Memorial Day, 2019...

Midshipman Richard W. Vaughn - 1967

On this Memorial Day, my thoughts are of all the young people I served with who made the ultimate sacrifice for our great country. One was a young man named Richard Vaughn, whom I taught at the University of Oklahoma in 1965 and 1966. He was from San Luis Obispo, California. He had received a NROTC scholarship, elected to attend OU, and rose to the position of Midshipman Battalion Commander, the top position a Midshipman can attain within the organization.  Richard had selected the Marine Corps option at the end of his sophomore year and had subsequently trained for a Marine Corps commission under the able teaching of Marine Lt. Col. Tullis Woodham and Gunnery Sergeant William Bingaman. 2nd Lieutenant Vaughn was the epitome of a young marine officer -- handsome, physically fit, and exuding the "command presence" that we tried to develop in all our young officer candidates. When he was commissioned in June of 1967, he looked like a recruiting poster for the Marine Corps -- fit, energetic, proud in his brand new dress blues.   

After completing his Officer's Basic School at Quantico, on October 11, he proceeded to the 1st Battalion, Ninth Marines and his tour of duty as an infantry officer in Viet Nam. On December 6, less than two months into his tour, a Viet Cong rocket or mortar ended his life. He was buried with full military honors in the Golden Gate National Cemetery in San Bruno, California, surrounded by other heroes. Richard's death epitomizes the the huge loss that the country suffers when our best and brightest are taken at a young age. He clearly was destined to do great things had he lived. The year after Richard's death, his mother established a memorial award to be perpetuated at OU. Each year, the outstanding Marine Officer Candidate would be presented with his or her highly prized Mameluke Sword in Lt. Vaughn's memory.   

Let's never forget to honor his memory, and that of so many others who gave us all their most precious gift.

The Mighty "Big Boy" Rolls Again Under Steam Power!

Almost exactly five years ago, I published a post entitled "An Important Event for Railroad Fans..."  In it, I described a gigantic locomotive, the Union Pacific "Big Boy" that was manufactured in the 1940's by the American Locomotive Company (ALCO) in my home town.  In fact, I just measured it on Google Maps and my home was just 1.2 miles from the birthplace of these giant machines.

ALCO built a total of 25 of the so-called 4000-series locomotives (numbered from 4000 through 4024).  They last saw service in July, 1959.  But the current Union Pacific management has a sense of history.  They have a "Legacy Operations" organization that collects and restores rolling stock and locomotives that defined the railroad.  This is the group that undertook the massive job of restoring engine 4014 during the last five years.  They had hauled it from Pomona, California to Cheyenne, Wyoming after bartering with some lesser locomotives to get it back from a museum operation.

Five years of effort have paid off handsomely.  This weekend, 4014 took to the rails again under its own power for the first time in nearly 60 years.  Accompanied by Union Pacific Challenger Number 844, the two mighty machines are headed for Ogden, Utah, where they will participate in the celebration honoring the 150th anniversary of the completion of the transcontinental railroad.

It's been fun following the train on Facebook pages devoted to its memory, the memory of the individual locomotives, or the event in Ogden.  YouTube is flooded with great videos of the two giants as they roll toward their celebratory goal.  And I'm damn proud of what my home town was capable of producing in its heyday!

My heartfelt thanks go out to the management of the Union Pacific for supporting this effort and the men and women who labored so hard to see it succeed.

Charlie and Brenda Part 3: Recovery and Undying Love

Charlie and Brenda Stroud

Within the last few weeks I've written about my recently departed friends Charlie and Brenda Stroud.  In my first post, I discussed how I got to know Charlie and the love of his life, Brenda.  My second post dealt with the years that Charlie and his family competed successfully in the Great American Race -- a rally for vintage automobiles.  Now, it's time to describe the years after Charlie suffered his brain aneurysm in June of 2003.

For several weeks after Charlie was stricken, he and Brenda remained in Livonia, Michigan, where Charlie was hospitalized.  He underwent several surgical procedures to relieve pressure and stop the bleeding in his brain.  His condition was slowly improving, but he was unconscious for days at a time.  Eventually, he and Brenda returned to Huntsville, where he entered a HealthSouth rehabilitation facility.  That's where I first saw him after his attack.  It was a shock to see him.  He only occasionally knew who I was when I visited.  The robust and vigorous Charlie Stroud was now a frail, aged shell of a man.  He was terribly feeble and often incoherent.  I, quite frankly, did not think he would make it.  My friend Charlie was no longer the man I knew.

But Brenda knew better.  She never gave the slightest impression of losing hope.  Every time I visited Charlie in rehab, Brenda was by his side, usually holding and massaging his frail hand.  She often had to assist in feeding him.  And he must have gotten good care, because it wasn't too many weeks before Charlie Stroud began to respond.  He started walking up and down the rehab facility corridors.  His speech became recognizable.  He began recognizing old friends and their names.  And within a few months, Charlie was released to go home with frequent visits to facilities for physical therapy and other medical/psychological services.  Brenda was his primary and always caregiver.  She took on the assignment with a vengeance.

Soon, Charlie was involved in a Pilates class for his physical development.  Brenda brought home a karaoke system.  She and Charlie would sing together for hours at a time, regardless of how it sounded, simply to develop his mental and vocal skills.  They danced and went for walks.  Brenda took him everywhere so he could redevelop social skills.  It was in a lot of ways as if she was raising a child.  And Charlie responded to the love and to all the activities.

Charlie and Brenda, in foreground, enjoying the music
of Microwave Dave and the Nukes

In November, 2009, Charlie and Brenda came to our home for a day of celebration.  Mary Ann's gift shop, "Ebabe's Gifts," had been open for a full year.  We had food, outdoor music by Microwave Dave and the Nukes, a local blues band, and lots of activity in the gift shop.  I couldn't help noticing how healthy Charlie looked and what a good time he seemed to have.  However, even on his best days, Charlie had almost childlike behavior patterns.  On this particular day, I had left my workshop open.  At one point, I noticed that Charlie had wandered off and saw him walking toward my workshop.  When I went in to see what he was up to, he had started my drill press, found a piece of scrap lumber, and was drilling a series of holes along the edge of the wood.  "Watcha doin' Charlie?" I asked.  "Drilling holes," was the reply.  Nothing could be simpler.  He stood and drilled holes for ten minutes, one after another, in several pieces of scrap wood.  When he got bored with this activity, he shut off the drill press and went back to the music of Microwave Dave.

Charlie, Brenda, and family celebrating Charlie's 90th birthday

We saw Brenda and Charlie infrequently over the last few years.  We had dinner at their home a couple times and had them up to our home a couple of times.  Brenda was Charlie's Angel, always watching and protecting him, sometimes from himself.  Their mutual love was radiant.

Then one day, I heard from a friend that Brenda had been diagnosed with terminal cancer.  What a shock!  This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen.  She was much younger and should survive Charlie, but now it seemed she would be the first to leave us.  And so she did in May of 2018.  It was a sad time, but one in which we could rejoice that she and Charlie had enjoyed so many happy years together.

I learned at the time of Brenda's passing that Charlie was going to live with family members in Texas.  I knew little more.  Now that he has gone to be with his beloved partner, we know that Charlie was bathed in love by his family in his twilight months.  Bye, Charlie.  We'll meet on the other side.  I wonder if they have cigars over there...

An Unexpected Gift...

What's not to love?

A few weeks ago, I received a package in the mail from my employer, Huntington Ingalls Industries (HII), recognizing my ten-year anniversary of employment.  It came as a surprise, since 2009 was not the year of my employment with the company.  I started with Camber Corporation, which had been acquired by HII, in 1990.  That’s 29 years ago.  I took a brief hiatus in 2005-6, during which I was still on Camber’s books as a Contract Laborer, On-Call.  I came back to work full-time in 2007 – 12 years ago.  And HII acquired Camber in 2016, just three years ago.  So although I was grateful to receive recognition, I was baffled by the timing.

The package contained a beautiful polished lucite number 10 about 7” tall that could be displayed on a bookshelf.  There was a personal letter of appreciation and a small yearbook of pictures in which I was featured doing various kinds of work.  And lastly, there was a catalog of gifts from which I might choose something to reward me for my faithful service to the company.

Mary Ann and I talked it over and elected to request a Char-Broil Model 1010 Deluxe outdoor grill.  It’s unique in that it has a gas burner setup on one side and a charcoal grill on the other.  When I submitted my request I was informed that it would be shipped in about six weeks.  It arrived on Tuesday, April 2nd.

The three boxes as they arrived on a wooden pallet

Tuesday evening after work, I began to unpack the biggest of three boxes that had been unloaded on a wooden pallet.  I decided not to begin assembly until I had unwrapped and inventoried all the 65 parts shown in the assembly manual.  Everything had arrived undamaged and I arranged everything in preparation for assembly on Wednesday.

The assembled grill

I started at the crack of dawn, figuring that I could get some assembly done before work hours.  I managed to get most of the lower assembly done with few issues.  Then I reached the point where you had to lift the firebox assembly on to the base.  I decided that was a perfect job to leave until lunchtime.  At noon, my friend Jim Lauria came over and the two of us hoisted the upper section into place.  After work, I managed to complete the last steps in the assembly.  It looks like a fairly well-designed unit.

The weatherman was predicting rain on Thursday, so Wednesday night I dashed down to Lowe’s in Huntsville to purchase an extra-large grill cover.  It fit perfectly.  I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the Meads had some grilled meat this weekend!

The working area

And now protected

Another Genealogical Mystery Solved... And Roots in Ireland.

In my last genealogical entry just a few weeks ago, I had discovered the identity of my second great-grandfather John McLaughlin -- My mother's father's father's father.  And we had learned that he was a Civil War combat veteran.  But, as you may recall, there were some remaining questions.  At least one of those questions has been answered.  Recall how I closed that blog entry: "The next challenge is to figure out the mysterious whereabouts of "Mary A." listed on the grave marker as "wife of John" and "mother" (of James Louis?) who for some reason never lived with John when censuses were being tabulated.  What's that about?"

That really posed two questions.  Who is Mary A? And who is James Louis' mother?  Here's what has transpired.

I had written a letter to the Washington County Historical Society, asking if they could look for any old news articles about John.  Lo and behold, a few days ago, I received his newspaper obituary from 1894.  Here's a transcription:
"A veteran of this place, died at the residence of his son, Mr. James McLaughlin, on Saunders street, at 2 o'clock on Sunday morning. The deceased had not been in his usual health for about two years past. He became worse last August and has since steadily declined.  Funeral services were held at 10 o'clock Tuesday a.m. at the church of Our Lady of Angels, and was very largely attended, the members of Post Tanner being present in a body.  The Rev. Father McLoghlin officiated.  The interment was in Smith's cemetery. The deceased was born in Mansfieldstown, Parish of Darver, County Louth, Ireland, in 1826, making him 68 years of age at the time of his death. He married Miss Bridget Hoy about 44 years ago, who died five years subsequent to their marriage. Mr. McLaughlin came to this place when a comparatively young man and has since resided here. He is survived by one sister, Margaret, and one son, Mr. James McLaughlin, who is married and has a family of bright and promising children. Mr. McLaughlin was a veteran of the late war, he having enlisted in Company F, 169th Regiment, in 1862.  He was a color sergeant during the engagement at Fort Fisher and was the first to plant the flag on the fort.  In the engagement at Cold Harbor he received a severe wound by being struck in the right shoulder blade with a piece of a shell. The wound undoubtedly produced permanent injury to the lungs. At Fort Fisher he saved the life of Gen. Alden, rescuing him from a perilous position. Gen.  Alden was at his side when he received the terrible wound at Cold Harbor and was able to give valuable evidence in assisting him to obtain a pension. Gus. Vaughn was Captain of the company in which Mr. McLaughlin served and both men were together when Capt. Vaughn was shot and killed at the explosion of the Petersburgh mine. Mr. McLaughlin dragged his body from the wreckage and debris and assisted in the burial. The following well known residents of this place were members of the company: Daniel Cummings, James M. Waters, Caleb Earl, Julio Benjamin and Eben Blin. The deceased fought in thirty-two battles, remaining in the Service from the time of his enlistment until the close of the war in 1865.  He was one of the charter members of A.H. Tanner Post G.A.R. whose membership at the time of its organization numbered thirty.  Although the post has at present a larger membership than when first organized, it is not so strong in numbers as a few years ago.  These latter years are making havoc in its ranks.  Time, while it does not cause such immediate mortality is more deadly than volley or broadside.  This soldier, whose courage and tact enabled him to pass through the ordeal of so many battles finally was compelled to surrender his life through an attack of hemorrhage of the lungs.  If any man could justly claim the title of American citizen it was this man.  He was honored and respected by his comrades and his remains were borne to their last resting place by the following members of the Post: P. Casey, John Davey, Edward Marshall, James O’Reilly, C.B. Tinsley, and James T. Boyle."

Notice that one specific citation, "He married Miss Bridget Hoy about 44 years ago, who died five years subsequent to their marriage. Mr. McLaughlin came to this place when a comparatively young man and has since resided here. He is survived by one sister, Margaret, and one son, Mr. James McLaughlin, who is married and has a family of bright and promising children."  John McLaughlin had been married and widowed early in life, having had one son.  This explained all the census years during which he lived with a son and his sister Margaret.  I still haven't figured out who the mysterious Mary A. is, but I have no doubt I shall figure it out.  By the way, one of those "bright and promising children" was my grandfather, William Clinton McLaughlin, known to me as "Grampa Will."

For now, I am pleased to have found the marriage record of John McLaughlin and Bridgett Hoy (Hoye), dated 18 August 1849.  They were married in Whitehall, New York.  This means that John migrated to the US and settled in Whitehall before 1849.  I suspect he traveled with his sister.  Of course, I'm thrilled to know precisely where in Ireland this branch of my tree took root.  It's the tiniest county in Ireland, on the East coast, directly below the Northern Irish border.  There's so much more research to do...

Charlie and Brenda...Part 2: The Great Race Years

Charlie Stroud stands by the 1937 Packard at a Great Race rest stop

How it started -- In 1996, my friend Bob King asked me if I'd be interested in restoring my 1932 Plymouth coupe and using it to participate in the Great Race (also known as the Great American Race).  This is an annual event, held since 1983, in which vintage cars compete for substantial prize money in a long distance precision endurance rally.  King's offer was that if I'd restore the car, he'd pay the entry fee of several thousand dollars.  He'd navigate and I'd drive, and if we won any prize money, we'd split it.

I spent nearly two years restoring the car, which I had acquired in 1962 while in the Navy.  In June of 1998, Bob and I set out from Tacoma, Washington, on a grueling 4,545-mile trip to Haverhill, Massachusetts, in a 66-year-old car.  We made it in one piece and actually won a few dollars from the $250,000 prize pool.  The story of that experience is told in my Great Race Website.  When we returned from the Great Race, my wife Margo and I decided to throw a celebration party.

Winston - 1932 Plymouth Model PB

We washed and waxed and parked the car, affectionately known as "Winston," in a prominent place on our front lawn.  I think we fed close to fifty guests that evening, and among the celebrants were Charlie and Brenda Stroud, whom we had befriended when we worked together at an aerospace firm in Huntsville.  Margo had compiled over an hour of videotape that she had taken during the race that captured the excitement of each night's arrival in a different city, the revealing of the day's scores, and the large crowds that cheered us on and admired the cars.

We had decided to serve a buffet-style dinner to best accommodate the crowd we expected.  As our guests lined up for the buffet line, the videotape would be running in our great room where folks could enjoy it.  One who enjoyed it a lot and watched it more than once through was Charlie Stroud.

After dinner, Brenda was helping Margo in the kitchen.  Charlie came up to me and said, "I watched your video and heard your Great Race stories.  This looks like the most fun you can have with your clothes on."  I had to agree.  He then went on, "I've got a son who lives in Ohio that I'd like to get a lot closer to.  This looks like the kind of thing we could both enjoy."  Within a week, Charlie informed me that he had challenged his son Bill.  "I told him all about the event and he seemed interested.  I told him that if he'd buy a car, I'd pay the entry fee."

Within just a few weeks, Charlie called.  "I heard from Bill today.  He said that there was a 1937 Packard in the driveway and that I had better get my wallet out.  Thus began the saga of the Stroud boys participating in the Great Race.

Charlie (second from Left)
and Brenda Stroud, are shown with Charlie’s
navigator, son Bill Stroud of Ohio (on right), and
support team member, Wayne Gerin (far left).

The competition, 1999 -- I believe Charlie and Bill first competed as a team in the Great Race in 1999.  That year, the rally originated in Marietta, Georgia, and ended in Anaheim, California.  They drove the car down from Ohio to Huntsville where they were able to get some practice in and calculate their acceleration and deceleration time losses in order to be somewhat competitive in this precision rally.  One of the great Stroud legendary stories occurred during that year's event.

The Stroud's car was traversing a very rural area in southern Arkansas enroute to the next overnight city of Dallas, Texas.  Both Bill and Charlie were Texas A&M graduates and very proud of that fact, so they had notified the Dallas Aggie alumni organization to encourage their membership to come out and greet "Team TAMU" as they arrived that evening.  Many alumni were planning to greet the Strouds at the day's finish line.  (Each day the Great Race ends with a giant finish line setup of an inflatable gate, VIPs, an announcer greeting every car and informing them of their daily score, and often a military band.  It's a big deal with thousands of spectators.)

As Bill and Charlie were cruising along in rural Arkansas, suddenly the 1937 Packard died.  The Strouds were somewhere in the middle of the pack that day, so lots of cars passed them, one every minute, as they tried to troubleshoot the car by the side of the road.  At the end of the procession of competing cars would be the dreaded "sweep truck," a large roll-on tow truck that follows the Great Race every day and brings broken-down participant cars to the finish line for the day.  Charlie and Bill were not going to be brought in on the sweep truck!  What might their Aggie buddies think?  So they came up with a typical Stroud plan.

They pushed the disabled car into some nearby bushes where the sweep truck would not spot it.  After they saw that the truck had safely passed, one of them hitchhiked to a pay phone to contact a tow truck.  They then got towed to a repair shop where the car was quickly brought back to life.  As I recall, it was a clogged fuel line, easily repaired.  They were soon on their way, albeit several hours late by the Great Race clock.

Meanwhile, the staff of the Great Race was frantically trying to determine their whereabouts.  Several participants had seen them working on the car by the side of the road, but then, they simply vanished.  The sweep truck crew swore they hadn't seen anything.  Had they gotten lost?  Lots of Team TAMU fans had waited patiently by the finish line, but had eventually given up on their team and gone home.  Finally, as the Great Race staff was dismantling the last of the P.A. system and guardrails, the chagrined Team TAMU crossed the finish line.  The story became part of Great Race lore.

The car ran just fine throughout the rest of the rally, all the way to Anaheim, but both Bill and Charlie felt they could be a little more competitive with the more responsive acceleration of a rebuilt engine.

2000 - Before the 2000 rally, Bill and Charlie brought the Packard to Huntsville to replace it's tired straight-six engine prior to the start of the race.  The plan was to then drive it to Boston.  They acquired a spare engine and turned it over to a local engine rebuilding shop where unfortunately the mechanic assembling the engine put the exhaust valves in the intake valve positions and vice versa.  Unfortunately, exhaust and intake valves are made of different alloys and are heat treated differently.  The engine would run, but the valves would wear out very rapidly.  The rebuilt engine was put in the car with its hidden flaw.  By the time Charlie drove to Boston and realized the problem, it was too late.  Charlie had the old engine brought from Huntsville to Boston and replaced it in the hotel parking lot and got started a day late in the competition.  To complicate things further, at the last minute, Bill had other commitments that prevented him from participating, so Charlie had invited my old navigator, Bob King, to accompany him.  In spite of these complications, Charlie and Bob drove very competitively and represented themselves well in the 2000 Great Race.

The Strouds, in their 1937 Packard Model 115-C
leave the starting gate in Atlanta, June 17, 2001

2001 - The 2001 Great Race went from Atlanta to Pasadena and both the Strouds, father and son, were once more in the running, again in their 1937 Packard Model 115-C four-door sedan, but now with its properly-rebuilt 100-horsepower engine.  "Team TAMU" was emblazoned on the car with Texas A&M logos and signage.  There was no doubt the Aggies were in town.  Bob King and I were part of that race and enjoyed the camaraderie we had with the Strouds.  Of course they had an entourage and his beloved Brenda was their senior cheerleader.  In the 2001 Great Race, the Strouds demonstrated that they were VERY competitive.  They placed third or fourth in the largest division of competitors, the Sportsman Division.  I think it was obvious to everyone that the Strouds were out to win.

2002 saw Team TAMU once more chasing the winner's prize.  Charlie flew to Ohio several weeks before the start date so he and Bill could hone their skills and improve their accuracy.  Perhaps a little explanation of how the rally works is in order:
Participants attempt to follow precise driving instructions exactly.  The instructions are presented to the participating teams 10 minutes before their scheduled departure times each morning.  Cars are spaced one minute apart and the sequence of start each day is determined by drawing lots the previous evening.  They are evaluated at several check points during each day's run and their times are compared to the “perfect” time (as established by a very precise measurement of the course beforehand and computer simulation of a vehicle following every instruction to perfection) for that portion of the rally.  A zero score is perfect.  Penalty points are assigned for each second early or late.  Scores are cumulative.  The lowest score wins.  A “factor” is applied to the raw score to come up with the adjusted score (older cars have an advantage).  Overall winners are determined by the best score of the first 10 stages plus the combined scores on the last two stages.

There are four main competitive categories:  Rookie Class, Sportsman Division (in which Charlie and Bill were competing), Championship Division, and X-cup.  Rookies are first year competitors, Sportsman entries are experienced, Championship entries are VERY experienced and X-cup is a special category for high school teams.  An Ace is a zero (or perfect score) on a leg, meaning the car completed the leg in precisely the allotted time for that leg.

Team TAMU's listing as it appeared in the 2002 program for the Great Race
You have to love Charlie's derby and ascot

The 2002 rally was unusual in that it didn't go from coast to coast.  The founder of the Great Race, Tom McRae, had announced that after twenty years of putting on the event, he was retiring.  As a result, the organization had difficulty finding sponsors for the 2002 competition.  They shortened the course somewhat, starting with a three-day tour of Texas and then heading west.  The event started in San Antonio, then progressed to Houston; Dallas/Ft. Worth; Clovis, NM; Rio Ranch, NM; Williams, AZ; Scottsdale, AZ; Chula Vista, CA; ending in Anaheim, CA.  Instead of its usual 14-day duration, the rally would be a total of 9 days, including the so-called "Trophy Run," a one-day "warm-up" conducted while in San Antonio. 

Each day the Strouds were in the top three or four in the scoring.  They had done their homework.  The rally requires intense focus and consistent driving.  Acceleration and deceleration must be as uniform as possible and Charlie, as the driver with Bill as navigator were on a roll.  Finally, as the 120 participating teams rolled into Anaheim to the finish line, it was announced, "Team TAMU -- Charlie and Bill Stroud -- have WON the Sportsman Division of the 2002 Great Race with a score of 1:04!!!  Charlie and his wife Brenda live outside of Huntsville in Brownsboro, AL, near Hampton Cove.  Bill and his wife Chris live in the Akron, OH, area.  They first got interested in Great Racing after seeing the video tapes taken by Margo Mead during the 1998 Race.  They have competed ever since in a 1937 Model 115C Packard Touring Sedan."

For their hard work, the team proudly representing their alma mater took home a check for about $40,000.  For the Strouds, that only whetted their appetites.

A 1924 Buick 4-cylinder chassis,
similar to the one Charlie resurrected

Preparing for the 2003 Great Race, Charlie and Bill decided to acquire an older car.  Part of the scoring system that is used in the Great Race gives a slight advantage to older vehicles.  It applies a handicap factor based on the year in which the participant car was manufactured.  Bill and Charlie would now compete in the Champions Division, so they wanted to employ every means possible to get an advantage.  They attended a vintage car auction in Auburn, Indiana, in the fall of 2002, to find their new steed.  It turned out to be a very tired 1924 Buick Model 35 roadster.  They moved it to Charlie's home in Alabama, where he would transform it into a competitive, 2-seat open racing machine.  Charlie labored over their car for the next several months.  He upgraded the brakes and fuel and electrical system, all within the allowable limits of the regulations.  He modified the engine where possible to make it more reliable.  And soon, it was time to depart for Livonia, Michigam, home of Roush Racing (Jack Roush is a long-time supporter of and participant in the Great Race.), from which the race would start en route to Daytona, Florida.

They towed the Buick to Michigan.  After the technical inspection, the father-son team discovered some items needing attention, including replacing the lubricant in the differential.  So on Friday, June 20, 2003, as Charlie was under the car, tightening a bolt, his life changed.  He suffered a major brain aneurysm.  As I recall, he told Bill, "I'm feeling really strange."

Charlie was rushed to a hospital in Livonia, where he would remain for weeks.  He would undergo surgeries to relieve the pressure on his brain, but Charlie was in for a long recovery.  The Strouds' rallying days had come to an end, but hadn't those days been enchanting?  More to follow...

Charlie and Brenda...Part 1: Meeting Charlie Stroud

Charlie Stroud
1926-2019

How it all happened -- In May of 1984 my employer, John Cockerham & Associates, sent me to California on a job.  I was to work with a senior Vice President of our firm named Charles D. "Charlie" Stroud.  I'd only been working for Cockerham for about a month, so I knew very little about my new workmate.  I learned quickly that I was among the chosen who got to share their life experiences with Charlie.  We ended up becoming lifelong friends.

As a way to save money for the customer, Charlie and I were housed together in a two-story apartment in Inglewood, about 7 miles from our place of work, the Hughes Electronics facility on El Segundo Boulevard.  Initially, I was not crazy about living with this "old guy."  I rather enjoyed my privacy when I had to travel on business.  Also, I was newly sober and treasured the independence of having my own rental car to get to AA meetings a couple times a day.  It turned out that my concerns were needless.  Our apartment was big enough that neither Charlie nor I ever lacked for privacy, and the company provided me with my own personal rental car to get to my meetings.  I ended up loving the living arrangement.

The job --Our company had a contract supporting an Army Project Office at Redstone Arsenal in Huntsville, AL.  This office managed a program at Hughes that was developing an improved optical sight for the M1 Abrams tank.  The program was nearly a year behind schedule and millions of dollars over budget.  The Army wanted our company to put some people on site to do a bottom-up analysis to determine if the program management could be improved.  Needless to say, the good folks at Hughes did not exactly welcome us with open arms. 

The Hughes building where Charlie and I worked

The Charlie I got to know -- For the first few days, we had not been issued our Hughes ID badges and were restricted to a tiny, windowless office.  We needed an escort to leave our office to go to the bathroom, the cafeteria, other people's offices, or the exit.  Charlie only put up with this situation for about 3 or 4 days, at which point he demanded to talk to the Vice President of the Division in which our program was being managed.  He made clear to this individual that whether or not Hughes liked having us on site, we happened to be working for the customer who was paying the bills.  Charlie suggested that if we didn't have our free-access badges by the end of the day, he would find it necessary to involve the Colonel for whom we were working.  Our badges showed up within an hour and we were given a slightly larger, although not extravagant, office.

I quickly learned that Charles Dow Stroud II did not tolerate incompetence or needless bureaucracy.  He was extremely self-confident without being arrogant.  On more than one occasion while at Hughes, Charlie would call a vice-president or director-level manager and "educate" them with the certainty that he knew what he was talking about.  Most of them had the highest respect for this outsider, especially when they learned a little bit about his background..

Having been born and raised on a hardscrabble ranch outside of Boerne, Texas, Charlie was a proud graduate of the Texas A&M University in an engineering discipline.  He had worked at Boeing for many, many years, culminating in becoming their Director of Operations at Cape Canaveral in the heyday of the Apollo program.  I would describe him as a very temperate, methodical, analytical manager with a remarkable ability to synthesize diverse information.  And he carried himself with what the Navy used to refer to as "Command Presence."  When Charlie Stroud spoke, people listened.  He was the perfect mentor for me as I made the transition into the world of management consulting.

He frequently made the point to me that as companies grow larger, they also grow less efficient.  He believed that as things got more bureaucratic, they were more prone to broken communications.  He demonstrated how to take advantage of this communication paralysis.  And this story also reveals Charlie's mischievous side.

As I mentioned, our office left a lot to be desired.  We had only one desk and our requests for a larger office with two desks and a whiteboard had gone unanswered.  One day, while prowling the halls, Charlie noticed a couple of gentlemen in a large office with multiple desks and a huge whiteboard.  The sign adjacent to their door stated "Army Audit Team."  Charlie introduced himself, explaining our mission, and asked how long they planned to be on site.  It turned out they were leaving the next day.  Charlie came back to our office, which happened to be on the same corridor and suggested we pack up our stuff and get ready to move.  The next day we watched until the auditors had left their office (It was really two normal offices combined.) and we made our move.  Within fifteen minutes, we had relocated.

The next morning, a crew from the facilities department came by to remove the desks and other office furnishings.  All Charlie said was, "We're going to be here longer than expected.  Now, they're telling us we might be here a few more weeks."  He never actually said we were the Army auditors, but the crew must have assumed that.  We occupied that office for the remainder of our stay.  And somehow, Charlie figured out the phone extensions so we could notify our contacts of our new numbers.  Charlie had correctly surmised that in such a gigantic organization, it would take months for anyone to figure out that we were professional squatters.

Our work at Hughes turned out to be very beneficial to the Army and to the program.  Because of Charlie's extensive Boeing experience, he was acutely sensitive to scheduling bottlenecks.  I would conduct interviews with Hughes personnel to discern the details of their processes and convert these to logic diagrams.  We still drew these by hand rather than having a computer graphics program generate the diagrams.  After I would complete modeling part of their system, Charlie and I would go over the flow diagram and discuss alternatives and options that might be beneficial.  As a team, he and I pointed out several areas in which the schedule could be compressed without impacting quality.  I think by the end of our stay, the Hughes Program Manager hated to see us leave.

A Fiat like Charlie bought in L.A.

The car -- One week while we were at Hughes, John Cockerham joined us to contribute to our work and become personally acquainted with the senior Hughes staff.  Charlie complained to John that if he was going to be stuck in southern California for several months, he needed a proper car.  John and Charlie left early one afternoon in the quest for a "proper car."  By the time I arrived at the apartment that evening, Charlie not only had acquired the car, but had turned in his rental car and was now washing and waxing his new pride and joy -- a very tired and much used bright red Fiat 124 Spyder convertible.  Within the first week it died in the apartment parking garage.  Charlie was not about to let this car get the best of him.  We went to a Western Auto store and bought a small basic tool kit.  That evening, in the dim light of the garage, we determined that the fuel pump had given up the ghost.  We called a foreign car parts store and found that the replacement pump cost close to one hundred dollars.  The next day, Charlie took the day off, dropped me off at Hughes, found a foreign car salvage yard, removed a serviceable fuel pump from a wreck ($20.00), put it on his car where it checked out, and came back to Hughes to pick me up.  He looked like Joe Shit the Rag Man, completely covered in grime, but he was beaming.  "We're back on the road, and it only cost twenty bucks!" he exclaimed.  He had enjoyed a fabulous Charlie adventure.  The car ran for several more months, and when we finally left California, he proudly sold it at a profit.

Charlie's beloved Brenda

Personal life -- On the personal front, I learned that Charlie was madly in love with a lady named Brenda, who was employed by Boeing in the Washington, D.C. area.  Most weekends that we were on our L.A. job, Charlie flew to Washington to be with Brenda.  And nearly every Friday, the script went like this:  I had found a Friday evening  AA meeting that I was particularly fond of.  It was held in the back room of a beauty salon not far from our apartment.  In those days, there was a prominent AA speaker named Alabam Carrothers.  This was her AA home group.  As I recall, that meeting started at 7:30 PM.  I rarely missed it.  Before I'd leave the apartment I'd ask Charlie if he wanted a ride to LAX to go see Brenda.  "No, I've decided to stay here this weekend.  I'm just too darned tired to go all the way back East."  I'd go to my meeting, returning about 9:00 PM.  Charlie would be waiting in the parking garage with a small suitcase.  "C'mon, we gotta get to LAX!  I got a seat on the Red Eye.  I think we can still make it."  We'd make the mad dash to LAX in Friday night traffic.  I'd drop him off in front of some terminal.  Amazingly, he always made it on time.  Remember, this was long before security checkpoints and restricted gate areas.  Charlie simply ran to his gate and caught his flight.

The Gentleman -- He was a gentleman's gentleman.  When my wife, Margo, came out to visit for a long weekend, Charlie simply moved out of our apartment.  He wanted us to have our privacy.  And when we arrived at the apartment from the airport, there was a beautiful bouquet of roses with a welcoming greeting to Margo from Charles D. Stroud.  That same weekend, an old friend, Ritas Smith, whom I had known in Oklahoma and who had settled in L.A. invited Margo, me and Charlie to join her for dinner and a live performance of La Cage aux Folles at Hollywood's Pantages theater.  Ritas wanted to meet Margo and properly welcome her to California.  Charlie graciously had accepted and he wanted to "do it up right."  He rented a Cadillac for the night and showed up in a tuxedo with corsages for the ladies!  We all rode in style to a fabulous restaurant followed by a most memorable Broadway musical in Hollywood.  Charlie had figured out how to make the very most of an already great evening.

The hunting club -- Somewhere during Charlie's travels, he had befriended Norm Augustine, a former CEO of both Lockheed and Martin Marietta corporations who had served as Under Secretary of the Army, and later Acting Secretary of the Army.  Through Mr. Augustine, Charlie had gained access to and befriended many, many of the big operators in the 1980's defense and aerospace industries.  One day, he mentioned that he was taking a few days off to go dove hunting in northern Mexico with a small group of these aerospace industry elites.  He said that basically, it was a wealthy gentlemen's club for eating fine food, playing very competitive poker, smoking fine cigars, drinking the very best scotch and bourbon whiskey, and maybe even getting a little hunting in.  For Charlie, during the mid-1980's, it was an annual trek.

The weekend excursions -- There were some weekends that for various reasons, Charlie couldn't fly East to visit Brenda.  If we didn't have to report to work on Saturday, Charlie would inevitably suggest breakfast at the Farmers Market.  We'd get into our casual riding attire, put the top down on the Fiat and head downtown.  The Original Los Angeles Farmers Market is located on West 3rd Street in Downtown L.A.  It's a sprawling affair with a montage of snack bars and specialty vendors, florists, clothiers, butcher shops, fish peddlers, small restaurants, artists, gourmet gift shops, jewelers and the like.  We'd park the Fiat, sometimes several blocks away, stop by a tobacco shop to get two fine cigars, and head for the market.  For reasons I will never understand, Charlie Stroud loved smoked, salted whitefish as a breakfast delicacy.  It was available at a Jewish delicatessen in the Market.  I'd find a booth delivering fresh bacon and eggs and biscuits, and by the time I'd spot Charlie (identifiable by his Greek fisherman's cap), he'd already be diving into a plate of smelly fish, usually accompanied by a cream cheese covered bagel.  After breakfast, we'd get tall mugs of gourmet coffee, sit and read the Los Angeles Times while enjoying our cigars.  We solved many of the world's problems at those weekend breakfasts.  I will cherish them forever, whitefish be damned.

The L.A. Farmers Market

The reason I'm writing this Blog entry at this time is that I learned this week of Charlie's passing.  There will be two more entries following this one -- the story of Charlie and his son in the Great Race, and the moving love story of Charlie and Brenda in the years following his aneurism.  I need to share with my readers, the wonderful people that he and Brenda were and why I treasured our friendship.  The words of his beloved granddaughter, Elizabeth Cosser, brought his passing to my attention on Facebook:

Elizabeth Cosser - Spring Break. Tomorrow is the last day before Spring Break, so it’s only fitting that I’m lying here soaking up the memories of truly the most amazing man I’ve ever known. I can’t think of Spring Break without thinking of my granddad. My sister, Ashley, and I spent every spring break with him from when I was 9 until after graduation from college. People used to tell us how sweet it was for us to give up our spring break to spend time with our grandparents, but he was not your ordinary granddad. Caving, hiking, dirt biking, horse riding, zip lining from the 40 foot treehouse he built by himself when he turned 70, sailing, dancing, eating, gaming, and so much laughing. He bought me my first car, a ‘94 gray Isuzu manual pick up with no power steering, and made me learn to drive it in the winding, hilly roads of the Smoky Mountains. Ashley and I were his only granddaughters, and we were also his grandsons. Granddad, life, for you, was nothing if it wasn’t an adventure, and most of my greatest adventures so far have been with and because of you, Charles D Stroud. I wish I could have been there to see the look on B’s face when you joined her in eternity. I love you so.

Charlie's other granddaughter, Ashley, also posted a beautiful eulogy on Facebook:

Ashley Stroud Phillips - Charles Dow Stroud, Jr., (Charlie) 1926-2019

My Grandad
Carefree and adventuresome
Namesake of my daughter Charlie
Taught my sister, Elizabeth, & I to repel, go spelunking & ride dirt bikes
Veteran
Loved working on old cars
Won the "great race" in 2002 in a 1937 Packard w/ my Dad
Survived a brain aneurysm at age 75
Loved to garden & eating tomatoes & avocados
Became softer and quieter
Took pilates twice a week til he was 90
Played bridge
Sang too loud in church
Didn't get it all right...but who does?
Paul Newman look alike
Worked with NASA on Apollo 11 and 13
Would always dance when invited

I will always and forever be so grateful for the gift of being next to him when he took a breath and then never took another one. I also can't be more grateful for my sister for caring for him day to day in the final days.

Grief, you are demanding.