As we often muse about our "Elmers", and the contributions they made to us, as a result of their friendship, their talent, their experience, and their support, we often recall serious stories, but the best are the funny ones. How we first realized that B+ voltage HURT!, and how bad grounds resulted in burned lips... that kind of thing. Or how when my Mother would OFTEN decry my feeble attempts at radio-experimentation by saying "That radio junk will NEVER make you a PENNY!"... usually coupled with her frustration at walking into yet another piece of wire I'd erected in the basement or back yard. Yes, I still kid her about that statement, as of course, my life's career has been ELECTRONICS and COMMUNICATIONS, directly related to those youthful attempts at "hearing another one".

Carl Bruns (KØGOZ SK) lived just South of 71st. St. on Lowell in Overland Park. He's the guy whose wife invited a very hot and sweat stained kid on a bicycle, down into the basement to Carl's shack, then brought cookies and milk, while I salivated over his "rig". It became very apparent, very quickly, that I did NOT have a ticket, so he set about convincing me that only a handfull of the Best and Brightest in the World, qualified for an Amateur Radio License... woooooooooo. (insert open-mouthed GASP here), and I obviously was ONE of those... man, what a salesman. My stepdad (WØKI) still has Carl's Power/SWR meter.

The other driving force was a high-school buddy's Dad - Stanley Linder (KØVLZ SK) His son Harold (KØVLT), my friend Chuck (KØCDM), and I would spend Friday and Saturday evenings in their shack, in what was THEN, the Southern part of Overland Park (it sure isn't now), listening to the Gonset "Gooney Bird" on 6m AM, or the fellows on 75m SSB, on a National NC-303 (insert very LARGE gasp, here). Only Harold had much of a social life, Chuck's was slightly better, and mine was non-existant... so something fun to do on Saturday night, was pretty cool. Later on, when I was in the Navy on Guam Island (KG6 land at the time), and some "other places"... Stan and I had a sked on 20m or 15m, and he'd run patches to my girlfriend Susie (who wrote me a Dear John letter - THANKS!...... insert "raspberry" here), and my Mom in OP. Mom got so good at it, that Stan would put her on VOX, and just sit back and listen in his chair. In later years, there came Manny (WØZXH) and Beryl Masters (WBØEJJ SK), along with a whole host of other miscreant funny-men, who never failed to make drive-time a hilarious event. The absolute TOTAL LAUGHTER involved when Beryl would successfully guide somebody to a seemingly unfindable destination, calling out the billboards, stoplights, and businesses passed, only to have the hapless pilot later discover that the guy who'd given him such PERFECT directions, couldn't SEE. I never referred to Beryl as "blind", as his eyes may not have worked, but he darned sure was NOT blind.

One of the funnier tales involved the KCPD; Beryl and his wife lived off of Wornell Rd, on Washington. It got really dark over there, and wasn't known for being a great neighborhood, after a while, anyway. There was something amiss with Beryl's car, and as he was a MASTER MACHINIST for Bendix, he was not foreign to engines and things that go varoooom! So, there's this short, kind of overweight older guy with his head stuck under the hood of a car, and he's banging tools... oh, and it's near midnight, PITCH DARK, and he does NOT have a flashight - two KC police officers walk up on him, watch for a bit, and demand "Whaddya doin?" Beryl, without looking up or out [sic], says "None of your ******* business!" - this miffs the PD types, and they say it again - this time Beryl exclaims "I'm working on my damned car, what the hell does it LOOK like I'm doing?" By now, they're really up... so demand "without a flashlight?".... Beryl, senses the confusion, and said later, then heard the "ticking" of the overhead lights on the cop car, so responds...... "well, damnit... I'm blind, so I dont' NEED a damned flashlight!"

These cops are about have a conniption-fit until Beryl's wife looks out the door, and explains that it's SHE who drives "most of the time".... ha ha ha ha The story eventually got resolved, and it became a sort of rite-of-passage for old sergeants to take "newbies" over by Beryl's house, and suck 'em into a similar story line. Oh, and Beryl drank beer back then (his doctor made him quit it), so he had a refrigerator in the basement with a KEG inside, and a pull-handle on the outside of the door - Beryl would always courteously ask the cops if they'd like a cold beer!....... priceless Manny as I'm reminded by my co-worker from Burstein-Applebee, Dale Clark (WAØCFQ), found out about some obscure law in Independance concerning "Yellow Cars", back in the 70's. Dale drove a yellow car back then, so Manny kept reminding him NOT to drive the car in Independance... and always on the 34/10-4 repeater (as we used to joke). Dale's other story about Manny was that he once got lost while trying to get to Belton, MO.. I guess he drove ALL OVER Raytown one day, looking for Belton, and couldn't find it anywhere! Beryl, was finally able to steer Manny and get him "unlost" after some lengthy directional instructions. (Dale reminds us that there was none of that GPS stuff, back then) It was very amusing to hear Beryl direct Manny out of Raytown, and FINALLY to Belton - took about 2 hours.

One fellow you don't know of, but he's the guy who got me going, finally. I was assigned to Electronics Technician "A" school at Treasure Island, CA (SFRAN), and after finding out they had a ham club (affording lots of special privileges), I joined. They knew I didn't have a ticket, so assigned my friend to be, Dave Sublette (K9IHG at the time... now K4TO) and another couple of fellows to help me get my NOVICE. They DID accomplish that, and I remember (although THEY DON'T) the initation involving peanut butter and mustard on my face... then being walked out to the shoreline blindfolded, and made to get into a metal washtub... they held it firmly (although I didn't know that at the time), and totally convinced me that I'd been set adrift in San Francisco BAY as part of the process - I was terrified. Dave became a mentor and tutor to me, and I finally got to thank him a couple of years ago, thanks to the K6NCG website http://www.qsl.net/k6ncg/index.html (The 60's - 5th. row, far right...... ME), and before him, the "boss" of the club, Frank Mizzell (K4DCU SK).

Each person we meet, or counsel, or share time with, or help put up an antenna with becomes another chapter in our Elmer's File. Unlike other files however, these don't get closed and forgotten; every time we push down on the key, or grip a microphone, or twist a knob, or cut another wire for a project... these folks waft through our memory like whispering breezes over a mountain cliff. The real triggers are having somebody's old gear... you know, the old key that was given to you; maybe a pair of needle-nosed pliers with lots of wear, a screwdriver that's JUST THE RIGHT SIZE for taking knobs off, or a radio, or piece of test equipment that you know "That GUY" once owned and cherished. In my case, I still have the 1N34 diode, bought from Mr. Taylor, in 7th. Grade shop class, at Old Mission JHS, that took the place of the piece of galena that came from Uncle Bill, to create my FIRST crystal set (that I heard WØQQ on, back in 1954)... and that CK722 transistor (missing the emitter lead) that I got at Henshaw Electronics, back in 1955 - I think it cost me $8.00 - a HUGE amount of money, but it made lots of projects possible... and all because somebody took the time to inspire a dorky 97- pound weakling kid, with no social life.

I guess that makes ham radio a kind of "Immortal Science", 'cause somehow, no matter how short the time, if you help somebody in this silly hobby, they'll remember you...... and in return, you get a kind of short-term immortality.

July 18, 2009