He put that Mac through it's paces, didn't he. A guy at Mentone nudged me and said, 'I can't tell if that feller is flying that thing or wearing it'. I told Dad later that night, he shook his head and laughed. He would love your analogy about stealing it... so true.
Art was one of a kind, the way his brain works is amazing. He adapted his knowledge of military tanks to residential mowers and created (I believe) the first zero-turn mowers as Dixie Chopper. Art brought a prototype to the airport in the early 80s and let me hop on. I mowed the entire airport, runway, field, parking lot, driveway access and both sides of the county road. I told Dad I would take over the mowing at home if he bought one. He had that check written before I finished my sentence. We had it 15 years, I bought it from my parents and owned it another 6 years. He said it was the best investment he ever made.
Back to Art- we often rode together in the RV and I asked a question once. Art looked at me for the longest time- I thought he either believed I was an idiot or didn't hear me- either way, I returned to my book. Several minutes later he gathered a pen and paper, changed seats, cleared his throat and gave me a lesson on flight dynamics that lasted the better part of two states. Again, I could see Dad chuckling because he knew I was looking for a yes or no answer. I was super careful what I asked Art after that. (smile)
Mike, thank you for the kind words and memories about my Dad. He absolutely thought of you as family. I won't go into detail for his own privacy, but he grew up poor, hungry and rougher than most during that time. Some parts aren't secret- the scar down his forehead was from a hoe his mother swung during a drunken rage. Before that, she opened the door of a moving car to throw his brother out. His sister drowned her son- I think both of them, but he asked me to stop digging. By the time he dropped out of school in 9th grade, he was already a frequent flier with the police, our family name well known.
He had the grit to know he was better than the hand he was dealt. He was married to my awesome Mom for 20 years, had my sister and I (me being the favorite), a good dog and a successful company. But he still longed for a place to belong, to thrive.
An otherwise uneventful day in 1979 in Indianapolis changed everything - he swung around after a contraption at a used car lot caught his eye. It was the ramshackle frame of a thing that may or may not fly, but he wasn't leaving without it. For months he poured over outdated flight manuals on a TV tray after supper in the spare bedroom. Somehow- thankfully- he found PRA and the rest is history. The new friends, the support system, challenges, rapport and sense of purpose and desire to learn changed him. He was happier and more driven than ever.
Years later the Mentone airport came on short sale. PRA had outgrown it's headquarters at George Charlet's funeral home and Jennifer Gilmore blindly agreed to move to Indiana. A contract was drawn and they funded the airport. Jennifer packed her bags and manned the day-to-day operations of our group for years. That's a topic for another day, but PRA owes it's (modern) soul to her and I will absolutely die on that hill.
I don't know Arts' situation, but Dad felt like he was finally able to give back, after so long. Some people weren't happy with the decision, claimed they were trying to profit, etc. What they didn't see were the small things that happened everyday behind the scenes... they paid for dumpsters, t-posts, flagging, tents, signage, gravel, mowing and irrigation out of their own pockets. When the annual raffle was a bit lean, they tossed in money and I wrote random members' names for prizes. They paid for food, fuel, and even memberships for others. I found a file of letters after his death addressed to 'Nazi Gary' with comments saying 'God sees you' 'Hope you crash soon' and swastikas over his photo.
The purchase may not have been the long-term solution, but it was the best solution at the time.
I do feel PRA would benefit by hosting travelling Conventions every other year. Kosciusko County is great, but when vacation days are at stake, a family with kids -the prospective target audience- want to see more than the World's Largest Egg. There was excitement and great interest when the Convention was hosted in different parts of the country.
I didn't intend to write this much, but hopefully it fills in a few blanks. ~shelly
