Mother / Daughter Prison Break

 

Supermax Fense

Supermax Fense

There’s a jailbreak in Owl Dreams, which involves a rather likable murderer jumping out of a courtroom window and changing into a disguise during the fall. If you think that sounds a little wild, take a look at a double jail escape attempt that happened in real life.

On December 21, 1978, a pretty seventeen-year-old girl walked into a Louisville Ky airport and bought a ticket on TWA flight 541 to Kansas City. When the plane was in the air she showed the crew what looked like three sticks of dynamite hidden underneath her jacket. She poised her finger over a switch and promised to blow the plane and its 83 passengers to Kingdom Come if they didn’t fly her to Williamson County Airport and wait there while authorities released an inmate from Marion Federal Prison.

Garrett Brock Trapnell was serving time for a serial robbery and air piracy. According to Robin, he’d seen the error of his ways and wanted one last chance lo live his life as a free man. She was willing to commit suicide and murder to see he got it.

Robin didn’t succeed, of course, mainly because her three sticks of dynamite were actually road flares and her detonating device was a modified doorbell, and the best she could hope for with a rig like that was a couple of really nasty burns.

Bio: Garett Trapnell

Bio: Garett Trapnell

Garrett Trapnell was 40 when Robin tried to spring him, easily old enough to be her father. Some younger women have a thing for older men—and lots of older men have a thing for younger women. I figured Robin started as Trapnell’s pen pal and fell under his evil influence, the way girls do sometimes with inmate boyfriends. I was wrong. Breaking Trapnell out of prison was more of a family affair.

Barbara Ann Oswald, Robin’s mother, was living in the suburbs of St. Louis and working on a master’s degree in human relations at Webster College when she got interested in Garrett Trapnell. The inmate was a former bank robber who had hijacked a TWA commercial flight in 1972. He demanded $306,800.00 (the exact amount of money he’d lost in a previous court case)

Trapnell demanded Angela Davis be released from prison,

Trapnell demanded Angela Davis be released from prison,

and the release of activist Angela Davis (remember her), and clemency granted by then President Richard Nixon. The FBI captured Trapnell at the airport. He used the insanity defense to stay out of jail for a while, but finally they convicted him.

After exchanging letters with Garrett Trapnell (armed robber, hijacker and self proclaimed mad man) Barbara decided she’d found Mr. Right. On May 24, 1978 she boarded a helicopter at the St. Louis Downtown Heliport and forced the pilot at gunpoint to fly her to Marion Federal Penitentiary. As they were landing inside the fence, the pilot let go of the controls for about twenty seconds, grabbed Barbara’s 44 caliber pistol and fired, “until I saw her fall over.”

That was the end of Barbara Ann, but seven months later, her daughter was trying it again.

Most men who are reading about this double—if unsuccessful—escape attempt are wondering exactly how Garrett Trapnell convinced these two women to put their lives at risk? We can’t ask him. The inmate died of emphysema in 1993 at the age of 55. He was a life long smoker.

If it’s any consolation, his girlfriends probably paid for his cigarettes.

 

“Messages” Now available as a Max Avalon short.

“Messages” was published as a Max Avalon short by Zahrmae Publishing Press on Feb. 15, 2014.

Opening Paragraphs:

 It’s not stealing if you take things out of the Goodwill box behind St. Gregory’s in the middle of the night.

It’s especially not stealing when civilization is so far gone even anarchy sounds good, and you’ve just escaped from a hospital where the nurses turned into religious Nazi’s. I pinch the back of my hospital gown so my butt doesn’t stick out when I reach into the bin. Those slutty-sick-girl costumes are terrible for self-esteem.

I find a pair of pretty good jeans and a pair of sneakers that are almost the right size, and a T-shirt with a Jack Daniels bottle on the front and Party Till You Stink written in neon-orange letters on the back.

No socks—who needs them?

No bra—I wish I needed that a little more.

No panties—too bad about the panties.

You can buy “Messages” here.

Austin Bats

Austin BatsNight flyers have always inspired awe and even a little terror in rural populations who live close to see them. Owls and bats wake up when the sun goes down. They make strange—and scary—noises. They feed on things we can’t see (maybe blood or souls) and fly around obstacles in the darkness with what seems like supernatural accuracy. It’s no wonder there are stories.

Following the Colorado River. Choctaw witches turn into Owls (or sometimes social workers and attorneys—check out Owl Dreams), and we all know about old school, pre Twilight vampires. They turn into bats.

Nowadays, city dwellers can be close to night fliers too. All it takes is a trip to Austin, Texas. It’s easy. Just show up when the sun goes down and there they are. Austin bats follow a very predictable schedule. They might lead to a whole new class of punctual urban monsters.

From Mid March to November.

From Mid March to November.

If you stand on the pedestrian crosswalk of the Congress Avenue Bridge at sunset—any day from mid March to the November—clouds of Mexican free tail bats swarm out in numbers that defy description. They follow the Colorado River in search of enough insects to keep them satisfied until the following evening.  In a couple of hours the bats have done their thing you’re within walking distance the Austin music scene on both sides of Ladybird Lake.

The largest urban bat colony in North America lives underneath that bridge.  About 1.5 million of the jittery little critters appear as if by magic. When I first saw the bats swarm

Bats hide in expansion crevices until sunset.

Bats hide in expansion crevices until sunset.

out, I guessed there must be a cave on one side or the other of Lady Bird Lake. Either that or one and a half million Mexican free tailed bats were hanging in plain sight on the under surface. Neither explanation was correct.

The Congress Avenue Bridge was originally built in 1910 to allow traffic to pass between north and south Austin over the Colorado River. Engineers reconstructed the bridge in 1980, and included expansion crevices that just happened to be exactly the right size for migrating bats to roost inside them and have their babies.

 Each female bat—the adult bats under the Congress Avenue Bridge are almost all females—has a single baby (called a pup). They stay under the bridge for about seven months, until their pups are mature enough to migrate, then it’s back to warmer climates to find mates and get ready for the next trip to the central Texas nursery. While they are in Austin the bats consume up to 20,000 pounds of insects every night. That’s not the only good thing they do.

 Austinites were initially alarmed by the large bat population. There was some talk of mass extermination, but citizens of the Texas capitol have learned to love the little flying mammals. One hundred thousand tourists come to watch the bats each year. This translates into $10,000,000 tourism dollars annually.  Visitors take bat-watching cruises, kayak bat tours, and stand along the pedestrian walkway on the bridge and watch the bats fly out. The best time to see them is in August , but they are an impressive site from April through October.

Tahlequah Writers Feb 15, 2014

Who knew there were all those links out there?

Who knew there were all those links out there?

I’m speaking to the Tahlequah Writers on Saturday, Feb. 15 at 2:00 p.m. about writing short stories and what to do with them once they are written. Specifically I’ll be talking about mechanics of writing short fiction, markets and contests. I’ll be bringing handouts including useful links to short story writers, but sometimes handouts get lost and sometimes interested parties don’t have a chance to attend the meeting, so I’m providing a link here to all the sites I plan to talk about.

 

Offensive? Nobody noticed at the time.

 

Chinks are no. 1

Chinks are no. 1

In the 1964 Illinois state basketball championship came down to two teams, the Pekin Chinks (that’s right) and the Cobden Appleknockers. The game made all the papers. Pekin was a town of almost thirty thousand and Cobden had about 900 residents so it was a David vs. Goliath drama. The contest was in all the papers. It was the topic of conversation in high school lunchrooms and at dinner tables all over Illinois. The Appleknockers put up one heck of a fight, but in the end, the Chinks were victorious.

No way I could make this up.

No way I could make this up.

We were all amused by Cobden’s funny mascot name. The —pretty funny, right? But we found nothing amusing, and nothing even the slightest bit embarrassing about the Pekin Chinks. We totally got it.

Pekin chose its name because someone convinced the citizens they were on exactly the opposite side of the globe from Peking (now Bejing) China. They were antipodes—that’s one of those SAT words that impresses everybody. So it was perfectly understandable that Pekin would be the Fighting Chinks. Nothing offensive about that. I’m ashamed to say the idea never even crossed my mind.

 The Pekin High School  student body elected a Chink and a Chinkette ( You know I couldn’t make that up) who appeared at school functions and sporting events. The Chink mascot was dressed as a coolie and struck a gong every time his team scored a goal or dunked a ball.

The city of Pekin also had a roller skating rink named the Chink Rink. I suppose that is gone now that roller skating is out of fashion. The Fighting Chinks are gone as well. In 1981 the mascot was changed to the Dragon. Still Asian, but way more politically correct. The change didn’t come without a fight. There was lots of talk about political correctness run amuck, and all the Chinese in Illinois who were actually proud to be the stereotypical mascot of the 1964 state basketball champs.

The Nazi's ruined the swastika for everybody.

The Nazi’s ruined the swastika for everybody.

Just to be fair, Pekin High’s sports team wasn’t the only one with an especially offensive mascot. There are the Akron, Ohio East High Orientals (still their name as of 2014), with their mascot, Chang the dragon. Initially they were the fighting Arabs but changed to the Orientals in the 1940’s.

There were at least three Canadian hockey teams known as “The Swastikas”. That really doesn’t count because the Nazi’s hadn’t chosen that symbol when those teams were still playing. Still, it’s about as retroactively offensive as you can get.

 

No plans to change.

No plans to change.

 If you attend a Coachella Valley High School football game in Thermal California, your half-time entertainment will include belly dancers. The CVH team mascot is a black bearded Arab wearing a headscarf. There are no immediate plans to change because the local Middle Eastern population is apparently proud to the inspiration of the Fighting Arabs.

 I’ve been told my fiction–especially OWL DREAMS–is  sometimes politically incorrect. I suppose that might be so. I learned everything I know about political correctness in high school.

Indian Ways

“Indian Ways” was published by Wolfsinger Publications in Mystic Signals issue 20 in Feb., 2014.

Opening Paragraphs:

 Mona Beaver turned the pages of the third grade math text she purchased at the library book sale and decided fifty cents wasn’t such a bargain after all. She flipped past addition and subtraction. No need to teach Joseph that, she’d buy a calculator next time she went to town. Mona might not be the best home-school teacher ever, but she was efficient.

Did an eight-year-old Choctaw boy need long division? Probably not, but fractions were important—like 1/8th, the amount of tribal blood Joseph could document. More than enough to get him on the rolls.

She’d bought a language book chock full of adverbs and nouns, and a reading book with boring little words like fun and run, but Joseph wouldn’t look at them. Mona’s boy liked comic books. He’d learn to read eventually, all by himself the way Abe Lincoln did.

Joseph was smart, like his other mom, Chris. She was really good at arithmetic and spelling but pretty bad at sticking around. That’s what happens when you move into a little cabin in the Ouachita Forest—the heart of McCurtain County, Oklahoma—and your girlfriend can’t take it anymore. Mona should have seen it coming.

 

You can buy Mystic Signals volume 20 here.