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  Dan agreed and Brent joined them.

  Later, David shared the following comments about his brother’s epic flight. “We both know how your father always meticulously planned for hunting and fishing trips reviewing weather reports, lake and mountain climates, and flight plans. But I had never before seen your father so engaged in the technical details of a flight. Attention to detail was of paramount importance. Weight of food and supplies were measured to the ounce. Additionally, he ensured that he had more than enough fuel to fly from one landing field to the next. He even adopted safety measures in case they encountered equipment failure along the path. Dan wrote down every step and committed them to memory. Custom Border stations, where they would seek entry, were clearly marked on the map to save time.

  On a warm June morning in 1988, their wheels lifted up and Dan, David, and Brent took off from Boeing Airfield in Seattle. They were in contact with air traffic controllers on every leg of their trip. They flew approximately 15,000 to 20,000 feet high. They passed over huge mountain ranges, lakes, waterfalls, and rivers seeing beautiful fauna and birds. Dan, David, and Brent looked down at the most amazing and beautiful terrain that was a blanket of yellow, green, and brown.

  They stopped along the way to refuel. It was a magical flight as they reached their designated targets. Greenland and Great Britain landings were within minutes of Dan’s targeted landing times. The trip was challenging for everyone on the plane especially the sore backs and leg muscles from sitting in a stationary position for so long.

  Abruptly, everything changed when the engine started to sputter. They had sufficient fuel so something mechanical was going on.

  They were over the Middle East. Dan told David they had to be somewhere over Iran. As the engine continue to sputter, Dan noticed an Iranian jet pulling up beside him. The jet was approximately 30 feet off their left-wing and it’s pilot began pointing down with his hand. Iran at the time had strained relationships with the United States. Dan aggressively looked at the map and figured if they could travel approximately 10 more miles, they would be in Pakistan, a safer country.

  Dan gently lowered the plane’s altitude giving the appearance that he was landing. The Iranian jet pilot would have nothing to do with it. The pilot proceeded to fall behind Dan’s plane and shot bullets towards them. Fortunately, no one was killed or hurt. Even though the plane continued to sputter, Dan knew that they were trapped, so he rapidly took the plane down and landed on an airfield in the desert.

  Two Jeeps full of Iranian soldiers with camouflage uniforms and rifles ordered Dan and the men into their vehicles. Several minutes later, they were dragged inside a cement block building, where the soldiers began to interrogate them. In their heavy Iranian accents, they ask, “You are Americans, yes?”

  “Yes,” said Dan.

  “You are CIA?”

  “No. We are tourists,” Dan replied.

  “Don’t give us that crap.”

  “Black men do not have airplanes, you are CIA!”

  They were kicked and beaten badly. Over and over again they were asked, “What is your mission? What do you want? Who do you work for?”

  Brent, David’s son, who was along for the adventure of a life time, never thought in a million years, that this might happen to him. “If I get out of this alive God, I promise I will be a good young man. I promise.”

  The beatings continued into the next day. It must’ve been well over 115° in that cement block building in the desert.

  One of the soldiers asked Dan how he had learned to fly since he had never seen a black man fly.

  Feeling the painful bruises all over his body, Dan said that he had been a pilot in World War II, and flew his jet here in the middle east against the Germans to free the people of Iran.

  “Yes. I heard something of this. If we release you, where do you intend to go?”

  Dan said, “India.”

  The soldier, who appeared to be in charge said, “No! We will release you by sending you to Tehran where you will fly back to America. We will seize your plane. It is now our plane.”

  The men were taken into a small room and fed soup and a small piece of bread. Later that evening they were herded into a vehicle and driven through the desert to Tehran. They were released into the custody of an Iranian airport military official.

  Dan told his brother that he had no intentions of turning over his expensive plane to the Iranians. “Do you want to go back and get my plane with me?”

  David said, “No! I have my son with us. David continued by saying I think I will take him back to the United States and call this trip an adventure of a lifetime. I will take the safe journey from here. I never dreamed we would be shot at and beaten.”

  When the commercial plane designated by the Iranian officials was ready for departure for Turkey, Dan told the official he was sick and could not fly. He said he would take the next plane and said his goodbyes to his brother and nephew.

  After the plane safely departed, Dan went into the men’s restroom and climbed out the window. He walked rapidly down the road where he reached a market bazaar. He gave a merchant several US dollars for a white Muslim robe and hat. Looking like a black Lawrence of Arabia in his white garb, Dan searched repair shops near the airport for an air filter to replace the troubled part on his plane. Fortunately, he found such a part at one of the repair shops. With his new clothes, Dan blended in with the Iranian crowd. He hired a man with a car to take him to the airfield in the desert. As they drove out of town, Dan noticed vehicles with flashing blue lights obviously looking for him.

  It was a long dusty journey back to the airfield. Eventually he saw the airfield about 3 miles down the road and he told the driver to stop. Dan paid him more than he asked and thanked him with a wave of his hand.

  Dan walked off the desert road and hid behind mounds of desert sand until dark. The hot desert temperature was now rapidly cooling. He did not see any wildlife including the ever-present scorpions in the inhospitable desert.

  As darkness engulfed the land, Dan walked towards the airfield. He did not see a sentry, but he did see that his plane still there. He slowly walked to his plane and carefully touched the wings and tail to ascertain whether or not it would be safe to fly. While there were two bullet holes, he did not believe that they would prevent the plane from flying. The landing gear was not tied down. He opened up the engine compartment and carefully replaced the air filter. Running his finger over the old filter he knew he had made a correct assessment about the sand clogging the air filter.

  In the dead of night, Dan climbed into his plane, turned on the engine and raced down the airfield. The lights over the compound turned on as Dan’s plane lifted off the ground. He turned the lights on the plane only after he figured he was over Pakistan.

  On the ground in Pakistan, he assessed whether or not his plane could continue on the voyage around the world. The bullet holes were too destructive to the integrity of the plane so he canceled the journey. It took some time, but he found a ship that could haul his plane back to the United States.

  The around the world flight would have to take place on another day. Dan, David, Brent, and the airplane all made it safely back to the United States.

  Dan would later make one more attempt at being the first black man to fly around the world in a single engine aircraft.

  Chapter 13

  Big El is Injured during an Arrest

  “Hey Cam, you are not going to believe what happened to me,” said Big El.

  “Wait. I don’t think I will like what you’re about to tell me. It’s sounds similarly to how you told me you were involved in a car crash in Greece.”

  “I was involved in a car crash and more,” said Big El.

  “Here’s what happened to me yesterday. I received a call that a bank robbery had taken place not far from me. I sat in my car and jotted down a brief description of the car and the suspect. Moments later, the car and suspect passed me. I turned on my overhead lights and siren, and g
ave chase.

  “It was a cold winter morning with snow and ice all over the ground. When he noticed me, he rapidly increased his speed flying down the icy roads. I almost disengaged the chase as there were several cars and pedestrians along the way. But I saw a stretch of road where there were no cars and pedestrians and I pushed my squad car into overdrive until I rear-ended the suspect’s vehicle. He spun out of control doing donuts until he slid to a stop.

  “He jumped out of his car and ran up a hill hoping to get to a heavily forested area for his escape. I saw he had a gun in his hand and I could’ve shot him, but instead, I fired two shots near his head. He stopped and threw his gun on the ground.

  “I told him to kick the gun away from him, which he did.

  “I then ordered him to get down on the ground and lie on his stomach. As I reached for his wrist to put the cuffs on, he jumped up and a fight ensued.

  “He was a bulky guy about six feet and about 230 pounds. He knocked me backwards on the ice and I jumped to reach his gun, but I slid. Man, I landed hard on the ice. It felt like I broke something.

  “He stretched to reach his gun. In spite of the pain, Cam you never saw me move so fast. I grabbed his pant leg and dragged him back before he could grab his gun that was just inches away from his hand.

  “I took out my revolver and pointed it at him and said, ‘the next move you make is either going to take you to the undertaker or to jail. What’s it going to be?’

  “With his nose, flat on the ground I put the cuffs on him. We walked back to the squad car and I put him in the backseat. I radioed ahead for backup letting the dispatcher know I caught the suspect and was in a little pain from hitting the ice on the ground.

  “When my backup arrived, I informed him I had hurt my back chasing the suspect. He took the suspect and put him in his car and called in to get a medic vehicle over for me.

  “As I laid back in my front seat the pain started surging through my back. I grimaced and then noticed that my car was blocking the road, so I turned on the engine to turn my car around to park it along side of the road.

  “As I turned the engine on, my beast of a machine went into overdrive and started speeding down the road. Finally, it stopped. Susan had said for years that we needed new cars.

  “The day had finally come that my life was seriously in danger by this broken down death trap on wheels. I managed to turn off the engine with the key. Suddenly, I noticed a car approaching me at a high rate of speed. The driver obviously noticed me and slammed on the brakes but the momentum on the ice caused it to continue straight towards me. I tried to turn my engine on and move my car but the car would not start and the car slammed into me hard. Cam I think my bruised bones became broken bones in my spine.”

  “How you doing now?”

  “Well, right now I’m doing pretty good. The doctor has me on morphine and some other medicine so I’m not feeling too bad.”

  Big El would go on to have six back surgeries with ever-increasing dependency on alcohol and painkillers. When he wasn’t at the hospital or at home he worked at a desk job which he hated.

  Susan and their wonderful son Jack each supported Big El through the painful times with their love.

  Chapter 14

  Cameron, the Truth Shall Set You Free

  Cameron sat behind the wheel of his 1985 Audi Quattro on his way to purchase a rare, vintage, expensive fly rod in the Capitol Hill neighborhood of Seattle. The rod sounded perfect for the price. Cameron and his corporate friend, Drew, were about to go fishing in a lake in western Canada where the trout were big, fat, and hungry. Drew also had a vintage fly rod, so Cameron could not believe his good fortune when he saw a similar rod advertised in the newspaper.

  On the drive from Tacoma, Cameron thought about his loving and beautiful wife and his cherished children. Cam was so happy that he had waited for that special someone. The children were getting bigger. Life was happy.

  He wondered if he would always have to strive harder, going the extra mile, in order to crack the all-white glass ceiling to become a successful senior executive businessman in America.

  He also thought about how he might stay connected with his injured best friend, Big El, who lived so far away on the East Coast.

  Lastly, Cameron was fascinated with a new study to discover one’s ancestors through DNA testing. Cameron guessed that he was black, white, and native American. He wanted to know the makeup of his ancestry. The study seemed a little expensive, but if Michelle concurred with him, he thought he might sign up for the analysis later that week.

  As he neared Seattle, a new and favorite song of Cameron’s started playing on the radio. It was Bolero by Maurice Ravel. The seventeen minutes of dramatic, ever increasing, syncopation resonated within Cameron. As the music played Cameron felt that Bolero had a tragic side, almost like a warning to him, with the loud melodic snare drum as if soldiers were marching in a battle field preparing to face their ultimate destiny. Love and death, the opening and closing of one’s heart and one’s mind.

  Cameron got off the freeway and proceeded up Denny Street turning left on Broadway then right on East Thomas street. Capitol Hill, was a densely residential district in Seattle filled with stately homes. His mother had taken him to Volunteer Park and the Asian Art museum when he was a young boy. He gave some thought about where he might eat after he purchased the fly rod. He narrowed the selection between an old favorite called Dicks, the home of the original nineteen cent hamburger, also known for their great fries and shakes or he might go to the famous La Brindisi Restaurant for a special feast of New Orleans’ food like red beans, rice and Jambalaya.

  He now figured that he was about three blocks from his destination. As he passed 12th Street, something told him to look down the alley that he was passing on the left. He saw a police car about three hundred yards down the long alley. Cameron looked at the car and knew what was about to happen. He drove to the nearest parking strip along the curb and immediately pulled over. He got out of his car and sat on the front hood of his car as the policeman drove up to him and turned on his siren,

  “Get back in your car,” he screamed.

  Cameron asked, “What have I done?”

  “Get back in your car.” The policeman took out his gun and pointed it at Cameron. “I won’t tell you again, get back in your car.”

  Cameron heard the police officer’s command and walked back and sat in his car. Seeing the gun pointed directly at him, Cameron’s mind raced with thoughts of the how this situation would play out and what he should do. First of all the cop had no apparent reason to pull him over. Cameron still wanted to know what he had done. Cameron gave measured thought to a scenario if the officer got close enough with the gun still pointing at him what were the possibilities of a fourth-degree black belt taking the gun from him.

  What if he killed the police officer in the struggle for the gun. Cameron’s mind raced faster. Even if he disarmed the cop and rendered him incapacitated, he would probably spend years in jail. Police officers have badges and uniforms and have a sworn duty to protect citizens so juries nearly always support police officers in lawsuits brought by citizens and in criminal trial brought by prosecutors.

  This cop was unscrupulous in pretending that Cameron had done something illegal when he had not. Maybe cops should be held to a standard of three strikes and it is life in prison for lying, planting a gun or knife, saying that a defendant committed a violation when he or she had not, stealing drugs from drug traffickers, and taking drug money.

  But isn’t one negative strike by a police officer too many? How many negative strikes should a cop be allowed to gather. Cameron definitely thought of Big El, so he knew that all cops were not dishonest and probably most cops were very honest.

  Cameron’s mind was now in full throttle. Cameron’s father had never talked to him about what to do if he were pulled over by a cop. He wished he had. Cameron knew that society would spin out of control without the courage and bravery of the men an
d women of law enforcement.

  In an instant, Cameron had now come full circle in determining how to deal with a dishonest cop.

  Cameron’s code to break free from a dishonest cop is as follows:

  First, know the names of the police chief, mayor, and governor. Tell the cop you are close personal friends of all three public servants. Maybe, not surprisingly, this may make the cop mad when you tell him as he could dislike the thought of you having more power than the officer. This may not help in preventing the infraction from being charged, but it will help to remove the cop’s finger on the trigger.

  Second, each state has a fallen officer dinner fund to raise money for fallen officers and their families. So, before you ever get into a car, be sure to send a contribution to this fund. Then, when you get pulled over by a policeman, mention that you help by raising funds for fallen officers and their families. Again, the purpose is to dial back the finger on the trigger.

  The cop did holster his gun and said that he saw Cameron drive straight at a corner which was a right hand turn only.

  “You couldn’t see me from where you were parked in the alley,” Cameron said loudly.

  “Oh, I see you are a trouble maker,” said the cop. “I am going to call for back-up,” screamed the cop.

  Back-up arrived shortly and now two officers approached Cameron’s driver side window.

  “Give me your driver’s license, proof of insurance, and your social security number.”

  “Excuse me officer,” as Cameron talked to the backup officer, “Am I required to give my social security number on a routine traffic offense?”

  “Yes,” said the officer.

  Cameron had never heard of this requirement but gave the information to the police.

  The officers literally spent thirty minutes digging and digging to find some offense so they could arrest him. They found nothing.