SCS292

I haven't heard about the reunion but I would love to come. When is it?

Please don't tell me that shit has taken over this thread too.

I was at the Mardi Gras meet in Covington in '72. The weather sucked so all we did was Boogie. Nice to be able to camp at the airfield but there was no jumping that year.

Thanks Pat, you just changed my channel back to a great song. Maybe Bluebird will come up next.

If we lost a ripcord in 1971-73 it cost us a case of beer (about the cost of a 45 sec delay jump) plus the cost of a new ripcord, so I made damn sure to hang on to both of mine on my only cutaway even though I had a Mae West on my reserve. It was looking like a perfect jump since I had both ripcords and had my kicker plate in sight just after opening shock, frizbeeing away. I planed to follow it down till the big spin started. I still kept tight hold of the two ripcords as I fought to control the spin. I stopped it just as I landed in a plowed field and either I was numb or it was one of my softest landings ever. I was out of PLF practice at that time since I was jumping a PC but I must have remembered enough.

I'd have bought ya dinner! She already ate! Now that is funny.

Hey Don, I was driving back to Rockport from Galveston last weekend and went by the old Angleton DZ that you and Carl ran. It is for sale in case you want to head back down to the coast. They have the runway mowed but the hanger looks like it needs a little attention. Looks like the house up on the road might go with it. With the new HWY 288 next door, the price could be a bit steep. You may have to raise the price from the $3 you charged when I made my first jump there in 1971.

Heading back to Houston one day after not getting enough jumps at the Galveston DZ we pulled off the Gulf Freeway onto a Farm Road and hooked the PC up to the back of Steve Hazen's VW square back with 500' of climbing rope. The wind was out of the SE like it is most of the year and we turned around to head south on the FM. I was in the harness and Steve was driving. We found out that the east component of the wind was strong enough to drag the ass end of the VW off the road. We made a couple of runs, stopping at the feeder road of the freeway and going back a mile or so and having another go. Well, we apparently attracted the attention of some motorists/wuffos and a Highway Patrol officer. The traffic had backed up a few miles to watch and the DPS officer wasn't impressed. He told us he was going back to his patrol unit to get on the radio (1972, pre cell phone days) to find out what laws we were breaking and if we were not packed up and out of there by the time he figured it out we would be going to the pokey. We got the shit into the VW and got the hell out of there before he got done. I'm sure he noticed that funny smell coming from the VW anyway and cut us some slack. A PC is much more radical, with the steering slots, than the Parasails they tow behind the boat in Cancun and we were lucky no one was hurt.

Thanks for rubbing it in. I usually had to use my reserve for weight since I didn't have a hot chick to lean for me. I do remember the grass and dirt falling on my head after opening.

Does anybody remember the "Green Bastard"? it was Gary's '49 Ford F3 one ton pickup with high lift springs. We had quite a few adventures in the Green Bastard in 1972. Gary was building a hangar at the airport and he was using used drill stem pipe for the arched trusses (you know most of that shit is radio active). We would go into Waco in the Green Bastard and buy 6 or 8 stems of pipe and run them under the truck, over the front and rear axles, tie them down with some bailing wire and drive back to V-Mills. Drill stem pipe is about 30' long so it stuck out 6 or 8' front and rear. How the hell we made all those trips without getting stopped I don't know but Gary always had me drive, go figure. If we made a sudden stop we had to get out and shove the pipe back under the truck to even it out since the bailing wire wouldn't keep it tight. Gary built an ingenious jig and we would screw the joints together and he would have all the jumpers available get on the pipe, waist high and bend it around the jig to get in the proper shape. For a guy who was one calculus course from getting an engineering degree from Texas A&M he was a genius at figuring out how to get things done. Who remembers being on the far end of the pipe? I think it took at least 4 joints of pipe for each truss. Talk about crack the whip, if you were out there when the pipe sprang back it just ran over you if you couldn't back peddle fast enough and you wound up on your ass in the dirt. After each bend we moved it a few feet into the jig and made another run at it. The crazy thing is, it worked and the hanger had a nice round shape. After the hanger was taking shape Gary made a deal with Jack Peck for a Coke machine that Gary thought would be a nice addition at the DZ and might bring in a couple bucks. Jack's shop at the airport was getting a new machine and I think he gave Gary the old one. We took the Green Bastard down to Waco Muni and picked it up. Considering the height of the Coke machine in the bed of the jacked up Green Bastard, needless to say, it was a little top heavy. We didn't have much in the way of tie downs and not wanting to go buy anything, we made do with what we had. I was driving again and trying to be really careful but on a right curve before we even got away from the airport boundary, over the side it went, bottle tops spraying all over the road. Gary got out and surveyed the damage and had me just back up an push the damn thing out of the road since it was square in the middle of the other lane. He went back to the truck and got a screw driver and pried the serial number placard off and we headed back to the DZ, leaving the dead Coke machine on the road side. I don't think he even chewed me out for that one. Must have been one of his mellow days or maybe my memory is bad and Gary was driving.

Steve Hazen got me started. He and I were 21 year old kids and worked in the Chevron Exploration Data Processing Center in Houston, 1971. He worked in the darkroom developing geophysical maps and I worked as a computer operator making the maps he developed. Normally the darkroom operators didn't interact with the computer operators much but he was breaking in a new pair of Frenchies at the office so naturally I wanted to know about his new "hiking boots". One thing lead to another and before I knew it he had introduced me to Pete Bandy and I bought Pete's rig while he was in a full leg cast from a canopy collision. What was I thinking? Steve penciled a couple of jumps into a new logbook and trained me so I could get onto a load without paying the training fee at the DZ. Steve wasn't instructor licensed but he put me out on all my training jumps. He continued to mentor me until we were jumping at a similar level. John Mincher and Steve were good friends so I spent some time with John and did lots of listening. Steve was in Valley Mills for the weekend and I went with John to Dickinson to make some jumps. They got an 8-man attempt together with all the experienced jumpers who were there but they were one short. John said "how about Rick, he was in a 6-man last week". I made the load and came in 8th on my 44th jump. Thanks John. The next weekend we trekked to Valley Mills and wow, Phil Mayfield came up and congratulated me on my SCR/SCS. I was on top of the world. Then he said, "but you will have to get some more jumps behind you before you can get on a big load." I was deflated but I understood. Later after I had a few jumps behind me and was jumping with everyone who wasn't a member of the Texas 10 Man Team, we made a screaming 14 man out of the DC-3 after the 10 Man Team had completed a practice jump ahead of us, Phil gathered everyone at the DZ together and told all us meatball jumpers how impressed the 10 Man Team was to see a 14 man with none of the 10 Man Team in it. After that I was allowed on the big attempts. I worshiped those guys and only recently found out they had gotten their SCSs less than 2 years before me. They did have way more jumps and were really good together.

The more I read about it the more thankful I am to have survived my encounter with power lines with only a sprained ankle and a bruised ego.

It's just that each level is so expensive, it feels like a test. That's unfortunate, but it's the nature of the AFF training method. What ever happened to doing a few static line jumps, a hop & pop, and a 30 second delay and then start chasing three guys out who could build a base? We sure as hell weren't as good as many of todays jumpers if my pornographic memory is as accurate as the GoPro of every jump now days. But we could get together in freefall and even build 8 man stars from a couple of Cessnas, have a great time doing it and a great time talking about it over a few beers and some herbal therapy later. As for nerves, 30-45 minutes in a Cessna, twin Beech or DC-3 gave you a lot more time to worry about the future, or the lack of one, than a 10 minute ride in todays elevators. When I started jumping in Valley Mills I was a little taken aback when everyone started singing "Shall We Gather at the River" when we got to 10k. But by the time the hymn was over it was time to get out and the butterflies went away when I hit the door head first and then went head down to catch up. I think I was nervous on every jump I made but I also enjoyed every jump. Hang in there and have fun. It doesn't have to be serious business.

If only.

In the old days, the problem wasn't having a 16 year old jump, it was having them hang around the DZ after sundown when things could really get dangerous for a youngster.

Cy, John Mincher is a fellow Aggie, class of '68, '69 or '70 I think. He was very active at A&M, jumping with Gary Lewis who was a classmate and pilot, and John is responsible for getting me on the load where I got my SCR & SCS on my 43rd jump. He vouched for me and since there wasn't anybody else there with experience and I had been in a 6-man the weekend before they let me go near the end. 2 planes and I was 3rd out of the chase plane with John following me out. He beat me in so I lucked out on the SCS. Spiderman got his SCR on the same jump. John still makes a jump or two a year and has an office in League City. There is a great thread about the Galveston skydiving days here. I don't know how to paste the link but I'm sure someone does and will post it. I am busy fishing in Rockport these days. Best regards, Rick Johnson, '79 (I goofed off for a while, skydiving and traveling before getting serious and finishing. Should have been class of '72)

Here are all the SCRs awarded in Dickinson (Galveston Skydivers). The ones that say Houston are most likely Dickinson. None recorded prior to 1970 but I know a lot of these guys were jumping back then. 774 Bottrell David A., Houston Texas 6-12-1971 775 Ross Dub, Houston Texas 6-12-1971 776 Sanders Tom, Houston Texas 6-12-1971 777 Butchko Andy, Houston Texas 6-12-1971 855 Miller Rick, Houston Texas 7-31-1971 877 Boatman Dave , Dickenson Texas 7-31-1971 1039 Galloway Daryl R., Dickenson Texas 10-2-1971 1069 Warwick Chuck, Dickenson Texas 10-2-1971 1070 Umschied Lee, Dickenson Texas 10-2-1971 1111 Geary Tom, Dickenson Texas 11-14-1971 1338 Vincent Bob, Dickerson Texas 4-23-1972 1339 Johnson Rick, Dickerson Texas 4-23-1972 1978 Hanus Jerry T., Dickenson Texas 10-14-1972 1979 Maroon Carl, Dickenson Texas 10-14-1972 1980 Stewart Don, Dickenson Texas 10-14-1972 2041 Tacconelly Steven, Dickinson Texas 10-14-1972 Here are all the SCSs awarded in Dickinson (Galveston Skydivers). None prior to 1970. I expect the ones labeled Houston were actually from Dickinson since all those guys got their SCR on the same date and always jumped together. 24 Butchko Andy Dickenson Texas 7-17-1971 8th 33 Jackson Fritz Dickenson Texas 7-31-1971 8th 34 Phillips Curran, Dickenson Texas 7-31-1971 9th 35 Miller Ric, Dickenson Texas 7-31-1971 10th 36 Mayfield Phil, Dickenson Texas 7-31-1971 11th 37 Cox Ron, Houston Texas 7-31-1971 8th 38 Peck Jack, Houston Texas 7-31-1971 8th 39 Waters Charlie, Houston Texas 7-31-1971 8th 292 Johnson Rick, Dickenson Texas 4-23-1972 8th 625 Steward Don, Dickenson Texas 10-14-1972 9th 662 Tacconelly Steve, Dickenson Texas 10-14-1972 8th Obviously many jumpers who got their SCR and SCS elsewhere also jumped in Dickinson but all these got their awards in Dickinson. And of course there were the odd style and accuracy jumpers who wouldn't be on these lists.

Be careful about buying one off of eBay. A friend ordered one from China and he got a magnifying glass. The instructions said "Do not use in direct sunlight"

This wasn't as scary as my 2 malfunctions and they wouldn't have been that scary if they hadn't happened on the same jump, but I posted this on the Galveston skydivers thread and thought it might fit in here too. I've been having fun looking back at my logbook for the first time in a lot of years. Were any of you old timers, or as John Mincher more politely calls us "Pioneers of the sport", at Doc's on 3-12-'72? It was my first jump in Dickinson. Until then all my jumps had been at Angleton, V-Mills and a couple in Austin. We had a short spot with a 15 knt SE wind and I held as long as I could before I decided the pond north of the DZ was about to be in my future. I made a quick turn to the north, flew over the pond and a bunch of brush and made a hook turn onto a driveway that went to a little house north of the pond. It would have worked out OK but I didn't see the power lines going to the house along the south side of the drive. I went through the power lines and my PC collapsed on the wires causing them to cross and short out. I hit the driveway a little harder than planned and sprained my ankle (thank God for Frenchies). It was a good thing the wires just supplied the one house and were not any higher above the ground. The wires burned in half and fell in the brush starting a nice little fire. Fortunately my PC wasn't damaged by the wires or the fire but the power to Don Gay Pontiac and to the shopping center (which included a grocery store) across I-45 was knocked out. My friends came and got me and we made a hasty retreat. The police came out to the DZ to find me after the fire was out but some quick thinking skydivers told them that it was some guy from California, that nobody knew, was visiting and he was so embarrassed that the last time they saw him he was headed north on I-45 in a green Chevrolet. Thanks to whoever it was who put them off the scent!

A man walks into a bar and orders a drink. The bartender pours his drink and says that will be three bucks. The guy says sheepishly that he doesn't have any money but he can show the bartender something really cool and it might be worth a drink. The bartender slides the drink back away from the guy and says OK but it better be really good. The man opens his trench coat and takes out a miniature piano and sets in on the bar. He reaches back into his coat and brings out a little man who he also sets on the bar. The little man walks over to the piano and begins to play a tune. The bartender smiles and gives the drink to the man and asks where he got such an unusual thing. The man tells the bartender that he got it from the genie in a magic lamp. The bartender asks the man if he still has the lamp and sure enough he does. So the bartender tells the man he can have all the drinks he wants if he lets the bartender make a wish on the lamp. The man agrees but asks for the drinks first and the bartender pours up a line of drinks in front of the man. The man reaches back into his trench coat and brings out the magic lamp, puts it on the bar and tells the bartender the genie only grants one wish. The bartender eagerly rubs the lamp and makes his wish. All of a sudden ducks started flying in all the doors and windows and begin to fill the bar. The bartender angrily asks the man what the hell is going on, that he wished for a million bucks. The man tells him as he finishes his last drink, "Oh, I forgot to tell you that the genie is a little hard of hearing. You don't think anyone would wish for a 12" pianist do you?"

If he weighed more than about 140 pounds he was tough as they come.

After getting chastised for not knowing exactly how high I was (in the air), I recollected how things were back in the early '70s. Richard Nixon imposed a wage and price freeze in August of '71 so the $400 per month salary was not improving. $110 to rent, $48 to car payment, taxes?, utilities, food and skydiving took the rest. Oh yes, gas was 35 cents a gallon, beer was $4 a case, a trip to 7,500 was $3, 10.5 was $4.50 and 12.5 was $6. We went to 14.5 a several times in the DC-3 but I can't remember what that cost. So my first rig was $75, It was a 28' 7tu with a 24' unmodified reserve. First major purchase was a pair of Frenchies cause we hit the ground damn hard under those cheapos. Second major purchase was a PC so I wouldn't hit the ground so damn hard. My next purchase was an Altimaster II. Did I mention that money was tight, especially for us in our early 20s. On most RW loads we made sure at least one person had an altimeter and promised to pay attention to it and shake off at 3000. They didn't always remember but ground rush set in about 2500, a little earlier if you got out above 10.5. We watched out for each other and would never dump without looking up, waving off and making sure no one was above us even if the low guy did have the right of way. If you ever went out 30th from a small door DC-3 (my usual position) you understand the first guys (girls too but very few back then) out would be way back there and way down there by the time you cleared the door. Stand on your head, draw in your shoulders, think small and don't peek for 25 to 30 seconds. Remember, we had crap jumpsuits, crap harnesses and a belly wart. When you peeked, it was always too early, but in another ten you tracked like hell to get back to what you hoped by now would be a 20 or more star. The formations were all round stars in those days and more often than not they had already come and gone by the time the 30th guy got down to where it used to be. But occasionally it was still there and you could get in and call it a really great day. Altitude was important and hopefully someone was paying attention. But if altitude was all you cared about, you got to go on the style and accuracy loads. We had good times with our friends, a free beer on the occasion of someone getting their SCR and back then not too many people to share with cause there weren't many SCRs on the DZ. Only 6 on the load I got mine on and 2 cherries so that is three beers each (only one case in the early days) and we didn't waste much on the shower. If you didn't have your SCR you didn't get to participate in the ceremony. Those memories are some of my most vivid, even after 40 years.

Maybe the Martinique off the SW Freeway at Renwick?

I didn't say I didn't know my altitude. I said I didn't go low on purpose. If you have someone above you, sometimes you have to wait till it is safe to pull, for you and the person above. I tried to avoid people who dumped at 2500 no matter what.

What was the name of the apartment complex off the Southwest Freeway at Renwick or Rampart where there was always a party and who had the apartment there? If there wasn't a skydiver party going on someone else would be having a party there and you just joined it. Also, there was a singles upscale apartment complex way, way out on Fondren just north of Westheimer that had a big pool and the first hot tubs I ever saw. We did underwater RW in the pool one night. I'm sure no alcohol or other substances were involved but we might have scared a few of the tight assed residents off. It was great fun. I think a skydiver lived there too.