by Bill Murtorff
It was the weekend of Easter in 1972. I was in Orlando, Florida attending the First (and last) Great Florida Hot Air Balloon Championships. This was an event put on by Bill Meadows. Disney was clearing land for some new kind of park on the West side of town and a C-5A had just crashed on the South side of town. I arrived a day early and took a flight at noon on Friday. Thermals? Never heard of them. Our first competitive event took place that afternoon. It was a Pilot Declared Goal of sorts. I ended up closest to my goal (a couple hundred yards) and Meadows and Bob Waligunda were fighting it out over second place. One pilot, Red Enright, had flown into the swamps and had rigged his envelope over the basket preparing to spend the night. The rescue party woke him at 10:30 p.m. and brought him back to the motel. That turned out to be the only task flown during the weekend and I was the Florida Champion with $1,000 in my pocket. As I was about to head home Sunday night, the guys brought me a $300 plus bar bill expecting me to pay it. Talk about crying in your beer, I waved good-bye as I drove out the driveway. Twelve hundred miles later, I was home.
Upon reaching home in Corpus Christi, there was a note to call Don Piccard. I did. I was given a number in Albuquerque, New Mexico to call and ask about a balloon event the next weekend. I had heard of this place, but never had been even close to it. They offered some show up money and said there would be prizes. Yes, count me in. How could there be a balloon event without the Florida State Champion? Four of us drove the thousand miles in the front seat of Super Truck. We were put up at the Ramada Inn on the eastern outskirts of the town. The event was to celebrate the 50th anniversary of radio station KOB and the recent opening of a new mall. Coronado Mall to be exact. We had a pilot briefing. There were 13 pilots with balloons in attendance. I had been ballooning less than a year, but personally knew 8 of them. There were more pilots, but their balloons had been stranded in Chicago by a blizzard.
The next morning we were caravaned to the field on the southwest corner of the mall. Someone had put out some plastic drop cloths to lay balloons on. All kind of dignitaries were there and thousands of people. The MC was none other than KOB DJ Tom Rutherford. There were 8 Ravens and 5 Piccards. Don Kersten was flying Merope as Hare. Here I was, the Florida Champ and soon to be the New Mexico Champ. Just a "piece of cake." Kersten took off headed northeast and was soon out of town. The rest of us were in pursuit. I was about a mile back and Don and Wilma Piccard were behind me. All of a sudden I notice the wind, like it always does in Albuquerque, was shifting and Kersten was headed to the northwest. We all were. No one was going to be close to the Hare. I glanced to the east and sure enough, Don and Wilma had gone high and caught a wind to the east. They were about a half mile from me and right on track of the Hare. Too late for me to adjust. I saw Karl Stefan do a high wind crash and dash across the rough terrain. Captain Phogg, the current National Champion, landed just inside me. It took a while to get all the balloons out of the gullies and such that we had come down in and your Florida Champion had ended up in seventh place. Don, 1st, and Wilma, 2nd, each got hand held aircraft radios. I remember we all got Nambi Ware plates with a KOB coin glued to it. After the Awards Ceremony I headed home. Here was another first (and last?) annual event. I guess I'll never see this town again.
Changing Times
Things have changed in my life since we last got together. I have retired. A lot of you are asking just how this was possible for a professional balloonist. Well, one night I sat down and did the numbers and when I ended up, I found out that the only reason I was in business was to make enough money to keep my business afloat. In fact after I moved from Rainbow's End and cut out telephones and Yellow Pages and all the other stuff it takes to run a business, I had more money than before. Hallelujah!! Mary and I have packed our bags and moved to Mexico. I had been editor of the Houston Balloon Association Newsletter for over 20 years. I always tried to get the stories that others were afraid to print. I searched for the truth to give my readers the real news in ballooning. I sometimes told such outlandish stories that no one should have believed them, but some people did. I feel like now I am out of the loop and could not do my readers justice so it's over. With no Newsletter, the HBA is also over.
Denise Edwards Eads of Houston lost a bout with cancer recently. She was the daughter of Sam and Jean, sister of Cheri, wife of Todd, mother of Rene and a great fun loving balloonist that many people around the country will truly miss. In the neighborhood where she lived there is to be built park in her memory. The Houston Balloon Association had about $5,000 left in it's treasury when it folded and it was decided that this should be used for the park. If you'd like to donate, it would he appreciated. You can send donations to: Park Fund, c/o Susan Young, 6200 Arnot, Houston, TX 77007.
What do you do when you retire? Anything you can afford to and anytime you want to. It is much cheaper to live in Mexico than the US. We have leased a place for 6 months with options for more. I planned on bringing a balloon to fly twice a week. I got it across the border with an old one and thought everything was OK. When it ended up, someone wanted more than $600 to clear the paper work. I now have a balloon sitting in a storage shed in Laredo, Texas. Mary did better in her Chevy, Customs found the VCR hidden in her suitcase (Fee $35), but completely missed the 27 inch TV in the back seat. Finally, if you ever come to San Miguel de Allende, (it's a big tourist town.) look us up. Maybe I'll have my balloon here and we can do some flying. That's only for the good guys, the rest of you can stay home.