As far back as I can remember,
music has been a major part of my life, and it still is today. But
this isn't about music, it's about how it manifested itself in
different ways over the years. One of those ways was electronics. We
all know that electronics has greatly advanced the field of music,
and vise versa. Even as a pre-teen I began to realize there was a
difference between what I was hearing at the theatre, or the juke
box at the Snack Shack, compared to an ordinary radio. This
observation was the path to amplifiers, large speakers and the world
of electronics.
After I graduated from high school in 1957, I had just finished my
first phase of an electronics correspondent course from DeVry Tech.
in Chicago. It was a pretty good course and I felt very confident
about my knowledge of basic electronics. This dabbling in
electronics lead to a close encounter of the strangest kind with
NASA. Early in 1958 I learned they were conducting an entrance exam
for perspective astronauts and other personnel in the space program.
This sounded like a good career and I decided to investigate it
further. In order to take this exam I had to meet one of two
requirements. I had to have flown model airplanes, or have my novice
radio operator’s license. Simple enough, I decided to get a model
airplane. I used to watch people fly model planes in Alderson, so
with that experience under my belt, I went to Lewisburg and bought a
little plastic plane with a gasoline motor. It was called “Little
Stinker” with a decal of a skunk that was winking at you. That
probably was a clue of things to come.
The field across from our
house on Maple Ave. was empty and looked like a good place to fly
the plane. It was used as a garden and there was nothing there at
the moment, except some weeds and rows of uneven ground. It became
clear it would be impossible to get this small plane to roll on this
surface, so I got my friend David Honaker to help me. After we
finally got the engine started I ran and pick up the outstretched
lines with the control handle, while David waited until I was ready.
I stood there for a moment anticipating my first flight as David
launched the plane. With the little engine screaming at full RPM, it
went straight up in the air about 25 feet, and then straight back
down to the ground. Scratch one model airplane. “Little Stinker” had
flown it's one and only flight. A very, very short one at that.
Flying model planes was not as easy as I thought and as you can
tell, I gave it up very quickly. The only other course was to get my
novice radio licenses. One day while in Red Nickell's store, I
mentioned to Red what I was doing. Red was a radio operator in World
War II, was proficient in Morris Code and offered to tutor me. For a
lot of nights after supper we would sit at his kitchen table and
practice sending the code back and forth. When he thought I was
ready, he took me to a friend of his in Hinton, who was an amateur
radio operator, and he was qualified by the FCC to give the test for
a novice licenses. I passed my test and submitted my application to
NASA at Langley Field, in Hampton Va. To my delight I was invited to
take that test.
Homer Perdue was the janitor of our high school in Alderson and his
son worked for NASA at Langley Field. Homer called him and told him
my intentions and that I would be there. My mother and I drove down
to Hampton the day before the exam and met Homer’s son. He was very
nice and took us on a tour of the NASA facilities. The only thing I
remembered was about 100 plastic molds of the seats that went into
the space craft. The way they had them line up in rows and face down
on the floor, reminded me of many people praying on their knees. The
next day I took the test. I was one of 500 young men in a large
utility room with rows of tables and chairs. The big difference
between me and the other guys was I shouldn't have been there in the
first place. The only thing that I was certain of was I used a
pencil for the test. I don't remember if I got any of the questions
correct. I received a letter from them later telling me they
selected only 50 out of the 500 and needless to say, I wasn’t one of
them. For NASA’s sake, it was a good thing. But my career at NASA
resembled the flight of "Little Stinker"; so much promise, but
quickly crashed to the ground.
In my immaturity, I don't
remember being concerned that I didn't make it. There was some
relief in knowing I wouldn't have to go through something with such
unknown factors. Although the interest in electronics momentarily
lead me through an interesting adventure, it didn't work out. It
did, however, serve me well a little later in life, which, my
friends, is another story altogether.