Rear view volume II
Download 0.54 Mb.
|
|
Most of the clues had spooky settings or situations. I had enlisted the help of a former neighbor and good friend, Bolte Nickel, to costume himself as a Borneo wildman who, as a party came to the clue location, would suddenly jump out of the brush where he was hidden, yell and shake a big spear at them. He had fun doing it, and got lots of reaction from the surprised hunters, especially the women. Just outside Tulsa’s south edge I had found an abandoned rundown house sitting alone in a wooded area. There was little furniture in it and an old moldy wooden table in one room. I cut a small hole in the middle, shortened the legs a bit, and cut another small hole in the floor directly beneath. I asked Jerry Mike, who happily agreed, to stand on a box in the basement area below where he could reach up through both floor and table and leave his hand showing on the table, decorated with catsup so it looked like a severed hand. Clue instructions specified that the hunters not use flashlights, and the only light in the room was a candle on the table, so it was too dark to see J.M.’s arm reaching up from below. The fingers would be holding the next clue envelope the hunters would be looking for, and as they took it J.M.’s fingers would wiggle. It was a huge success; Jerry Mike said the women’s gasps were really loud enough for him to hear even in the basement. My clue function was in a cemetery, and I had to leave the house before the game started to get ready. Instructions to my clue specified that only one of the women was to enter without a flashlight and the other three remain in the car parked outside. A small map in the clue directed the woman to follow a path marked by a few candles, about a block’s distance to a grave where I lay in repose in front of the tombstone on which a couple candles flickered. I was wearing some old dirty clothes, a Frankenstein mask, and masked clawlike hands crossed on my chest. The walkway was gravel covered, and I could hear the women approaching. When they spotted me I could hear their footsteps stop briefly a few times, then proceed and stop as they got a good look at me. One or two of them said, “Jerry,--it’s you, isn’t it? Jerry?” I remained dead quiet, and when they finally decided I was just a dummy and I could feel them reaching for the clue envelope I was holding on my chest I’d grab them by the ankle. Talk about screams,--Wow! At that time in my life I was interested in the mathematics of the odds and success percentages in various games of chance. I was never wanting to actually experiment in such matters in Las Vegas since my calculations confirmed the rather obvious fact that the longer one played in any casino game the worse his chances were of being a winner. My only active ventures in gambling were the occasional penny ante poker games that some friends and I occasionally sponsored as social activities. But as a hobby I was interested in learning about the variety of casino games usually available at most of the commercial casinos, and finally decided it would be fun to make some myself. I made a vertically mounted roulette wheel, and on several 2 ½’ x 4’ poster boards I drafted number-painted squares to be used on tables for placing of bets by the gamblers. I made boards designed for roulette gambling, blackjack, craps, and a few others including a couple games I invented. At game stores I acquired a large supply of imitation paper money and poker chips, and I was ready to entertain friends at the Kyle Casino! My occasional casino parties were of penny ante caliber, of course. Players would begin the evening by investing a dollar for $1,000 in paper money and/or chips, and when gaming was over would cash in their remaining casino cash at that rate. My several games of course required operators for each, so my parties had to have enough guests that I could teach a few the relatively simple operating procedures, and then switch two or three times during the evening so that everyone had a chance to gamble. The Kyle Casino began getting some publicity as a conversation item among my friends’ friends and other Carter employees in Tulsa. It wasn’t long before I was asked by Laura Huston, who with husband Steve (a Carter landman) were close friends of Carol and me, if I would put on a casino night for the entertainment of her local sorority, Kappa Kappa Gamma. She explained that on a weeknight they could rent a meeting room at a large motel for their group, and that attendance would be strictly limited to sorority members and their dates. At first I said no, not wanting to get involved in any large gambling enterprise, either private or otherwise. But after we discussed the financial aspects I agreed to do it on the same basis I had done at my private parties: Laura’s guests would buy $1,000 in play money for, say, $5. But in lieu of cashing their remaining paper money for dollars at the end of the evening the players with the top two or three remaining paper amounts would win some suitable prizes. So we scheduled such a party. I enlisted and instructed five or six of my men friends to serve as game operators and cashier, and had them all wear white shirts and black bow ties to give the party some professional casino atmosphere. The evening was very enjoyable by all, and my fellow operators and I were thanked profusely at the end of the evening. That party’s success was a satisfying event. But a bad feature was the increasing publicity. Not long afterward I was contacted by a member of a young men’s junior league association who asked if I’d consider putting on a casino night as a fund- raiser for their organization. I initially declined ,--the term “fund-raiser” had ominous connotations in my mind. But in the next couple days I was called by two other association members, one of whom I knew quite well, who begged me to do it and promised me a share of any profits that might accrue. This I vigorously rejected, not wanting my casino hobby to acquire any commercial implications for me, but finally agreed to do a casino party for their association if it would be strictly private for members only, in a closed and locked door establishment, using paper money only on the tables as done in my previous party. This they agreed to. The event was held in some lodge hall near the edge of the city. It was scheduled to start at 8 p.m. I arrived about 7:00 to train the game operators who, like me, had to agree to not receive any percentage of the casino’s profits that evening.That they all agreed to, and looked forward to the fun of being game operators. I think we had six or seven casino type games plus a couple of non-casino poker tables, which would accommodate the 40 or so expected guests. The casino games were conducted with paper play money which they bought from a junior leaguer, but I wasn’t told (and didn’t want to be) what the exchange rate was for buying and later cashing in the paper money. Drinks and occasional snacks were being served by another junior leaguer, but I don’t know if they were being sold or just given. But we operators got ours for free. The party proceeded well, and midnight had been announced as closing time. But about 10:00 p.m. or so there was a sudden knocking and thumping at the front door. One of the party sponsoring junior leaguers made a quick round of the tables to be sure no real money was showing, and then went to the door and opened it. The ensuing scenario was identical to ones we had encountered at night clubs during our first time in Tulsa. As we’d been warned to expect, a policeman was waiting, and was escorted through our casino layout without comment by him or anyone. When he left the junior league host went out with him and closed the door behind them, so we couldn’t see what was happening. But we knew! The host came back in very soon, grinned and waved, and said, “Back to the games, gang.” And the games were renewed with vigor until closing time. That was the last time I consented to conduct games at such functions. After we moved to Houston I frequently used the equipment again at our private social parties, but no money more than a few dollar bills were ever used to buy the play money. * * * * My new job in Tulsa, and in Houston where we had to move in mid-1961, required quite a few interesting visits to foreign countries where Carter’s seismograph crews were either operating or scheduled for work. The earliest one was in June of 1959, to check the status and current progress of crews in Venezuela and Colombia, which were supervised in offices at Caracas and Bogota. I was also asked to pay a visit to Guatemala City where a Carter geologist, Larry Vinson, was reportedly thinking of requesting some seismic work to support his exploratory investigations. Carol expressed much interest in my trip plans, so I asked her if she’d like to accompany me (with her traveling expenses being our personal obligations). She was very enthused to be joining me, so we had to make arrangements for the kids to spend time at summer camps while we’d be gone. We booked J.M. at Camp Lincoln, a top-rated boys’ camp near Brainerd in central Minnesota, and Kappy was assigned to a girls’ camp at nearby Lake Hubert. Both would bus to their Aunt Yvonne’s in Rice Lake after the camp sessions were over, and we’d pick them up after our trip. I took a few days’ vacation first, for time to drive to Shreveport and New Orleans. In Shreveport we visited a couple of friends we’d known in Wyoming, Marge and Dick Morehouse, who hosted and housed us with great hospitality. We then continued driving to New Orleans. Carol had never been there, so we allocated three days to visit the many interesting scenes and sites, much enjoyed by both of us. Then we flew to Guatemala City where we were met and welcomed by Larry, and established for a two day visit in the Hotel Maya Excelsior. We spent a couple days in Guatemala City and the geologist Larry briefed me on his work. He’d done a good job, but I told him that some more would be necessary to secure approval from Tulsa for a seismic crew. He reluctantly agreed, and said he’d keep me posted on his geological studies when I was back in Tulsa.. But he wanted to show me the terrain and environment of the area where he’d like to have seimic work done, which was in remote rain forest country in northern Guatemala. His thought in so doing was so that if he ever submitted a request for geophysical work to Tulsa, I’d be in a position to give information and opinions about working conditions and terrain problems. I agreed and he scheduled a visit our second day to visit the area he proposed for seismic work, in a small 4-passenger plane and pilot he often rented for company business. I asked him what Carol could do for entertainment while we were gone, and he said “Bring her with us. There’d be only three of us and the pilot, and she might enjoy seeing some jungle country.” So, needless to say, Carol was tickled to be included. It was an interesting flight over much uninhabited country. I could see that it would be hard to get a crew into it, and extremely difficult to operate without considerable effort in tree clearing for the seismic lines and shot hole drilling rig. So then I asked Larry “Do you think the government would approve cutting so many roads and trails through here?” “I don’t know.” he replied, “Do you know about Tikal?” “No,” I said, “But it sounds like a Guatemalan beverage.” Larry chuckled. Tikal, he explained, was a recently discovered large thousand-year-old Mayan city further north in the jungle that was once a civilized culture center and apparently home base for the Mayan rulers in past aeons. Due to some catastrophe the city’s population had suddenly disappeared and the jungle had reclaimed most of the city over the ensuing hundreds of years. Larry said he mentioned Tikal because a U.S. university anthropology research group had obtained permission from the Guatemalan government to move in, establish temporary living quarters, and spend a year or two studying the site. In so doing they had to hack out of the neighboring forest a landing strip for small planes to ferry in supplies and personnel. “So,” said Larry, “if they were able to cut trails and a landing strip I would think the government would approve similar work for some geophysical exploration.” “Sounds possible,” I said. “Have you and this pilot ever tried to land there?” “Yes, a.couple times. Rather exciting,--a very bumpy landing, as you might imagine. Say,--would you like to try it, as long as we’re in that neighborhood?” I looked at Carol, who nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes,--I’d love to.” So we did. After another 15 or 20 minute flight we could see the city’s remnants below, and the landing strip that looked no wider than about two plane widths. I was glad to know that this wouldn’t be our pilot’s first try at it, and, as a former pilot myself, I was greatly impressed with his skill at setting down in that narrow vegetation covered alley cut through thick jungle terrain. We walked a short distance into Tikal and were amazed and impressed by the number and extent of disintegrated stone building foundations amidst the thick vegetation and tree growth. We proceeded to a large tent where there were several university student researchers studying maps and artifacts, and we were effusively greeted by them. Not many visitors outside of the university group, obviously. They were delighted to give us a tour of building remnants they thought they had identified, including a temple and what was probably the ruler’s residence. But the most impressive structure was a huge pyramid of massive stone construction, the peak of which loomed well above the tops of the surrounding forest jungle. One fellow said proudly, “We measured the height of that with an altimeter, and found that it’s taller than any other structure or building in Guatemala!” I can’t remember now what that height was in feet, but we were quite impressed, enough so that our guide added, “How would you like to climb it?” That looked like it would be quite a physical effort, but we decided to try it, and it was! It took us about 30 or 45 minutes, including frequent rest stops, but the result was well worth the climb. We could see miles and miles of nothing but rain forest, with occasional drainage channels detectable. But the most fascinating feature was a small inset area, almost at the top, with what appeared to have been a stone table in the middle. “That,” said our guide, “we think is where ceremonial human sacrifices took place, with the city’s inhabitants presumably all gathered near the pyramid base to watch.” “Carol,” I said, “how about your lying down on that table and pretending you’re to be a sacrificial virgin?” She laughed, but wouldn’t do it. The most mysterious thing about Tikal, we were told, is why the city was so suddenly evacuated about 800 years ago. Was it some plague that suddenly erupted, or perhaps some invasion by enemy tribes, or an abnormal drought period that destroyed their food supply,--or what? I’ve forgotten the researcher’s explanation of how they knew of Tikal’s loss of residents and when;-- something to do with scientific study of rock carvings, and similarity of Tikal artifacts with those in other Mayan localities. Impressive studies, I’m sure. I’ve now heard, incidentally, that Tikal has since been developed for regular visits, and is a popular tourist attraction. I’m glad we saw it when it wasn’t. For our continuing journey south to Bogota from Guatemala we were booked on another Pan American fllight, but piloted by Colombians who, as they warmed up the plane and maneuvered it into takeoff position, seemed to me to be acting a little less capable and efficient than most U.S. crews. But it was scheduled to be a relatively short flight, arriving in Bogota in mid- afternoon, so we were not expecting the stop we made in Panama, where passengers were required to disembark and told it would be a few hours before the flight would resume. After a period of time I tried to inquire as to the reason for the delay. Initially I could get responses only in Spanish which were too rapid fire for my limited knowledge of that language to interpret. But finally an airline official who spoke some English gave me the answer, and I returned to inform Carol. “Did you find out?” she asked. “Well, ah, yes,” I responded, “It seems one of the plane’s engines has developed a little problem which they want to repair before tackling that high flight over the Andes.” “Oh boy,” groaned Carol. “You know, before we started this trip we thought maybe for safety reasons we ought to take separate flights, so if either plane had a fatal acccident the kiddos would at least have one parent left. Maybe we better do that now, for the rest of the trip.” “Well, maybe.” I said. And as I spoke a Panamanian in an airline uniform walked by. He was wearing heavy glasses, with lenses as thick as the bottoms of Coca Cola bottles. Carol watched him go by, then said, “What do you suppose his job is?” I said, “Well, I saw a pair of wings emblem on his jacket as he went by, so I guess he must be the new pilot.” “That does it!” gasped Carol. “I want to go home!” I put my arm around her and chuckled. “Honey, he isn’t really. Just a joke, OK? I think he’s probably a clerk or ticket seller here.” Carol glared at me. “Very unfunny! I think I still want to get another flight for myself to Bogota, just so we’re on the safe side for the kids’ future.” I decided too, at that point, that it wouldn’t be a bad idea, and went to check other flight schedules at the ticket counter. But it turned out there weren’t any more flights to Bogota in the remaining daylight hours (and they didn’t schedule night flights over the dangerously high Andes). I didn’t think we should be separated overnight, with one of us in Panama and one in Bogota, so I persuaded Carol to contine with me whenever our flight should leave. Which it finally did after a six-hour delay in Panama. But getting to Bogota was a hair raiser! Our pilot, we heard, had never made a night flight over the Andes, and it was dark before we made it there. Flying over the Andes is bumpy enough at best, but we encountered a bad storm as we crossed,--nearly all the passengers got sick, as did even the pilot. But we lucked out and made it safely though quite churned up. Bogota, the capital of Colombia, lies in the eastern foothills (“Cordillera Oriental”) of the magnificent Andes which flank the entire west coast of South America, 4,500 miles from Panama to Cape Horn, and include many peaks well above 20,000 feet in elevation and several in excess of 22,000. Bogota is a bit over 8,600 feet above sea level, and had about a million residents. It produces a wide variety of manufactured products, and is a center of art and education. It has the National University, several colleges and museums, and an observatory. It used to be called the Athens of America. But as I write this its reputation for cultural aspects has been unfortunately dimished by current problems in Colombia with cocaine production and exporting by a strong coalition of drug lords that their federal law enforcement agency is unable to stop or even diminish. And frequent violence by drug traffickers and conflict between rightist paramilitary groups and leftist guerrillas are a constant worry for Colombia’s residents. Bogota is an exciting, beautiful, and quite unique city.We were quartered at the Hotel Tequendama, an elegant hostelry near the downtown area, a good location from which to tour the interesting city. We were told it was the only centrally heated building in the city, which was surprising since the temperature stays about 60 degrees F.the year around, due to the combination of high elevation and near-equator location.(Winter clothing would have been quite acceptable!.)
roughly conical in shape, and honey-combed inside where the termites live. There are thousands of these mounds in nearly all open areas. They’re irregularly spaced, but average about 20 feet apart. A field of them looks very much like hayfields where the hay has been cut and stacked in individual “haycocks”. “Yesterday I went with the crew to work by boat. We made a 1½ hour journey over a lake and up a jungle river in a native “canoe”,--made out of a huge log about 30 feet long and only 4 feet wide. We had 25 men aboard, and had a 35 horsepower outboard. It was a most interesting trip,--lots of strange trees, vegetation and vines, thousands of strange birds. We saw alligators on the banks and “red howler” monkeys,--about the size of small dogs, with long goatees (chin whiskers). Didn’t see any snakes, but there are a lot around, I’m told. “In villages around here most of the houses are made of big bamboo poles for walls, sometimes mud-plastered. Roofs are made of palm leaves woven together.The “streets” in the villages (mostly grass covered with footpaths down the middle) contain equal numbers of pigs and small, brown, naked pot-bellied children. Sometimes it’s hard to tell one from another!” Our trip to Caracas was a 2½ hour 600-mile flight along the eastern slope of the Cordillera Oriental (which in Venezuela becomes the “Cordillera Merida”). It was an uneventful but scenic trip, and we arrived in time for dinner at the Tamanaco hotel where reservations had been made for us. It was large and elegant but like Grand Central Station, and after one night we moved to the Hotel Avila. The Avila was a quiet and beautiful hostelry with real “atmosphere”, nestled up in Caracas’ suburban mountains, and more of a businessman’s place than a tourist hangout. Caracas is the capital and chief city of Venezuela, situated about six miles south of the major Caribbean seaport of La Guaira. At the time of our visit it had a population of about 1 ½ million residents. It’s a bustling metropolis with numerous educational and cultural points of interest and, like Bogota, has many factories producing a wide variety of products. Venezuela is a bit larger in area than Oklahoma and Texas combined, and has rich deposits of such minerals as gold, diamonds, iron ore, copper, coal, etc. The richest of all are the petroleum resources, mostly in the Lake Maracaibo region at the west end of the country, which at the time of our visit were being produced at about three million barrels a day. The country is divided into nearly equal north and south sections by the mighty Orinoco river which originates near the southern tip of the country and flows north and then east into the Atlantic, for a total of 1,700 miles. The most famous scenic attraction in Venezuela is Angel Falls in the Guiana plateau highlands in the southeastern corner of the country. The falls has a total height of 3,212 feet, which is over twice as high as the Empire State Building in New York, twenty times the height of Niagra Falls, and over 1,000 feet higher than any other falls in the world! Download 0.54 Mb. Share with your friends:
|