The trials, tribulations and jaundiced observations of a single guy over 40 under the magical desert skies of Palm Springs. Aircraft, architecture, automobiles.
Modernism week was fabulous this year, eight days incredible mid century design all served up like a swirling and delicious dessert. In addition to architecture, themes of advertising and design were introduced. Among the unexpected jewels of the show this year was this amazing exhibition of the rebranding of Braniff Airlines in 1965.
Driven by Mary Wells of Well Rich Greene, the transformation of the airline was in no way limited to the advertising- instead everything was redecorated- including the aircraft inside and out- painted in seven pastel shades of blue, green, yellow, orange and even lavendar, the runway service equipment, the terminals and yes, the flight attendants. Still known as Stewardesses at that time, they were totally transformed by Emilio Pucci, a complete ensemble including dresses, coats, scarves, serving suits (with culottes), bags, shoes and boots, and yes, even a space age plastic bubble to protect one's hair while boarding.
The exhibition followed the transformation from the Pucci "Gemini IV" collection of 1965 through the wild "Ports of Call" look and on through the adoption of a much moe subdued Halston look of 1977. Simply to die for. Have a look.
A repost of the first ever World O' Jeff essay- four years ago today. Where does the time go?
Valentine's day was this week and the impending trauma of it forced me to come up with a plan. I decided to tackle it head on. Calling Will (who is alternately Sacco to my Vanzetti or Cybill to my Mary Ann), we assembled a group of friends to meet in West Hollywood in pursuit of a Stunning Martini. The only requirement was to wear black, head to toe. I used a vintage tuxedo jacket and bow tie to create a dashing flair, Will did a tone on tone number with a black silk tie, bad boy Tony chose a biker jacket and black denim to set a completely different mood within the same color statement. It's all about our personal flair.
Our mourning party progressed to the Abbey where we found ourselves at a table in the wind tunnel (many of you will know where I mean- its like a covered outdoor bowling alley with wall sconces) next to a totally fun lesbian couple- they were chatting with us about a fashion show they were planning to help launch a line for a designer they were unfamiliar with. David-who-knows-everything was already familiar with the event and was lobbying to score a spot on the VIP list (I was on the VIP list once at a Cemetery, but that is a story for another day). Anyway, somewhere in the second round she shared that the designer was named Honey Labrador.
Honey Labrador? I burst out- I knew her in the 90's in Chicago. My friend crazy ass Ron (the one who thought he was Joan Crawford) used to hire her for Spiegel photo shoots. We would drink heavily and think of alternate names for her with the same cadence- Lobster Thermidor, Sunny Ecuador, even CrosleyShelvador. I guess the drinks made it seem clever. Anyway, the fun couple were amused and actually relieved that someone had heard of Honey. So relieved that they bought us a round. Very cool girls.
Of course, I had to call Crazy Ass Ron in Chicago and tell him the news. I left a message on his cell phone from the Honey Labrador Fan Club. He called back a few minutes later snickering. "Honey Labrador- that was 1993! How the hell did you remember that?" "You know me", I replied. "How could I ever forget a girl named sweet sticky dog?"
As a special Valentine's Day dedication, take a listen to this 80 year old grandmother, third generation Iowan, talk about her support for her gay son and his husband. She is made of the awesome:
The jet pushed back from the terminal just after 7 pm on Valentine's Day, 1961, and taxied to runway 22 to await takeoff clearance. The weather at Idlewild was cold. The last minute commemorative photographs taken on the gangway show ladies and gentlemen wearing heavy winter coats. It was already dark, and there is a dusting of snow on the tarmac.
The plane, however, was warm and inviting. Boeing airframe number 17642 was a 707-329 long distance Jet Airliner. It has been completed in late 1959 and first test-flown on December 31st. Once certified, the aircraft had been delivered to its new owner on January 15, 1960. Sabena World Airways registered the craft as 00-SJB. One of twenty they would ultimately purchase, this was only the second one they had received. With just barely three thousand hours in the air, it would commemorate its thirteenth month in service during the flight.
Sabena was very proud of their expansion into Jet travel, and the craft was richly emblazoned with the Boeing 707 logo at each fuselage door, alongside their promise of "world service". Their own logo, a highly stylized "S" in period font, curved up the blue vertical stabilizer like a cat's tail.
As brand new as the aircraft seemed, so too was the very idea of transatlantic jet travel in itself. It has been said that the Boeing 707 really started the Jet Age, and that had only been recently. The 707 received its airworthiness certificate on September 18, 1958, and airline deliveries began shortly thereafter. Why, airline travel itself was still quite new. having made great progress in the peaceful postwar 50's. But as with any new technology, there had been issues. A midair collision of a TWA Super Constellation and a United DC-7 Turboprop over the Grand Canyon in 1956 set into motion greatly expanded flight tracking and led to the establishment of the FAA.
The safety of air travel has suffered a setback just days before Christmas 1960, when another Constellation was rammed by an off-course United DC-8 Jet while both were circling this very same airport, Idlewild. Airplane parts rained down upon two neighborhoods in New York. But these thoughts were not on the minds of the passengers of Sabena Flight 548 on that evening of February 14, 1961. They were all busily dreaming of their upcoming adventures in Europe.
The entire US Figure Skating Team were on board. They had elected to travel together to the world championships in Prague. Sixteen athletes were on the flight, along with eighteen coaches, assistants, and family members. They accounted for over half of the passenger list of sixty-one.
No one on the trip had more to look forward to than sixteen year old Laurent Owen of Winchester, Massachusetts. Daughter of Olympic Champion Ice Skaters Guy Owen and Maribel Vincent Owen, Laurie has her eye set on the World Ladies Figure Skating Championship. She had won the US Gold Medal in Ladies Singles less than a month prior, and was accompanied my her mother and sister, Maribel Owen, who had won the Gold Medal in pairs skating with her partner Dudley Richards.
Laurie was an intense young woman with bright eyes, a graceful manner and a charming smile. She had become a media sensation since winning the US Championship, and had been nicknamed the "Winchester Pixie". The very week of the flight she graced the cover of Sports Illustrated in a red costume and white skates. She would have walked by pictures of herself on the newsstand in order to reach the boarding gate.
Many other talented skaters were on board as well. Single skaters Gregory Kelley, Bradley Lord, Rhoda Lee Michelson, Douglas Ramsay and Stephanie Westerfeld; Pairs skaters Ila Ray Hadley and Ray Hadley, Jr., and Laurie Jean Hickox and William Holmes Hickox, both brother and sister teams. Ice dancers Roger Campbell and Dona Lee Carrier, husband and wife skaters Robert and Patricia Dineen, who had a nine month old son, Dallas "Larry" Pierce and Diane Carol Sherbloom, who won the gold at the US Nationals despite only working together for five weeks, and many others.
Sabena 548 taxied along Runway 22 and lifted off from New York on its overnight transcontinental flight. No one had an inkling that once aloft, they would not reunite with the Earth.
The flight itself was by all evidence uneventful. The 707 approached the airport in Brussel-Zaventem on schedule for an expected 10 AM landing, but had to abort the first attempt and circle the field for a second approach. While circling, it became evident that something was terribly wrong. According to eyewitnesses, the 707 began to pitch "like a bucking bronco", until it stood almost straight up on end and disappeared into a farmer's field. A horrible loud crash and a fireball ensued. Sixty-one passengers, eleven crew, and a farmer on the ground were killed. It was the first crash of a 707 in passenger service.
FAA Investigators would later conclude that the most plausible hypothesis was a malfunction of the stabilizer adjusting mechanism, but no absolute cause was ever established. It is worth noting that the crash of an Air France 707 at Orly Airport in 1962 was caused by an eerily similar failure, and that the stabilizer controls were later modified.
The US Skating Team, and most of the seasoned US coaches, were gone.
The photographs of the wreckage are heartbreaking. Skates and Olympic jackets were strewn across the field. particularly heartbreaking is the poignant image of a partially burned copy of Sports Illustrated, with a smiling Laurence Owen, among the twisted metal of the once-proud Sabena flagship.
The world championships were canceled out of respect for the US team. The sadness of such a loss will never really fade, the joy of youth and the excitement of competition cut short before their time. These young people, lost just as they were coming in to the height of their athletic talents. It truly is beyond comprehension.
Recently I came upon archival footage of the 1961 US Finals. Held in Colorado Springs in January, 1961. It's both wonderful and tragic- as it puts faces on the names of the victims in a very real way but also tells their stories and allows us a glimpse of them at the high point of their young lives. It allows us to see them as they would most want to be remembered.
It's such a charming display. The men wear ties and tailored jackets. The contestants are referred to as Mr. and Miss. Even the judges have a formality to them, displaying their scores at the sound of a whistle. It was a more gracious time.
In Pairs Skating, the silver medal was won by siblings Ila Ray Hadley and Ray Hadley, Jr. I love how they open to "I Could Have Danced all Night":
The Gold Medal in Pairs Skating went to Maribel Owen and Dudley Richards. Watch how relaxed and poised they look:
In Ice Dancing, the Silver Medal was won by Donna Lee Carrier and Roger Campbell. Watch their precise footwork and they skate to "Biding My Time" and "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off":
Diane Sherbloom of Los Angeles and Larry Pierce of Indianapolis only had five weeks to put their routine together. They're charming- watch them open with "Pennies from Heaven". Later in the program, they Cha-Cha to "Isle of Capri"- it's really lovely.
The Men's Single Gold Medal was won by twenty-one year old Bradley Lord. A handsome young man with a great deal of poise, this is a great performance:
And last but certainly not least, here is our Winchester Pixie, the captivating sixteen year old Laurence Owen, with her gold medal performance. She really is a pixie, isn't she?
Fifty years can be both a lifetime and a moment, and the passing of time does noting to diminish the tragedy of the loss. Rest well, young souls. We will always miss you and wonder what you could have achieved.
Sorry for the absence, but just when you thought life couldn't get any crazier, it proves you wrong- terribly wrong indeed. "Be flexible," the self help books say. Well, if I were any more flexible I'd be a goddamned rubber chicken. But I'm still here, and I get points for that.
And yeah, I've noticed that this Sunday Drive is being posted on Tuesday, so I guess it's YOUR turn to be flexible, gentle reader. besides, the pictures were actually taken on a Sunday Drive, April 14, 2001. I was in Chi-town looking at a car (big surprise) and saw an article about this deliciously crazy house in the tribune. My traveling companion and I picked up the phone and called the guy, who turned out to be an architecture professor at a local college. After a delightful chat, he invited us to drive out and see the house. Cheerfully, we did.
It was built for Ruth Van Sickle Ford and her husband, Sam. She was a driving force behind the Chicago Academy of Fine Arts, and chose avant garde architect Bruce Goff to design a very courageous and fascinating structure. The spherical house was less than pleasing to some of their neighbors, to the point where Ford placed a sign in the front yard saying "We don't like your house either." They sold the house upon her retirement in 1961, but the fascinating house has survived in amazing original condition. These photos are by from my personal tour in 2001. Notice how astonishingly intact everything is, right down to the kitchen cabinets. A treasure. Enjoy.
Well, we made it through Christmas without any repeat of last year's incident when a Northwest Airbus 330 was very nearly brought down by a tiny amount of liquid explosive secreted in a terrorist's underwear. Disaster was apparently averted by a defective firing device and the passengers, in our era highly energized, attacked the man and diffused the situation. He is unlikely to see the light of day anytime soon, and the public is adjusting to the notion that something so small could bring down an airliner. But thirty eight years ago today, a brand new jumbo jet was lost over something much more insignificant.
There wasn't a bomb aboard Eastern Airlines Flight 401 as it flew toward Miami on the night of December 29, 1972. The airplane itself was a Lockheed L-1011, brand sparkling new. Here I digress and interject that I refer to the L-1011 as the binary airliner, not only because her name is made of ones and zeros, but also because they featured the most sophisticated flight controls in the air at that time. The plane was full of ones and zeros.
This particular airframe had been delivered to Eastern on July 30, 1972 and was not yet five months old. She carried serial number 1011 (a most interesting and binary coincidence) and was the tenth passenger airframe completed. All of the earliest L-1011's went to Eastern, she carried tail number N310EA (one-zero again) in sequence with her sister ships. She had completed just 501 landings prior to that morning, when she departed Tampa to New York's Kennedy airport as Flight 164 where she would then turn around and return to Florida that evening.
The flight was by all accounts comfortable, luxurious and uneventful. The big L-1011 departed JFK at 9:20 PM and headed south. Captain Robert Loft put the bird in the sky and then turned on the autopilot, whose ones and zeros controlled the plane for most of the trip. The big Rolls Royce engines purred along, so silently that Eastern referred to their L-1011's as "Whisperliners". At only two-thirds capacity, the passengers stretched out. The L-1011 has always been one of my personal favorites- the power of the Rolls-Royce engines, the spacious cabin whose very high ceilings and wide aisles provided a great environment for flying. The night was clear, the winds calm. The passengers were Holiday travelers, returning from Christmas and preparing for the New Year.
Upon approach to Miami, a minor problem occurred. The landing gear was lowered, but the green nose gear light did not illuminate. Probably the bulb, the flight crew decided, but not wanting to risk their brand new airplane, they abandoned their approach. First officer Bert Stockstill increased their altitude to 2000 feet and turned the Whisperliner west over the Everglades. Captain Loft instructed him to reengage the autopilot, so the ones and zeros flew the plane while the flight crew diagnosed the problem. Soon the pilot, first officer, flight engineer and an Eastern L-1011 maintenance specialist were engrossed in attempting to replace a failed light bulb. So engrossed that no one noticed that First Officer Stockstill had nudged the control column and unknowingly turned off the altitude hold. The flight crew realized their error seconds before the big L-1011 flew itself into the swamp.
Amazingly, of the 176 souls on board, seventy five lived. One hundred and one perished, including the three man flight crew who became so obsessed with a failed light bulb that they somehow forgot to fly the plane. Survivors and victims seemed almost randomly disbursed, as if a computer were randomly assigning ones and zeros. In the end, there were seventy five ones, and one hundred and one zeros. One brand new fifteen million dollar aircraft, absolutely airworthy in every way except for a failed light bulb was destroyed. In the Florida swamp, investigators found the nose landing gear. It was down and locked.
To mark each anniversary, survivors gather to remember the experience, give thanks to the rescuers and honor the victims. They will reflect on how their lives were affected by the massive convergence of ones and zeros. Among those attending will be Flight Attendant Mercedes Ruiz, who wrote the poem below in February 1972 when the accident was still fresh in her memory:
Because I've been granted the gift of life I want to live each moment to the fullest I want to submerge my being much more than before Into the wonders of nature and love. I want to reach and feel, because feeling in itself is a way of loving. I want to tremble at the wildness of the storm, and bathe myself with rain. I want to touch the clouds and hold the blue within one word. I want to cry before the ocean waves because they rush to me and kiss me and then they leave. I want the wonder of the starry night above, the moon, a sigh, and each of all my silences.
The ones and zeros can change the course of our lives in an instant. Let us remember all of the souls flying back to Miami on that clear December night- those that returned safely to earth, and those for whom fate had other plans.
For those who desire to read more, here are two excellent sites:
