Scary Movies

Sleepy Hollow Cemetery

 

It’s our custom at Halloween to watch old scary movies. Not the gory ones that masquerade as scary but the ones that play with your mind– the classics: Pyscho, Poltergeist, The Silence of the Lambs. Ones that have a bit of gore, but are not bloodbaths. Well you get the picture.

Going to a scary movie is truly a rite of passage. The first one I can really remember seeing is Snow White,  at the old State Theatre in Fulton, New York, when I was about 8. Today Disney has come to mean “wholesomeness, sweetness and light,” but there is a really dark side to those first Disney movies. Ask anyone who has had to answer the question of a small child: “What happened to Bambi’s mother?”

In Snow White the darkness is not hidden but out in plain sight:  the Wicked Queen asks for Snow White’s heart to be cut out and brought back in a be-jeweled box to prove the Huntsman has killed the young princess. All this of course went over my 8-year-old head. It was the transformation of the Wicked Queen into the Witch that really scared the crap out of me. Now that Witch is truly a frightening figure.  My mother found that out later that night when I had nightmares about the scary, old hag.  I think I was in high school before I could even look at a drawing of the Witch, and she still creeps me out.

My “cool” cousin Patty took me to my first adult scary movie.

It was The Creature from the Black Lagoon, shown in black and white and in the wonder of 3D. I was 10 and it was probably the first time I went to the movies without my parents. Patty was 15 and filled the role of an older sister in my life (I was the oldest in our family of three siblings) so I looked up to her and basically believed anything she told me. Small children do that, they invest a lot in those kid relatives who older and believe what they say. How Patty got my mother to agree to this is a mystery to me some 60 years later. In addition we went to an evening movie, usually my mother took me to the matinée. I suspect that Patty was with her friends also, but the details of the evening are basically gone. We sat in the State Theatre’s balcony, a real teenager hangout– I suspect that the most exciting activities in the balcony escaped me at the time.  We put on our 3D glasses and something truly magical happened: the images jumped off the screen. There above my head were fish swimming in a tropical lagoon and then there was the large gilled, and of course misunderstood, monster, who only wanted to be left alone.

As an adult I have seen many scary movies and tend as I said to avoid those with lots of gore, think Texas Chainsaw Massacre.  Thus, it may be surprising when I say that my favorite scary movie is Halloween, a John Carpenter film from the 1970s. It has a modicum of blood, a dash of violence, and a great atmosphere. It builds and adds to the suspense found in Pyscho by replacing Norman Bates’ mother with a truly frightening “bogeyman.” And like the truly real terrors of life, just when we think he is dead or gone, he pops up again and again. Leaving the unanswered question of whether he is really gone for good or biding his time.

Hmm I wonder where that Wicked Queen is hiding?

In Search of the Haunted Tombstone

Sleepy Hollow Cemetery

 

50 years ago this October several of my friends and I went in search of a haunted tombstone.

It was October 1964 and we were juniors at Hobart College in Geneva, N.Y. The idea to look for the stone came to us after a couple of hours at the Twin Oaks, a local college watering hole. At this point it is not clear how we knew about the stone. But one of our group knew it and this is the legend of the stone as he told it:

“A woman was dying, it was not clear from what, but as she lay on her death bed, she told her husband that if he remarried she would return to haunt him. Her face then appeared on her grave stone. The stone was replaced but each time the outline of the face returned.”

Googling this story now shows that it is a well-known legend in upstate New York. According to some accounts the face is warm to the touch. Others say that people will die if they throw a stone at the monument or have a year’s bad luck if they spit on it. All versions of the story make the point that the maker was large and black or dark stone with the white outline of a woman’s head on one side.

Then one of our small group of friends  suggested that we drive down to Penn Yan, the town of the cemetery about an hour away, to see the stone.  Five of us piled into a small WV bug and set off to find the “haunted” stone. The fact that we had no idea of the name of the buried individual or the location of stone didn’t seem to sink in. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Well as I said, we been “socializing” for a couple of hours and all things seemed like a good idea at that point.

We got to the cemetery about 10:30 p.m., parked the car along the road, and set off on our quest to find the stone. The cemetery was very dark, I am not sure if we had a flashlight – the details of these events, for obvious reasons, are a bit fuzzy. Now if you have ever visited a strange cemetery in search of a grave, you know that it is difficult to find a stone even under the best conditions as the inscription is often obscured or worn with age, covered with moss or lichen, or broken and sometimes simply not visible.  Old cemeteries are a maze of stones, large and small, upright and broken off, and often on their sides and leaning.  Not an easy place to find a haunted stone even in the daytime.

Why we thought we would just waltz into the cemetery and find it remains one of the great mysteries of my time at Hobart 50 years ago. So after about trudging up and down the cemetery for about one hour with no “haunted” stone in sight, someone decided to go to the caretaker’s house and ask where the stone was located.

We were college students who routinely stayed up to about 1 a.m. every night, and it never dawned on us that someone would be in bed at midnight. The caretaker surprisingly was very helpful and gave us exact directions as to where to find the stone. Perhaps he was used to people coming to look for it, at the least it was a very different time than now and much more innocent in many ways.

Lo and behold the stone was exactly where the man said it was.

It was a large dark granite block with no visible markings except the supposed outline of the woman’s face on it. We all crowded around to look at it and touch the outline, which was supposed to be warmer than the rest of the stone. It was warmer, or so it seemed. Well, yes it was warmer after five people put their hands on it, but it didn’t look much like the head of a woman, only a white blob –so much for the haunted stone. Chalk one up to socializing….

Still I am told even today there are folks who venture into the cemetery in search of the stone with the outline of dead woman’s head on its surface.

Some things never change.
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A more detailed version of the legend of the stone can be found in “The Lady in Granite,” by Herbert A. Wisbey, Jr.

http://www.crookedlakereview.com/articles/67_100/79oct1994/79wisbey.html

The stone is also on Findagrave. Com
at http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=12653723

Hauntings

View of the Battlefield from Little Round Top

View of the Battlefield from Little Round Top

 

My focus on Gettysburg this fall has brought to mind, especially at this time of year, the many stories that say the battlefield is haunted.

Almost from the days after the battle, there have been reports of  the supernatural.  From phantom cries of wounded soldiers to ghost-like apparitions, the place has had an unearthly reputation.

For the men who fought there, the nights of the three-day battle must have been  like something out of hell,  with the cries of the dying and wounded echoing in their ears.  Nearly 5,000 horses and more than 50,000 men lay dead, dying, or wounded.

The Union dead soldiers were later removed to proper burial sites, some in their home states and many to the new national cemetery. But what of the Confederates? Many soldiers never received a proper burial. Their remains, buried in shallow graves, continued to appear for many years when heavy rains washed away the shallow soil over them.  Even now, in broad daylight, there is an eerie quality about the place.  One cannot help but see in the mind’s eye the warriors here  forever locked in combat on this hallowed ground.

This is not the first place that I have felt an unexplained presence.

While on R&R during the Vietnam War, my wife and I visited the Arizona Memorial at Pearl Harbor. Like Gettysburg there is something about the place that is hard to pin down. Whether it is the sense of the history of the place, or the knowledge that in the case of the Arizona Memorial, it contains the remains of those who gave their lives for freedom, the moment I stepped foot on it, I felt something.  It was and is something hard to put into words.

The December 7, 1941attack, explosion, and fire killed 1,177 sailors and marines instantly.  Only 334  of the 1500 man crew survived.  While some bodies were recovered, many located in the rear of the ship were left there due to their condition.  From the memorial’s deck  one can see, down into the water, the ghostly outline of the ship, still leaking oil after all these years.   Something tragic had happened there and  it still animates the place.

One other place with something akin to this  feeling is Lincoln’s tomb in Springfield, Illinois.

Lincoln, our first martyred president, is buried in an imposing tomb in Oak Ridge Cemetery in Springfield. That his presence would be strongly felt there so many years after his death is not surprising.  Lincoln is considered our greatest president and while living in Washington DC, I have seen visitors to his memorial brought to tears, so strong is his emotional link to the American people.

Before his death, he told many in his cabinet that he had a premonition of his death. When he was first buried, an attempt was made to steal the body.  It was subsequently hidden. When the tombwas rebuilt in 1901, due to water and other damage, the caskets of Mr. Lincoln and Mary Todd Lincoln were finally put to rest under concrete to prevent any future attempts.

Still there is something about the tomb, much like the feelings at Gettysburg, and the Arizona, that pervades it.

Some say that it is the great grief  for the tragic events that reverberates across the years.

And that perhaps is the best explanation of all.

Fighter Jock Nicknames

If you visited a  fighter squadron, you would immediately feel that you were seeing an episode of M*A*S*H*; all the main characters had nicknames.

Captain John E. Norvell, Urdorn RTAFB, Thailand, 1973

Captain John E. Norvell, Urdorn RTAFB, Thailand, 1973

Some nicknames came from the background of the person involved. There was Captain “D Ring,” a name he gained while in training when he accidentally pulled the D Ring on a parachute while handling it.

Another captain, “The Blade,” had once pulled a knife when he was being hazed upon arrival at the squadron.

Still another was dubbed “Egg White” as his real name was Edward White.

Some nicknames were linked to a Fighter Jock’s carefully crafted persona.

Capt. “Joe Hollywood” always wore sunglasses, even indoors, and drove a Bentley, that he had picked up in Thailand, with two captain flags on the bumper, much as a General would have two “star flags” on his car to indicate his rank. It was a joke that shared by all on the base and he would often get a salute from pedestrians when he drove by.

The “Preacher,” had gone to a Bible College and spent a great deal of his time, when not flying, trying to convert the unwashed. It was a lost cause, but that didn’t stop him from having long, long, long debates with others on his views of religion and Christianity. He seemed only to attract those of a like mind, as a fighter squadron was not fertile grounds for proselytizing.

Two men were called “Whiskey Alpha” and “Whiskey Bravo” as they were always in the company of one another, much like Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. The Alpha and Bravo were obvious, the Whiskey perhaps from a favored libation.

And then there was Capt Upp who’s nickname was — well you can imagine it.   Enough said on that.

Capt. “Chuckie” was not a well-liked person and that name was more or less a term of disdain.

You have to imagine it being said with a sneer on your face or as if you had eaten a lemon. He had a grating personality and implied both verbally and non verbally that he was somehow “better” than those around him. As the months passed and Chuckie frequented the local massage palors, he contracted four types of a common social disease. When the word got out in the Squadron, someone wrote on the duty board, “Let’s have A big Clap for Chuckie,” – the man had not solicited any sympathy from his peers for his behaviors both in the cockpit and extracurricular.

Chuckie was at one end of the spectrum as most nicknames were terms of endearment or respect for the recipient, such as the Preacher or Joe Hollywood or the Whiskey Twins.

Some men never had nicknames, either they were so bland that one never stuck or so uninvolved with their peers that no one cared. And that was the point, to have a nickname meant you had arrived.

And what of mine, I was short and built like a fire plug,  and well that’s a story for another time….

Citizen Soldiers

 

Epitaph on Lt. Lipscomb Norvell's Grave, Old City Cemetery Nashville.

Epitaph on Lt. Lipscomb Norvell’s Grave, Old City Cemetery Nashville.

In teaching a course on Gettysburg this fall, I have come to think a lot about the citizen soldier.

Several generations of the Norvells in my family served our nation, many finding themselves in the front lines:

– Lipscomb Norvell in the Revolutionary War

– John, Joshua, Lipscomb Jr., and William in the War of 1812

– Lipscomb Jr and William Lawrence Norvell in the Texas War of Independence

–  Freeman and Spencer Norvell in the Mexican War

– Freeman, John Mason, Alfred C. , Edwin,  Stevens T, and  Dallas Norvell in the Civil War

– Stevens T. Norvell at San Juan Hill in the  Spanish American War

–John Bower Norvell, Emily Virginia Norvell, and Stevens T. Norvell III in WWI.

– Phil K. Norvell in  WW II and Korea

– and of  course in Vietnam.

Their service was brought home even more when I visited Lt. Lipscomb Norvell’s grave recently in the City Cemetery in Nashville.   If there were ever a hero in a family of service men, it was Lipscomb.  He served for seven years in the Revolutionary Army, was taken prisoner by the British in 1780 and survived to return home and helped to settle the American frontier.   His grave says he was a Christian Patriot.

They were all patriots who served their nation — As are the young men and women on the front lines today in Afghanistan and Iraq.

All speak to the great tradition of the Citizen Soldier in America.

Many see in George Washington, considered the modern Cincinnatus of his time, as the model for Citizen Soldiers.

Cincinnatus was a Roman general who took up arms in defense of Rome and then returned to his home to become a citizen of his community again.   In the early United States this idea formed the basis of the militias who were called to arms during the Revolutionary War and the Volunteer brigades called up in the Civil War.    It was the main reason why the United States relied upon its citizens to do their duty when needed and continues to rely on them in today’s state national guard units.

All these Norvells, and many others, took up arms to serve our nation; some did not return, all of those above did.  Sometimes the return was greeted with great thanks for their service as in World War II, sometimes as in Vietnam it was not.   Yet that did not matter to these men, they served because it was their duty as a citizen to give back a part of their lives and abilities to this country which had given them so much.   This may seem to some like a very old-fashioned notion:   That to those who are given much, it is expected that they will give back in return.  It is not.

It is the basis of how this country has worked and should work.  And it is not limited to the military, it is the basis of the Peace Corps, community and church-related services, the Salvation Army, the Red Cross, and countless other groups, such as the ones who restored the City Cemetery in Nashville, and those who work for the greater good in the world.  It is a very American idea in a world where selfishness not selflessness is often the way of life.

The men and woman who served, and serve today, did not do it for parades, or discounts at stores, they did it for something much bigger:  a calling to serve that they heard.  That is the bottom line, it is something that draws a man out of himself to be a bigger person, to do his duty, to fill the breach, and in the end return to his home to again give back to others there as if nothing had happened.

Indeed the very definition of a Citizen Soldier and a good American.

 

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For more information on the Citizen Soldiers buried in the City Cemetery in Nashville  go to

http://www.thenashvillecitycemetery.org/interments.htm

Off we go…

Capt John E. Norvell, 1972

I was thinking back to the first time I ever took off in an F4 fighter.

The F4 Phantom II was the primary Air Force fighter of the Vietnam War.  It had entered the inventory in 1960, so by the time I flew it in 1972 it was a relatively new aircraft with the latest technology.  It was not a small fighter, it had two big GE J 79 engines that could blast it off the deck and could weigh in at nearly 60,000 lbs when fully loaded with fuel at take-off.  And when the afterburners were cooking, it could slurp down gas at about 1,000 pounds a minute.  That thrust was its biggest advantage, it could push you out there away from an enemy or help you engage him in combat.

I had always wanted to fly jets when I was a kid.  When I was selected to fly the F-4 it was a dream come true.  Training to fly the fighter came after I had already gotten my wings.  Every aircraft type is different and requires a period of training on its controls, handling, and the basics of flight.  The training is usually done at a different base than basic flight training and takes about 9 months.  In my case it was at Luke Air Force Base near Phoenix, Arizona.

Training began with ground school where you learned the aircraft systems, practiced emergency procedures, and spent about a month and a half in training before you even got to fly the “Big Beast.”

There were 10 basic emergency procedures that you had to learn by heart and it was by heart.  You were tested on them at least once a month and had to write them from memory verbatim, even a misplaced comma was considered a mistake.  They were to become second nature to you.  Even now I find myself, nearly 45 years later, thinking :  Stall –  “Throttles idle, chute deploy, hook down ”  I think those will be my last words. (Actually they would make a great epitaph- as they also describe how a fighter jock will end up.)

Yes the Phantom had a hook, it was originally designed as a Navy fighter to land on carriers.  The F4 was officially the Phantom II, as there had been an F4 in the Second World War flown by the Navy.

So we called it the Phantom and its symbol was a small guy “The Spook” with a II on his chest.    We also called it “Big Ugly,” as it wasn’t a sleak aircraft, but really big and hulking.

Spook

There were several models, I learned to fly on the F4C which had no gun and finally transitioned to the F4E which had an internal 20 MM Vulcan gatling gun in the nose.  Each model had a price tag of about 1.5 to 2 million dollars in  1960 dollars, so we had to be careful with the taxpayers money.  Which brings me finally back to taking off.

You don’t fly an F4 or any other fighter aircraft — You Wear Them.   The cockpit is very small and you are strapped into the ejection seat so tight you can hardly move.

I remember that afternoon in November 1972 as if it were yesterday,  we taxied out on the runway, went through the checklist, got our clearance, and then pushed the throttles which had been idling in what was called “Military Power,” past the detent into afterburner, while releasing the brakes.

The Phantom jumped off the runway, there is no other way to describe it.  It was like being shot out of a cannon being strapped to the shell.  It was a tremendous adrenaline rush, and later in the evening my wife would find me still wound up about it….

Some day soon I will tell you about dropping the hook during an emergency landing, when all time stood still.

F-4 Phantom Landing in Alaska

Gettysburg — Some thoughts II

Gettysburg today is considered to be the decisive battle in the Civil War.   And that is what 19th century commanders strived for– the one big knock out punch that removed the enemy from the field.

Yet at the time, no one knew what the battle meant.

Lee’s army’s escape after the battle certainly didn’t seem to be a big victory for the north.  Meade was criticised for letting him escape and spent the rest of his life repairing his reputation.

Still Gettysburg changed not only the Civil War (or War Between States if you are southern) but war in general in many ways.

War is governed by three factors:  Societal impact, Organization, and Technology.    Gettysburg brought major changes to all these areas.

Society:  Gettysburg brought war to the entire nation. Prior to Lee’s crossing of the Mason Dixon line, war had been limited primarily to the south with the majority of the battles being fought in Virginia.  Lee took the war to the North and the people of the North now knew that they were not immune from the effects of combat.    Not only were the people of Pennsylvania effected during the battle, but when the three days were ended, they were left with the task of dealing with the aftermath.     Gettysburg transformed a primarily southern war into a national war.  In becoming a war that touched all levels of society, it foreshadowed such events as Sherman’s March to the Sea in Georgia to break the will of the southern people to fight and eerily presaged the coming total war of the 20th century.

Organization:  Before Gettysburg, war logistics and tactics had primarily focused on how to bring men to the field and how to wage war.  After the battle, a new factor entered into play:  how to deal with the dead and the wounded.   And not only humans —  but how to deal with thousands of dead horses left on the field.   The numbers were staggering:  3,155 Union, 3,903 Confederate killed,  14,529 Union, 18,735 Confederate wounded, 5,365 Union, 5,425 Confederate missing, and approximately  5,000 horses and mules dead on  the field.  Not only were the military field hospitals overwhelmed, but local residents were pressed into dealing with the dead and dying.    It can be said that Gettysburg set a new standard of suffering and how to deal with the aftermath of battle.

Technology:   While not the game changer that some would later claim,  technology still proved itself to be ahead of tactics.   The use of repeating rifles, the massing of artillery, more deadly ammunition, the reliance upon the telegraph for command and control,  the  use of railroads to move men and equipment, and finally,  the need to move the wounded and dying from the field, all brought changes to the waging of war.   Pickett’s Charge  — essentially a setpiece 19th century military engagement ran headlong into the beginnings of  20th century war.

So at Gettysburg we have:  Modern and mass War;  all Society touched by war; and new innovations in warfare and new solutions to dealing with the dead and dying.  These all  foreshadowed what would be seen in Europe  on the Western Front in WW I nearly 50 years later.

And for the people who lived there and fought there,  their lives would never be the same.

 

 

Norvell Brothers CW