The Ultimate Messenger

The Ultimate Messenger

  Close your eyes and let your mind take you back in time to World War Two. You’re hunkered down in a fox hole behind enemy lines with a raging battle going on all around you. Vastly out numbered, ammunition nearly gone and about to be over run by the enemy, your Lieutenant screams for the radioman to get a call in for artillery support. The Lieutenants heart sinks when he’s informed that communications were knocked out several minutes ago. To make matters worse, darkness is quickly closing in on the desperate soldiers and freezing rain has begun to fall. The men are in a hell of a jam. They have to get a message back to headquarters immediately. With help over a hundred miles away, a man on foot would never make it in time. The message would have to be delivered through the air.

  The Lieutenant bellows the order to get a flyer ready to move out as a grenade explodes just 200 feet away. The platoon watches as their youngest flyer lifts off into a smoke filled sky lit up by enemy artillery fire.

  Less than two hours later the message is delivered to the commander with the platoons coordinates so the necessary action can be taken to rescue them. The flyer is cold, hungry and near exhaustion after the heroic flight. A much deserved meal of seeds and grains will be brought to him in the loft he shares with several other pigeons.

  Our hero is not the common city pigeon you see milling around on tall buildings or looking for hand outs in city parts.

  These are known as homing pigeons and played an important role in wars through out history as they carried vital messages. Homers, as they are called by people who raise them rode in a wicker basket attached to a soldier’s back as the infantry advanced. When needed, a message was written on light weight onion paper and slid into a tiny capsule attached to the bird’s leg. Tossed high into the air, the bird would head straight for its loft which of course was located at headquarters. 

   Scenarios very similar to the one I described took place many times in both World Wars. In World War Two alone, 32 homing pigeons received the Dickin Medal bearing the words “For Gallantry” and “We Also Serve.”

  I talked to four members of various homing pigeon clubs in the Kansas City area recently to learn more about these marvelous birds. To a man, they suggested I talk to John McLean of Shawnee, Kansas. They all agreed that he is the leading expert on homers.

  The beautiful weeping willow tree guarding the front of John’s comfortable two story home gave me the feeling he would be a down to earth type of man. My feelings were 100 percent correct. The 85 year old retired dentist motioned for me to have a seat at the kitchen table as he poured a cup of coffee. He no more than sat down when his ten year old cat strolled into the room with his tail sticking straight up. Perhaps he sensed that we would be talking about one of his favorite topics; pigeons.

  The little feline earns his keep by following John into the loft where he patrols for potential pigeon feed thieves such as field mice.  

  John, who grew up in Columbia, Mo has raised pigeons since the tender age of nine. He was a bombardier in World War Two and a Dentist in the Korean War but never got the opportunity to work with pigeons in the service. His dental practice was at

Independence Avenue

and Prospect on Kansas Cities northeast side for over forty years.

  In the center of his large back yard sits an impressive white building the pigeons call home. The birds looked very nervous as I followed John inside the loft. “They don’t like strangers coming in here” said John as he picked up several of the homers and set them in crates so they could be loaded into the back of a pickup truck belonging to fellow Kansas City Pigeon Racing Club members who were on their way over with their own birds.

  The men planned to haul the birds approximately 25 miles away for their first flight since last fall. Competitive racing doesn’t start until April and ends in late fall. As soon as they’re released they’ll head straight for home and in all likely hood beat the truck back. The distance will be increased each week until they are back in top condition and capable of competing in races as long as 600 miles.  On a good day, a champion caliber bird can cover that distance by the time the sun sets. On occasion, they encounter bad weather such as rain, strong winds and excessive heat that slows them down and extends the trip to several days or even months such as the time John had one show up a year later.

     Pigeon races often attract as many as 1,200 entries. A mechanical device releases the homers at the same precise time. At the end of the flight a small electronic computer scans each bird’s identification number and the exact time it enters its home loft. This information is taken to the combine secretary in Topeka, Kansas where they determine what place each bird finished in. Judging from a solid wall of trophy’s in John’s home I would say most of his homers which are known as McLean pigeons because he has been breeding and raising them for over 70 years win their fair share of the races.

  “There isn’t a lot of difference in male and females when it comes to racing” said John. “As a rule, the males are slightly faster and better suited for short races while the females are more steady and better for the longer runs but I do have birds that do great at both types of races”.

   For exercise, they are set free twice a day to fly high in the skies over Johnson County.

   As you can see, not all pigeons hang out on tall buildings dropping unwanted “presents” on clean cars or beg for hand outs in parks.

 Homers like to earn their way in this world.

  

 

Lighting Up The Criminal World

Lighting up the Criminal World

     For those of you worried about the city running out of bad guys, you can relax. There are still plenty of them around as my hour and twenty minute ride in a Kansas City Police helicopter proved on a recent Friday night.

  I met officers Brent Thompson and Denny Mason at the police heliport in the Leeds area of Kansas City a few blocks southwest of the sports complex. The heliport is home to three 1968 Hughes Oh6’s helicopters and 1973 copter recently donated by the U.S. Army.

  Lights on the exterior of the hanger illuminated the blue colored copter sitting on the concrete pad. Even at rest it looked sleek and ready to fly into action at a moments notice.

  I watched the officers make their pre trip inspection of the aircraft and noted that it was a warm and exceptionally dark night without a full moon. The perfect combination for the criminal element I thought as I pulled my seat belt tight and watched the forty year old helicopter blades begin to slowly turn.

  The cover of darkness does indeed help the bad guys but it can also give them a false sense of security when the copter closes in on them. Several times from my lofty perch in the copter I saw people do their best to hide just to have the one million candle power spotlight turn darkness into day and reveal them.

  Over the next eighty minutes we responded to calls involving a foot chase, burglary, street disturbance, prowlers and an armed residential robbery. As we approached the house where the robbery took place officer Thompson noticed a white car two blocks away traveling at a high rate of speed on the wrong side of the road.

 Officer Mason had a decision to make as the copter easily over took the vehicle. He could use the spotlight or the infra red device mounted on the front of the Hughes Oh6 . The spotlight was his choice in this instance. A simple flick of a switch bathed the car and immediate area surrounding it in bright light but the driver could care less.  It was almost comical as he made numerous turns in a futile effort to get away. After a brief chase the occupants stopped in the middle of the road. All four doors flew open and the men hit the ground running.     

  With police ground units closing in the bad guys scrambled to find places to hide in a backyard.

Officer Thompson flew the helicopter in a tight circle while Officer Mason continued to sweep the area with the light. Both men directed the arriving officers by radio to where they could find the hiding crooks.

  Infra red is an amazing ally in locating criminals when they elect to use it. A man under its gaze appears on the screen as a gray image much like a person on a photo negative.

“It depends on the circumstances as to when we use it,” forty three year old Officer Thompson said. “A lot of times we don’t want the suspects to know we’re watching them.”

  A good example would be several people hiding in a backyard when patrol cars are still several minutes away. The pilots don’t want to scare them with the light and cause them to run so they will locate them with infra red but shine the spotlight on a neighboring yard causing them to think their well hidden. The officers will continue to sweep the wrong yard with the light but keep an eye on the crooks with infra red until ground units arrive. The light is then turned on the right yard and the officers round up the suspects.

   Whether their in a car or on foot most guilty people will run for cover when the police helicopter starts following them. “I’ve seen them hide under decks, crawl under cars, climb trees and burrow under bushes to hide from us,” four year veteran pilot Mason said. “They will even trying hiding behind a tree and keep moving around it as we fly in circles but it doesn’t do them much good. We usually catch them.”

  Once airborne the two officers begin scanning all the radio frequency’s for calls they think they can help with. Many times they will head to a scene before dispatch can call them. A few extra seconds can make all the difference in the world. On a weekend night it’s not unusual for them to be involved in a dozen or more calls.

   I was completely lost for most of my ride until we patrolled the northeast area of the city. I easily recognized St. John,

Independence Avenue

, Hardesty and Van Brunt from land marks but couldn’t begin to tell you the names of the pitch black streets running parallel to them. Incredibly, either pilot could glance at any street I pointed to and immediately identify it.

“Memory,” Officer Thompson said when I asked him how they know one street from another in the dark. “We’ve memorized how many blocks each side street is from a main road. If we were looking for Lawndale for example, we would simply count three blocks to the east of Hardesty to locate it.”

  It’s rare but occasionally the helicopter will land to assist in an arrest when the situation warrants it. They will only touch down long enough for the co-pilot to get out and the pilot will immediately lift off again to continue accessing the situation.

  I was amazed at what a tremendous help the helicopter crew is to the police department and neighborhoods it protects across the city. I for one will sleep a little easier at night knowing men like Officers Thompson and Mason are patrolling high above our homes fighting crime.

Mud, Sweat and Tires

Mud, Sweat and Tires

 Our next door neighbor’s front porch was a constant gathering place for several of us kids on those hot steamy summer evenings in the Sheffield neighborhood of Northeast. Mrs. Ault owned the house and in addition of having a great deal of patience with kids, she also made the best ice tea this side of the Mississippi.

   I can remember sitting there trying to stay cool when we would suddenly hear the distance roar of engines on a weekend evening just before dark. Everyone would try to guess what it was and where it could be coming from. One of Mrs. Ault’s older sons heard us talking late one afternoon and said it was the stock cars racing at Olympic Stadium about a mile away. We were around 12 years old at the time and he didn’t want to get us in trouble with our parents so he refused to tell us how to get there when we asked him.

  All of us boys were beginning to get interested in cars so we weren’t about to let something like no directions stop us from exploring a potential source of fun. It was decided that we would bring our bikes and meet at Mrs. Ault’s house the following Friday evening and let the sounds of the car engines guide us to the stadium.

  About seven o’clock on the agreed evening our quiet neighborhood suddenly erupted with the sound of twenty high performance stock cars trying to out do each other.

The startled sparrows that had been peacefully eating bread tossed out in the yard by Mrs .Ault flew away in terror from the loud noise. We jumped on our bikes and rode towards the exciting sound that continued to rise in volume as we got closer. At best, we figured we had one hour to get there, look around for a few minutes and get back home before our parents realized we were gone.

  The plan worked beautifully for a change and we were all sufficiently impressed with the stadium and all the cars being brought in on trailers. The atmosphere was fantastic with the now deafening noise and smell of hot dogs and popcorn being sold in the concession stands. We could only imagine how much fun the people in the bleachers were having as they cheered on their favorite drivers. On the ride home we made a pact that we would all come back and see the inside as soon as we could earn enough money. In time, we did indeed go back to Olympic and loved every minute of it. Sitting in Olympic Stadium on a hot summer night under the stars eating hot dogs, drinking pop and watching race after race has to rank right up there with watching a baseball game or fishing on the banks of a creek for catfish.

   My life long friend and classmate, Larry Dady did more than just sit in the stands wishing he were a race car driver like the rest of us.

  After he graduated from Northeast High school in 1968 and did a hitch in the Navy, he married his high school sweet heart and 1970 Northeast graduate, Mary Layman. In 1976 Larry didn’t have much money so he traded a CB base unit even up for an old Plymouth Fury. A good friend put in a roll cage, replaced the windshield with wire screen and Larry entered the expensive but thrilling world of dirt track racing.

  Over the last 30 years the Dady’s have owned about fifteen different cars. Mary does all the chassis work while Larry does the mechanical work. They have never had paying sponsors so every dollar spent on the hobby comes out of their own pockets.

  As a young fan in the 1960s, I didn’t really understand how your starting position in a race was determined. Larry explained to me that each driver has to compete in an 8 lap heat race which typically has 8 to 10 cars. The top two finishers of each heat race go on to compete in the feature race. A feature race has 26 cars racing for 25 laps on the 5^th mile oval dirt track at speeds up to 70 mph. There wasn’t a lot of concern about safety equipment when Larry eased his powerful Plymouth on to the dirt track for the first time 30 years ago dressed in blue jeans, a tee shirt, work boots and a helmet. Today, he wears a fire resistant suit, special safety boots, gloves and a helmet with tear offs on his visor.

  I asked Larry what his most memorable race was to date and he said it would have to be the time he beat Terry Bivins. Terry raced locally for many years and was competing on the Winston Cup Series when he came to Kansas City to race a stock car at Riverside Stadium. For several weeks leading up to the race, Larry told his buddies that he would beat Terry. Everyone had a good laugh at his bold prediction but Larry had the last laugh as he beat Terry Bivins on opening night in 1976.

   Olympic Stadium saw many great drivers entertain the fans such as Jud Larson, Charley Taggert, Bud Hunnicutt, Vito Calia, Clyde Ellis, Anthony Gulotta, the Weld and McVay families and my old boss for a few years, Dick Sutcliffe.

  In addition to watching the cars jockey for position and negotiate turns at breath taking speeds, you got to see Sammy, “The Dancing Flagman” Callahan in action. Looks can indeed be deceiving as you watched this short stocky man standing along the track suddenly take on the fluid athletic moves of a wide receiver and the grace of a ballerina as he risked life and limb dancing his way across the track.

 Another man that everyone loved was J.O. “Pop” Hartman. I never met him but virtually every person I have talked to couldn’t say enough good things about him. Pop was around race tracks in one capacity or another his entire adult life. At various stages of his life he was a driver, pitman and mechanic. He was the first riding mechanic in the first ever Indianapolis 500 in 1911. After a long career that took him to tracks from one end of the country to the other, he retired to a house trailer at Olympic Stadium. In 1961 the Blue River came out of its banks, damaging the stadium and destroying Pop’s trailer. The owners of Olympic built an apartment in the wall of the stadium when they remodeled which is where the aging patriarch of racing spent his remaining years reminiscing with friends, fans and owners.

  Retired fire fighter, Ray Elder spent part of his childhood living in a house trailer on the east bank of the Blue River next to Olympic Stadium. In 1949, at the young age of 13, Ray talked to Olympic owner, Dutch Miller and it was agreed that he would begin his four year working career at the stadium by flagging cars into the parking lots for Sunday evening races. Eventually he started parking cars on both Saturday and Sunday. Due to his small size, he got to pick up trash, soda pop and beer bottles under the bleachers during the day for extra money. In time, he did the maintenance repair work on the parking grounds and collected parking fees which were a mere thirty cents per car in 1952. The best part of the job was getting to meet and talk to all the drivers in those four years.

  There use to be a beer garden in front of the old race track called the Cotton Club where fans and drivers spent countless hours discussing the sport of racing.

Olympic Stadium opened in 1937 and closed in 1974 but what a beautiful 37 year run it was with hundreds of stock, modified stocks and midgets racers providing fans with a life time of memories.

 Check out the Racing Hall of Fame and links to area dirt tracks still in business at www.kccarb.com