers
Thieves
Waiters and Waitress
Bartenders
Restaurant Owners
Car Dealers
Auto Repair Shops
Campgrounds
Illegal Immigrants
People who earn a little cash doing as a side jig
Uber Drivers
and Blind Blackjack Dealers
Our nation operaterates on a sub economic culture of people who are paid in cash.
Cash that they also spend.
The GOP needs to start with a 5% national sales tax and limit it to everything except food and Child and Medical care.
Then begin the phase out of the IRS with the goal of elimination of the personal income tax by 2035. That means ten years to retire or repurpose 2/3rds of the current 70,000 IRS employees and the 200,000 people employed in the tax return preparation business.
This will cut nearly $10 Billion from the annual federal budget and save Americans $32,000,000,000.00 in tax preparation fees.
I have several
This from the 1971 film Patton the final lines, perfectly spoken by actor George C. Scott and he walked into the distance.
George Patton -
For over a thousand years Roman conquerors returning from the wars enjoyed the honor of triumph, a tumultuous parade. In the procession came trumpeteers, musicians and strange animals from conquered territories, together with carts laden with treasure and captured armaments. The conquerors rode in a triumphal chariot, the dazed prisoners walking in chains before him. Sometimes his children robed in white stood with him in the chariot or rode the trace horses. A slave stood behind the conqueror holding a golden crown and whispering in his ear a warning: that all glory is fleeting.
Warren Miller -
"If you don't do it this year, you will just be one year older when you do."
Miller through his films convinced me to ski Vail / Beaver Creek in 1991 I haven't skied Beech Mountain since.
DEA Agent -
"We spent most the money on strippers, hookers and booze, the rest we wasted".
I'll add more as time permits but go ahead add yours:
In a kitchen drawer under a white plastic rubbermaid silverware tray is a small folded piece of what my grandmother called "Tin Foil". It is the product most call "Aluminum Foil" or by some it is also known as Reynolds Wrap.
The reason for the folded tin foil is simple, it is a small reminder of my grandmother's frugalness. When I was young she would wash tin foil and fold it just so, and place it in a drawer for use again and again until it was no longer serviceable. Typically she would have maybe a dozen or so folded sheets in a drawer.
She was the ultimate saver, Jelly and peanut butter jars, became drinking glasses. Much of the food scraps went to the compost pile and newspapers were saved for some purpose I never discovered.
A small helping of green peas leftover from dinner would reappear the following night. When the peas dwindled to just a small spoonful she would threaten that if we didn't "eat em up" we'd see those same peas at breakfast.
And so it was that a child of the depression, who later in life became one of Rosie's Riveters during the Second World War would chart a life that was a course in fugruality. In other words growing up during the depression and raising a family during the war she knew how to stretch a dollar.
As a young boy a visit to grandma's house in the county was a joy, except when it came to showers.
Farm life called for a bath when you were dirty, showers were not offered to children and when I complained that the tub was only 1/3 full of water I was told it was enough for a bath. My complaints regarding that lack of a shower were met with "it costs money" to just run water down the drain. My plea that the water comes from a well and is free was countered with "it takes electricity to pump the water and propane to heat the water". And then in a moment of clarity I abandoned my negotiations when I realized that my younger brother was only offered my used bathwater with a hearty splash of hot water to rise the temperature to just slightly below bearable.
Today as I have done for decades I'll let the shower run longer than necessary, just to hear her Alabama Southern voice admonish me with "Stop wasting the water or I'll snatch ya bald headed".
Some things you just have to be there:
Lined up for your landing approach looking out of the left side window while holding a wing down with the control yoke hard over.
A1A doing in an Audi A8 with a crazy Norwegian driving twice the legal speed limit.
The Old Candlestick Park where they served hot chocolate in May.
Summer Twilight in Alaska at Sea. The first time I woke up in Alaska up saw it was getting light rolled out of my rack went up on deck to watch the sunrise. I waited, and waited and waited....
Being the last skier off the mountain in Vail or Beaver Creek Colorado.
Running 20 knots on the ICW at night with a full moon in a 70' Hatteras Motor Yacht.
Northern Lights in Maine.
The "Flo" for Breakfast on any Sunday.
Waking up to six inches of unexpected snow in October while tent camping on the AT in North Carolina.
Dog watch on any ship at sea, first or second.
Outer Banks in January.
Sunset at Mallory Square Key West, Florida
Watching the sunrise from Cadillac Mountain, Maine.
Crossing the Gulfstream in anything smaller than 40 feet.
The view looking towards Alma and Fairplay Colorado from the Lake George Lookout on Highway 24. You can see Elbert, Grays and Lincoln Peaks 60 miles away and just past those Vail and Beaver Creek and then Aspen.
Fenway Park when the Yankees are in town.
The Fairmount New Orleans pre Katrina.
Mr. Mosley at the Greenbrier Resort, White Sulfur Springs, West Virginia.
Surfin down waves in a 80 foot Lazzara Yacht heading north after a long season in the Bahamas.
The Saint Regis in Aspen for the daily Champagne toast.
Breakfast at The Chester Grosvenor UK. The Coffee like motor oil the eggs runny and the Sunday Times.
Anchored on Grand Bahama Island on New Year's Eve so close to Miami you can see the lights yet so far there's only silence and a lone lobster boat heading toward "Memory Rock"
So make it your New Year's resolution to get out there see the world. I you don't do it this year you'll only be a year older when you do!
I'm burdened with a very Audubon fascination with birds. Blessed with an abundance of feathered song birds that flutter across my yard all year long. Nuthatch, Chickadee, Bluebird, and Jay. There's even a Mockingbird who has mastered both the sound of a golf cart backing up and the Apple Air Tag attached to my Labrador Retrievers.
There are Woodpeckers of all sizes and Mourning Doves, Cardinal and Carolina Wrens.
Beyond the property line and into the 16 acres of wetlands that follow along Four Mile Creek there are Redtail and Cooper's hawks, Great Horned Owls and Barred Owls. Black and Turkey Vultures and should I brave the cold today a nesting pair of Bald Eagles just 300 yards from a four lane that drivers race along at better than 60 miles an hour.
Perhaps my fascination is that of Wilbur and Orville Wright watching Osprey soar along the dunes at North Carolina's Outer Banks. I've even spent a weekend hang gliding off Jockey's Ridge when I was young foolish and believed that I was bullet proof.
But today a long winter walk will have to suffice and my wife is a willing companion and a an excellent Eagle spotter. We follow the creek and encounter a Great Blue Heron, and a Kingfisher as a Hawk soars overhead.
The Hawk banks right then to the left and circles, having found warmth in the afternoon sun and a strong thermal lift. Within a minute he's more than 800 above us.
Robert Redford's line from the film Jeremiah Johnson: "Hawk. Goin' for the Musselshell. Take me a week's ridin', and he'll be there in... hell, he's there already." reminds me of my earth bound status.
I'm envious of Redford and of the Hawk.
It's Christmas and usually cold so cold the main pond in our golf course community is mostly frozen over and the Eagles are nowhere to be seen. But we are rewarded with a dozen sea gulls and more than 70 Double Crested Cormorants who have taken refuge in the smaller pond behind my neighbor's house. This pond is spring fed and enjoys a wide southern exposure and the combination of underground water and sunlight heats the pond just enough,
.jpg)
While the Canada Geese will brave the larger near frozen pond the warmth of the smaller pond seems to have attracted the normally solitary Cormorants.
The afternoon winds down, and our Labs have internal clocks that know it's "time for food" so they give up exploring for a more purposeful trot towards the house. They need no encouragement as the sun begins a rapid descent into darkness.
The Bald Eagles with have to wait for another day, and then as if on some clue from God himself a reminder that it is indeed Christmas appears overhead.
.jpg)
A White Dove winging its way towards the heavens? I think so and a fitting reward for a Christmas walk in the woods.
100 Years ago perhaps on a day like this Robert Frost penned the words to "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening"
The final lines are:
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
and those words are not lost on me.
Most fans of Home Alone have no idea that the grainy 1930's style gangster movie that Kevin uses again and again during his weekend home alone is not a real movie:
Angels With Filthy Souls may not be an actual flick, but the faux film noir is as iconic as the 1990 movie in which it appears.
Giving Home Alone one of its most popular lines — “Keep the change, you filthy animal” — the gangster picture that helped Kevin McCallister (Macaulay Culkin) pull off a few ruses paid homage to an actual film, Angels With Dirty Faces, which was released Nov. 26, 1938.
To celebrate the probable anniversary of the faux classic, Home Alone cinematographer Julio Macat details how Angels With Filthy Souls was created — a job so well done, even stars noted they believed the gangster picture was the real deal (“My entire childhood, I thought the old-timey movie that Kevin watches in Home Alone … was actually an old movie,” Seth Rogen previously said via Twitter).
We really wanted to do an homage to the movie [Angels With Dirty Faces], but we really didn’t watch it a lot,” Macat explains. “We just wanted the feel of a classic gangster film.”
Warner Bros.’ Angels With Dirty Faces was packed with legendary star power the likes of James Cagney, Pat O’Brien, Humphrey Bogart, Ann Sheridan and George Bancroft. It was nominated for three Oscars: best actor (Cagney), best director (Michael Curtiz) and the category then known as best story (Rowland Brown).
“What really helped was being in Chicago and having those theater actors,” Macat says of re-creating that bygone era. The late Ralph Foody played the hard-nosed Johnny, whose Thompson “Tommy” submachine gun was only overpowered by his maniacal laughter. Michael Guido played Snakes, who while seeking his “dough” met an untimely end via a countdown cut short. Foody died in 1999 at the age of 71.
“I could tell that [Foody] came from the theater because he was larger than life,” says Macat, who notes Home Alone was his first feature as a cinematographer and Angels was filmed on the last day of preparation before production.
“We shot that whole thing in one day. We did it quickly.”
It was Macat’s idea to shoot the faux film in the style of the late ’30s — which means it fell on him to make it happen. “I got some very slow ASA black-and-white film from Kodak, which means you have strong lights to get exposure. You need three or four times more light than normal to expose the film,” he recalls. “Then there was the strong backlighting, smoking up the room and having the shutters with the classic noir style. I used double fog filters, and I tried to match the camera lenses. I used a little netting material in front of the lenses to blow out the highlights even more.”
Angels With Filthy Souls was shot inside a little library in Lincoln Park. And Macat says it was a particularly cold day and the building did not have a heater. “I was thinking, ‘Thank God for the hot lights,'” he says.
The seasoned cinematographer — who has 40 films to his credit, but Home Alone remains his favorite — recalls the submachine gun being intimidating, at least to everyone but Foody. “The way that he handled the gun, he just went full force with it,” Macat says, chuckling. “I don’t remember having to add any fire flashes in front of the gun. And it was super loud, which made everything better because it was scary. We were safe, but it was scary.”
Macat returned as cinematographer for Home Alone 2, which included another installment of the gangster series: Angels With Even Filthier Souls, again starring Foody. “I once said jokingly to Chris, ‘Dude, write the script for Angels With Filthy Souls. I want to shoot that movie!'”
We were hired as the wedding party transportation for Baxter and John taking them from downtown Georgetown, South Carolina to the Hobcaw Barony a trip of just 30 mins.
Everything that could go wrong did. I had been watching the weather (Yacht Captains are obsessed with weather) their limo died (which delayed our departure by an hour), then thunderstorms started closing in and we had a 1 hour tide window.
Matthew, Andy and the crew totally cool under fire we eased a 70 foot boat up to a 20 foot dock with 6 feet of water and a 5.5 draft (In other words only 6 inches between floating and being stuck). Unloaded the bride and groom plus 30 others, then slipped back across the bar plowing mud. (meaning just an inch or two of float and clouds of muddy water trailing in our wake).
Andy never broke a sweat. Matthew worked us off the dock with a spring line and we headed back to Charleston. The crew quickly broke down the upper bar secured all the deck chairs, stowed the china and glassware as lightening flashed overhead.
We then watched from the ICW (Intra Coastal Waterway) as the thunderstorms over took the wedding party as they escaped just in time to the safety of a massive tent.
(Props to the bride who took the time to personally thank every crew member before leaving the boat. Pure class move.)
Every once and awhile, I get to stand watch at dawn, and in the morning's half light and waning darkness with sounds of the ocean surrounding me, my head fills with the music of Stone Temple Pilots, Pearl Jam and Foo Fighters. The sounds of my much younger self.
Sour Girl was Heather's theme song (yes, she was a teenage girl when I met her) and within days Big Empty would set the mood and the night would go as such.
And while Dave Matthews was more my preference her choice was Destiny's Child, Green Day and Linkin Park and so it goes.
The relationship would crash and burn, but the memories are still vivid thanks to STP and my Spotify never ending nostalgic play list.
So, today I'm noting Scott Weiland's passing seven years ago tomorrow and his career that spanned three decades,
Scott Weiland died of an accidental overdose of cocaine, ethanol, and MDA.
The singer was found dead on December 3, 2015 after passing away in his sleep on a tour stop in Bloomington, Minnesota. He had been on the road with his new backing band the Wildabouts and was scheduled to play the Medina Entertainment Center in Medina, Minnesota.
Weiland had had a long, public problem with addiction. But his music still gives me pause and joy and the ease that comes with the passage of time.
And then there are things you have to hear to understand:
I think often of the sound of frogs and crickets when they return to my backyard. Well, really they are about a 1/4 mile away down at the creek. But the open expanse of golf course fairway allows the soothing sound of clicks and chirps to travel to my bedroom window effortlessly.
I never remember when they stop, sometime around the first frost I'd guess, but their return is a wonderful reminder that spring is nearly here.
Which makes me think about all the other sounds I think are awesome.
Rain at Augusta National during Masters Week.
The North Beach on Green Turtle Cay on any day. You just got to be there.
Blue Sky Basin Vail, CO at 4 PM in January. The wind against the spruce and fur trees and the snow under your skis.
LAX at Midnight the silence.
Times Square on New Year's Eve, the calliope of mankind's drunkenness.
Turn 4 at Lowes Motor Speedyway during the final lap of the 600 it's hard to say whether the crowd or the cars are louder.
The Freight Apron at Atlanta's Hartsfield International during the 2AM push. The rise and fall of jet engines on departing flights There is something symbolic about that sound. I don't what but symbolic just the same.
Breakfast at the Fairmont in New Orleans during an early morning thunderstorm in July. It's the sound, the feeling of the big easy, linen and china, a slower pace that's even slower when there no reason to hurry.
The arches at Union Station St. Louis at Mid Day Christmas week. If you don't know I'm not sure I can explain. If you do know I'll let you whisper it to me.
Sea Buoy at Bar Harbor Maine on a foggy night in October.
A 800 foot container ship passing under you while standing on the Ravenel Bridge Charleston at high tide.
That cat that moans and groans on the roof above my bedroom before an approaching storm.
More accurately known as “motor-mouth carl” was my “training manager” at my first job.
I’m proud to say my first job was as a gas station attendant at Starmount Gulf Oil and Service on the corner of Archdale Drive and South Boulevard in Charlotte.
Hubert Blanton the owner said he'd hire me if I got a haircut. So, I rode my bike across and down the street to a barbershop in the Starmount Shopping Center and went from hippy kid with hair nearly to my shoulders to grease monkey in about ten minutes. Even the barber asked "are you sure?"
When I returned to the service station cut high and tight I got a “well damn, ok you can start now”.
That summer I learned about perverts, racists, college girls, stealing from your employer, how to mount a set of tires and pretty much fell in love with cars of all makes and models.
It wasn't a great job; the pay was not even minimum wage and I worked ten hours a day from 11 a.m. until the 9 p.m. closing. Six days a week. I had 2 15-minute breaks and 30 minutes for lunch. None of which I was paid for, even though I seldom took neither, and I had Sundays and Holidays off because we were closed Sundays and Holidays.
My first experience with a handgun happened behind the station. Motor-mouth Carl the station's 6-3 uniformed attendant asked me if I could shoot a gun, pointing to the chrome 38 revolver under the cash register.
We took the gun out back and he put a bottle on the fence, stepped back a dozen feet and put six holes in the fence, leaving the bottle standing. Laughing at his poor aim he took a bullet from his pocket and loaded it into the gun handed it to me. I took aim, then lowered the gun and took aim again, I took me nearly a minute to steady myself when I lightly squeezed the trigger and recycled the bottle into a hundred pieces.
I don’t recall exactly what Carl's instructions were, but I'm sure it included the "N" word and some encouragement for not taking so long to aim. Maybe something along the lines of you don’t need to shoot the nigger exactly between the eyes just point it and shoot the SUM BITCH but make sure you drag his body into the station before the cops come.
I suspect Hubert and Motor-mouth Carl, Shemp the mechanic, and Jim who cleaned the bathrooms are all gone now. But they live on in the echoes of gas station bells of long ago.
One afternoon with the Carolina sun high overhead and the humidity somewhere near crazy, Carl filled his Pepsi with Lance peanuts and gave his bottle a good hard shake with his thumb over the opening.
Then he folded the Charlotte News afternoon paper over his knee and slapped that back of the paper with his hand.
Says right hear it’s gonna be illegal to call a nigger a nigger how the hell is that possible?
I mean a nigger is a nigger but starting right now and here in the present we are supposed to call them folks Blacks?
How on God’s Green Earth is that possible. I swear the world is going to hell!
It was soon thereafter a “nigger” and his car limped into the service station parking lot with a flat tire. He didn’t pull up to the pumps, rather he just pulled into the station lot at the far end.
The Pontiac was clean and shiny with wide white wall tires, the left front tire however was ripped to shreds.
The black man about 40 exited the car was surveying the damage as Carl risking possible heat stroke walked across the hot pavement over to the man and firmly says “How can I help you?”
The Black man looked around and replies “I was hoping to put in enough air in to get home”.
Carl looked the South Carolina tag and then at the tire. He then give the tire a couple of pokes with his foot. “That tire ain’t gonna even hold a prayer on Sunday, you got a spare?”
Nope the man shakes his head with a combination of embarrassment and acknowledgement.
Carl mutters to himself “what kind of fool drives to Charlotte without a spare?”
The man and the ladies in the car were dressed for church but it is Thursday, now this concerns Carl. He mutters something about being all dressed up like it was Sunday seems suspicious.
Carl tells the man I can sell you a tire, but I can’t fix that one.
The man explained he only had 15 dollars. Carl tells him that ain’t even enough for a down payment. Plus, we don’t carry those fancy pimp tires.
“Can I use the payphone?” the man politely asks
Now this also presents a problem. The payphone is basically a public phone supplied by BellSouth, but it’s also the gas station business telephone. The owner is tight as dick’s hat band and figured one phone was enough. So, to use the payphone you had to go behind the counter and Carl was having nothing of that since that’s where the gun is in plain sight once you’re behind the counter.
“Sorry the phone’s broke hasn’t worked in weeks.” Says Carl. The man nods. But I know the man understands what is really being said, and that is that the phone is for white folk only.
Carl sends me back behind the station telling me bring out a fifteen-inch tire, “get a bias ply not a damn radial” Then he adds “but make sure it will hold air and has some tread on it”.
I do as I’m told and hunt through the stacks of discarded tires waiting for pick up behind the station. Most are well worn, toe and camber issues I’ve learned, and grab the best that I can find.
Carl has already dragged a floor jack some chocks out of the garage bay and is telling the ladies they might want to wait next door at the Burger King they have a/c he points out. Again the air-conditioned gas station office is off limits.
We pull the wheel and within a minute it’s on the tire machine. Carl lets me do the work.
"You know what Pontiac stands for?" askes Carl.
"No sir" knowing full well that I'm about to find out.
"Poor Old Nigger Thinks Its A Cadillac" laughs Carl.
The old tire is removed and the new one inspected by Carl he’s of the opinion that it’s too nice of a tire but given the heat of the summer day, he doesn’t want to go around back and have a look for himself.
“Dang son, what you couldn’t find a new one?” He jokes.
The used tire is back on the rim, filled with air and Carl runs a soapy rag across the tire, seeing that there are no leaks, he gives in a hard bounce on the garage floor and it starts roll towards the street. He motions for me to follow along and make sure it rolls toward the Pontiac and not into traffic or to the Kmart across the street.
Not long after wheel is back on the car with five quick bursts of the air wrench.
Carl drops the car as if he’s at Dayton and swings the floor jack into an empty bay.
The man opens his wallet, but carl waives him off tells the man no charge.
The man is overwhelmed and very apperceive as the ladies return and without another word the Pontic is gone.
A few minutes later in the comfort of the air-conditioned office I look at Carl and ask: "Why did you did do that?"
Carl says what? I press him further: “Help that man out? Carl looks at me says "oh you think I’m soft? A push over? Shit son, I don’t put up with no niggers in my gas station. I did what I needed to do to get him off the property and on his way."
I smile at Carl and tell him, “I suspect you did it because beyond being a redneck you also have a big heart."
Carl now swearing like a sailor tells me to go to hell and if I tell anyone he’ll cut tongue off. I’ll not say a word I promise.
The air conditioner mounted over the gas station door hums and cold air blows nonstop which keeps the small room “Kool Inside” and the Carolina heat and humidity outside. Carl now sitting in Hubert Blanton’s desk chair leans back puts his feet up on the desk then mutters something about not being soft or a push over and takes a swig of his Pepsi and Lance Peanuts.
Another customer runs over the gas station airbell hose.
Now all these years later I’m still smiling at Carl.
Just a shout out to anyone who has stood watch and seen this view. My TBT is for you!
I still have my Royal Hong Kong Yacht Club Jacket and Coffee Cup.
Oh the stories.....
Two World War II-era airplanes collided in midair at an air show in Dallas on Saturday killing six in the crash, the National Transportation Safety Board said on Sunday.
The planes — the Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress "Texas Raiders" and a Bell P-63 Kingcobra — crashed at about 1:20 p.m. local time, the Federal Aviation Administration said. The crash happened at the Wings Over Dallas air show at Dallas Executive Airport, which is about 10 miles south of downtown Dallas.
Videos posted online show the P-63 slamming into the B-17 during a pre planned low pass.
Michael Graham, a member of the N.T.S.B., said that the five crew members of the B-17 and the sole pilot of the Kingcobra were killed.
This really hurts. Those who know CP understand the life long love of the B-17 and even years after my first flight the sound of radial engines starting gets my heart rate up.
Prayers for all those lost, their families, the fellow aviators who understand the risks and all those fans of these old birds who feel this loss.
Yes it's true and the follow-up story is here.
As you can see Sander's over the top reaction to small things hasn't changed in the years since. Always overly dramatic.
Happy Thursday Y'all!
It's been more than a decade since a young Charlotte teenager jumped a fence at Charlotte Douglas International Airport climbed into a US Airways 737 wheel well and would later fall to his death.
As with so many news stories this one died at the hands of an ABC News Editor and Senior Management who shit canned the story before it aired.
But for a brief moment on January 8th of 2014 the story had a chance at seeing daylight.
I had the pleasure and meeting Juju Chang who seemed genuinely interested in the story. Two days and a number of interviews later the 20/20 story went sideways.
Finally citing security concerns and story was killed. But the CP hypothetical lives on here.
It's pretty simple.
This was the reply to my complaint about a tweet with a photo of then acquitted Kyle Rittenhouse:
.png)
