Winter 1970

The Learjet 25 came from out of know where, 100 feet above the sundeck and heading down the ridge over Ruthie’s and eventually turning sharp towards the northwest as Shadow Mountain dropped off below them to the valley floor.  The film crew applauded themselves for a job well done but the lead photographer wanted to a “do over.”

A brief conversation over a two-way radio and the jet climbed vertically as it crossed over the mid-field of Sardy Field, Aspen’s local airport.  Still a bit surprised and excited about its first pass over the top of Aspen Mountain, just a mere 100 feet or less above us, I could now look forward for a second pass and this time I knew it was coming.

Painted a light brown on the bottom and the customary white on top, this Learjet was a beautiful sight.  The logo on the tail was un-familiar and the words down the side of the jet left more questions than answers, Elk Horn at Sun Valley.  What was this plane doing in Aspen and why was there a film crew in tow?

The Next day I was out visiting my friends in the tower out at the airport and much to my surprise the Jet was parked nearby.  Again the aircraft was surrounded by photographers as the plane started its engines and taxied out.  The film crew proceeded out to the taxi way and set up their cameras.  As the plane passed them during its take-off roll all the cameras were abuzz.  Once again, this was not the plane’s last appearance.  Moments later as radio transmission, played on the ramp’s loudspeakers, was a conversation between the tower and the Learjet’s pilots, they were requesting permission to make a high speed, low altitude pass over the runway.

With all the other aircraft traffic cleared from the vicinity of the airport permission was granted for the pass.  By this time everyone on the ramp knew what was about to happen and we were all lined up along the edge of the ramp as close to the runway as possible.

The fly-by was over with a blink of an eye and before you knew it the jet was climbing out nearly vertical over Shale Bluff.  A second request was made by the pilots for another pass which was quickly granted as the plane came back around over Buttermilk Mountain and headed straight in for runway 15.  This time we were in for an even bigger treat.  As the plane approached the end of the runway the landing gear was retracted and the jet dropped to about 50 feet off the ground.  It sped up as it approached mid-field and began a vertical climb just as it passed the film crew and spectators.  It climbed so steep and so fast that you could see the top of the jet as it went skyward.

Within minutes the film crew packed up and left and the jet was never seen again.  I later learned that a new resort just outside of Sun Valley, Idaho was about to open and the developers needed some good photos of the area for the clientele they were hoping to attract there.  Since the resort was not yet complete, Aspen was used as a “stand in” for the marketing department.  As a ten year old aviation enthusiast who spent considerable time hanging out at the airport, this was a pretty exciting weekend and memorable to say the least.

1970’s

During my high school years I hung out with a number of good friends, most notably Mark Menscher and his younger brother Steve.  They lived down on Meadows Lane which was a short walk from my house.  We spent a good amount of time at each other’s homes after school, on weekends and during the summers.

During that time the Menschers had a number of pets including Grey, which was an Australian Sheepdog or a similar breed.  Grey was a fun dog and always loved to hang out with us.  She rarely left the confines of their yard, preferring to stay close to home.  That was with one exception.

Somewhere along in Grey’s early years she had somehow convinced herself that the only way to stay alive during a thunder storm was to run and keep running as long at the lightning continued to strike and the thunder continued to boom.  She would also spend the entire time on the run barking as if to scare the storm away. If she were locked in the house she would find a way out even if it meant breaking down a screen door or running through a pane of glass.  If you stood in her way she would bark and jump at you until you let her out.  Over time the Menschers learned it was easier to let her out than to fight her to stay in the house.

The close proximity to their house also meant our house was on her usual lightning route and we could count on a hasty visit through our neighborhood and the entire “West End” during every summer storm.  You could never catch her during her lightning evasion and as soon as the storm was over she would return to the safety of her yard as if nothing ever happened.

Grey was still on the run every summer up to the year I graduated high school in 1979 as I went off to college.  I am not sure how long she continued her lightning runs but by the grace of god it never struck her down.