Story Time

Guns and No Roses.

Posted on by thependulumswings staff

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Ninety-one years ago today, St. Valentine’s Day as it was known then, wasn’t so happy in Chicago.  A mass murder, labeled the Valentine’s Day Massacre, was executed after significant planning.

The year was 1929 and prohibition laws ruled the land.  And, Al Capone ruled Chicago.  But George “Bugs” Moran and his northside Irish gang wanted more than what Capone thought was his fair share of the lucrative bootleg booze biz.

Capone escaped the winters of Chicago by living in Miami for the season.  While down there his right-hand man, Jack ” Machine Gun” McGurn, visited and together they crafted a plan to squash Bugs and his gang. Capone ordered the Detroit “Purple Gang” to handle this so that no one in Chicago could identify them.

The plan included a stolen police car and two stolen police uniforms, and two lookouts.  A planted bootlegger was expected to enter the premises at 10:30 AM to sell some stolen liquor to the eager Moran.  The lookouts thought they saw Bugs enter into the North Clark St. gang headquarters then and signaled so.

Two Detroit gang members entered posing as cops.  Two others entered in plain clothes.  Bugs’ gang believed that this was just another police shakedown and cooperated by lining up against a wall and surrendering their guns.  The four proceeded to riddle the seven inside with multiple gunshot wounds.  All of them died.

But, none of them were Bugs Moran.  He arrived a few minutes later and stayed a safe distance away also believing it to be just another police money shakedown.

After the massacre, the two posing as cops walked out, guns pointed at the two others who participated and now were posing as arrested gang members with their hands held high.  And, off they drove.

The massacre drew national headlines and is thought to be the catalyst to get the reluctant FBI involved in gang warfare.

Witnesses were interviewed.  Many mistakenly identified local policemen who were nowhere near at the time.  Suspects were interrogated.  No one was ever arrested.

Bugs Moran survived by being late for a meeting.  But the statement made was understood loud and clear.

Capone had the perfect alibi.  He was living large in sunny Miami.  And, from afar his legend grew even larger.

I Have Yet Another Story and A Moral Thereof!

Posted on by thependulumswings staff

The best way to bump into celebrities is to live in Los Angeles.  The second best way is to travel to and from there frequently.   It was on a return trip from there that this writer very nearly chest bumped an “A lister.”

Another early AM Friday flight from LA  to Houston had boarded.  The week was done for the most part.  Luckily, I was bumped up to first class as a bonus on the bon voyage.  Before taking my seat in 1D I quickly saw that the overhead storage space directly over the row didn’t exist due to the curvature of the fuselage.  Being a bit of an alpha, I seized the opportunity to put my roller bag over row 2 just behind me.  What about the needs of the folks in row 2 you ask?  What about them I ask?

I settled in with The Wall Street Journal in hand; actually in two hands.  This was back when newspapers actually still went to print.  The hubbub, yapping, inefficiency, and general incivility of 250 humans boarding a plane was all around me.  Immersed in the paper, it was all just white noise to me.  It’s far better that way to remain somewhat sane truth be told.

With that as the backdrop I barely heard, and it really didn’t register with me, that a pair of first class flight attendants were at work in the galley as one remarked to the other that “it sounds like we have a VIP on board.”  This could be most anyone including United brass or a dead head trip friend, etc.  I stayed buried in The Journal.

Wheels up, a movie on the tiny screen, a breakfast, some computer work, and wheels down three hours later summarizes my time in the cylindrical 550 mph tin can.  A luggage grab, a stroll to the parking garage, a drive home, and a conference call is all that stood between me and a big time weekend.

That luggage grab would be like threading a needle though as I needed to walk backwards to get it.  The alpha in me said that I should bull rush the oncoming traffic, stifle it, and grab the bag versus waiting for a slow moment in the mad exit dash from the row or rows behind me.

As I took the hard left turn to do just that the person seated directly behind me for the entire flight headed for the aisle in the obviously opposite direction that I was.  And, because of that we both came to a full stop.  Then we met eye to eye for that uncomfortable moment that I created.  Well, it was almost eye to eye.  The gentleman was about a half-foot shorter than I.  Immediately the mind raced.  Yes.  Yes.  I cannot be mistaken.  Yes it is.  It was none other than George Clooney.  Oh yes I did, I flat out stymied George.

It felt like I had a pair of eyes on my back through the Jetway.  Once in the terminal a fellow passenger strode by and asked if I knew that was George Clooney.  I decided to stay alpha and went the humorous route, or so I thought.  I asked him “more importantly do you think that George Clooney knew that it was me?”  It was an odd stare back for sure. It was a bit awkward all around all over again really.

Oh, what’s the moral of the story?  Keep your luggage close and your A List friends closer.  Or, vice versa.

 

I Have Another Story and a Moral Thereof.

Posted on by thependulumswings staff

Almost to this day a year has passed since I went from flying about 75,000 miles on business trips a year for 25 plus years to not.  Sure I’ve flown a bit for getaways in the last twelve months.  One such getaway was last week’s Orlando trip.  As I got into my seat for the flight back the news broke that Boeing 737 Max 9’s were being grounded in some countries due to similarities surrounding two recent crashes.  Jeez I thought.  Actually a stronger word came to mind.

Compounding the angst was a three sided laminated foldout in the seat pocket directly in front of me.  It spoke to the information and safety features of this particular plane.  This plane was a Boeing 737 Max 8.  Hmm.   Way too close for comfort I thought.   And, sure enough, a day later the FAA took both the 8’s and the 9’s out of the sky pending further investigation.

Surely you have heard someone say “air travel is safer than driving a car.”  Or you might have heard “you have a greater chance of being struck by lightning than dying in a plane crash.”  That all sounds good until it doesn’t sound good at all.  It didn’t sound good to me then, and it doesn’t now.

Why not?  Well, it turns out that a great friend of mine was on a Delta flight about 25 years ago that essentially crashed landed, overshot the runway, and ended up under the fence at the end of the field.  Luckily he walked away from it.  It also reminded me of a flight a dozen years back to sunny and warm Milwaukee.  The flight attendant had just announced over the PA that I was on board that day and this was the flight that would take me over a million air miles. Surely they have some award for insanity?   A partly cloudy ascent gave way to more clouds when a bolt out of the gray very brightly and strongly hammered the wing.  Lightening had struck the plane. I saw it all too vividly from my emergency window seat.   Remember, “you have a greater chance of getting struck by lightning that dying in a plane crash.”

I wonder what the saying is about dying from lightning in a plane?   Surely the words “gosh darn” or maybe a bit worse would be included.  The plane shook off the shake that the bolt put through the fuselage and it was if nothing had happened.  Although it got very quiet when the copilot quickly exited the cockpit and did a visual inspection of all that he could see as soon as he could see it.

What’s the moral of the story?  Air travel is very safe until it’s not.  I don’t miss flying and all of the before, during, and after incivility that accompanies it.  No I don’t, not at all.

Fly safely.