Robin Roberts

Hall of Fame workhorse pitcher Robin Roberts of the Philadelphia Phillies died today (Thursday, May 6, 2010) at his home in Temple Terrace, 10 miles northeast of Tampa. He was 83.

Mr. Roberts started three games on the final five days of the 1950 season and was the winning pitcher in a victory over the Brooklyn Dodgers that gave the Phillies their first pennant in 35 years. That year, he became the Phillies’ first 20-game winner since Grover Cleveland Alexander in 1917.

I report on Robin Roberts because I had the rather unique pleasure of meeting and talking with him over a period of months in the mid-1970’s. I had personal experience in meeting a man whom many today have called “a very nice man”.

At the time I was Executive Director of the Philadelphia Civic Center. After the demise of the Philadelphia Blazers in 1973 in the World Hockey Association, the owner of Mrs. Paul’s Kitchens, Ed Piszek, formed a minor league hockey team in the North American Hockey League and they played their games at the Civic Center. Mr. Piszek was a friend of Robin Roberts’ and invited him to be the team’s General Manager. I am not sure but a comment left on the philly.com website today said Robin Roberts was part-owner of the Firebirds. I just do not recall that distinction.

However, he did seem to enjoy his role as the GM of the Firebirds. Once or twice a week, he would call me from the Firebirds second floor offices to see if I was available for a meeting. While I believe I was “available” for all callers, I always was “available” for Robin Roberts.

He usually would ask for some kind of cooperation from “the building” for something the Firebirds wanted to do. I served as his enabler, so to speak, and was honored to do so. His requests always were reasonable.

Our meetings were maybe 30% business and 70% baseball. Once he found out I was an ardent baseball fan, he knew he had a major audience of one with someone seven years younger than he.

I told him that as a young resident of St. Louis, I had been weaned on Stan Musial of the Cardinals. Robin Roberts spoke with great admiration for Stan the Man, whom he faced numerous times.

Mr. Roberts was amusing and blessed with philosophy. He said even then (I think he was 46 or 47 at the time), old-timers with the Phillies all still greeted him the same way: “How’s the arm, Robbie??”

He said he always would reply: “The arm’s fine, thank you.”

He said he enjoyed his position with the Firebirds and enjoyed working with the young hockey players. But I never will forget what he added: “You know, John, I made a big mistake when I retired.”

If you know of his way of talking, and visualize his sitting there in the chair in almost a confidential tone, he told me: “I made a big mistake….because I should have been smart enough to get a bunch of business cards printed. Just my name and phone number, and under that, just one word: CONSULTANT.

“The guys who make all the money these days are consultants. And, y’see, you don’t say what kind of consultant you are. You’re just a consultant. And when they call you up and ask you whether you can consult on something, of course you can do that!”

He laughed.

Albert V. Gaudiosi

Albert V. Gaudiosi was described in an obituary in the Philadelphia Daily News as “the quintessential tough, hard-boiled newspaper reporter who later became a tough, hard-boiled city official under Mayor Frank L. Rizzo”.

Al was my boss during the Rizzo for Mayor Campaign in 1971, and when he was (briefly) City Representative and Director of Commerce in the mid 1970’s. He died April 7, 2010, in Houston at age 86 of complications of lymphoma.

The Daily News obituary writer, John F. Morrison, suggested Al “might have been abrupt, impetuous, pushy and annoying, but, as those who knew him agreed, was also a fine administrator with a keen intelligence and quick wit”.

During the 1971 Rizzo Campaign, I recall going to Al’s office to ask him about the new poll he had just received. To hear the newspapers tell it, the race was going to be very close between Police Commissioner Rizzo and Repulbican candidate Thacher Longstreth.

“John,” Al said. “Don’t worry! We’re winners. We’re winners.”

He said it with such confidence, I stopped the worrying!

In 1963, Gaudiosi and fellow Philadelphia Bulletin reporter Jim Magee along with photographer Frederick Meyer shared a Pulitzer Prize for an investigative series on a numbers racket with police collusion. Myers photographed gambling transactions from a room they had rented in South Philadelphia. Gaudiosi took the photos to Rizzo, then a Chief Inspector, who identified the policemen or had them identified.

That was the beginning of his relationship with Rizzo.

The Daily News had a bit of the Gaudiosi scenario a bit incorrect. It said that when Commissioner Rizzo decided to run for Mayor in 1971, Gaudiosi was in the Philadelphia Bulletin newsroom taking a story from a reporter when city editor Sam Boyle came up and pulled off Al’s headset.

“You’re out of here,” Boyle declared.

“What do you mean?” Gaudiosi asked.

“Rizzo just named you his campaign director.”

You would think, by the Daily News obituary, that this came as a surprise to Al Gaudiosi. On the contrary, Al was prepared for this for many months. My source for this? Myself.

One day, back in the spring of 1969, I got a call from the Commissioner’s office. “The Commissioner would like for you to stop in his office this afternoon.”

At the time, I was a reporter/newscaster for KYW-TV.

When I arrived, Frank Rizzo sat down at his conference table and said he had two things he wanted to say to me “off the record”. He said he had just decided to run for Mayor, having received the private assurance from Mayor James H. J. Tate that he would have the Mayor’s endorsement some day in the future.

And, he said, I want you to work for me. He told me I was “the second newsman” to know about his decision. I soon realized that reporters who go into politics don’t necessarily do it overnight. This was 2 1/2 years before Election Day.

The first newsman? Al Gaudiosi.

Harry Belinger

Harry R. Belinger, four-year Philadelphia City Representative and Director of Commerce, and my boss during that period, died Wednesday, September 23, 2009, of complications of heart surgery at Lankenau Hospital. He was 82.

While I met him after we both received job appointments by incoming Mayor Frank Rizzo (in 1972), Harry primarily was known for his prior posts as City Editor of both the Philadelphia Inquirer and Philadelphia Daily News.

For the most part, my contact with Harry came when he would come once a month to the Philadelphia Civic Center where I was Executive Director. He sometimes would attend the monthly Board meetings at the Civic Center.

As Director of Commerce, he spent far more time at the Philadelphia International Airport, where he was instrumental in finishing the $300 million modernization program there.

He quit the cabinet position with Mayor Rizzo four days after a dispute with the Mayor about union picketing outside the newspapers’ building on Broad Street. An estimated 250 labor union members were protesting what they considered unfair articles about the Mayor.

Harry subsequently became Vice President of Public Affairs for ARA (now known as Aramark).

Harry received a journalism degree from Temple University, and he was a teacher of sorts as newspaper editor. He was of the “old school” of journalists who knew and stressed proper grammar and word usage. Today’s papers are sprinkled with grammatical errors and the like and could benefit from a Harry Belinger-type editor.

I was on the receiving end of one example of his teaching, and I have appreciated what he did ever since. In speaking with him on the phone one day, I said that somebody (the subject of our conversation) “inferred” that he approved whatever we had decided.

I don’t remember the subject, but Harry quickly interjected: “No, he did not infer. He implied. You inferred.” He went on to explain the difference. I think Don Imus, radio star in New York, probably encountered a Harry Belinger somewhere along in his radio career, as Imus took pains on the air on more than a few occasions to outline somebody’s implication and his inference. I wish I would have heard Don Imus before that day on the phone with Harry! However, Harry, still wearing his editor’s eyeshade, so to speak, was both friendly and helpful with his correction. I am pleased to say it was the only time he corrected me!

His wife, Jean, died in 1998. He is survived by their daughter (Lizanne R. Hayes) and two grandchildren. His obituary also listed as survivor his loving companion Rosemary Vickers.

In his obituary writeup, which he prepared for the newspapers five years before his death, he wrote: “Three lives and thoroughly enjoyed the career changes because each change was like being born again.”

Lolly Pannella

Lolly Pannella, my business partner for 30 years, died in her sleep Friday evening, September 18, 2009. Members of her family were with her. Her published obituary is at the end of this post.

Lolly lived only 71 years and exactly seven months. But she poured an active life into this span, a multi-career woman. She was a hard worker throughout her careers, starting as a young woman as a cosmetologist. Those who knew her knew it: hard worker. She was active until lung cancer and liver cancer and their complications slowed her down, requiring several hospital stays, the last being three weeks before her death.

She and I met as a result of our separate contacts with Philadelphia Police Commissioner Frank Rizzo.

Commissioner Rizzo won the Democratic Party nomination for Mayor in May, 1971. At his invitation, I resigned my job as reporter at KYW-TV (now CBS3 in Philadelphia) and joined his campaign. He was elected Mayor in November.

Some people thought I got the greatest job in the campaign. It was my assignment to handle 32 women known as “Rizzo Girls”. Hold your excitement. It was not easy.

The Rizzo campaign manager (Al Gaudiosi) had initiated the efforts to get the Rizzo Girls by contacting a Philadelphia police detective, Frank Pacifico. Frank’s wife was among those selected. Lolly was her close friend and quickly agreed to be a Rizzo Girl, too.

I split the 32 women into eight crews of four each. Some assignments were cushy, but I tried to give each crew approximately the same number of each kind of event. Things went fairly well until a major Rizzo appearance at the Latin Casino. Gaudiosi felt it was appropriate to select Cass Pacifico’s crew as a reward for starting the whole project. Al told me that only four could be assigned because of the special occasion it was.

Other Rizzo Girls screamed in protest. Lolly phoned me after the event to let me know there was trouble brewing. Rizzo Girls were threatening to quit. I told her what was done on the Latin Casino outing, and why, and Lolly assured me she would try to resolve the issues with the other women. She made a few phone calls, and everybody was happy.

A bullet dodged.

After Frank Rizzo was elected Mayor of Philadelphia, I was appointed by him as Executive Director of the Philadelphia Civic Center.

Only months after starting the job in January, 1972, I was in the middle of negotiations to bring a major league hockey team (Philadelphia Blazers) to the Civic Center (Convention Hall). In May of that year, Vineland trucking company owner Bernard Brown and Attorney Jim Cooper of Atlantic City obtained a franchise to play in Philadelphia starting in October that year. It was a new major league hockey team competing across town against the Flyers.

One of Lolly’s friends and also a Rizzo Girl, Carol Mignogna, was a huge hockey fan, and was very familiar with Bernie Parent, John McKenzie and Derek Sanderson, stars of the Philadelphia Flyers and Boston Bruins, and now with the Blazers. Jim Cooper was the idea man for the startup of the hockey team. One of his ideas was to have young women as ushers, replacing the men who served at the various Civic Center events.

The ushers union protested to me, and after a short war, the men agreed to accept the Blazers demands. The Blazers paid for bright new uniforms for both the men and newly-hired women. Jim Cooper asked me to set up the new “union” (I found out they really had not paid dues nor conducted any union business; it was informal and managed by the union president just so they could handle the work for events such as the Philadelphia 76ers and Ice Follies.)

Jim Cooper wanted a new operation for the ushers, much more identifiable with the Blazers. Carol Mignogna was asked but did not want to manage it. She said she only wanted to watch the games, not work at them. But Lolly was interested.

She formed the Ushering Service of Philadelphia and was the instant boss of 40 ushers. She handled the hiring of the young women (in the old days, you could say “girls”; most were in their ’20’s).

It often is said that success requires being in the right place at the right time. About the same time the new uniforms were first being used, in October of that year, the road manager of Ice Follies asked whether the Blazers would allow their uniforms to be used for the ice show in December. The Blazers agreed.

The road manager (Jerry Walser) during that summer was going to dismiss the woman he had in Philadelphia handling group sales for the ice show. While talking about the ushering arrangements with Lolly, he asked her if she was interested in the group sales job. She was.

So Lolly went from being unemployed (and not job-hunting) in May to having two jobs in the fall. It all stemmed from Frank Rizzo a year before. For the rest of her life, she was a busy woman.

She handled the ushering service even after the Blazers left town (after one year), and during the two years of play of the Philadelphia Firebirds minor league team. (The Firebirds’ General Manager was Robin Roberts, Phillies star pitcher two decades before.) Lolly handled Ice Follies group sales until the show moved to the Spectrum in the late 1970’s.

Both Lolly and I found ourselves out of our jobs at the end of Mayor Rizzo’s second term.

We soon pooled our interests and formed a travel and tour company in 1980, buying what formerly was a Philadelphia boutique (store). We handled all forms of travel, specializing in motorcoach tours. We hired our first employee in 1981. Part of the operation was a travel agency, which made it possible for us to offer cruises and other forms of travel to our motorcoach customers.

In 1986, we bought the first of five motorcoaches we used in the business. We bought the second three years later.

In 1989, we bought the building next door and expanded our staff further.

One of our employees was Marie Bosak, who worked part-time for us and part-time for TWA Getaway group sales. Marie summed up Lolly in the mid-1980’s: “When people sit down in that chair,” she said, pointing to the chair next to Lolly’s desk, “they buy!” Lolly energetically spoke with her customers, who could sense her enthusiasm for the planned trip.

We sold our last three buses at the end of 2004 as part of our plan to retire. Anytime Lolly would hint to a customer that we planned to close up shop, she would hear the wails of a pleading customer: please don’t retire, we NEED you!

In the next two years, we downsized, as the saying goes. We agreed that we should prepare for our retirement. However, in 2007, I needed treatments for prostate cancer and surgery for liver cancer, and during the four-month period, Lolly handled the office alone. Retirement had to be put on hold.

The process on planning to retire resumed in late 2007 as the two of us handled a reduced amount of business, taking care of our best customers, some of whom had been with us for more than two decades, again a tribute to Lolly and her ability to sell and win friends. We each worked in the office three days a week, with Wednesday being the day when we both were on the scene.

On Thursday, November 13, 2008, Lolly left for the day the same as always, not knowing she never would return. Two days later, on Saturday, she was hospitalized. The next day, Sunday, she learned of her cancers.

Soon thereafter, she told me I should proceed with our plans to retire and close up. She said quietly, “You know I won’t be back.”

She waged a courageous 10-month battle.

She was a good lady.

LORETTA J. PANNELLA “LOLLY” (Tirendi)

PANNELLA
LORETTA J. “LOLLY” (nee Tirendi) on Sept. 18, 2009 of Langhorne, PA. Beloved wife of Louis R. Pannella, loving mother of Louis Pannella and Michael (Erica) Pannella, loving daughter of Mary (nee Ruane) Tirendi and the late Anthony Tirendi, dearest sister of Anthony Tirendi, Lewis Tirendi, and Ginger Lorman. She is also survived by her one granddaughter Julia Rose. Relatives and friends are invited to attend her viewing Thursday, from 9:30 A.M. until her Funeral Mass 11 A.M. at The Church of St. Andrew, 81 Swamp Rd. Newtown, PA 18940. Entombment will be in Sunset Memorial Park, Feasterville. In lieu of flowers, contributions in her memory may be made to St. Mary Holistic Center, 215-710-6948.
www.fluehr.com

Radio Icon Paul Harvey

Paul Harvey, star network radio newscaster for decades, died Saturday, February 28, 2009, at 90. He was on the air within the past year; he was heard nationally for nearly 58 years, since 1951.

I met him six years later (1957).

It was during my year at the School of Journalism, University of Missouri, Columbia, MO. Every Spring, the Journalism School would sponsor “J-Week”, when classes were suspended in favor of students listening to a score or more of journalism professionals, experts in the field, pros who had “made” it. It was a terrific week.

One of my classes that spring was in radio news. I was an “intern” for the early morning newscasts on Radio Station KFRU. This was the same station I worked for each night from 6:00 to 11:00 p.m. It wasn’t fun getting up early but it helped me get through Journalism School in one year.

Among the guest speakers for J-Week was Paul Harvey.

I was told I would assist him in his preparation of his morning newscasts on ABC Radio coast-to-coast. I was told to be there (at the downtown newspaper newsroom from which the newscasts were aired) at 5:00 a.m., a bit tough for somebody who worked till 11:00 p.m. No way he was going to be there at 5:00 a.m., but I was a student. What could I say ??

I got there about 4:55 a.m. and Paul Harvey was waiting for me.

He was about 38 years old at the time, but like most “elders”, to a young guy he seemed like 60. As you might expect, he was all business. He wanted me to sort the copy from the news services, and all I had to do was watch him work. He had gobs of blank newsprint paper. He wrote his copy on this stuff.

To me, the irony was to see how this radio newscasting star prepared his copy. Every story was on a separate sheet of paper. Some of the stories were hardly more than one line long, but I realized this was the “style” his listeners easily tuned to.

He also wanted me to locate all the “kickers” I could find. Wire services often lumped kickers into a single dispatch. A kicker was a funny news story.

He would close his newscasts with a kicker. He always led it off ….. “For what it’s worth”…… Sometimes he would call it “our ‘for what it’s worth’ department”.

Knowing how unfunny the kickers were that morning, I thought he would start hollering at me for not finding at least one good kicker.

I soon got a liberal education in radio journalism, Paul Harvey Style. Paul Harvey took one of the unfunny stories and made it funny. And he always could get away with it, with that two-second pause after he uttered the punch line: “Paul Harvey…………… Good Day!!!”

I was so pleased and frankly honored that I had been selected to be his intern that morning.

His appearance in Columbia climaxed with his speech at the noon luncheon that day. He was one of the J-Week star pros.

Paul Harvey gave a great speech. He was already considered “conservative” and for some at the already liberally-tinged J-School, he was off his rocker. And because he was perceived as somewhat of a comic and cynic on his radio broadcasts, he surprised. He presented a clear description of the waste in government (yes, they even had it way back then) and the various hypocrisies in the news of the day. His audience discovered a conservative is not a whacko.

When he finished, he got a standing ovation.

Dean Earl English then came back to the microphone to thank Paul Harvey, and he brought down the luncheon when he said, rather sheepishly: “There were some of us who weren’t sure about inviting Mr. Harvey, but I must say, after listening to him today, I don’t know how we could have thought anything like that.”

Paul Harvey. Good Day!!!!

James D. Murphy, Jr.

My brother-in-law in Lakewood, Colorado, died New Year’s Day… January 1, 2006. Jimmy was a good man. A military funeral was conducted last Friday at Fort Logan. And there was a memorial service at Church of the Hills in Evergreen, Colorado, Saturday afternoon. Both Lakewood and Evergreen are suburbs of Denver; Evergreen is about 15 miles up into the mountains west of Denver. Lakewood is next door to Denver.

At the military funeral, family members observed the flag presentation protocol. A United States flag drapes the casket of a deceased veteran to honor his/her service to the country. The ceremonial folding and presentation of that flag is a moving tribute of lasting import to the veteran’s family.

The flag is placed so the union blue field is at the head and over the left shoulder of the veteran. After the playing of Taps, the flag is carefully folded into the symbolic tri-cornered shape. It then is presented as a keepsake to the next of kin or an appropriate family member.

At Jim Murphy’s military funeral, two soldiers folded the flag, and a third officer presented it to my sister, Joan (pronounced joh-ann). The protocol provided that the presenter stood facing the recipient (Joan) and held the folded flag waist high with the straight edge facing her.

In the ceremony, the officer leans toward the recipient and solemnly presents the flag. Each branch of service uses a slightly different wording for the flag presentation.

On January 6, 2006, the officer said to Joan: “This flag is presented on behalf of a grateful nation and the United States Army as a token of appreciation for your loved one’s honorable and faithful service.”

If the next of kin has expressed a religious preference or belief, as Joan had, the soldier adds: “God Bless You and this family, and God Bless the United States of America.”

The flag is now encased at Joan’s home in Lakewood.

At Fort Logan that day, an estimated 30 funerals were scheduled at the rate of two per hour. Normally, taps is heard from a bugle recording inside the bugle; most times, those attending the funeral are unaware that the soldier with the bugle is not playing. In the case of Jim Murphy, the bugler played Taps “live”; it was not a recording. After the service, Jim’s daughter Jan asked the bugler if, in fact, he had performed a recorded version. No, said the soldier, I came today to play. He said his mother had died two weeks before, and he was performing “live” as an additional special memorial to his mother.

There was another incident, too. As the family walked to their cars, Joan was stopped before getting into her car. She was told the soldiers would like to have the flag back. The soldiers were not satisfied with their fold, and wanted to re-complete it. This they did.

At the memorial service Saturday, The Reverend Phil Price offered the following comments in the category entitled “Reflections on a Christian Life”.

Jim was born in St. Louis, the eldest of five children.

In high school, Jim took part in Track and with the Debate Team. He was an Honor Roll student. He was chosen to serve as the “City Attorney” when the high school seniors were invited to fill the St. Louis city offices for a day. Jim’s mother became ill when he was 13. She died when Jim was 18. At the time Jim was attending St. Louis University, working toward degrees in Accounting and Law. Due to the family situation, his father asked him to seek a full-time job to help raise the other four children. This he did. And World War II was looming on the horizon. During this time he met Joan Pierron (MY SISTER) at Epworth League at the Maple Avenue Methodist Church. They were married in 1940. Jim was working as an Insurance Underwriter then. His aunt and uncle encouraged him to put his name in for a position with the U. S. Post Office.

Later, when he was in France in a foxhole on the bank of the Moselle River, he was notified that he had been promoted to Regular Clerk in a letter delivered by the (military) company clerk who crawled up to him. Jim was a Master Sergeant in the 1117th Combat Engineer Group. He served in the service three years.

Jim worked for the U. S. Postal Service for 30 years, holding positions from Clerk to Acting Assistant Supervisor of Personnel to Station Manager. He retired after serving as Manager of the Highlands Station Post Office in Denver.

What brought him from St. Louis to Denver? In 1957, he and Joan had a major decision to make. They moved to Denver and later to Mount Evans Lane in Idledale, about seven miles “below” Evergreen in the mountains west of Denver. The move was precipitated by health reasons for himself and oldest child, son Randy, who suffered from hayfever in the St. Louis climate. Moving to the mountains proved a great help. In fact, the hayfever never again was a problem.

While in Idledale, Jim served as Chairman of the Water Board, and after that he always was interested in water issues. Jim enjoyed trains and studied railroad management and advancement. He was an avid newspaper reader and paid close attention to local and world news.

At Church of the Hills, Jim was an Elder, and he and his wife, Joan, were active in the Presbyterian Mariner organization, holding the office of President (Skipper) several times from 1960 to 1990. Mariners was a great enrichment to Jim’s life.

Jim and Joan have three children: Randy, Jan and Jacques, and four grandchildren: Colin, Patrick, Austin and Sean, and four great-grandchildren: Stephanie, Ben, Katie and Nicole. Jim and Joan joined Church of the Hills in 1958. Their son Jacques was baptized at Church of the Hills in 1959 as were two of their grandsons, Colin, in 1968, and Sean, in 1990.

Jim enjoyed recently (just before Christmas, 2005) seeing his daughter Jan interviewed on TV about the book which was just published: OUTLAW TALES OF COLORADO.

Jim had an 87-year-long successful life as a citizen and a servant of the Lord.

This was the end of the Reflections by The Reverend Phil Price.

The memorial service included a service-opening violin solo by grandson 15-year-old Sean Murphy and a marimba solo by his 18-year-old brother Austin. Both are sons of Jacques Murphy, who now live in Atlanta.

My sister had a wonderful husband. All of us already miss him.

Alan Halpern

The Philadelphia Daily News yesterday (Wednesday, December 14, 2005) reported the death of Alan Halpern, the long-time editor of PHILADELPHIA MAGAZINE. The obituary on Page 32, in a featured article, said Alan died Tuesday after a lengthy illness. He was 79.

The article ran two columns, full page. It noted how nothing was sacred or off limits to the magazine. He served from 1951 to 1980, taking the magazine from a Chamber of Commerce mouthpiece to a publication that grabbed many local institutions by the scruff of the neck and gave them a good shaking.

Said the Daily News: “It (PHILADELPHIA MAGAZINE) practically shut down the Pearl Buck Foundation for mismanagement and sent Philadelphia Inquirer reporter Harry Karafin to prison for extortion.”

The latter story was so remarkable, my station, KYW-TV, assigned me to cover the Harry Karafin trial, which ran for two full weeks. It was my assignment (from station management) to report the day’s court developments for TWO FULL MINUTES on the six o’clock news every night.

I met Alan Halpern once. In April, 1970, we were both selected to be two of five representatives from Philadelphia to fly on the so-called inaugural flight of Pan American’s FIRST 747. Yes, the big jumbo jet. Alan and I and one other Pan Am invitee were taken by big long limousine from Philadelphia to JFK International, Jamaica, NY. We were treated royally.

We were seated together on the plane. Row 6. And this is the main reason I am noting his passing. The qualities described in his obituary were evident to me in that one night with him. The obituary quoted from an Inquirer description of him as “shy and soft-spoken”, a cigarette addict who seemed to hide in a cloud of smoke”.

I do not recall that he smoked. What I remember is how frightened he was. He was terrified of the thought that this was the first flight of a 747. In addition, he did not like it one bit that he could not see the right wing of the plane. We were seated so far forward, we couldn’t see the wings.

Because it was obvious he was in a panic, I told him I would check things out for him. I left my seat for a minute, walked back in the plane until I could see the right wing.

I returned to my seat and told Alan the wing is about one-third back on the fuselage, but very definitely there. He seemed to appreciate the important tidbit.

Later, he became concerned because we didn’t leave on time. So, because the pre-flight time was quite casual (no security in those days!), we walked to the area just behind the pilots, whose cockpit door was open. The pilots seemed to be quite busy checking their instruments, and Alan was especially concerned that the departure time already had passed. One of the pilots turned around and smiled.

This made Alan feel alot better.

He asked a crew person (possibly the same stewardess, I do not recall) if this really is to be the first 747 flight.

“Oh, yes,” he was told. “The first WITH PASSENGERS. This crew already has flown back and forth to Paris about 20 times.”

Alan returned with me to Row 6. The plane backed away from the gate 45 minutes late. Alan Halpern enjoyed the flight, especially the landing in Paris. It felt as though a feather had touched the runway.

What a great airplane! What a nice man.