Woody playing Chess

 

July 10, 2005

Woody Harrelson set up shop at the Saint Paul Hotel while shooting the movie, Prairie Home Companion, at the Fitzgerald Theater. 

One day while walking through the lobby he approached me with a request. “John, can you find a person to play chess with me.”  I agreed to try and find someone.  As he walked away I realized I had no idea the kind of a player he was, I had to guess.  Checking around the hotel I determined no one played chess.  With the internet recently available to search for questions like this I typed in Chess Players.  The list was varied, everything from local chess clubs, to how to play.  One query was a segment, done by a local television station, about a young player in Eagan named John Bartholomew, the top young player in the country,  Going to the phone book, I located a Bartholomew listed in Eagan.  Calling the number, luckily I got an answer from a lady.  Asking her if John lived there she said yes. Explaining the request she put me in touch with him.  After a short discussion he agreed this would be something he'd be interested in, so I gave him the hotel  phone number, telling him to contact Woody, personally.  Hanging up, I felt I had taken care of the request very nicely,  John would have a chance to play with a famous actor, and Woody would be able to play a very good opponent. 

 
That weekend they played.  Asking Woody how the game went,  he said, “John beat me the first game, but at the end he replaced the pieces to where I made my mistake and told me how I should have proceeded. “  They enjoyed each others company enough to set up another meeting where John helped him improve his game. 
 

The next week Woody handed me an envelope with my name on it.  I was pleased with what was inside.

 About 3 years later, I had an opportunity to drive John Ratzenberger around Minneapolis. He played the character “Cliff Claven”,  in the sitcom “Cheers”  While in the car I told him, Woody’s story about playing chess, since they both were in the cast together. To my surprise he told me he taught Woody how to play chess.  This was one of those unique moments where episodes will circle around and become even more significant.  I was a character in the life of 2 famous people.

State Fair 1986

In August 1986 went to the State Fair with Matt and Melissa, and  Linnea, Tyler and Kelly Peterson.  With a video recorder I captured all the things we did on that day at the Fair.

Day 4692 - State Fair Fatal Sprint Car Crash

Day 4692

August 25, 1962 

At twelve year olds, my life was still fresh. All summer I played baseball in the morning, swam at the pool in the afternoon. My father had been gone a couple years.  On a Saturday in August, I wanted to go to the races at the State Fair.  Don’t know who would have taken me, could have been dropped off, to go by myself. 

In the grandstand, I sat 20 rows up or so, just right, past the start finish, when looking down at the track.  The summer’s heat had baked the area all month making the conditions dry as hell. The dirt on the track was loose.  This combination diminished visibility especially in the corners which were most a track this length.  Sprint cars were a hybrid, nothing like jalopies or stock cars that had bodies covering most of the outside.  These were smaller versions of the cars run at Indianapolis, much shorter making them maneuverable on a short track.  On dirt, these cars had less traction than on pavement, forcing them into a controlled slide around the curves.  Front wheels aimed in the desired direction, while rear tires spun on top of the gravel, pushing the racer down the track in a controlled chaos.  All were over powered, with state of the art engines, Offenhausers were famous at the Indy 500, some had those, and others were Fords and Chevy V8’s.  Fuel injected, running a mixture of high test gasoline with 10 to 30 % methyl alcohol added horsepower along with noise and smell.  In the stands you could feel the raw power of these radical racing machine, all restrictions were lifted on these small displacement engines.  Open wheels made for even more excitement, seeing the action of the driver fighting with the front wheels around the corner while increasing the rpm as he pressed on the gas.  You could see how crazy it was when a single car went out, taking a lap alone.   The driver took the car to the edge between enough speed and a spin out, wining his engine with excruciating power.  Real excitement occurred when multiple cars drove out on the track.  This would move one radical engine into an orchestrated roar of 20. 

Behind the pace car you listened as the first race of the afternoon lined up in rows. Making their way around, you searched for the pacer to speed up and leave the track, passing the oncoming march of vehicles to the starter with the green flag.  If all stayed in line, you’d see him drop the flag in a flutter, signaling every gas pedal to be laid on the floorboard.  It dropped and the roar of the mass, hurt my ears as they passed.  How could this crescendo of speed and power control itself, maintaining inches between each independent car? 

 

Successful completing the first turn the dirt hung in the air as the mass powered into the second turn.  At the top of the straight away a flash occurred just before they all approached the start/finish, in front of the crowd.  No one had made a mistake for almost a lap, hard to believe with a field of 20 racing vehicles.  At full speed you saw what you thought had to happen, some one dove into a hole between two cars that wasn’t big enough.  Spinning tires hit each other, the car behind thrown up in the air. A split second later the orderly chaos erupted into a hot red flame as more than one racer t-boned, and somersaulted in front of me and the crowd at 100 mph.  Heat blasted toward us from exploding fuel tanks, where I could feel it hit my face. A moment, that seemed to last forever with multiple crashes all at once, lasted 10 seconds.  The few cars that got through went around the track, pulling up to a sight of the carnage, of the flames and mangled steel, a huge crash of cars turned every which way. Driver, Don Johns, sat upside down in his car motionless surrounded by flames after 4 flips in the middle of it all. Saying to yourself, “How could he ever survive, the jarring action sitting in the open cock pit.” 

Once cleared, racing resumed.  An hour later they announced, he had not survived this fatal crash.

 

Article in the St. Paul Pioneer Press August 26, 1962

 

Death Mars Races as Richert Wins Feature

By Don Riley

Death and dust dominated the State Fair auto races Saturday.  But thorough this grim spectacle came home town favorite Jerry Richert to bring some ray of brightness in a horrified throne of 11,226 opening day speed addicts. 

The plucky Forest Lake sprint specialist first overran and then fought off the fiercely competitive field to capture the 15 lap feature while shrugging off the most disastrous day of Fair racing in history.  The hectic action under a pall of dust which hung over the scene like a giant shroud claimed the life of Don Johns in the most spectacular accident within memory.

And before the tragic aspects had been blotted out by the final victory check, another driver lay critically injured with burns over 60 per cent of his body and another was hospitalized with eye and shoulder injuries.  Three other non-drivers were burned. Johnny Rutherford suffered a cut cornea of his left eye, three machines were virtually demolished and another badly burned.  On top of it, St. Paul contractor and car owner Dave Beatson suffered a severely sprained ankle escaping flying wreckage in the pit area.

Johns, from Bellflower, California, was dead on arrival at Bethesda Hospital from multiple injuries after flipping over four times on the home straightaway, directly in front of the grandstand.  His machine ended upside down and in flames

 

 

 

 

 

Once cleared, racing resumed.  An hour later they announced, he had not survived this fatal crash.

Why Swimmers are smarter!!

Middle school may have been a helluva lot easier if you had spent a little more time in the pool. New research out of Australia says that children who are taught to swim at an early age hit certain physical and developmental milestones faster than kids who learn later in life.

 

 

 

Over the span of three years, researchers surveyed the parents of more than 7,000 children age 5 and under and found that the age kids learned to swim correlated with when they began accomplishing certain skills

 

In pre-school, early swimmers had better visual-motor skills (like cutting paper and drawing lines and shapes), but also fared better as they got older (i.e. understanding directions, math, and writing and reading skills).

 

Sharpen your memory, boost your creativity, and slay stress with 27 Ways to Power Up Your Brain

 

Turns out, some of what you learn in the classroom (or in your day-to-day experiences) is similar to what you learn in a pool, says lead study author Robyn Jorgensen, Ph.D., a professor and senior fellow at the Griffith Institute for Educational Research. There's a strong synergy between language and action with swimming that's essential for many cognitive and motor skills, she adds. Kids learn at an early age to hear language and make connections with their bodies (for example, counting to 10 while kicking).

 

And it doesn't take long to see the effects, either: When researchers observed swimming lessons, they found that the kids' eyes blinked in preparation for the ready cue -- "one, two, three, go! " -- a clear sign that young kids can understand language and react accordingly even if they can't communicate everything clearly.

 

Your move: Sign your kids up for lessons -- and keep 'em going. In Jorgensen's study, the earlier the child started and the longer they remained in the swimming lessons, the greater the gains, she says.

 

And it wouldn't hurt to jump in the pool yourself: Besides the added benefit of challenging yourself through switching up your workout, water is about 1,000 times denser than air, so a swim workout can be tougher on you. You'll burn almost the same amount of calories each minute as you would biking -- but you can kiss dodging traffic or worrying about your joints goodbye.

Taking it a little farther, I have seen termendous improvement of awareness when one learns how to dive.  Getting past the loss of head be up they make great strides.

 

 

 

Day 2986 Ezio Selva Last Race MOSCHETTIERE V

Waterdrome of Milano 1957

This is the Ezio Selva's MOSCHETTIERE V which was the boat that he drove to his fatal accident at Miami in 1957. 
Timossi hull, 800 kg. class, Alfa Romeo 159 engine, double supercharged, 8 cylinder in-line. 

When the boat was returned back to Italy, the engine was returned to Alfa Romeo and the boat, at the wishes of the Ezio Selva widow, was destroyed.


"I'm a lucky driver," he used to say.
"I've never been in the water."

With luck riding in the cockpit, Italy's Ezio Selva became a world champion hydroplane driver, a little, effusive man with a light touch on the skidding turns and a heavy foot on the straightaways. A onetime high-diving champion of Italy, Selva seemed ideally suited for the sport he took up in 1948 at the advanced age of 46. Cockily, he used the 400-h.p. Alfa-Romeo engine from the boat that had killed his good friend, Mario Verga, in 1954.

"One engine won't kill two men," said Selva.

But in the U.S., Selva had more than his share of bad breaks. Three times he was knocked out of the Orange Bowl's International Grand Prix in Miami, twice on disqualifications and once when an underwater object ripped a hole in his hurtling hull.

Last week when he climbed into his bright red Moschettiere (Musketeer) for a fourth try at the event. Selva had good reason to think this time his luck might be good. He knew the course, and his engine was tuned to a blatting, bellowing roar of controlled fury.

But win or lose, Selva, 55, had decided to quit the sport after the race.
Said he: "I'm too old."

Against standard racing strategy, Selva let himself be beaten to the starting line in the first heat, was trapped back in the pack and could not break loose until the last lap when he nearly caught the winner, George Byers Jr. of Columbus, Ohio.

Between heats he explained to newsmen: "I no like to start first bad luck."

In the second heat, Selva again was beaten to the start by two boats, but the judges immediately disqualified them both for jumping the gun. Out on the water, without knowledge of the judges' decision, Selva knew only that he was behind again. While his 20-year-old son Luciano made movies of the race from the shore, Selva roared after the leaders. The arching rooster tail of water thrown up by his prop hissed behind as Selva whipped past the second boat. And skipping down the straightaway at 100 m.p.h., he shot into the lead right in front of his son's camera. An instant later, a wave slightly lifted the hydroplane's flat nose. Ponderously, the 364-lb. boat started into a slow-motion backward somersault.

Luciano hurled away his camera and screamed: "It's turning over! Father, father!"

The red Musketeer landed full on its bow, dashing Selva against the windshield. His son half-jumped, half-fell 30 ft. to the ground from the judges' stand and leaped into the bay. A patrol boat raced to pick up Selva's floating body. The windshield had ripped into Selva's chest, and he was already dead. His first spill into the water was his last.

December 23, 1957
My point of view.

 

The boat lifted from shore into the air , red and unique, an engine that sounded different and was different, he had something to tell me. There was something about him even at 8 years old, that he was to carry on, past this day.  Because I was there, that he is to go on.  Did he race this boat on Lake Como in Italy, is that why I’ve got a connection in St. Paul?  Did he test his new hydroplane design on the waters there.  Would winning the big race in the United States, one last time, prove he was the greatest of the world?  But instead, rather on top, he just ended.

There was a point of no return, when the fraction of an inch was pushed a little too much.  A gust of wind lifted the front before the tip of his foot could relinquish a little power, churning within the spinning engine.  He had a new experience, the leaving of the water, the view of the bow moving up over the horizon into the sky where all you see is blue before the flight touches down on to water, made hard by tremendous speed.  His last view before the curtain went down on a great career. 

From the distant shore I saw my favorite boat take flight.  A sense of the finality was experienced even at my age.  The redness of his sleek boat destroyed, left with a smashed deck of mangled metal, returned to the shore.  Many attempts were made to lift the hull from the water, each time it returned to its grave.    Ezio stepped over the edge, trying to go a little farther. For me it was the first tragic death I watched.

Before Christmas 2012

Jingle bells on the radio
As the grandfather clock chimes
Final running to get all things Just right
A couple more presents being wrapped
Stockings are hanging stuffed full with little items to tantalize
Lights on the trees outside on the deck are lit
Pasta for dinner is ready
I've snuck a few bites of treats before all arrive
Mom says I can't wait to have all the decoration clutter removed
But I see the completeness rather than to much, just right
Dad can't find his glove thats lost, hiding until the search is ended.
Luminaries are lit on the sidewalk
All the kids arrive soon!
Another family Christmas full of cheer and gifts, brings us to the end of 12.
Merry Christmas

Meeting Diana Krall

Saint Paul Hotel Concierge, 2004

She approached my desk, asking if I could do anything to help her with a problem. On her flight to the Twin Cities, she had left the book she was reading on the plane.

“Is there any book stores near to purchase another?” She said.

After getting the title I told her I would get a replacement for her.

With in a few hours our hotel driver picked up another edition of her book. When she returned that evening I gave her the book.

The next morning she delivered a package to my desk with a copy of her first CD and a t-shirt with the logo of the CD cover on it.

At the time I had not heard of her, but within months she began moving up the charts, to become one of the premier Jazz female vocalists. I now am one of her biggest fans. I’ve met Diana Krall

Day 21725 Matt Kenneth Airport Pick up

April 13, 2009
Today was a busy psychic day for me. I had a Herron fly over my head, and then driving from the airport to Edina a plane flew 50 feet directly overhead.

Eating lunch at Chipotle with Randy, he got up to go to the bathroom. Gazing out of the large windows, I watched a semi truck drive by. Printed on the side was R & L Transport, a strange sight on a side street like Victoria. On the lower back side of the trailer a picture of Matt Kinseth’s NASCAR racing automobile, stating this company was a sponsor of his car was seen. For some reason it caught my eye. Not until hours later did I realize the significance. At 2 PM Julie, my limo dispatcher, called about my runs for tomorrow, telling me I will be picking up Matt Kinseth at an airport in Blaine.

What I saw on the side of that truck all came together.
Why did this strange occurrence happen?
I have no connection with him other than Archer Limo.
Do I have psychic power?
Do I have to become more in touch with these powers?
Do I allow them into my existence?
Is there anything else I can do to attract them to me?
Has everything happened for a reason?
Am I supposed to be in this place in time?

Letting that which is to occur, occur. Giving out good energy increases the possibility of occurences. Intuition allows that to be a bigger part of what I do. Look through the things that block you from the energy that will show you the way. On the upper levels of consciousness you just must let your skills move you to another level. Clear yourself of the smoke screens. Give the power to see the way to a higher universe. Pick up the vibrations from another sense. Read the signs that are ahead of you. Try to focus on nothing else that will take you away from your goal. Visualize draining out the color of a loss, then intensify the colors of a victory. Why am I here with you today? Is there something that I bring to you?

April 14, 2009
Arriving at the Blaine airport, (Key Air)to pick him up, the operators of the terminal had me go thru the security gate and wait to pull up to the plane once it landed. Within 20 minutes his Lear jet touched down. Sara from Ford told me the plans for his day, I was ready.

Walking off the plane with his sixteen year old son and another fellow from Rouch Racing, they got in and  I took them to the terminal for a pit stop. After, we headed for Plymouth, where a video crew waited with a new Ford Fusion automobile. Parked a couple blocks from the home of the Ford NASCAR contest winner, I dropped them off. They drove the Fusion into the winners driveway, got out, knocked on their door and presented the car to the winner. They went to lunch and then on to Raceway Park in Shakopee for some hot laps around the track.

I was free to go once I dropped them off. At 3 PM I nwr rThem at Raceway Park.  Instructed to drive into the infield, 

I waited as Matt drove the winners around the track. A half mile track prevented speeds much greater than 50 miles an hour. The tires squealed, pushed to there limit, as he took the curves. Returning to the infield after 3 or 4 laps, to pick up the next rider, you could smell the burning rubber. Inspecting the tires you could see half of the low profile sidewall was contacting the pavement, folding over from the force.

It was a long drive back to Blaine thru rush hour traffic. Listening to their conversation was interesting. In the morning it was about the NFL and their teams draft picks and in the afternoon it was about getting some coffee so they could get some nicotine. They made fun of that because it was to get caffeine. They wished the plane could have gone to an airport in the south, eliminate the long commute (about 40 min.) As the plane took off, back to North Carolina, the hot bed of NASCAR, I thought how special this day was. Not many people in these parts were fans and didnt know much about Matt Kinseth or could understand the significance of this visit. It's another of those strange occurences.