Posts Tagged ‘Pittsburgh’
Alis victoriae, deux
Thursday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As described yesterday, a humble narrator was tipped off by a neighbor that a museum aviation outfit, based in Arizona, would be making a July 4th oriented week long stand at Allegheny County Airport here in Pittsburgh.
They flew out two of their planes – a B-17 and a B-25 Mitchell – with the latter being the focal point of today’s post and the former yesterday’s. Links to information on both planes, the airport, and some general WW2 stuff were embedded in the prior post, so scroll down if you’re curious about such things.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The Wings of Victory people had set up ladders, of a common variety, to facilitate the climb up into the planes. Once within, you needed to drop down to all fours to move through its confines for an interval, at which point you were able to stand up but needed to stay stooped over. It was very quarters tight within, but these are warplanes and they weren’t built for comfort or for modern day American bodies.
These are still operational aircraft, as a note, and were flown here.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
From the prone position, this was what I saw while looking towards the nose of the plane. Below was the fore gunner’s station, above, the pilot and co-pilot/radio operator seats. I clumsily reoriented myself towards the neck of the plane, which would carry me through the bomb rack.
That’s right about when I started feeling a bit claustrophobic.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Squeezing through the breech above required sucking in the gut, but the buttons on my shirt were still clicking against the metal. All the kids on the tour jumped through like deer, whereas me and all the other fat assed old men had to turn sideways and hope for the best.
Americans were physically smaller back then, in stature and especially in body weight. Back then, the average height on a draftee was just under 5’ 8,” and their weight would have been about 150 lbs.
Modern day yanks… we don’t have lived knowledge of famine, drought, or financial depressions like they did back then. We’ve been very well fed, as a country, for the last 80 years. In 2024, the average weight of an American male is 197.9 lbs.
On the bomber doors and bomb bay walls, several former service members had left behind autographs with their unit information.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
All of the kids were having an absolute blast, and were allowed somewhat free rein to explore. As you’d imagine, those machine guns on the windows were often grasped and ‘choom-choom-choom-gigatah-gigetah-gigateh’ sounds were enunciated more than once.
After leaving the plane, and checked the time on my phone, it was time to leave as I had another destination for the afternoon. I had driven here, so it’d be reached by automobile. It’s still quite novel owning a car, after all those years living in the center of NYC.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
On my way out of Allegheny County Airport and to the parking lot, I noticed that the emergency fire unit, which is housed on the airport property, had just deployed their trucks in front of the hangar/garage which they operate out of. Neat.
My next destination was about a 25 minute long drive away, but more on that tomorrow.
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Alis victoriae
Wednesday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
‘Wings of Victory’ is what today’s Latin title translates to, and it’s the name of a fantastic aviation museum group which flew two WW2 era aircraft to the 1931 vintage Allegheny County Airport, found in Pittsburgh’s West Mifflin section. The airport is built on top of a steel industry slag heap, as much of West Mifflin is. Wings of Victory were offering public facing tours of their equipment, which drew me in.
My neighbor Dwight turned me onto the outfit’s presence here in town, so I checked their website and schedule, and drove over to the airport to buy a ticket for the ‘ground tour.’
The price for that was supposed to be $15, but I think that the lady at the till figured me for a senior citizen because of the gray beard, and only charged me $10. Hey, maybe this ‘crazy old bastard’ thing isn’t just all terrifying doctor’s appointments, after all.
There’s discounts!
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Taking a ride in a plane this old just ain’t in the cards for me, as I’m fairly unlucky – and certainly not at $500 a seat – which is what the ‘air tour’ cost. Yikes. The ground tour ticket led me onto the deck at the airport, where the two museum planes awaited. They are both still in working order, I’d remind.
There was a B-17 Flying Fortress (above), and a B-25 Mitchell.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The B-25 is one of several reasons that many people around the world rue the day that someone in their government decided to start a war with the United States. It’s the same model of the planes (developed under the command of General Billy Mitchell) that the American Military had designed the ‘Doolittle Raid’ around, which struck the Japanese home islands with a surprise bombing experience that occurred in April of 1942, and was led by Lt. Col. James Doolittle.
This was just the beginning of a vulgar display of industrial prowess which led first to the Battle of Midway, and then the 1944 emergence of the B-29 Superfortress aircraft (which carried massive fire and explosive bombs, and then the Atom Bombs) just a couple of years later.
The physical embodiments of ‘eff around and find out,’ American style.
Lessons learned by a nervous world, afterwards, included the idea that when a giant is sleeping you don’t antagonize it unduly.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Part of the ‘ground tour’ involved being able to actually enter the plane’s interior and do a walk through. Observationally, the crews on these planes were rather skinny fellows of small stature.
I realized that I was way too fat and old to have defended my country in the Second World War very quickly. You climb a few steps on a normal ladder, and then get down on all fours inside for a quick crawl to an internally installed step ladder that takes you into the ‘neck’ of the craft. The pilot and radio operator’s area was off limits, but I managed to crack out a couple of zoomed in shots.
This one was gathered on the B-17, btw.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The B-17 was clearly the crowd’s favorite, and had the longest line to get onboard. There were Grandparent and Grandkid combinations all over the place, and the kids in particular were going nuts over all this excitement – especially with all the machine guns which were arrayed all over the things.
Some of the folks from the Wings of Victory outfit were telling tales and reporting history, and it seems that both planes saw action in the European theater of WW2.
The B-25, in particular, was one of only about thirty survivors of the model which can still fly.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I got on the line to check out the B-17’s interior, which was pretty cramped within, truth be told.
Shots of the B-25 will be on display tomorrow.
Back then, with more.
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Corrumpere meum braccas
Tuesday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The Latin title above roughly translates to ‘crapping my pants,’ which is what I was doing while on my way to an eye doctor’s appointment.
Last time around with this particular doc, the conversation included him saying ‘well, you’re lucky that it’s not affecting your vision yet.’
Between the first appointment and this one which Pittsburgh’s Blue Line T light rail was carrying me towards, I had described the diagnosis to another doctor – a Cardiologist – during a checkup earlier in the month. A rather amiable and cheery guy, as far as heart specialists go, he said ‘oh, no problem, I’m just going to adjust your prescriptions’ so just let me know what happens.
A word of advice that I can offer any of you – lords and ladies – regarding the medical establishment, is that you need to transmit your tales to them in some excruciating detail. You are the only connective thread and there is no master file which they refer to. When you are sitting in the paper robe on the bench, the ‘must’ is to transmit the totality of everything you’ve got going on – from the Dentist to the Podiatrist – and you need to do it quick.
I’ve got a 5-7 minute sum up of everything that’s ever happened to me, going back to a tonsillectomy inflicted when I was a six year old, but already quite humble, narrator.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As an aside, the tonsil thing still stays with me, in dreams.
Back in 1973 Brooklyn, it was still common for Doctors to operate out of a private house, and to maintain operating theaters therein for minor procedures. I cannot ever forget having my child head strapped down to a gurney on Farragut Road. A wire meshed mask, with a layer of cotton fitted onto it, was placed over my nose and mouth. Next, Ether was poured from a brown bottle into the cotton, and the world went away until I woke up in the back of the old man’s Plymouth.
I complained about my sore throat in the car on the way home. I was told to suck it up, and that it was stupid for me to think that surgery wouldn’t hurt, and that I should get used to pain because ‘you were put on this earth to suffer.’ Oh, that Mother of mine… so nurturing…
At Waxhaus, my grandmother soon arrived and mixed up some ‘banana mush’ for me – since she knew that’s what Magilla Gorilla would want in such circumstance, and that I kind of had a Magilla Gorilla ‘thing’ going on at the time. (…I later learned the ‘mush’ was milk, sugar, and a banana that she had squished up with a fork…)
The medical condition in question is something which I’m keeping the specifics of to myself, but the worst case scenario stemming from it involves the retina in my right eye being damaged – beyond repair – and blindness springing up in the organ.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Speaking strictly as a visual artist – ARGGHHHHH. The only good news would be having a reason to wear an eye patch – which I could definitely pull off mind you – but I really enjoy binocular vision, and the eye I squish the camera against is the one in question, so… ARGGHHHHH.
I was early, as is my habit. Needing a place to sit down for a few minutes before crossing the breech, I spotted a park bench. It just so happened to be on the property of St. Thomas More RC church, but that’s just a coincidence, it was just directly across the street from the medical office building. I wasn’t praying or anything, as a note, just trespassing.
In the end, the Ophthalmologist told me that the condition had lessened in severity since our last meeting, thought to be in no doubt due to the intervening changes in medication which my Cardiologist had instituted. See what I mean about cogently reporting your story to the Docs? It helps in keeping people from sticking hypodermic needles in your eyes.
Back tomorrow, and back to the usual folderol.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
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Doom walking
Friday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Good news is that I don’t seem to be going blind, or at least not yet. Bad news is that I have to go back to the Ophthalmologist again in August to confirm that. During this walk, the binary of whither or won’t was ruling my thoughts.
There’s all sorts of things going on behind the scenes here at Newtown Pentacle that I don’t really like to discuss with the outside world, I’d mention. I’d much rather tell you what kind of a jackass I am, or describe the psychic torments I inflict upon myself instead of discussing the many existential issues which have popped up in my late 50’s. Maybe even just chatter on about what sort of media I’m consuming.
To wit: Having finished a listen of Mike Duncan’s ‘History of Rome’ podcast’s 179th episode, I considered jumping right into Lars Brownworth’s ‘12 Byzantine Rulers’ podcast, but decided to stay in Western Europe, for Mr. Brownworth’s ‘Norman Centuries’ instead. I’ll likely rewind back to Constantinople afterwards.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
This section of Pittsburgh is called the South Side Slopes, and it’s defined by how steep the grade of the land is. An accommodation installed on those steep hills are sets of municipal or ‘City Steps.’
It has been a couple of months since I scuttled through here, and surmounted the ‘German Square Steps,’ and that was my goal for the afternoon before heading over to the light rail station and catching a ‘Blue’ Line T, which would drop me off within a couple of blocks of my doctor’s appointment.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I’m so old now that Joe Biden is only 24 years older than me. Holey moley.
More next week from the steps pictured above, and a special treat will be coming towards the end of the week which I’m pretty excited to share.
My Doctor’s appointment worked out well, and the diagnosis wasn’t terribly grim after all as my potentially horrific situation seems to be resolving itself. Doesn’t mean I’m not a jackass and that everybody doesn’t hate me, though. Really, I’m just the worst.
Back next week.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
Buy a book!
“In the Shadows at Newtown Creek,” an 88 page softcover 8.5×11 magazine format photo book by Mitch Waxman, is now on sale at blurb.com for $30.
Outside, always
Wednesday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
After quaffing an adult beverage at a local brewery, and getting a couple of shots of a passing train, it was time to scuttle back to the T light rail station for my ride back to HQ. This was to be the ultimate T ride home for me, as the next day a prolonged interval of maintenance would begin and the light rail service serving my particular paradigm will be unavailable until autumn. They’re running shuttle buses in the interim, the Governmental Transit agency is, but it ain’t the same for one such as myself.
While shlepping along, I kept on shooting.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
There are three active light rail lines which disperse into Pittsburgh’s South Hills region – red, blue, and silver. The Red one is getting the maintenance attention, and that’s the one which HQ is found along, unfortunately and of course.
As mentioned yesterday, it was ungodly hot out on this particular evening, and I couldn’t help but remark on the fantastic luck of walking in direct sunlight for most of it. Good stuff.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Luckily, the light rail service station was held in total shadow. Unluckily, the maintenance work, further upstream on the service, saw me cooling my heels there for the better part of an hour waiting for the correct light rail train set to arrive and carry me home. Bah!
The thing finally arrived, and I shoveled my sloppy from sweating pre carcass onboard and found a seat.
Back tomorrow.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
Buy a book!
“In the Shadows at Newtown Creek,” an 88 page softcover 8.5×11 magazine format photo book by Mitch Waxman, is now on sale at blurb.com for $30.
The Newtown Pentacle 