These are my journal entries in reverse order from 2012 back to 2006, included here because they contain pertinent information about the book, reunion families, and relative events. I have removed a few, but most are reproduced here.
ANOTHER TUSKEGEE AIRMAN GONE
February 27, 2012
Clarence Dart, ninety-one year-old Tuskegee Airman, passed away last week in Saratoga Springs, New York. Those of you who attended our 2001 Survivors Reunion in Scotia, New York, will recall that, as our guest speaker, Dart held us spellbound for well over an hour with remembrances of his World War II exploits.
The Tuskegee Airmen was a squadron of Black pilots chosen to escort bomber groups over Europe. Eager to prove themselves, they quickly gained respect, and a reputation for willing and successful engagement with the enemy. The Hollywood movie, "Red Tails," currently playing in theaters, is a story about these extraordinary men. It was reported that Dart was able to see the movie before its release. He flew ninety-five missions and was shot down twice during the war. This link will take you to an article about Clarence Dart:
ALASKA LEGISLATURE HONORS CLIFF HUDSON
September 9, 2010
I was pleased to receive a copy of a document from the Alaska State Legislature honoring Cliff Hudson. It was forwarded to me by Ollie Hudson, Cliff’s widow. The words on the document are as follows:
THE ALASKA LEGISLATURE
In Memoriam
*CLIFFORD LOWELL HUDSON*
The Twenty-sixth Alaska State Legislature joins the family, friends, and neighbors of Clifford Lowell Hudson in mourning his passing and celebrating his life.
Cliff was born to Charles and Mina Hudson on October 27, 1925, in Malott, Washington. After graduating from high school, he honorably served his country in the United States Army during World War II. Cliff eventually made his way to Talkeetna to join his brother Glenn and family, who owned and operated Hudson Air Service. He went to work for the Alaska Railroad, first as a section hand, then in the roundhouse, and later as a crane operator in the power plant. After the tragic loss of his brother in an airplane accident, Cliff took over Hudson Air Service. Some of his adventures included piloting popular author James Michener who was doing research for his book, Alaska, and flying a crew from "Good Morning America".
One of Cliff's most heralded achievements was his involvement in a rescue of six airmen whose C-47 disintegrated in midair and crashed near Kesugi Ridge in February 1956 [Actual date was February 5, 1954]. Cliff was the first pilot to look for them and was later honored with the U.S. Air Force's highest civilian honor, the Exceptional Service Award, the equivalent of the military's Distinguished Service Medal for his heroic actions that helped save the lives of those six airmen.
Cliff epitomized the expression "there are no old and bold pilots". His flying record consisted of thousands upon thousands of hours of take-offs and landings in the most extreme flying conditions. Yet, he was renowned among the world's mountain climbers, hunters, trappers, miners, and locals for a sterling record of safety and accomplishment without seeking fame. Cliff always got you home.
It would be impossible to summarize the amazing life story of Clifford Lowell Hudson in a few short paragraphs. He was a much beloved and cherished member of the community, and leaves behind his wife, Ollie; sons, Bruce, Chuck and Scott; two grandsons, Dustin and Clifford; nieces and nephews, and many good friends. His eldest son Jay, who followed Cliff in piloting the family flying business, preceded him in an untimely death.
The members of the Twenty-sixth Alaska State Legislature extend our deepest condolences to the family and friends of Cliff Hudson.
* * *
This document, dated March 23, 2010, was signed by the following persons: Mike Chenault, Speaker of the House; Gary Stevens, President of the Senate; Sen. Charlie Huggins, Prime Sponsor; Rep. Mark Neuman, Prime Sponso
MY IRISH HERITAGE
March 17, 2010
Happy St. Patrick's Day! Many people have Irish blood in their veins, but some have to go back a few generations to find it. For no particular reason except that it's interesting to me and perhaps to my genealogical friends, here's my bloodline to the Irish. Ellen Keenan (1854-1933), my maternal grandfather's mother was the daughter of David Keenan (1829-?). David was the son of Patrick Keenan (1784-1863), who was the son of Edward Keenan (1742 in Ireland-1826).
Edward and his wife, Nancy Donally settled in Greenbrier County, Virginia (now West Virginia.) Patrick moved to Cabell County where he married Griselda ? . Edward and Nancy are buried near the Rehoboth Church which has become a historic site.
On Edward's headstone, it says, “He built Reaboth Chappel and gave the lot of ground." Edward converted from Catholic to Methodist during the days when Francis Asbury was riding the western circuits. The story, somewhat dramatized, is told in a long-running pageant called “Honey in the Rock” in southern West Virginia.
CLIFF HUDSON—MAN OF HONOR
March 11, 2010
The words come hard. Cliff passed over on March 5. Many mourn his loss. There are numerous stories about Cliff Hudson, some heroic, some funny, some inspiring, but a common thread runs through them. He was a man who went out of his way to be helpful, even to the extent of putting himself in danger.
I know about his bravery. I am one of six men who owes his life to Cliff. He flew through a snow storm on February 5, 1954 to locate our downed Air Force C-47 on Kesugi Ridge west of Gold Creek, Alaska. I will never forget the man in wire-rimmed glasses carrying snowshoes to us who said, “By golly, it looks like you could use some help!"
We became good friends in later years. He shared his stories, his photo albums, and his history. When I was gathering material for the book that would tell the story of our wilderness ordeal and his heroic part in it, I showed him segments I was preparing. Humbly, Cliff would say, "The weather wasn't that bad," or "They might have found you, anyway," always downplaying his part.
Cliff has been away for several years somewhere behind the hateful wall of Alzheimers. Now that he has actually made that last flight, we can take pleasure in knowing he has made a safe landing in a bright new place. I can just imagine him strolling up to St. Peter and saying, “By golly, it looks like you could use some help!"
JAY HUDSON
December 13, 2009
It was with sadness that I learned last week of the passing of Jay Hudson of Talkeetna, Alaska. Jay is the son of Cliff and Ollie Hudson. Jay followed in his father's footsteps, learning to fly at an early age and eventually establishing his own reputation for excellence. The wall at Hudson Air in Talkeetna holds citations testifying to Jay's skill and bravery.
In 2004, my son Jonathan and I sat with Jay at a table alongside Main Street in front of the Hudson family house. Jay entertained us for over an hour with a lesson on the unique politics of the little Alaskan village. It was a side of him I had not experienced, and one that I remember. Our thoughts and prayers go out to Cliff and Ollie, and to the entire the Hudson family and Jay's many friends in South Central Alaska. This link goes to the funeral home comments.
GODSPEED, ED OLSON!
August 23, 2009
Friends die. It's a fact and we know it's going to happen sooner or later. But, it's never easy to accept. I've recorded several deaths in this journal. Nevertheless, the passing of Ed Olson on August 15 brings it home to me in a special way.
Our friendship had two phases. The first began on February 5, 1954 when we huddled together with Ed Fox on Alaska's Kesugi Ridge after being dumped from a disintegrating Air Force C-47. That bonding experience continued during our hospital stay. Then, we went our separate ways for many years.
The second phase began in 1996 when the six survivors of the C-47 crash decided to get together for a reunion. That led to other reunions, visits, and unbroken communication with the survivors bonding in a more mature and meaningful way.
I wrote in this journal last fall about the trip to Elkader that Millie and I took to visit with the Olsons. I'm glad we made that trip, for it was the last time we would see Ed. His health declined all this spring and summer. Millie and I were in West Virginia visiting relatives when Melissa, Ed's daughter informed us of his death. We drove to Elkader again, this time to attend a celebration of his life.
Ed Olson's life was one of service. The people of Elkader, Iowa turned out to show their love and appreciation. Millie summed it up pretty well when she said, "Ed made good use of his second chance."
MY FAIRBANKS FRIEND
May 11, 2009
Recently, I learned of the passing of my friend, John Papp, of Fairbanks, Alaska. I spoke of John in an article on this website in 2007. Millie and I were in Fairbanks that summer and John, who had a booth at the Tanana Valley Farmers Market, let me occupy the space in front of his booth to sell my books. John and his wife, Jo visited with us in Scotia in the fall of 2007. Our friendship continued after that with phone calls and letters. A geophysicist, John went to Alaska in 1958 to work for the U.S. Coast & Geodetic Survey, and stayed. John and Jo carved out a special place for themselves in the Fairbanks community, among other things challenging themselves to farm in the harsh climate. Jo has even co-authored a book about farming there. The title is, "Like a Tree to the Soil: A History of Farming in Alaska’s Tanana Valley, 1903 to 1940." I have to admit that most of my friendships are, and have been, long-term ones, with people I have known for years. Occasionally, however, I've met someone whose presence made me feel as though I had known them forever. John is one of those.
BACK TO ELKADER
September 30, 2008
Millie and I drove to Elkader, Iowa earlier this month to visit our friends, Ed and Ruth Mary Olson. We had not seen them since 1999. Ed is one of my fellow survivors of the 1954 crash of an Air Force C-47 in Alaska.
In the midst of our catching up time with the Olsons we were able to savor the Elkader atmosphere which has changed little since our last visit nine years earlier. There is one exception: This past spring I wrote journal stories for this website about the flood in Elkader. Ed and Ruth Mary took us around to see the results of that flood. Homes in several blocks at lower elevations are boarded up and several businesses are still closed. A bank is operating out of a trailer. Yet, we heard few complaints. I greatly admire the independent spirits of the people in this area. The fact that we arrived in Elkader on 9-11 was accidental, but that “by chance” occurrence turned out to be fortunate for us. It was a day of Peace Celebration in the town, culminating in a dinner at Schera's Restaurant that evening. Featured guest speakers after the dinner were Bill and Joe Aossey from Cedar Rapids. The Aosseys are third generation Americans, and Muslims.
In the way of background, when Ed was mayor of Elkader he had, in 1984, made contact with Algerian officials concerning the fact that Elkader was named after Emir Abdel-Kader, the “George Washington” of Algeria. As I said in my book, Touching the Ancient One, the contact “ . . . led to a “sister city twinning, which in turn led to visits back and forth. It became an important public relations exchange . . . ”
Elkader is still a part of the Sister Cities organization and as such is one of the communities leading efforts to foster understanding between people of different religions. I’m convinced that tolerance and understanding is something we all need to practice in dealing with one another. Programs like the Sister Cities Organization promote that.
I was scheduled to give a talk and book signing in the Elkader Library the day after our arrival. Ed joined me there and, as I’d hoped, it turned out to be more of a “discussion” session than a talk. Ed added information about our 1954 ordeal in the mountains of Alaska, things I had forgotten and some things I never knew. Melissa Patrick, Ed and Ruth Mary’s daughter, brought her book club members to the library, adding greatly to the discussion. Many thanks to the Elkader Library for giving us that opportunity.
We were in Elkader three nights, staying at the Elkader Jailhouse Inn, owned and run by Julie Carlisle-Kane & Tim Kane along with their pup, Merlin. That, alone, was a wonderful experience. The former jail has been converted, with the administrative area now forming living quarters and the cellblock serving as a greatroom and dining area where guests can mingle. The Kanes are gracious hosts. You can visit their website by clicking here.
One last thing I feel compelled to say: Millie and I live in an area that’s spread out, both politically and geographically. It’s refreshing to see a community such as Elkader where everyone knows everyone, where elbows are rubbed, and where folks feel accountable to one another. Ed and Ruth Mary Olson are prominent in the mix. Someone (sorry, I don’t remember who) told me that Ed was “Mr. Elkader.” I’d like to suggest that it might be “Mr. and Mrs. Elkader” for the Olsons.
ONE LAST MOUNTAIN CLIMBED!
August 20, 2008
I learned yesterday that, sadly, friend and rescuer Dr. Carl Russell passed away on August 18. “Russ,” as he was called by family and friends, was a central figure in my book, Touching the Ancient One–A True Story of Tragedy and Reunion. Major Russell was the Air Force flight surgeon who accompanied bush pilots Cliff Hudson and Don Sheldon in their rescue of crash survivors Ed Fox, Ed Olson, and me.
Our February 5, 1954 crash was not the only rescue mission on which Russ served. There were many. One earned him The Soldier's Medal for a rescue on the coast of South Korea where he had to be lowered by cable from a helicopter onto the deck of an LST. After his Air Force time, he went on to a brilliant civilian medical career in Virginia.
The survivors and rescuers of our crash didn't meet again until 1996, over forty years later. Although Don Sheldon had passed away, Dr. Russell and Cliff Hudson were at that reunion. We've kept in contact. Russ and Nancy attended another of our reunions in 2001.
A family member, Don Stoutamire, in reflecting on Russ’s interaction with our reunion group, said something that resonates with me. He said, “ . . . the paths that bring our lives together, then lead us off again, are never lost as long as our memories are shared with others.”
A JAMES HILL FAMILY MEMBER SPEAKS
July 31, 2008
I was delighted to see a July 30 Guestbook entry from Dave Hill, the nephew of Capt. James Hill, the highly decorated soldier who served our country during two wars. Capt. Hill died in the Alaskan C-47 crash of 1954, the tragedy that is the central focus of my book, Touching the Ancient One–A True Story of Tragedy and Reunion.
Since our 1996 initial reunion of survivors and family members of victims of the crash, many more relatives and friends have surfaced, and continue to do so. Some of that happened as a result of the magazine article that appeared in the September 23, 1996 issue of People. The process continues as my book circulates. There is also a wonderful thing that happens as connections are made and strengthened in and among families that had known nothing of one another just a few years ago. To cite just one: Keith Betscher, son of the pilot, and David West-Watson, son of a British doctor were both too young to remember their fathers. Now, more than fifty years later, they are fast friends and visit each other across the Atlantic Ocean. Both have visited the crash site on Kesugi Ridge, which is now within the boundaries of Denali State Park.
Another young man, whom I’ll not name at this time since I don’t have permission to do so, is right now on his way to Alaska to hike to the site of the crash. He’s also a nephew of another of the victims. He’s promised me an account of his trek for this website. I look forward to that.
ELKADER, IOWA FLOOD
June 12, 2008
The whole upper Mississippi River Valley and the tributaries that feed it are in great turmoil at this time. Sometimes, situations like this don’t become real until it strikes at something or someone we know. That’s the case here.
Elkader, in northeast Iowa and located on the Turkey River, is right now fighting to survive a record-breaking flood. In a message I just received from Ed Olson, friend, resident, and former Mayor, he briefly outlined the situation.
“Some 100 persons were forced from their homes when the 30.9 ft. high waters came rushing down the center of Elkader (flood stage is about 12 ft.). Some 30 businesses are trying to recover and business in the city is at a standstill.” Ed Olson is a fellow survivor of the 1954 C-47 crash in Alaska.
STOLT CORMORANT PHOTO
February 14, 2008
David West-Watson, about whom I have written in this journal, is not only the son of William Ronald West-Watson, a British military physician who died in the 1954 C-47 crash, he is also captain of the chemical tanker Stolt Cormorant. Click here to see a photograph of the Stolt Cormorant.
MORE ABOUT THE WEST-WATSONS
December 27, 2007
In October, I provided readers of this journal with a link for downloading the article “Rediscovering the Past and Shaping the Future,” [Now in the Photos section] which is about David West-Watson, son of William Ronald West-Watson, the British military officer and physician who died in the 1954 C-47 crash . Here’s a little back-story:
David was four when his father was killed. He grew up not knowing there were survivors of the crash. In 2005 he stumbled onto a web site that had a picture of a memorial plaque with his father’s name on it. The survivors’ names are also on the plaque and, because of that, he was able to find me. David and Anne, his wife, attended our survivor group reunion that summer in Cincinnati. They also traveled to Alaska and climbed to the crash site. Finding his father’s grave at Fort Richardson was an emotional, but satisfying experience.
This fall, David and Anne came visiting from their home in Wales. They were in upstate New York with Millie and I for four wonderful days. From here they went to Elkader, Iowa to spend Thanksgiving with Ed and Ruth Olson. Then, they moved on to Ohio to be with Keith and Jan Betscher for several days before returning home.
While they were in Elkader, Reporter Bryce Durbin did an interesting and well-written article article for the Clayton County Register. Mr. Durbin gave permission to copy the article for private use. It’s. You can find it in the Photo section.
A GREAT MAGAZINE ARTICLE!
October 30, 2007
Readers of Touching the Ancient One will recall the part that David West-Watson played in the last chapter of the book. A recent magazine article about David will be of particular interest to those readers.
David is the son of William Ronald West-Watson, the British military officer and physician who perished in the 1954 C-47 Alaskan crash that is the basis of my book. It was not until 2005 that David learned there had been survivors of the crash and that they have an active reunion group which includes families of men who died that tragic day.
David is captain of the Stolt Cormorant, a chemical tanker belonging to Stolt-Nielsen Limited. An article recently appeared in Stolten, the corporate magazine of Stolt-Nielsen. The article, Rediscovering the Past and Shaping the Future, tells about David West-Watson’s searching for and finding his "dad,” and in the process changing his “perspective on life.” It goes on to tell how David is using the long-ago tragedy as an incentive toward a project that will benefit others who have lost loved ones through tragic events. This well-written article is an inspiration. It is available for viewing in the Photos section.
POLICY FOR USING PHOTOGRAPHS ON THIS WEBSITE
October 22, 2007
I’ve had some requests to use photographs that are on this website. All the photographs here are under copyright law. If there is no credit listed with a photograph, it is assumed to be my own. Where credits are given, I have permission to use them but cannot give permission for anyone else to use them. My own photographs may be used free of charge for personal use, and for non-commercial websites provided credit is given me and a link back to this website is established. Commercial websites, or companies and individuals that may want to use my photographs commercially, may contact me personally by email at rcpratt33@aol.com.
HONORING A SALT ROCK FRIEND
October 9, 2007
Winston “Wink” Harbour, another friend from Salt Rock, died last week. Yes, if you’ve been reading my logs, the surname should be familiar. In my May 23, 2007 log, just a few short months ago, I told you about Ed Harbour—his passing, and something of our long friendship. Wink is Ed’s older brother by a couple of years.
Although Ed and I were in the same grade all through school, and therefore closer in many ways, Wink, also played a part in my life. First of all, he always seemed bigger than life to me. He was stronger, faster, and more athletic; those were the most important traits to a teen-age boy back then—maybe now, too. Wink became a football player, a guard, in high school, and he was a good one. Soon, we were hearing things like “the best lineman ever at Barboursville” being voiced in the community. And that may have been true. In the 1948 season, Barboursville was undefeated until late in the season when they met Milton, also undefeated. Milton may have won that game, but Barboursville had a great team, and Wink was one of the anchors.
Ed and I were a couple of years behind, but we wanted to be football players too. In ninth grade, we were allowed to walk over from the junior high to the high school and practice in full pads, this in lieu of our regular physical education classes. That was supposed to give us an edge when we got to the high school the following year. During the summer before our high school debut, Wink took us under his wing and unselfishly taught us all he knew about playing on the line. His teaching served us well over the next three years.
Wink served in the Korean War, and by the time he came back, I was at Marshall. He asked me if I’d like to go with him to visit Hubert Harshbarger in St. Mary’s Hospital in Huntington. Wink and Hubert had been great friends in high school. Hubert went to Syracuse University and had been on the football squad there. He bought a motorcycle and was on the way home when he had an accident that took one of his legs. Hubert was really down during our visit, and Wink worked hard to cheer him up. On the way out of St. Mary’s, Wink was quiet. He turned away from me, but not before I saw tears on his cheeks.
I only saw Wink a few times after that and don’t know much about his later life, but the things I remember from our younger days are good things to remember.
AN ALASKAN BOOK REVIEW
September 18, 2007
While I was doing my book-signing at the Tanana Valley Farmer’s Market in Fairbanks in July, a young woman approached with a copy of Touching the Ancient One in her hands. Almost shyly, Libby Martin asked me to autograph the book. We chatted about a couple of mundane things, then she said, “I must warn you—I review books for the Fairbanks Daily News-Miner, and I’m reviewing your book.”
There’s an old saying that “there’s no such thing as a bad review.” Still, I wondered what she might say. After returning home, I looked up some of her other reviews and could see that she was tough, but fair. I was pleasantly surprised when the review appeared in the Sunday, August 19 Daily News-Miner.
Freelance writer, Libby Martin, reviews books for the newspaper under the column name, The Armchair Adventurer. She gave permission to share this review:
-------------------
'Ancient One' a powerful story of survival, healing
Alaska’s history is littered with aviation tragedies. According to the National Transportation Safety Board and the National Institute of Occupational Safety and Health, the commercial aviation accident rate in Alaska is four times that of other states. And with a long list of well-known names lost in plane crashes – including Carl Ben Eielson’s disappearance in 1929, Wiley Post and humorist Will Rogers in 1935, William Huatala’s death in 1943 and U.S. Reps. Nick Begich of Alaska and Hale Boggs of Louisiana in 1972 - stories of gravity’s victory over man’s attempt to soar are numerous.
But Rupert Pratt’s memoir, “Touching the Ancient One: A True Story of Tragedy and Reunion,” is a story of a different type. As the title suggests, the book isn’t just about the crash, although that compelling story is the first half of the book. The story is really about Pratt and the men who survived a tragic accident – and how they reconnected years later. It’s not so much a tragedy as a tale of survival and strength.
Rupert Pratt grew up in Salt Rock, WV, a rural area in the Appalachian Mountains. He joined the Army at age 20, because “in the early fifties, entering the military was almost a certainty for a healthy young man.” He was assigned to Ladd Air Force Base in 1953 for a two-year stint.
On his arrival, however, he and his buddies Ed Knapp and Don McDonough were assigned to drive oil and gas rigs, a dirty, smelly job that was far from the glamour Pratt had envisioned.
Pratt writes of his introduction to the Fairbanks cold, disillusionment with his assignment and his personal story of loves lost and found. It’s a meandering journey, first here, then there, throwing in an explanation as almost an after-thought. It’s not the chronological, 1-2-3 order most of us expect when reading history, but it’s more real, as if we’re sitting down face-to-face with Pratt as he tells us stories about his life. The back story is also necessary to help us understand how he ended up on a C-47 that ill-fated day, and, like any real life journey, begins long before the actual event, with fits and starts along the way.
Pratt and his buddies were “loaned” to the Army’s petroleum lab in Ft. Richardson, TDY for up to three months. They landed in Anchorage in November 1953; they were recalled back to Ladd on Feb. 3, 1954. Pratt was told their loan to the Army was over; he was to notify Knapp and McDonough and be on a flight back to Fairbanks by Feb. 5. So it was that Pratt got himself and his friends on that unfortunate C-47 out of Elmendorf, finding himself plummeting to earth when the plane broke up over Denali National [State] Park and his subsequent landing on Kesugi Ridge.
Sixteen men boarded that flight. Six men survived the explosion, break-up and parachute-fall to the ground.
Such is Pratt’s writing skill that even though you know – you KNOW – that only six men walk away from the downed craft, the reader hopes along with the author for the safety of all of them. Pratt has tapped deeply into 40-year-old memories, bringing the reader vividly close to the experience. I felt the cold wind rushing through me as I fell from the plane, earned bruises from landing on unforgiving rock and waved frantically at an unseen plane flying overhead, hoping I would be seen.
But this book is not a mere survival tale. Pratt finishes out the first half by detailing his reaction after returning to Fairbanks – too much booze, time and what we would these days call post-traumatic stress. But he pulled himself together, finished his military time, married his sweetheart and got on with his life.
Until 40 years later, when he began wondering about the other five survivors and the families of those who hadn’t survived. With the aid of his letters home (saved by his mom), newspaper clippings and a database with all the residential telephone numbers in the U.S., Pratt began with the five men who had shared the mountain with him.
It was slow going, but eventually, Pratt found them. The story of his search is as compelling as the tale of the crash, because he is honest about the emotions dragged up from the wells of memory. He worried that the others wouldn’t want to remember the crash, and that the families of those who didn’t survive were resentful of those who had.
“The reunion idea just popped out,” he writes early in the chapter. “I guess the idea had occurred to me before, but I hadn’t given it much thought. Now it seemed the most logical thing in the world.”
And the others thought so too.
Eventually, Pratt found family members who were willing to talk about their lost loved ones – indeed, the forward to this half of the book was written by Keith Betscher, who was 20 months old when his father piloted his last flight.
Pratt writes vivid biographies of both the survivors and the victims, using information he garnered from family members, survivors’ stories and newspaper clippings. He speaks with wonder at the interest the reunions picked up – newspaper articles, a film documentary, and calls from families. Eventually, the survivors plan a trip to Kesugi Ridge, thus closing out a chapter in their lives that colored everything they did.
Pratt’s book is not just another plane crash story. It is literally a survival tale – not just surviving the actual crash, but surviving the ensuing years – the guilt of living while friends died, the pain of loss, the stress of getting back to the mundane job of waking up and being fruitful after such an intense experience. It is about overcoming fears and rejoicing in all that makes life sweet – family, friends and waking up each day.
ALASKA BOOK-SIGNING TOUR
July 29, 2007
Millie and I have just returned from Alaska with 326 photographs, new and reinvigorated friendships, and some jet lag. As soon as I recover from the latter I’ll share the trip with you through pictures (Don't worry, there will be considerably less than 326) and words.
The two-week trip was primarily a vacation since we had not visited America’s Last Frontier since 2004, but we also took advantage of the time to promote Touching the Ancient One. Six book-signings later, I possess wonderful memories of those events. I look forward to sharing our latest “Alaska story” with you. Watch for it in a few days. [It can be viewed in “2007 Story” in the Photos section.]
2007 REUNION CANCELLED
June 26, 2007
Sadly, circumstances have led to the cancellation of the C-47 Survivor’s Reunion scheduled for Elkader, Iowa this summer. We are hopeful that the event can be rescheduled next summer.
CLIFF HUDSON DVD PREMIER HELD IN TALKEETNA, ALASKA
June 4, 2007
On June 1, Stagg Films held a premier of the Cliff Hudson DVD, Portrait of a Legend: Talkeetna's Cliff Hudson. The showing was in Talkeetna, Alaska. Ollie Hudson sent me a message saying that it was well-attended and well-received. Ollie went on to say, “When the part of the presentation of the medal that was given to Cliff everyone clapped. They had laughs & all enjoyed & bought DVDs & T-Shirts.”
"TOUCHING THE ANCIENT ONE" AN INDIE EXCELLENCE BOOK AWARD FINALIST!
April 26, 2007
I am pleased to announce that Touching the Ancient One has placed as a finalist in the National Indie Excellence 2007 Book Awards for Biography.
The Indie Excellence Awards are presented annually by Pubinsider.com, a public relations & marketing firm under the trademark of JPX Media. Yesterday, 250 winners and finalists from more than 60 categories were recognized.
Coming on the heels of the 2006 Military Writers Society of America Silver Award for Biographies, I feel very gratified and thankful that my book is so well thought of.
MORE ABOUT ELI LADUKE’S TORN PANTS, FROM HIS SON
March 20, 2007
A few days ago I got a letter from Alan LaDuke, Eli LaDuke’s son. He responded after seeing my journal entry of March 14 and the photographs of his father which were taken by Joseph F. Grey back in 1954. I thought others might find Alan’s letter about Eli’s torn pants interesting.
It was only a short time before Dad passed away that I was told about the torn pants. It came to my attention from one of the employees who worked for the same company as I do. I had to place a call to Fed Ex Tech Support, which my company operates. After the agent on the other end had finished helping me, he asked if any of my family had been in the military. It was a weird question, but I answered, “Yes, several of my uncles, as well as Dad and I are veterans.”
When he asked if any of them were in the Air Force, I felt this weird sensation, but said, “Yes, my father and an uncle were both Airman.”
Then, I about passed out when he asked about Alaska! I was really unsure of what this guy was doing. When I told him Dad had been in Alaska, he then proceeded to ask if he had been in a plane crash during that time. My heart stopped and my blood chilled. I was thinking that this guy knows nothing about me because he’s just a person on the other end of the phone that answered the Fed Ex tech support line. But, it seemed he knew more about my family than I did.
Once he knew that I was Eli's son, he asked if Dad had ever told me the story of the pants getting ripped and Dad having to find some other pants to cover his backside.
I took the guy’s name and called Dad. When I asked Dad about the pants, he wanted to know how I knew of that, and I explained the call I’d received.
I do know he and Dad talked a time or two after that. I have since lost contact with him because he left the company and I can't find any notes of the contact info. It turned out this guy served at the same time you guys [the other crash survivors] were there and knew Dad. It was an experience that most people would find unbelievable or spooky, but I cherish the fact that this guy even took the time to ask the questions based on my phone call and the fact that he recognized the last name.
Just wanted to share this story with you since the pictures (Picture 1, Picture 2, Picture 3, Picture 4 ) bring this memory to life.
Wonderful story, Alan. Thanks for sharing it with us
REUNION IN AMERICA’S HEARTLAND—ELKADER, IOWA, HERE WE COME!
February 19, 2007
Our C-47 Survivor’s Group will hold the next reunion in Elkader, Iowa. In Touching the Ancient One it was stated that we would meet in Orlando in February of this year. For various reasons those plans got derailed. Ed and Ruth Olson stepped forward and volunteered to host this event on the weekend of August 3-5 in Elkader. This is not the first time for Elkader. Our group visited the picturesque little town in the northeast section of the state in the summer of 1999. I was intrigued. Ed says it’s changed somewhat as more people have discovered it, but that it retains its charm. I look forward to returning.
Since the publication of my book several people have shown an interest in attending our reunions. They’ll be pleased to know that we’re extending an open invitation. The events were never closed to the public, but we made no great effort to publicize, either. So, join us in Elkader on the weekend of August 3-5. We’re a friendly bunch.
MEETING PEOPLE
January 20, 2007
I had a book-signing on Saturday, January 13 at the Saratoga Springs Barnes & Noble. Relations Manager Crystal Jenkins and the rest of the staff was wonderful to me, setting up my table in a proven “hot spot” near the front door where I sold lots of books.
Aside from that, I came away with a warm feeling about the people I rubbed elbows with that day. People didn’t just want to pick up a copy of my book to peruse, they wanted to talk about my experience and theirs, my life, my thoughts on various subjects. A variety of age groups stopped by my table. There was a boy, about thirteen, excitement in his eyes, who begged his father to buy the book. There was a woman who, after reading the back cover, said her brother had attended Marshall University and was still living in that area. A retired physicist never picked up a copy but grilled me for several minutes about what’s involved in writing a book. Scores of people stopped by to chat.
What I came away with was a head-full of memories of nice folks. If I hadn’t sold a single book it still would have been worth it. Thanks, Saratoga Springs Barnes & Noble.
A LONG-AGO FRIEND
January 3, 2007
I know I’ve said this before, but I’m going to say it again: The joy of having a book like Touching the Ancient One on the market comes from the people you meet because of it. On page sixteen I mentioned Cline Bates, and the fact that we had joined the Air Force together. He was a neighbor from West Hamlin, friend, and classmate at Marshall. We were in basic training together at Sampson Air Force Base. We lost contact after that. In 1962, I was saddened to learn that Cline had been killed in an industrial accident. Yesterday, I received an email from Doug Bates, Cline’s son, who was two years old when his father was killed. Cline’s brother, Mike Bates, provided Doug with a photograph of Cline and me at Sampson and he has kindly given permission to put it on this web site.
Doug says that his mother, the former Carolyn Black from Myra, WV made sure when he was a child that he stayed in touch with his father’s family. "She felt it was bad enough that they had to lose a son. They shouldn’t lose a grandson too," Doug stated.
Over the past ten years our reunion group brought together several people who couldn’t remember their fathers, men I, and the other survivors of the C-47 tragedy knew only briefly. Yet, the fact that we had been near their loved ones in their last moments somehow brought comfort to those families. Doug stated in his note that he felt empathy for others in our group because he too did not remember his father. I was pleased to be able to tell him a little about Cline Bates as I remember him. My father died before my birth, so I know how important every little bit of information becomes––a connecting link with the past. We should do our best to preserve those connecting links.
Everyone have a HAPPY NEW YEAR!
WE ARE MARSHALL–MY REVIEW
December 24, 2006
I talked up WE ARE MARSHALL in recent posts. Now I feel some obligation to add my humble opinion on the movie. Millie and I attended an afternoon showing in Emeryville, California on the 22nd. In all fairness, my thoughts may be biased by several factors: I grew up in the Huntington area (Salt Rock), I’m a Marshall graduate (1957), I know the family of one of the victims of the 1970 crash (Barry Nash), and my own experience as an air crash survivor will, no doubt, color my perspective. Nevertheless, here goes:
WE ARE MARSHALL is an excellent movie. My gut feeling makes me want to shout “great” movie, but for the general audience it falls just short of that. However, for those of us who live close to the circumstances, it is a great movie because we read between the lines––or scenes if you prefer. We can fill in some blanks that the casual moviegoer cannot. An example is the depiction of the community’s grief. That is alluded to and shown briefly in a few individual scenes, but showing the extent of the devastation that tore apart the university and surrounding area falls short. Another shortcoming was the lack of information about most of the victims. A few individuals were shown in depth, and I understand that in telling about a tragedy of this scope you have to choose the things to empathize, but a three-second list of the victims at the end of the movie is really not enough.
Nevertheless, there’s much that is excellent. For those who want an exciting crash scene with slow-motion detail of every angle of a disintegrating aircraft hitting the trees short of the runway––you’ll be disappointed. And that’s a plus. If you expect certain actors to step forward as strong swashbuckling protagonists and antagonists, you’ll also be disappointed. Another plus. Don’t get me wrong––there’s no lack of fine acting in the film, but it’s a dignified, graceful kind of shared presentation. In fact, “dignified” is the word I choose to describe the whole movie. Even the football scenes later in the film, though riveting in themselves and good enough to satisfy the most critical sports fans, possess an overriding statement––that there is more at stake than just winning a football game. Faithfully kept before us is the symbol of “rising from the ashes.” The real antagonist in the film is DESPAIR and the protagonist is HOPE. For those who understand that, WE ARE MARSHALL is a great movie. It has depth, and as such will probably not lead the way at the box office or attract the attention of the Academy Award folks. However, it will be around for a long time, unlike a couple of the “spectacular” flicks that are playing alongside it. There’s my two cents worth.
On this Christmas Eve, I wish everyone a MERRY CHRISTMAS.
God bless you all, Rupert
MWSA’S “SALUTE TO THE MILITARY”
October 19, 2006
When Touching the Ancient One received the 2006 Military Writers Society of America Silver Medal Award for Biographies, I thought that merely receiving my frameable certificate in the mail would be sufficient. However, as I gave it more thought, I decided that going to San Diego to pick it up in person was what I really wanted to do. It wasn’t the idea that standing up in front of other authors and MWSA members (I don’t even like to do that) was reason enough for enduring the long trek and having to find my way around an unfamiliar city. What I really wanted was to meet other people who had also written books––had made the difficult journey from page one to the page that said, “the end.” They would know of my struggles and I would know theirs. We would connect in important ways, I thought.
And I was right. We weren’t very accessible to the public and I doubt that anyone went there with the illusion of selling large quantities of books. If they did, I think they missed the point. I only had a few in my backpack; I sold only one, but I gave some away and traded books with several other authors. In the act of trading we discussed our books with each other––and in some cases, our lives and families. That’s the bigger picture, in my opinion. I will follow their careers from this point on.
I judge that ninety percent or more of those attending the three-day event were either active or former military people, so the works were definitely slanted in that direction. When I wrote my book I didn’t think of it as a military book, but I see now how it fits in with the rest.
Bill McDonald, MWSA’s founder and president, is, as I suspected, bigger than life. His leadership, with the able assistance of Maria Edwards, put all this together. Bill realizes that there are stories that need to be told by the generations that experienced them, stories that may be lost if not for the encouragement of organizations like MWSA. I encourage everyone, military or not, writer or not, with an interest in history, to support this organization. You can join MWSA by clicking here.
JACOB SIPLIVY
October 12, 2006
The following story holds great significance for me. If you’ve read Touching the Ancient One, you know about the effort I put onto finding the families of the men who died in the February 5, 1954 crash of our Air Force C-47 in interior Alaska. Although I had success in most instances, there were gaps in my knowledge that were frustrating. We were contacted by family members of James M. Hill after the first reunion when his widow, Dolly Hill, saw the September 23rd People article. Finding David West-Watson shortly before the book went to press, or more accurately, his finding us, was a stroke of luck that made a good ending for the book.
Another family that always seemed just out of reach was that of Sgt. Jacob Siplivy. True, I had talked to a brother and a sister-in-law, but they were unable to give me much information. Then, a few weeks ago, I received a phone call from Peggy Kishlock of Johnstown, PA.
“I’m the daughter of Jacob Siplivy and I have two brothers, Bill and Jim,” she told me. “In addition, our mother is alive and well.”
Needless to say, we had a nice long conversation. Later, we exchanged email and made arrangements to meet for breakfast on September 23rd at Barboursville, West Virginia. Not only did Peggy and her brothers show up with their spouses, but their mother came too.
We already knew that Peggy and Dave Kishlock live in Johnstown, PA. During breakfast we learned that Jim and his wife, Luann, live there as well. Bill and his wife, Laura, live in Stow, Ohio. Both Jim and Bill are graduates of West Virginia University. Bill, who is a Marine Corps veteran, serving from 1966 to 1970, also holds an M.S. in Mining Engineering from the University of Pittsburgh.
An hour and a half over breakfast at CrackerBarrell proved to be a wonderful experience for us all. Information from the Air Force had been lacking in 1954 and, even though I had not known Jacob personally, I was able to add some details about the accident that the Siplivy family appreciated. I believe that just being with one of the last people to see Jacob alive was meaningful to them. They really are a delightful family.
Below is information supplied by the family that I wish was in the book, but since that is impossible in the present edition, I’m putting it on this website, both as a journal entry and in Links of Interest which people can readily access. Jacob Siplivy’s photograph is in the C-47 Crash Victims folder in the Picture Galley.
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T/Sgt Jacob “Jay” Siplivy, son of John and Anna Siplivy, was born in Somerset County, PA on November 24, 1919. He joined the Army Air Force in 1942 and would go on to fly fifty bombing missions from Italy into Germany during WWII. Later, in 1946, while stationed in Erding, Germany, Jacob met and married Erna Stahleder of Vilsbiburg, Germany. After Jacob was discharged, the couple came to the United States with their oldest son, William. Jacob worked in the coal mines for a time, but dissatisfied with that, reenlisted back into the Air Force. Peggy was born at Scott AFB in Illinois and Jim was born at Shaw AFB in South Carolina. Other duty stations were Scott Pope AFB in North Carolina and Olmstead AFB in Middletown, PA. After being assigned to Elmendorf AFB, Alaska, but before leaving for that frontier assignment, he moved his wife and children to Johnstown, PA until he could make other arrangements. Sadly, on February 5, 1954, he was aboard the ill-fated C-47. Erna raised her three children, with moral support from friends and family before marrying Paul Kaminski of Johnstown sixteen years after Jacob’s death.
Erna, still beautiful and vibrant, feels that, "Jay and I were blessed with three wonderful children." She shows great pride in what they have done with their lives. But she also cherishes her memories. She has a suitcase in her attic with Jacob’s medals, Air Force wings, letters, and wallet, along with many pictures. There are also newspaper clippings and telegrams about the accident. An additional treasure in the suitcase is a faded post card with Jacob’s last writing to his wife and children.
My thanks to the Siplivy family for sharing this information about another of our military heros. It reminds me of the men and women we met in Tom Brokow’s The Greatest Generation.
WEST VIRGINIA TRIP–SALT ROCK
October 8, 2006
I grew up in Salt Rock, West Virginia, where my mother’s family had deep roots. That family is all gone now, but their friends, and mine, are still numerous. They came out in generous numbers on Saturday, September 23 to talk to Millie and me. Steve and Linda Sansom’s Chevron/Subway was a lively place from 10 to 2. My thanks to them for hosting our visit. Feeling my roots was a marvelous feeling.
Steve asked me if I’d be willing to speak to some classes at Salt Rock School on Wednesday Morning. I agreed even though we’d planned to leave for home early that morning. I’m very happy we did stay. We had a wonderful time with three groups of combined classes of third, fourth, and fifth graders. The students asked some of the best questions I’ve had since the publication of Touching the Ancient One. I was gratified to be able to teach them some history of their school as well. I was a first grader when the school opened in January 1939. I pointed out a large maple tree in the front yard and explained that it was the only remaining one of eight that had been dug up from the Guyandotte River banks and planted by three or four other boys and me in 1946. I’m very impressed with the educational atmosphere at Salt Rock School, and I love the Salt Rock Indians bag they gave me.
A NEW FAMILY MEMBER
October 8, 2006
On September 27, 2006 our son Jonathan and his wife Bobbi presented Millie and me with our third grandchild. Andrew Peter Pratt weighed in at nine pounds, three and a quarter ounces. Good job, Kids!
WEST VIRGINIA TRIP– JOHNSONBURG, PA
October 6, 2006
On our way to West Virginia, Millie and I stayed overnight in western NY near the southern PA border. Next morning we traveled down Route 219. When we reached the city of Johnsonburg, PA, it dawned on me that Johnsonburg was James Hill’s hometown. As we went up a main street we saw a veterans memorial on the left, so we parked to look it over. On one of the marble panels along with hundreds of other names we spotted James M. Hill. We stayed several minutes enjoying the park-like atmosphere of the site, appreciative of the fact that the citizens of the Johnsonburg area have honored those who served in the military. Farther up the street on the right was the public library. It wasn’t open yet, but I dedicated a copy of Touching the Ancient One in honor of James Hill, and put it in the return slot. It’s not much, but it felt good to give back
“TOUCHING THE ANCIENT ONE” RECEIVES AWARD
September 4, 2006
Today I was informed that Touching the Ancient One has received the 2006 Military Writers Society of America SILVER AWARD for Biographies. It was unexpected. Bill McDonald, president of MWSA, gave it a very favorable review a few weeks ago, but I never dreamed my book would receive such an honor. I’m humbled and deeply appreciative. MWSA will officially confer awards in several genres on October 14 in San Diego.
ERNIE TETRAULT INTERVIEW
August 26, 2006
On August 22, I had the honor of being interviewed by an icon of broadcasting. Ernie Tetrault, retired, but still active in public access TV, as well as many other community causes, invited me to SACC TV, Channel 16 studios to tape a half-hour session for his show. I came away knowing I’d been talking to a real pro.
SCHENECTADY GAZETTE REVIEW
August 14, 2006
On Sunday, August 6, The Schenectady Sunday Gazette ran a review for Touching the Ancient One. The reviewer, John Rowen, did an excellent job, I thought. Mr. Rowen, a book reviewer for about twenty-five years, is quite respected in our area. I’d like to publish the entire review on this website, but hesitate to do that because of copyright laws. Here are a couple of excerpts, however:
". . . Rupert Pratt adds a twist to the disaster epic. Past masters of this genre, such as Walter Lord with “A Night to Remember” or Sebastian Junger with “The Perfect Storm,” devote much of their work to setting the stage for the disaster and then re-creating it. They devote less time to considering what happened afterwards. Pratt, a retired Schenectady teacher, describes a disaster with the best of them. But unlike Lord or Junger, he spends more time explaining what happens afterwards—to survivors and the family and friends of people who did not make it."
" . . . Pratt shows how six men took the gift of surviving a plane crash and made it more valuable by living life fully. The passage of time, he suggests, is a gift that helps people understand the lessons of their life."
MY AUNT MARY
July 26, 2006
I had a conversation last night with my Aunt Mary Harvey that makes me appreciate the joy of life and living; it’s not the first time Mary has given me that lift. She’s in her eighties and has been active all her life. She and her husband Bill have been bowlers for many years with showcases full of trophies to show for it. Mary is legally blind now. Our conversation went something like this:
Mary said, “I can’t see the marks on the boards anymore, but I can still get the ball in the pocket pretty good.”
“You’re still bowling? I’d just assumed . . . “
“Sure . . . been bowling a long time.”
“But you can’t hardly see!”
“Memory’s still good. You don’t forget how to bowl.”
“Incredible!”
“The last time I bowled, I broke two hundred in all three games.”
“No . . . “
“One of my teammates told me he wished I’d gone blind a long time ago.” She laughed heartily. “I still love to bowl.”
And I sure do love my Aunt Mary.
THE FOX
April 13, 2006
Comments posted yesterday under the Welcome link by Jackie Whitney Mrowka about Ed Fox served to remind me how much I like this guy.
Ed and I shared many events and adventures in the early fifties, as related in Touching the Ancient One. We picked up our friendship in 1996 at the first Survivors’ reunion, and we stay in close communication. His upbeat personality has often lifted my spirits just when I needed it.
We talked a few days ago. I had been worried because he hadn’t answered my email or my phone messages. It turned out he had been caring for his friend, Joyce, who had been hospitalized. It had taken up almost all his time.
I remembered how he and his then wife, Flo, had treated me in Fairbanks all those years ago when it was me in need of care. Friendship, to Ed, is a serious matter. I started to tell him how much I admired him for the way had looked after Joyce.
In typical fashion, he didn’t want to hear that. “Well," he said, “She took care of me when I was sick. Turn about is fair play!”
I couldn’t argue with that, but I can’t help thinking that having Ed Fox for a friend is a very good thing.
DAVID LEE THOMPSON
March 26, 2006
I appreciate the vote of confidence by David Lee Thompson in the Welcome post. David and I share the same heritage—a heritage he has elegantly described in his award-winning book, River of Memories: An Appalachian Boyhood. Although our topics are different, I value his opinion and look forward to what he might think of my effort. David speaks about our culture with a rare voice, one that Appalachian people recognize as authentic. There is a universal quality to his writing as well, reminding us that we all share similar family intimacies—have the same kinds of doubts, joys, and fears. River of Memories: An Appalachian Boyhood will resonate with almost any audience.
WELCOME!
March 18, 2006
Welcome to Touching the Ancient One Website. This is my initial posting. I'm new at this and hope you'll be patient with me as I learn.
I invite your comments and suggestions for improving this site, and for initiating topics of discussion. Keep in mind that your post will be viewed by the public.
Sincerely, Rupert Pratt