Summer – 1976

Aspen’s airport sits at 7,815 feet above sea level.  That is a geographical fact.  For aircraft operating out of the airport, the meteorological altitude can change based on the humidity, dew point, barometric pressure and air temperature, this is known as Density Altitude.  Density Altitude can affect how an aircraft performs especially during landings and take-offs.  I give this brief lesson as it affects the rest of the story, please read on…

It is the summer of 1976 and Aspen is experiencing abnormally hot weather.  The airport is busy with the usual Jet traffic as well as the Glider Operations that were in full swing.  It was a busy place to say the least.  While delivering some Hertz customers back to their aircraft I observed a Gulfstream II exiting the runway having just landed.  I recognized this aircraft as belonging to Greyhound Corporation.  As it turned out my next pickup was John Teets, the CEO of the company.  I gave him the keys to the car and asked if I could have a look at his Gulfstream.  As he drove away he told the captain to give me a “full tour” of the jet.

As I headed up the stairs into the Gulfstream, the Captain met me at the top and told me I had to leave.  He had never flown out of Aspen in the summer and as he said, “The altitude was rising by the second.”  Complying with his boss’s orders, he started to give a tour; but, I could tell he was nervous and I politely excused myself much to his relief.

Barely reaching the bottom step, the jet’s engines began to spool up.  In less than five minutes the Gulfstream II was taxiing to the runway.  It was about 11:00 in the morning and the temperature was already 75 plus degrees.  The density altitude at that point was probably approaching 10,000 feet but this was a Gulfstream! 

The speakers out on the ramp where you could hear the tower and aircraft communicating suddenly crackled with the panicked voice of the Gulfstream Captain.  Requesting an expedited departure, the Captain indicated that they would do their “engine run-up” at the end of the runway.  He was going to waste no time getting out of here.

The Gulfstream sat on its brakes while the engines came up to full power.  You could hear this Gulfstream anywhere in the valley as its brakes struggled to hold it in place.  Suddenly, the jet lurched forward as it began its take-off roll.  By now the engines were exceeding the 100% power setting as the pilots rushed to get enough speed to take-off before running out of runway.   At the time, the runway was just over 5,200 feet in length with a slight downhill angle for departing aircraft on runway 33.

With the amount of power the Gulfstream was producing, the nose lifted off the runway in just over 1,200 feet and was airborne in less than 2,800 feet.  This Gulfstream was gone!

About a week later the jet and crew were back to pick up Mr. Teets.  This time they were much more relaxed and I was given a great tour of the jet.

Christmas Day – 1976

My childhood was filled with spectacular events and wonderful memories, but as the song goes “Into every life a little rain must fall.”  This is one of those “rainy day” events.  At my age it is hard to carry a grudge, so for the sake of this story we will call the villain “Lyle.”

It was 7:00 on Christmas morning and like many Christmases in resort communities it was rarely a day off.  On this day I was off to teach ski school at Buttermilk.  I had a little time before I had to be there and I was asked if I could deliver a few gifts on my way.  At the time I was driving our International Scout which had a hydraulic snowplow attached to the front.  I loved driving that car!  It was built like a tank, could take anything you threw at it and most importantly I was one of only two kids in my class with a driver’s license.  We all know what that means, dates!

Back to my story.  I made a few deliveries in our neighborhood and the last planned stop was at the Hickory House.  My parents always gave out Enstrom’s Toffee in boxes of all sizes each Christmas and none of them ever went to waste.  After the gift giving and taking a few minutes to visit I was off to work. 

Like most days, the parking in front of the Hickory House was full as was the side and rear lots.  I ended up parking across Main Street with the Scout pointing east.  I jumped in, looked both ways and headed out onto the street which by the way had no visible traffic.  Out of nowhere suddenly there was a Subaru stuck between the fender and the back of the plow.  Where did he come from?  Had I not looked well enough before proceeding?  We both got out and it was at that point I made my first mistake; I apologized for getting in his way.  Yes, I took the blame for the accident and Lyle, the driver of the other Subaru, graciously accepted my apologies.  Lyle went into great detail to explain that I must not have looked very well as he was coming around the curve on Main Street from the west.

A few minutes later a police officer showed up.  After a brief conversation I was issued a careless driving ticket and we were all on our way.  As for my Christmas it was not going to set the record as the “best ever.”

Later that day I received a call at the Buttermilk Ticket Office where my Mom worked.  It was from the Aspen Police who needed to get some additional details regarding my accident.  The officer who wrote my ticket informed me that the ticket was being “thrown out” and I was not at fault for the accident.

Sitting at the big table in the Hickory House was a group of people who witnessed it all.  As soon as I had left but before the police officer could escape the scene they flagged him down.  Led by Harold “Puppy” Smith and a number of other witnesses, they informed the officer that Lyle had not come around on Main Street as he had claimed.  He had actually pulled a u-turn in the middle of the block across two pairs of double yellow lines and collided with me.  With that information the ticket was “thrown out” and a new citation was issued to Lyle.  As far as I was concerned that was the end of the ordeal and my Christmas was looking up after all! 

Not so fast…

Two months later we received a call from our insurance agent.  Lyle had filed a lawsuit against me and my insurance company.  He was seeking all damages be repaired and a small amount of punitive damages as well.  He was also requesting a civil trial by jury.  At the age of 16 I had never been sued before or even stepped foot into a courtroom.  Now, two weeks before my 17th birthday a court date was set and I was petrified.  My insurance company provided an attorney and they got detailed statements from me as well as the witnesses from the Hickory House.

In a pre-trial motion my attorney petitioned the court for a trial before a judge, allowing the judge to render a verdict after hearing all of the evidence.  The motion was accepted and the trial date was set.  We would be going before Judge Tam Scott in two weeks.

On the day of the trial we all assembled in the court room.  In all we had about 15 witnesses, an attorney from the insurance company, the police officer and my family.  Lyle showed up with a large display board and no one else.  He was going to defend himself.  The look on his face was priceless.

As the trial convened Lyle was asked to go first and make his case.  After about five minutes of him explaining in detail, complete with a map of the area, how he had come from the West around the curve only to have me enter the lane without any notice or indication he rested his case.

My attorney made a brief statement contradicting Lyle’s information and then Puppy Smith was called to make a statement.  As soon as Puppy stated that Lyle had actually pulled a U-turn, having just left the Hickory House himself, Judge Scott stopped the proceedings.  He asked Lyle to stand up and it began…

Over a span of five to ten minutes, the Judge explained to Lyle that he had not only broken numerous laws by his actions, he had put a cloud over a Christmas holiday for me, had wasted the time and money of many people including the court and worst of all he had perjured himself.  The verdict was complete.  Lyle got nothing, had to pay some court costs and was required to apologize to me on the record.

Years later I still run into Lyle on occasion.  He still remembers our encounter and no words are ever exchanged.

Aspen in the 1960’s

As a little boy growing up in Aspen, having a fishing license was as common as a set of Lincoln Logs.  Every little boy had both.  Before Aspen became the epicenter of “Catch & Release” we actually ate those little critters for breakfast straight from the Roaring Fork River through the bowl of beaten eggs, a couple of flips in Corn Meal and into the frying pan.  The entire trip took less than 30 minutes.

I remember being rudely awakened by my father more often than I want to remember, “Boys, why don’t you go catch us breakfast?”  It was really not a request and “No” was really not an option.  Into yesterdays clothes, and off to the river, my brother and I headed.  Back then it was more difficult to get out of bed then it was to actually catch something.  We would be back home in less than an hour including walking across town to and from the river.  We only needed six or so fish to feed the family and it took little or no time to catch that many.  My mom always cooked them with the heads still attached which meant not only could we eat our breakfast, but we could have some fun with it too.

My sisters joined us on the fishing expeditions sometimes as well; if they were already out of bed.  Back then it was not uncommon to see some of our friends out catching their breakfast at the same time.  Looking back, I actually enjoyed the fact that we could go fishing any time and without requiring permission from a local land owner or being limited to just a few spots along the river.  Access to the rivers in the valley was always open and easy to get to.  We even had our favorite fishing holes that no one else knew about.  We were able to keep what we caught, and each year it seemed like the rivers had more fish in them than the prior year, not less.  Brooks, Rainbows and Brown Trout, we caught them all, and I could never tell them apart once they were cooked, but I am sure someone could.

In the 1960’s, on cool mornings you could actually hear the roar of the river from just about anywhere in town.  That sound is gone, not only due to the fact that less water flows in the river, but because of all the houses, fences, brick walls, berms and cement retaining walls that now line the river.

I would be curious to know if anyone today ever wonders why they call that river “The Roaring Fork,” but if you lived in the valley in the 1960’s or earlier, you would know why.  I miss the sound of the river and the taste of fresh trout for breakfast.

Summer 1977

My days working at Hertz Rent-A-Car are filled with many fond and funny memories.   People from all walks of life rent cars and those same people come to visit Aspen.  These visitors have their reasons for being there, some come for vacation, others come to see if they might live there someday and still others come because their jobs sent them there.

On this particular day two middle aged gentlemen showed up at our rental counter without a reservation.  They needed a car, the least expensive one we had and they only needed it for a couple of hours.  The completed rental agreement showed that it was being billed to their employer, a company known as Oxford-Anschutz Corp. 

At their request, really their boss’s request, they needed the cheapest thing we had on the lot and we had just the car, a four year old Ford Pinto.  This car had seen better days and was rarely rented out, but they seemed OK with their transportation.  They told us they had to go look at some ranch property and would be back in a few hours.  Now these guys were not big by any stretch but in that car they looked like circus clowns as they drove off.

Four hours later the two gentlemen showed back up at our counter and they looked like that had gone to battle and lost.  They pulled out the rental contract which had been bunched up in a ball and was coated in mud.  When we asked them what had happened they just about died laughing and so the story goes….

When they got to the ranch they went through a gate and parked in the middle of a field.  There were a number of horses nearby but they paid them little attention as they went off to inspect the wells, property features and other aspects of the ranch.  Their employer was interested in purchasing the property and wanted someone to take a look at it.  Off in the distance they heard some “odd” noises but did not think much of it, that was until they returned to the car.  The Pinto that had been parked there an hour or so earlier now looked like an abandoned hunk of junk.  In their absence, one of the horses decided he did not like this new Pinto in his field and went about destroying it.  All the windows were broken, not a single side panel remained undamaged and there was blood and mud all over the car.  The roof was even slightly caved in.

Bleeding and muddy, the perpetrator stood nearby, looking like he was ready to take on these two men next.  The two of them stated that they climbed into what was left of the Pinto, luckily enough it started, and they got the “hell outta there!”

Their boss may have been cheap but, on this day the two men did spring for the insurance even though it added a dollar to the cost of their rental.  Good thing!

The lesson learned here was never to leave a four year old Pinto in a corral with a two year old Quarter Horse.  By the way, the Anschutz family purchased that ranch in addition to the one in they have owned in Carbondale for the past century.

Summer – 1974?

Our summer breaks from school and college were filled with work and time to get outside and play.  This meant jeeping, hiking, camping, flying and playing golf to name a few of the many activities.  Did I mention golf?

In the 1960’s and 70’s the public golf course was home to a “Pro Shop,” hotel and a pretty decent restaurant.  My friends and I would often spend our days off hanging around the golf course, hitting buckets of balls, snacking in the restaurant and being general nuisances to the golf pros.  We even worked stints as caddies or sales associates in the pro shop.  The golf course manager back then was Yvonne Tache’.  He was a strict individual who ran things his way and did a good job at it.  We always knew where we stood with him and it was not always a good thing.

Yvonne always watched out for us and if a foursome came available he would let us know.  Looking back, I think he tried to get us out of his hair for awhile by sending us out for a round.  On this particular day I do not remember who I was playing golf with.  I have a good idea, but they will remain nameless just in case I am wrong. 

The beauty of playing golf in Aspen is that you are at a higher altitude to begin with so your drives go further and fly higher.  It is a real ego boost for a substandard player such as me.   The golf course has been redesigned many times since the 1970’s but back then Fairway Seven was along the back of the course just off of Cemetery Lane and Bonita Drive.  It was a long hole with relatively few hazards, except on this day.

The four of us had just teed off and were headed in the direction of our respective golf balls.  Just after leaving the Tee Box a golfer from behind us yelled, “Heads!”  As we turned to see what was up a glider flew about 12 feet over our heads and landed in the middle of the fairway.   We started to run in the direction of the downed plane as the occupants exited the aircraft.  They were fine and the glider sustained no visible damage.

In no time the fairway filled up with Police SAABs, fire trucks and Deiter Bibbig’s jeep (he owned the Glider).  We picked up our golf balls and headed for the next hole.  Later that day, the landing was the talk of the town.  As suspected, the glider had encountered a downdraft that prevented it from making it safely back to the airport.

Spring – 1976

As soon as I got my driver’s license my first stop was to go see Dale over at the Hertz Rent-A-Car agency.  At the time, the local Hertz office was owned and operated by Reid Miller Enterprises out of Grand Junction, Colorado.  The local manager was Dale Wilson and he was just about the nicest man on earth.  I had met him even before I learned to drive as my older brother had worked for him one summer.  He always said, “As soon as you get your license, come see me.”  That is just what I did.

The Hertz office was located in the Holiday Inn lobby just west of town.  The Avis office was there as well.  When I showed up, Dale knew exactly why I was there and he put me to work on the spot.  At first my job was to “shag” cars, which meant cleaning and filling them up with gas.  We had our own tanks at the time and kept a power wash out by them.  As soon as I “prepped” the cars I would put them back on the line and available for rent.  I loved this job as I was able to drive all kinds of cars and go out on the “ramp” at the airport.

Ramp duty included driving around all the parked aircraft and pulling up to the jets and Turbo-Props before the pilots even turned off their engines.  As someone who grew up loving all things “aviation” this was a great job.

Over time I picked up or dropped off a lot of famous people at the airport.  Now when I say famous, I am not only speaking of the “Hollywood types” although there were plenty of them.  I have always admired successful entrepreneurs and business titans which Aspen hosted plenty of as well, some of which were certainly famous in their own right.  So who is Frank Stanton?

One rainy day, an older couple came in to turn in their car and requested a ride to “Monarch Aviation” which at the time was the fixed based operator for private aircraft.  I volunteered the duty as I was glad to go do something.  This was a quiet time of the year and there was not much going on.

We arrived at the ramp only to learn that their jet was in a “holding pattern” above the field due to poor visibility and rain.  With nothing to do back at the office, I volunteered to wait with them.  We sat on the bench out in front of the Monarch Aviation office.  Our conversation quickly covered their visit to Aspen, their journey home to New York City and what kind of plane was coming to pick them up.  I learned that they were being picked up in a Rockwell Sabreliner 65 owned by one of the Television Networks.  Their names were Frank and Sarah Stanton (I had never heard of them.)

As time passed they asked me what I was studying in school and what other interests I had.  I promptly told them of my love of aviation and my hopes to get my pilots license some day.  After 30 or 40 minutes of waiting with the plane still stranded in the skies above, I reluctantly bid my new friends farewell and a safe journey home.  I needed to get back to the rental office.  As I got up to leave, Mr. Stanton handed me a check and said, “Thanks.”  Sarah politely informed me that they wanted to help me learn to fly.  I put the check in my pocket without looking at it and waved goodbye.

When I got back to the office I looked at the check and noticed it was made out for $350.00.  The memo line said, “10 hours of flying.”  I showed it to Dale and although he did not know who Sarah and Frank Stanton were either, he did offer to help me spend my new found wealth.

At home that night I asked my parents who Frank Stanton was.  My dad told me about how he had basically built the Columbia Broadcasting System (CBS) and really brought television “sitcoms” to the masses.  By the time I met him he had had been retired for about three years from the network.  The two of them were very active with the American Red Cross.

During his years with CBS he was credited with the careers of many successful performers including Jackie Gleason and Lucy.  I was disappointed to learn that he was behind the cancellation of “The Wild Wild West” show in 1970 as he deemed it too violent.

My chance encounter with Sarah and Frank Stanton is still one of my fondest memories from my years working at Hertz.

“Frank passed away in December 2006 at the age of 97”

 

Summer – 1981

During the summer of 1981 I worked for the Hertz Rent-a-Car agency in their Aspen office.  I had worked there over the years and always enjoyed the job.  Over time the branch had resided at different locations including Monarch Aviation’s “On Field” location, the lobby of the old Holiday Inn at the base of Buttermilk and finally in the main terminal building.  For executives and private aircraft owners we provided a service to drop them off at their aircraft after returning their cars.  I made many trips that summer out onto the airport ramp to deliver passengers to their aircraft or pick them up.  In mid-June while delivering an executive of Atlantic Richfield (ARCO) to his Gulfstream II, I observed two Lockheed Jetstars (N530G and N540G) as well as a Gulfstream II (N830G) parked at the far end of the ramp.  There was also an additional Gulfstream II parked nearby.  It caught my attention as one of the Jetstars had been in on numerous occasions over the years.  I knew it belonged to Continental Oil (Conoco).  Since the other Jetstar as well as the Gulfstream II had the same paint scheme and similar registration numbers it was safe to assume they belonged to Conoco as well.  I did not recognize the other Gulfstream and did not think I had seen it on the ramp in the past.

I gave it little thought, assuming it was just another oil company retreat.  Aspen had hosted many such retreats for Atlantic Richfield, Standard Oil of Ohio (Amoco) and other large oil companies.  Later that day I found out it belonged to E. I. du Pont de Nemours and Company.  Even that did not cause me to give it much more thought.

At the time I was unaware that Conoco was the object of a rather hostile bidding war between Dome Petroleum, Joseph E. Seagram & Sons Inc. and other lesser known entities.  These companies were attempting to take over Conoco and none of the suitors were of great interest to Conoco’s board.  They were hoping to be acquired by a financially stable, strong company that would not acquire Conoco only to dismantle it out of existence.

Although I have never been able to confirm the nature of the meeting in Aspen between the two companies, it is a fact that Conoco’s board did approach duPont in an attempt to be acquired by them.  The meeting in Aspen must have been one of the earliest of their merger talks as Aspen provided a good airport for executive jets, excellent meeting facilities and it was an “out of the way” location where their meeting would not attract much attention.

Less than three months later, on Sept. 30, 1981, Conoco became a wholly owned DuPont subsidiary.

There is some speculation that ARCO’s ultimate fate to be acquired by British Petroleum (BP) may have been decided in Aspen as well.  Back then aircraft ownership was not a very well kept secret; it was easy to figure out who the owners or operators were.  In today’s security conscious world, aircraft ownership is usually hidden within a series of entities that do not point back to the actual owner or operator of the aircraft.