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Crusty?

I very much enjoyed the vid, Tree. It sort of reminded me of a 16mm film called "Masters of the Sky" I carried around and used as a promotional film when I had my own drop zone years ago. I operated a tiny DZ outside of Lakeland near Z-Hills in the mid-70's, so there are lot of memories in your piece. Good job! Mike Marcon

JM, it can be found on my website at www.mikemarcon.info Thanks!

That's outstanding!

Bill, the liver's good! I've got a photo of Frenchy standing next to his bike with Carolyn Cassio (ParaPig) in a bikini stretched out across the bike's seat. Ha!

Just for the sheer fun of it, I thought I'd post this for the amazement and enjoyment of the neophytes here. You older guys will relate. It's a chapter out of my last book, "Red Beans & Ripcords." Chapter Four Cardinal Puff Most of our jumpers came in from places like Baton Rouge or Mobile and some as far away as Europe. Occasionally floating through were members of the U.S. Army Parachute Team, the “Golden Knights.” Nearly every week-end, we had several people overnight in tents or on the floor at my apartment. (I had moved up in the world.) Some stayed for weeks at a time. New Orleans was only about 60 miles away and it was as much an attraction for some of them as the jumping. We kept the prices for jump tickets, an aircraft boarding pass, as cheap as possible, and that was another attraction for them. I usually got to the airport early in the morning and was never surprised to find somebody sleeping in their car or balled up on the ground in a sleeping bag. There were always new people coming to jump and life was full of surprises. But no surprise was one activity that took place at the Center along with the jumping – partying. We had a hard and fast rule, however. No alcohol during the day while jump operations were going on. But when jumping was done for the day, coolers popped open. Things could get crazy after that. Jumpers aren’t your usual party people. Most of them, not all are classic risk takers and the old saw, “Here, honey, hold my beer -- watch this…” was in frequent use. Now, we weren’t your typical drinkers. We were noble drinkers with distinct classes within our small society. One could always choose to opt out of the class structure we had established. But you were considered cowardly in some way if you never made the attempt to enter. Not that anyone ever said anything to you. We merely allowed you to hover on the fringes and suffer in your own pangs of remorse at not having tried to gain the rank. When you did ask to be considered for membership, you had to do so formally. This is how it worked. You would approach a jumper who had successfully passed the ritual’s demands, such as a ranking Cardinal or a Cardinal Supreme, a Bishop, or better yet, a Pope. Then, in all humility, you would ask words to the effect, “May I become a Cardinal, sir?” If granted an attempt, your initiation would begin. You would take a seat at a table across from the ranking Cardinal. In a very high and ceremonious fashion, he would lean across the table and fill a glass to the brim with beer. You would then be shown, once, the following demonstration and would then be expected to repeat it yourself making not one mistake, no matter how small. There could be no spillage of beer whatsoever. Once finished with a successful attempt, your glass would be tipped upside down. You were allowed not one remaining drop. During the ceremony, you would have to perform this: Hold the glass at the rim with your thumb and forefinger and hoist it outwards, saying, "I drink to the honorable Cardinal Puff for the first time tonight." Then consume what you can but not the whole glass. You will have to make five more swallows from what is left. Then, tap the glass, once on the tabletop, and set it down. Then, with the forefinger of each hand, tap the tabletop alternating left and right, then tap the underside of the tabletop, tap each thigh top, stomp each foot, stand up, then sit down once. Then grab the glass again, hoist it aloft using the thumb, index and forefinger and toast, "To the Cardinal Puff Puff, for the second time this evening." Then drink two more swallows, tap the glass twice on the table top, then use two fingers and repeat the first step (tap, tap, etc...) On the third try, you will say, "I drink to the Cardinal Puff, Puff, Puff, for the third and final time this evening." Hoist the glass using your thumb, and three fingers and consume the rest of the remaining brew in three separate drinks making sure there is none left in the glass. With three fingers, repeat the tapping sequence (three times each, obviously). Upon finishing the tapping sequence and the sitting sequence, you take the glass with an inverted grip and proclaim "Once a Cardinal, always a Cardinal, never spill a drop." While proclaiming this, you invert the glass, release your grip and then invert (to upright) again. There should be no liquid from the glass on the tabletop from the inverted glass. If there is, you repeat the whole process again! If there is none, the ruling Cardinal will ask you, "Are you a Cardinal?" To which you shall reply, "You bet your sweet ass I am!" Any other answer is unacceptable and results in having to repeat the whole process again. Then in the future, if you are approached and asked "Are you a Cardinal?" The only answer can be, "You bet your sweet ass I am." The person asking the question may then challenge you by saying, "Prove it." The person asking must be a Cardinal and prove they are by performing the ritual before you do. The basic level is Cardinal Puff, accomplished by using one large glass of beer. To become a Bishop requires two full glasses of beer; the first glass is fully consumed on round one, then parts two and three on glass two. Arch Bishop takes three full glasses, one for each part of the game. Pope requires a pitcher. In order to proceed up the ranks, you have to accomplish each rank ritual before it at one sitting! Now as one might imagine, this ceremony requires high volumes of alcohol. But we did not do this every time we gathered. It was only those times that an uninitiated lurker hovering on the fringes of our Cardinal Puff aristocracy screwed up his courage and asked that the ritual be demonstrated, that the beer flowed in such quantities. Now, each Cardinal Puff or higher rank giving a demonstration had his own moral standards when overseeing a new initiate attempting to perform the sacrament. An applicant could be “called” for anything large or small in detail, be it the manner in which they held the glass or sat in their chair. But, usually, applicants would quickly defeat themselves with a misstep in movements, whether it be missing a series of taps, or not standing then sitting when appropriate. When mistakes were made, judgment was swift. And the sentence was always the same: hang the glass to your lips and immediately drink the entire contents and keep the glass suspended at the lips until only “dust” remained or you were given permission to remove it. This is where the real merriment began, for the drunker one became, the harder it was to perform the complexities of the game and the more one failed, the more one wanted to pass. So more drinking would ensue, insuring that nearly everyone involved would, sooner or later, pass out. Somewhere in there, between the beginnings of the victim attempting to pass the test multiple times and the passing out came high, loud stages of drunkenness and new games would start to be invented that usually had something to do with elevated states of bravado caused by elevated amounts of alcohol. Two come to mind. The first was Light Socket Cardinal. The other was Dead Ant. Light Socket Cardinal was a pure game of dangerous dare. It required one to be too drunk to think rationally. It was quite simple. The applicant would have to ask for a ritual. Usually that was in the form of a highly slurred request, as in, “Shur? Wanna show it to me?” Now, by this time, the individual giving the demo was simply being invited to stick a finger in an empty light socket as a demonstration. Everybody already knew what this game was about. Either the socket would be electrified or not. I only ever saw one guy take the challenge and he didn’t know that the lamp was unplugged but he did it anyway. The challenger was already too drunk to see it and they argued about it the entire next day as to whether or the guying performing the challenge actually did it. The next level of drunken gamesmanship, Dead Ant, had to take place at a bar with several inebriated jumpers sitting on barstools late at night just before the bar was due to close. I saw this game played many times resulting in several concussions. The guys would all be sitting at the bar, chatting up girls or discussing all things parachuting or telling war stories when someone suddenly called out “DEAD ANT!” On that command, you were to push immediately, straight back as hard as you could, and land flat on your back with your arms and legs sticking up in the air. The last man down had to buy the next round. The beauty of it was that no one hollered “Dead Ant” until much later at night when everyone was already so drunk that a fall like that didn’t bother you much. But, once in a while, you’d hear the crack of somebody’s skull slapping the floor. Light Socket Cardinal and Dead Ant were the truest of “Here, honey, hold my beer -- watch this.” moments.

Actually, I avoided Herbie like the plague. The boy could fuck up a wet dream.

I mentioned Herbie in my latest book, "Red Beans & Ripcords." Haven't seen or heard from him in many, many years. Go here and read a sample chapter; www.mikemarcon.info

Folks, I put a sample chapter for you to read on my website at www.mikemarcon.info Enjoy!

A Kindle version is on the way. I'll post an update when it's up. Thanks!

Buy the book half-off! Hi folks! I decided to have a little fun with the release of my new book, “Red Beans & Ripcords.” For a very limited time, you can use a special discount code which may be found on the book’s Facebook page and get a 50% discount off the cover price. All I ask in return is that you “friend” the Facebook page, and after you’ve read the book, comeback and tell us how you liked it. Fair enough? If you think so, please visit, http://www.facebook.com/pages/Red-Beans-Ripcords/229543427086742?sk=wall to find the code. It will apply only to books purchased on my e-store at: https://www.createspace.com/3623461 Enjoy!!

Meso approved. I am pleased and happy to announce that my newest book, “Red Beans & Ripcords” is back from the printer and is ready for sale. The book looks at one corner of skydiving in the 1960’s and my time at Southern Parachute Center. I hope that you enjoy it! Please tell your friends if you like it. A more complete description of the book may be found here: https://www.createspace.com/3623461

It reminds me of the very old military style pilot chutes that were packed into military T7A reserves. All the ones I ever saw were white but the design was basically the same.

Bill, I remember you now. Sorry about hogging the heat. I cracked up when I saw that. Sorry I had not responded to this sooner but I don't check in on this forum as much as I probably should. It might interest you that I'm almost ready to publish a new book, "Red Beans & Ripcords." It contains a number of memories of the SPC and Leon. I'll make a grander announcement when its released in a few weeks. Oh! "Tough old bird?" There are some that say that's still the case. Just ask my wife, children and seven grandkids. Ha! Later, Mike Outside e-mail is mbmarcon@yahoo.com

Bill! How the hell are you? Hope you come back and see this. Addy is: 1310 Browns Store Rd., Heathsville, VA 22473 Would love to see that footage. Not sure about the coffee thing. I wasn't paying attention. I spent a lot of time back then planning and plotting pussy raids back then. Funny, I was just telling the wife about all the time spent at M&Ms eating lunches on the cuff. Ito? No contact. No idea where or what what's going on there. I've tried to look Jeff up a number of times since '92 when I last communicated with him. No joy whatsoever. Help me put a better face on you. Were you from the Hammond area. Sorry, but I hit 66 on 4/4/11 and details are getting fuzzy. Take care. Mike

Bill, Jeff Russell was in New York City for some time working as a pro photog. The last time I communicated with him was about 1990. No comms since. Prissy died of cancer about 1990-92. She and Leon had split many years prior. Leon was in MO about 1999-2000. He flipped out over Jesus and became an "preacher." I was Leon's jumpmaster and pilot from 1966 to 1969. Mike Marcon

In the attached photo, you'll see a large white building to the east of the racetrack which, for some reason, is highlighted in blue. The airstrip, which was a rough dirt strip lay along the dragstrip. About 1800 ft. long as I remember. It was a very tight DZ. The road that lead to it was the road to Plant City as I recall. The DZ was northeast of Lakeland. Help? http://www.rockgroupdevelopment.com/images/fl/Lakeland-Aerial-600w.jpg

Ah! Memories, good and not so good, arise. Thanks, Pat. The storm? They could get particularly intense from time to time, but didn't interfere with things that much.

Pat, thanks for the edit. Was in a hurry. Would love to see the old pic if you can find it without much trouble.

Pat, life's been good, I think. Married, seven grandkids, ex-security contractor, retired after I left Blackwater in '07. Writing a blog now to keep retirement from completely driving me insane. Understand you're in computers now. Update me. I don't jump anymore, but thinking about it. Living in Virginia since 1980. Check out my blog. There's one story you love. You'll know it when you see it. http://blog.iadmitit.info Oops! Later, Mike

That would have been me. Had to close it after I got busted for falsifying a log. I did more stupid shit back in those days. Glad I grew out of it. Two things are for sure: 1) That place had to have been a candidate for the worlds smallest DZ. 2) I had one of the best C180 around. Mike Marcon

Thanks! Appreciate that.

Anybody heard from her or know how to contact her? Last I heard, she was a Doctor in AK. Thanks. Mike

Nope! Damn.