The Richard Jackson Saga: Book: 9 Cold War

it, it didn’t sound like me. It was a catchy upbeat tune with a little twist at the end. What’s not to like, did I mention it didn’t sound like me?
The phone kept ringing all this time with requests for interviews and comments. Mary would answer the phone with, “No comment at this time, buy a ticket to the movie.”
Sharon Wallace who had brought the newspapers to us was about to pull her hair out. Dad was encouraging Mary to say something more outrageous but fortunately, Mum stepped in and settled everyone down.
Mary still answered the phone with a more sedate, “Jackson House, there is no comment at this time.”
Sharon told us that Mary’s antics on the telephone were getting known in the industry and that it was a badge of honor to have had a rude answer from her. Boy those people needed to get a life, my sister had been rude to me all my life and I never felt like it was a badge of honor. More like a pain in the neck.
While all this was going on the last-minute details of my trip were being discussed. I had already been over to the Ranger station and loaded my luggage for the trip and ensured the plane was fueled.
Finishing up with last-minute instructions as to where to meet my first car and driver in San Antonio, along with a written itinerary of hotels, theaters, times, and places I was ready to leave. There were hugs and kisses all around, even with the little sister monster I loved.
I made a promise to call when I was safely in and I was off. Dad drove me over to the Forest Service airport. I swear every time I went there they had made it nicer. New barracks were being put up. These would be for aircrew rest in between dumping water and retardant on fires.
Well, I was off after making sure that the wings hadn’t fallen off overnight, no water in the fuel, etc. San Antonio here I come.
I was under visual flight rules as there was no control tower in use at this time. The current tower was being refurbished and would be manned during fire-season, so I was taking off under ‘see and avoid’ rules, looking around for other aircraft on the ground and in the air and trying not to hit anyone.
I got into the air without any near misses. I would have had to work at it since there were no other aircraft in sight. It was really nice having a remote airport so close to our house.
I double-checked my compass settings and then followed the relatively new Interstate 10 to Phoenix. The flight was only a couple of hours but I took an hour break while fueling and eating lunch at Sky Harbor Airport.
I was in line to take off behind a Bonanza, and Frontier planes when a Medevac plane flew by Air Evac jumped the line. The tower put us on hold while it took off. Mr. McGarry would have been proud of them. I suspect a retired fighter pilot was flying that aircraft.
After that bit of excitement, it was off to El Paso for my next fuel stop. It was a rather boring flight. It all looked like the southwestern desert from up here. The mountains and dry rivers were interesting for the first one hundred miles or so. After that, I channel hopped on the radio to listen in on other aircraft to keep me awake.
Again it was I-10 all the way. I had my time and compass settings written down but I was following the highway most of the way. I really saw why the pilot's joke was that IFR meant, ‘I follow roads’’ instead of ‘Instrument Flight Rules,’ was really not much of a joke.
There were several big curves and zig-zags which I could cut across to cut down on distance but not that much.
For a while, I think in New Mexico, there was a train track with an actual train going east. It would not have been legal for me to swoop down on it and pretend I was strafing it so I won’t tell you about it.
El Paso was interesting as I saw some different aircraft operating and several old planes in the bone pile from airlines I had never heard of. I wonder what happened to Standard Airline and Varney Speed Lines.
Continental was flying DC-6’s, which I had never been on. There were also some Convair 240 and 340 craft. A Vickers Viscount turboprop jet came in while I was waiting to take off. Now that was one nice aircraft if I owned a jet that might be it. I had heard they had almost no vibration and were very quiet inside.
From El Paso, I was to follow the yellow brick road, or in this case, continue on I-10 to San Antonio.
Eight hours after leaving home I touched down at Stinson Municipal Airport at San Antonio, Texas. Named after the aviation pioneering Stinson family it was the oldest airport west of the Mississippi. I knew this courtesy of Mr. McGarry who learned to fly at the Stinson Flying School prior to World War II.
After my plane was fueled and tied down I went to the private terminal. There was a man waiting for me who recognized me because he had one of my publicity pictures in hand. He identified himself as my escort for the fan club meeting and film presentation.
He presented his credentials. Off-duty US Deputy Marshal Elliot had an agency car which would be loaned to me after his escort duties were finished. I don’t know what strings had been pulled to make that happen but I knew I had better take care of Uncle Sam’s car.
Marshal Elliot drove me to the Hotel Contessa to check-in. It was right on the famous