Snowed In?

I believe that’s a Chevrolet under all that snow, but this story concerns a Chrysler, and the same snow storm.

The photo is from 1947, when more than 26 inches of snow fell on New York City December 26 and 27. Not too different from what happened this week, on December 26 and 27.

But in 1947 my father was a pilot for Pan American World Airways, flying a European route out of Laguardia Field (that’s what the airport was called in those days) that kept him away for weeks at a time. He returned the day after the storm, to find the city buried in snow. Similarly, his 1936 Chrysler Imperial Airflow was buried as well, in the airport’s parking lot.

The radically-styled Chrysler Airflow came in a number of models of differing size, and the Imperial was the biggest – and heaviest – of them all. The car’s immense size was my father’s only clue to finding the car among the many snow-covered automobiles in the parking lot. He chose a large object near where he remembered parking, and began to brush snow away from the area of the driver’s door. It proved to be his car.

So he got in, and started it up. Remarkably, the 6-volt electrical system delivered a good start, and more remarkably, my father simply backed the huge car out of the snow. He did not dig it out or otherwise clear a path. He just rumbled out onto the plowed aisleway.

He then brushed the snow from the windows and drove home to Glen Rock, New Jersey, to enjoy a belated Christmas with his family (which did not yet include me).

Today we are all convinced that we need four-wheel-drive if there is a flurry. But in the record-breaking storm of 1947, all that was necessary was a big old Chrysler.

From the Skies

It was 50 years ago today, on December 16, 1960, that two commercial airplanes collided and rained debris and death onto Brooklyn and Staten Island. I remember it well. I was only a small child living in New Jersey, but it was Big News and I realized that it was Big News.

That my father had been a pilot for Pan Am, flying the same model aircraft as one of those involved in the crash, gave the news special significance in our household.

The collision involved a Lockheed Constellation, a four-engine propeller-driven craft like those my father had flown. He enjoyed flying the "Connie," a design well-regarded by pilots.

The Constellation was struck in midair by a DC-8 jet, the first commercial jet to be involved in an air disaster. The jet fell into Brooklyn, the Constellation onto Staten Island. Everyone on board the two planes died.

Except – for one day – there was a survivor. A plucky 11-year-old boy from Chicago, who had been on board the jet. Badly burned, he was rescued, and for a day he was a media darling and a symbol of hope. But then he succumbed to his injuries. The tragedy and heartbreak were complete.

The photo shows a portion of the wing from the DC-8. It was found only recently, when excavations were being made at the Brooklyn crash site for new residential development. It is in private hands, close to the crash site, because the investigations into the crash were long ago closed and the National Transportation Safety Board does not keep or preserve such wreckage.

Of course the NTSB did not exist in 1960. It was the Civil Aeronautic Board that handled the investigations 50 years ago, but the C.A.B. is long gone.

In the photo you can see a small black rectangular label next to the red circle. The red circle is a fuel port. The label reads in part, "No. 5 Main Tank Auxiliary Fuel."

At the time this crash was the worst commercial air disaster in history. The passage of 50 years has done little to erase the memory.

Sir, You have a Blurry Groin

The current news cycle is all about the TSA screening at the airports, and the so-called "pat-down" security checks. Many people find them objectionable. And it seems that most people on the receiving end of such an inspection have a story to tell. But this, I think, is the best story so far: Humor writer Dave Barry was pulled aside after the electronic screening system revealed what he was told was "a blurry groin."

You can listen to him explain it here:

In the meantime, I’m driving.

You’re From Jersey?

I am awaiting Amazon’s delivery of my copy of the documentary film about Harry Nilsson, when word of another, considerably different, documentary comes my way via the New Jersey Business and Industry Asociation.

It is a film about New Jersey's history of politics and corruption, and the toll it has exacted, and it is about to be released in theatres in the region.

The Soprano State: New Jersey's Culture of Corruption is based on the best-selling book written by Bob Ingle and Sandy McClure. The premiere is scheduled for Monday, October 18, and the film will be released starting October 22 in the following select Clearview Cinemas:

- Headquarters 10 Theatres, Morristown NJ
- Tenafly Cinema 4, Tenafly NJ
- Clairidge Cinemas, Montclair NJ
- Red Bank Art Cinema, Red Bank NJ
- Hoboken Cinema 5, Hoboken NJ
- Manhasset Cinemas, Manhasset NY
- Cinema 100, White Plains NY
- First & 62nd Cinemas, 400 E 62nd St. NY
- Chelsea Cinemas, 260 W 23rd St. NY
- American Place Cinema, Flemington NJ

If you would like to get a better idea of what the film is about, you can view its trailer  here.
Not exactly a date flick, but I think I will go see it.

And Dad Had a Studebaker

I was sitting at a traffic light this past week, and for some reason I began identifying the cars crossing the intersection by country of origin... Japan, Japan, Japan, Germany, Japan, Japan, Sweden, Japan, US, Japan, Japan, Japan, Korea, Germany, Japan... and so on.

The fact that I was sitting in front of a recently-closed Ford dealership may have been part of what triggered this little exercise.

Obviously, my identifications were not perfect. When a Toyota passed by it could have been a Japan-built car or a US-built car. When a Volvo went through the intersection it was probably from the Ford ownership period. That BMW might be from the South Carolina factory. The Chrysler PT Cruiser? Built in Mexico. And the Mini -- what country should I assign to that?

But what I was musing upon was the fact that, 40 years ago, such a car census would have been overwhelmingly US, with a smattering of Germany (thanks to the success of the Volkswagen Beetle), and with the occasional British or Italian car. France might be represented, too, since back then there was a Peugeot dealership not far away.

This evolution in passing traffic would have been unimaginable to a person at that intersection 40 years ago. Plymouth – gone? Oldsmobile – gone? Pontiac – gone? You would have been thrown in the looney bin for suggesting the possibility.

It's a Bargain

In an earlier post, below, I wrote about, among other things, paying bills online. There exists a very direct link between that practice and the recent announcement from the US Postal Service concerning its latest rate increases. A First Class stamp will go from the current 44 cents to 46 cents beginning on January first of next year. Among the reasons cited, diminished postal revenue due to increasing use of e-mail and online bill paying.

Predictably, many people and organizations have their shorts in a bunch over this increase. Not me.

Oh, I understand the impact this increase has on business users and on non-profits and other organizations. I operate a business and I send out plenty of mail. I am an officer in a not-for-profit that sends out a newsletter. A 4.5 percent increase in any cost is not to be dismissed.

But for individuals, the persons who might be sending a bill payment to the plumber or a birthday card to Aunt Millie, 46 cents remains a bargain.

I look at it this way: I have in my hand an envelope that needs to go from New Jersey to Denver. How do I get it there? I engage a courier to take it there for me. That courier charges me 46 cents. 46 cents to carry my envelope across town or across the country. It’s a steal.

Despite the incredible convenience and timeliness of e-mail and web-based delivery, there are still plenty of occasions for which a physical envelope needs to be sent. For those occasions, I am perfectly happy to pay the USPS their First Class rate.

Famous for Being Famous

Snookie, the fire-hydrant-shaped member of the New York-sourced "Jersey Shore" cast, is in the news. Having recently been arrested, she is quoted as saying, "I'm too pretty to be in jail."

Of course, her being in the news is not news. Snookie is merely the latest in a string of persons who, despite having no discernable skills, talents, or virtues, have become household names and whose exploits are chronicled in the media.

What distinquishes these people from others who have gained some fame -- say, persons who have successfully landed an airliner in the Hudson River or hit 600 major league home runs -- is that these people have a knack for staying in the news for no good reason at all. Paris Hilton is perhaps the prime example.

Paris Hilton has, thankfully, begun to fall from sight. Snookie's days are similarly numbered.