Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1963-08-29
The
Rambler
Above
1t All
BY JOHN McKELWAY

There were times yeSter-
day when the Rambler
would have been happy to
march for any cause, carry
a placard, get his pocket
picked, eat a stale sandwich,
fall asleep in a stuffy bus.
All these things can be
done on the ground, which is
really a very fine place to be.
Somehow, he became in
volved with something rela-
lively new in journalism
the helicopter.
1t chartered out of the sky
about 7 am. yesterday and
landed at the Washington
Virginia Airport near Baileys
Crossroads. The Rambler
had expected something more
substantial. There was very
little to the contraption out
side Of the engine and the
pilot, Jim Shafer, 38, a quiet,
stocky, serious man who has
been flying helicopters since
the early SOS.
A Star photographer got
aboard with the Rambler. He
had two SIN all cameras
around his neck, a leather
case, a heavy old Speed Ora
phic, a package of colored
sponges and a box of ping
pong balls. Photographers
are interesting people.
THIS PACK MULE, Gene
Abbott, was to attempt a
first for The Star. He was to
get shots of the traffic and
crowds and then drop them
from the helicopter to the
roof of The Star building in
time for Wednesdays edi-
lions. The ping-pong balls,
he explained, would show
him the direction of the
wind and he would then
know where to drop the film.
The Sponges would cushion
the fall. 1t all sounded pretty
simple and the Rambler
looked forward to expert
encing such an operation
and getting a new look at
Washington.
Inside the bubble, Jim
Shafer surely gripped the
controls and we went quickly
up after much roaring and
shaking. It was not bad at
several hundred feet. The
Rambler felt comfortable.
The traffic down below was
remarkably light. Gene was
a bit disappointed because
we couldn't find any jams
photographers like to get
something in their pictures
but he shot some bridges
anyway. out the open side of
the bubble, and then we slid
over the river and landed at
National.
1t may have been that
most of the Rambler'S acute
senses had not come fully
into play before 8 am. But
he enjoyed the first trip.
Then came the drop.
About $3.50 we were over
The Star building in South
east Washington. Gene
busily prepared his package,
decided he didn't need the
ping-pong balls, and Jim put
her into a definite tilt. 1t
was then the Rambler began
having peculiar feelings di-
rectly in back of his belt
buckle. He began to see, in
his mind, Gene Abbott fall
ing and failing down toward
the roof, clutching his pre-
cious film. The Rambler
wanted to be home but with
some effort kept his mouth
shut.
HE FORCED himself to
look at Washington, SHIN
mering in the sun and haze,
the muddy Anacostia and
Washington Channel, the
soft green Of the Arboretum,
about so buses inching into
town on the Baltimore
washington parkway, the
dominating Government t
buildings, the gradually
gathering dots around the
Washington Monument.
The next flight was much
worse. To get in over the
Mall, Jim had to take it up
to 1000 feet. The Rambler
had not known he was about
to do this. We kept going up
into absolute loneliness, we
reached infinity. Now the
feeling in the stoma c.
spread upward toward the
esophagus. The Rambler felt
like he was sitting on the top
Of a very long and wobbly
bamboo pole.
The Rambler sat rigid be-
tween the two brave men.
Gene did not help matters.
He twisted and turned and
strained on the safety belt
and tried to get a picture of
Onn mn naonla In c0lOr