The Power of the Internet (for Good)...

One of my perennial haunts on the Internet is the H.A.M.B. I am what is known as a HAMB'r. For those of you who are uninitiated, it stands for "Hokey Ass Message Board." And it's part of the larger world of The Jalopy Journal (http://www.jalopyjournal.com/). A little history is in order...

In the words of Ryan Cochrane, the founder:
"It’s December of 1994 and I’m at home for Christmas break. I had taken up HTML and decided to build a hot rod website. I obsessed over the site for weeks, but by January I was ready to “launch.” While sitting in my dorm room at the University of Oklahoma, I hit the “publish button” in my HTML editor and started what would become one of the biggest obsessions and passions of my life.

Amazingly, it’s now 15 years later and The Jalopy Journal is the world’s most read hot rod publication - online or off. In 2008 alone, we hosted over 170 million pageviews. Maybe even more amazing is that I love writing, building and creating this site even more than I did when I first began. Very few people are as lucky as I am - to be able to do what they truly aspire to do in life."

What Ryan created was a Web location now populated by over 68,000 HAMB'rs, all exchanging ideas, opinions, designs, advertising, insults, and whatever else these pages can transport, all relating to custom cars and hot rods. I feel certain that even Ryan has been surprised at the directions it has taken.

Consider for example the Friday night art shows, where automobile artists post their latest creative works. Or perhaps you might look at the social groups that have grown up around locations, or interests, or marques. I'm a member of the HAMB Plymouth Club, the MOPAR Builders Group, the North Alabama and Tennessee HAMB Members, and the Hemi Connection.

There are message threads on every concievable notion having to do with cars. Recently, I was able to take some pictures of details in the construction of my 1932 Plymouth roadster and send them to a builder in Michigan whose car was much more deteriorated than mine. I loaned a couple of parts to a gent in Oregon to make duplicates for his 1932 DeSoto. The power of this medium for connecting people has always impressed me, but the power to do good has revealed itself more among HAMBers than any other Web community with which I have gotten involved.

I saw a great example a few weeks ago. An active duty member of the U.S. Army had recently gotten transferred from Arizona to Kentucky. With all the disruption and expense of moving his family to his new duty station, he couldn't afford to move the car he had been working on for several months. He left it in Arizona and was paying to store it. One of the HAMB members knew of the situation and started an online campaign to move the car. Veterans and non veterans joined the fray. In a matter of a few hours, a PayPal account had been set up, money had been raised to defray expenses, and a retired truck driver from Oklahoma was on his way to Arizona with his own truck and trailer to move the car.

More recently, a sadder event demonstrated the generous heart of this collective body of car folks. A young man named Andy Dunn had joined the HAMB a few years ago. Andy had a rare form of bone cancer and was not expected to live. A few of the guys on the H.A.M.B. were inspired to support him and his family. Plans to get Andy to the H.A.M.B. Drags (all expenses paid) were thwarted by more health complications. Undaunted, the fellows just put that money toward a hot rod for Andy. Their generosity inspired the community and the next thing they knew, people from all over the country were donating parts and services. The resulting Model A Ford was Andy's pride and joy.

Andy was known to thousands as HAMBANDY, and updates on the state of his health and his car were followed by a vast army of interested members. There were literally hundreds of message threads on the HAMB with thousands of messages following Andy Dunn's progress.

Andy Dunn and his Model A

This story would be incredible enough if it ended there. It didn’t. At one point, Andy was in Washington state getting medical help for a few weeks. Sensing an opportunity to uplift Andy, a few HAMB'rs in the area gathered their hot rods and customs and headed to the hospital to give Andy an impromptu car show. The rain and cold couldn’t stop them… They were determined to have a good time and to support their pal. From all accounts, the little car show in the hospital parking lot was the best event of the year.

Andy at his personal car show

Sadly, on St. Patrick's Day, a member named MOVINGVIOLATION posted the following message:
"On behalf of the Dunn family and with a heavy heart, I must tell you that HAMBANDY has left us today. This past weekend Andy asked to leave the hospital and go home. And with his family at his side he peacefully passed for a better life. Andy fought chordoma for 3 years and was adopted by the HAMB members and quickly became HAMBANDY. In those 3 years he became friends with many people here, some cruised him while in hospital in the States... others he visited at their shops. He was taken to car shows and toured places with HAMB'rs that most of us would only wish to see. Andy as said in an earlier post became a legend. And you reached out to him with cards, letters, gifts, parts and money for the once in a lifetime build of HAMBANDY's model A. This brought people from around the world together to become friends and help Andy... A project that Andy's family will be forever thankful for. It renewed faith in mankind for many of us. You could always count on Andy to tell you something about Hot Rods that you didn't know and this past week while watching American Graffitti he said to his dad that he would have loved to live back in the day that the movie portrayed. He also was quick to tell you real hot rods don't have valve covers or to crack you a quick grin or smile. Andy was the real meaning of Hot Rodding in our town and I feel on this site. Andy's fight with chordoma never got him down, he never complained about being sick and always put on a brave face when "the boys" were around. He gave you a true appreciation of life and what it really means. On behalf of the Dunns I would like to thank you all for being a friend to Andy. He would spend hours here lurking to see who was doing what and to dream your dreams of Hot Rodding. This friendship was priceless to Andy and his family. "

It was after the loss of HAMBANDY that the most magnanimous spirit of the group blossomed. A murmur was heard -- How about some kind of memorial for Andy Dunn? It grew into a groundswell of creativity and an outpouring of love. There are now going to be memorial brass plaques in Andy Dunn's memory to grace the dashboards of thousands of hot rods, T-shirts with original art by some of the HAMB's most creative graphic artists, graphic stickers in Andy's memory.

And what might be happening to the money from all those sales? First, a sum will be used to purchase an appropriate gravestone for this courageous young man. He lived in Newfoundland and his family is overwhelmed with grief and funeral expenses. They have gratefully accepted the assistance of HAMB'rs in honoring Andy. Even more inspiring, they have asked that all other funds raised by this effort be donated to the hospital that cared for Andy. You can learn more about this amazing tribute at this thread about the Official HAMBAndy Memorial Fund.

Another Dulcimer Finished...

You may recall that our friend Macie Rorabaugh visited us the week after Christmas. Macie and I started building a curly maple and walnut dulcimer for her that week, and she designed the sound holes which we cut before she left to return to Iowa. As I completed the dulcimer I ran into a few problems.

First I discovered that the fretboard, which I had bought on eBay a l-o-o-o-ng time ago, was warped and couldn't be used. I bought some new walnut and adapted the body of the dulcimer to accommodate the new piece. Then I decided to change from tapered violin-style tuning pins to geared tuners. I bought the tuners from Stewart-Macdonald only to discover that the side walls of the peghead were too thin for the tuners. So I built a doubler plate that follows the curvature of the peghead. I finally finished the instrument this week and it sounds wonderful!

It will be leaving for Iowa soon.

Signs of Spring...

A couple of days ago I saw a bluebird in our yard. Today when I went out to feed the critters I saw a robin. These are good signs.

I remembered that I had bought a couple of birdhouses a few weeks ago. We have a mentally retarded fellow who lives around here who makes and sells birdhouses. He sets up a booth in front of our local hardware store and has several on display every day, rain or shine. He's like the mail service -- "Neither rain nor snow, nor sleet nor hail..." One day I felt sorry for the poor fellow sitting out there in the rain while I was visiting the hardware store, so I bought a couple of his finest. Today I put them up to welcome my favorite season.

We Survived!!!

The Great Blizzard of '09 is over! As I write this on Monday, I do want to point out that the Lincoln County schools were closed today. Here are a few pictures of the results of the "storm."

This Really Happened...

When I first came to Huntsville in 1978, I worked as a general contractor. One of the people I worked with on more than one occasion was Tex Johnson, a bigger-than-life concrete contractor. I heard this story about Tex from a friend and couldn't believe it, but later I confirmed it with the man himself.

It seems that Tex had a practice of buying his lovely bride, "Miss Bonnie," a new Cadillac every year on her birthday. One day in the mid '70's, Tex remembered her birthday as he was proceeding home from pouring the foundations of what became the La Mancha apartments in Huntsville. Picture Tex, covered in concrete mud and dust, looking like a derelict, pulling into the parking lot of Bob Tabb Cadillac, driving his equally filthy Ford pickup.

Tex was an imposing figure, standing well over 6 feet tall and probably weighing in at around 275 lbs. As he entered the showroom, he didn't see anyone he knew, but a salesman came up and asked how he might help.

Tex: "I'm interested in a new Seeee-dan de Ville. You got somethin' in blue?"

Salesman: "Yessir. Take a look at this car here. It's got just about every option. Just came in. Why don't you take a look at it and see if it's what you want. Make us an offer; I'm sure we can do business."

Tex: "Son, I wouldn't think of askin' you to price one of my concrete jobs and I'm damned if I'm going to price your car. How much do you want for it?"

Salesman: "Well sir, why don't you just take a look at it and make us an offer?"

Tex: "Son, maybe you didn't hear me. I'm not in the car pricin' business. What'll you take for the car?"

Salesman: "Sir, if you'll just make us an offer, we'll have someplace to start, and I'm sure we can find an agreeable price."

Tex: "You got a phone in this place?"

Salesman: "Yessir, right over here; feel free."

Tex then calls his friend Ray Pearman, the local Lincoln-Mercury dealer...

"Hey Ray, this is Tex. Say, I'm over here at Bob Tabb Cadillac and these bastards don't want to sell me a car. Have you got one of those Mark IV's in blue?... OK, what's it got on it?... Sounds good. Would you bring it over to me and follow me home?... Yeah, it's Bonnie's birthday and I want to surprise her... Thanks. I'll be outside."

They delivered the new Lincoln on the front lot of Bob Tabb Cadillac. Tex (who always liked to be paid in cash) reached for his wallet and peeled off several thousand dollars in a very public way to make sure the Cadillac sales representatives could see it.

As Tex told me years later, "Those Cadillac people have been real nice to me ever since!"

Historic Times...

I'm thrilled at the events we're witnessing this week.  On this MLK birthday, I'm reminded of a trip I took a long time ago, even though it sometimes feels very recent.

In the summer of 1960, my midshipman "cruise" took me to Little Creek, Virginia, for four weeks of Marine Corps indoctrination followed by four weeks in Corpus Christi, Texas, for aviation indoctrination.  We were released in Corpus Christi to return home and given bus fare, which in my case was around $65.  To save money, another midshipman and I decided to hitchhike back to New York state.

To put the times in context, there was a presidential campaign in progress with Kennedy and Nixon vying to occupy the white house.  Kennedy had expressed the notion that a new Civil Rights Act was needed, since the South was still largely segregated and Jim Crow laws were widespread.  The historic Brown vs. Board of Education of Topeka Supreme Court decision had been handed down six years prior.  But school desegregation was proceeding at a snail's pace.

It was against this backdrop that Guy Wyser-Pratte, a classmate of mine at the University of Rochester, and I decided to hitchhike across the deep south to Beaufort, South Carolina, and then up the eastern seaboard.  The reason for the Beaufort destination was to visit my brother Bill, a Marine Corps jet pilot, who was stationed there.

The trip was an eye opener.  At one point, we got a ride with a Life magazine photographer who was covering the violence associated with school desegregation in Louisiana.  We saw segregated restrooms, segregated drinking fountains, "whites only" signs on motels and other public facilities.  At a diner in Walterboro, South Carolina, we saw a bus pull in to the parking lot.  The white passengers came into the diner; the black passengers went to the kitchen door to place their orders since they were not permitted to eat in the diner.  It was the first time I had witnessed the harsh reality of a racially-segregated society.

I later served part of my navy years in Oklahoma and saw the last vestiges of overt discrimination against Native Americans.  I remember seeing a "No Indians" sign in a restaurant shortly after I arrived in Oklahoma.

These recollections are about a time that's really quite recent in historic perspective.  But the good news is that we live in a nation that, in spite of its flaws, is not afraid to reinvent itself.  And we have a Constitution that empowers us to do so.

We find ourselves today on the threshhold of an amazing and historic occasion -- the inauguration of the nation's first African-American President.  And he really is, in the fullest sense, African-American -- the son of a Kenyan father and a mother from Kansas.  God bless our new President and God bless the United States of America!

Foot-in-Mouth Classic...

I was at the meeting described below.

The Place: Ingalls Shipbuilding Division of Litton Industries, Pascagoula, Mississippi. Administration Building, Main Conference Room.

The Time: Approximately July, 1975

The Players: Admiral James W. Lisanby, U.S.Navy, Program Manager, LHA Program; Mr. Ned Marandino, President, Ingalls Shipbuilding

The Setup: LHA-1, an Amphibious Assault ship and the first of its class has been in fitting out since December, 1973. She is nearing commissioning. It is the first meeting of the Quarterly Program Review, a regularly-scheduled exchange of technical information between the shipyard and its Navy customer. The opening conversation went something like this...

Mr. Marandino: I'd like to take this opportunity to welcome all of our guests to Pascagoula in the hopes that we have a frank and open exchange of information. Without further delay, I'll turn the podium over to Admiral Lisanby, who has asked for the opportunity to present some opening comments.

Admiral Lisanby: Thank you, Ned. It's a pleasure to be here. The Navy also looks forward to an informative and productive exchange over the next couple of days. We appreciate the effort that your team has put into developing this magnificent ship and in particular the briefings to be presented this week. We are looking forward to the commissioning of LHA-1 and because the date of that event is so important to the Navy and the high-ranking Government officials who will be in attendance, I expect to be given a definitive commisioning date before this QPR is over.

Mr. Marandino: With all due respect, Admiral, I doubt if we'll be able to provide you with a specific commissioning date. There are still a lot of unknowns that will drive that date.

The Admiral: Perhaps I should make myself more clear, Ned. I'm not heading back to Washington until I have a specific commissioning date for the USS Tarawa. The Congressmen and their wives and Navy department officials will accept no less than a firm commissioning date.

After a couple more rounds of this verbal standoff, Mr. Marandino loses it: You want a f***ing date, Admiral? I'll give you a God**** date! How about December 25th? That's Christmas! How about July 17th? That's my f***ing birthday! I'll give you 365 God**** dates you can take back to Washington!

The assembled crowd was silent in disbelief. The meeting broke up almost immediately. The next day it was announced that Mr. Marandino was no longer the President of Ingalls Shipbuilding and would be acting as a manager of submarine overhauls on the East Bank (the old, small, overhaul yard).

It was a meeting not soon forgotten.

As a footnote: Admiral Lisanby and his wife retired to Pascagoula in 1987 and bought a gorgeous turn-of-the-century beachfront home. It was substantially destroyed by Hurricane Katrina in 2005. The Lisanbys have been engaged in an ongoing dispute (lawsuit) with one of their homeowners' insurance companies, USAA, over the award made in the significant loss of their home. There is an interesting article in another blog, "Slabbed," that is worth reading.