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    Readers Digest Classic

    Hochgeladen von

    ashok9705030066
    readersdigest

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
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    Markieren Sie unangemessene Inhalte
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    LAUGH, CRY & MARVEL New Jazz. By Honda. It's arrived. You'll be amazed at what you can fit into the Jazz, but you'll be truly surprised by how much you get out of it. With a seat system that folds in three different ways, including completely flat, the Jazz has more luggage capacity than any car in its class. It's the perfect way to fit in more fun. Call 0800 255 666, visit honda.co.nz or see us in store and we'll fit you in for a test drive today. www.honda.co.nz/jazz “ [ucereno} Contents 18 Beautiful and dumb- February 1929 Inthe 1920s, many Hollywood extras were feathered, furred and finned 24 Case of the paint-spot murders - July 1996 Detectives were baffled by the savage killings, until they discovered tiny specks of grey 32 “1 get alot more than | give” - February 1970 Bob Hope’s moving and memorable experiences entertaining troops on the frontline 38 Trapped ina volcano - August 1993 Three survivors ofa helicopter crash are confronted by toxic steam anda boiling lava pit 48 Perils of a procrastinator -January 1974 Perhaps what can be put off until tomorrow shouldn't be tackledat all 54 And sudden death - August 1935 Seven decades on, RD’s report that shocked the world still makes chilling reading 62Howtoredo your house for under $650,000 - April 1989 Humorist Dave Barry has a cautionary tale for every starry-eyed renovator 2 readersdigest.co.nz Classic reads 2012 68 Kristen comes home to die -April 1983 When neighbours eased a young mother’s last days, they didn’t realise she was helping them 74 Rosalind Russell: “The best advice | ever had” - February 1956 Asa teenager ona diving board, some pithy words from Dad became alesson for life 80 How the United Nations foundits home —May 1947 Aninsider’s hour-by-hour thriller of the race to persuade New York's elite to make history 94 “I saw my son born” - December 1957 One pioneering father ventures into a 1950s hospital delivery room 100 Memories of Anna Pavlova - March 1968 Agraceful swan to most, her friends knew the ballerina asa passionate, open-hearted joker 108 One giant step sideways - April 1983 If we can get to the moon, why can’t we solve life’s everyday dilemmas? 112 Bringing up Buttercup - June 1994 How one little girl with a knack for numbers learns the maths of love rn a ec eee ee | HUMOUR: How we laughed in the... I 46 1920s-40s 78 1950s-60s 130 1970s-90S Dee 3 Contents 120 — February 1922 Alexander Graham Bell’s golden rule for self improvement in RD’s first-ever story 124 — August 1961 If you pay attention as darkness deepens there’s awhole other world to be discovered 132 — August 1991 The firefighter gave the trapped girl his promise as the inferno ragedaround them BONUS READ The story of the manwho Sie publishing history with this mighty magazine 90 years ago 10 4 readersdigest.co.nz Classic reads 2012 Are you or one of your family not sleeping? ORDER NOW FOR Finally a natural sleeping solution opm ener be O for everyone! © V Go to sleep oO Vv Tastes really good v Stay asleep 9 ¥ Containing all natural ingredients v Tailor made for YOUR needs Vv Asleeping solution for all ages V No drowsy after effects Y Qualified team of ¥ Non habit forming professionals supporting you to sleep! v Mix and match system v 70% of our new customers come from v Liquid and easy to take word of mouth! t= wo = “Sleep ’ Drops. Including TART CHERRY as seen on the Doctor 0z TV show! 2st ‘Wy roessnaly multe range of SeepCops produc containg alata ngedets were deeoped oer 7 years if \ ‘in clinic have helped thousands of people young and ald sleep better. | am so confident that f you fol my advice and ¢ ar } ‘ake the appropriate products tom SeepDrops you wl get a beter night's sleep. nt! wil give you your money back’. Dip NoxHang, Dip Med Her, Di ur, cet HT, At Cat Hat Fe, atopic Sep speci, Ken ben Taylor TO CR ay a Ea) to explain the benefits of SleepDrops and help you get a great nights sleep! Fee ee Call 0800 74 88 393 www.sleepdrops.co.nz ADVERTISING PROMOTION, A WORRIED WIFE THOUGHT OF IT Some years ago an Otaki woman, searching for a way to help her husband manage severe arthritis, made him an experimental inflatable exerciser. Christened the Aircycle, it successfully boosted his circulation and relieved his pain, stiff joints and swollen ankles, and was reviewed in Arthritis NZ’s national magazine. She soon started making Aircycles for others. So began many exciting stories. : Awoman with osteoarthritic ankles, : knees and spine, who had had her Aircycle for only two weeks, reported » walking a kilometre to her friend’s house | —amajor achievement considering she : had been unable to walk any distance © without pain and her feet “going dead”. A letter arrived from a woman who reported, “The results are miraculous. : My thighs are much stronger and my © balance has improved. | can get up © from my chair and climb stairs more : easily. Although | garden daily and have * attended Tai Chi, it did not produce the results I've had from the Aircycle.” © Calls flowed in: : @ ‘I've had my Aircycle just two days * and had two wonderful night’s sleep without night cramps.” © ‘It relieves my arthritic fingers and wrists.” © “The swelling and pain in my ankles fs greatly reduced.” @ “My husband no longer shuffles.” @ “My feet did not swell on the plane.” @ ‘It's so gentle on my wife's aching feet and legs.” Soft and simple to use for painful : hands and feet Aircycles have proved © helpful for a wide range of health © conditions and are now available in pharmacies. (Ordering details : opposite). ™ Helps maintain mobility and independence. ©! Amazing results for arthritis and diabetes sufferers Helps reduce ankle swelling and the incidence of DVT when sitting for long periods, travelling, convalescing, in the office or watching TV. fegcueeu cas Mae Wie Gunnin een es USEFUL FOR: “ Agreat circulation booster e Circulation “ Medsafe registered e Swollen ankles * 12 months guarantee @ Diabetic foot care Proudly NZ made e Arthritic pain “ Great Christmas gifts - so easy to post @ Weak muscles © Balance and mobility © Stiff joints Carry in your pocket @ Cramps to use anywhere — car, © Stroke rehabilitation plane, office @ Parkinson's and MS e Aching and restless legs © Sore feet @ Painful fingers The office — under the @ Varicose veins desk for circulation, on e Venous ulcers top for fingers, wrists @ Cold hands and feet and shoulders. Travel by air, bus, car or train A HOSPITAL PODIATRIST SAYS: “The Aircycle is a reminder for people to exercise while sitting. For arthritis, it TC Coen nen Co CTech to cult Mclanene orl blood flow is great for people with diabetes. The Aircycle exercises are similar OM eRe Vaasa oN Smee CM ae Meee Meen Un electro Red swelling of the feet and legs and D.V.T. which can occur in people who sit for nent Oana Available in pharmacies, through www.aircycle.co.nz | HE EXERCISER THAT FITS IN YOUR POCKET or by phoning 04 569 5013. f= Mail orders: Post cheque for $35 ($30 plus $5 p&p) to A | RCYD ie Aircycle, PO Box 45 105, Waterloo, Lower Hutt. 5042. = MeleMap by Dermatologists If you're at risk of developing melanoma skin cancer you owe it to yourself to have a MoleMap. MoleMap is the world’s most advanced melanoma screening programme and is designed to detect skin cancer at the earliest possible stage. 0800 MOLEMAP (0800 665362) www.molemap.co.nz SUE CARNEY PHOTOGRAPHED BY DANIAN BENNETT Volume 81 % Reader& Di eCSt oz: 2h Reader's Digestis published in o.editionsin 20 languages LETTERS TO THEEDITOR Online readersdigest.co.nz/contribute Email editor@readersdigest.co.nz Mail The Editor, Reader's Digest Magazine, PO Box 90489, Auckland 1030 We may edit letters and use them in all print and electronic media SUBSCRIPTIONS/CUSTOMER INQUIRIES Online Check your account, pay a bill, change your address and shop at readersdigest.co.nz Phone 0800 400 060 Fax 0800 400 Oot Esmail customerservice@readersdigest.co.nz Mail Reader's Digest (Australia) Pty Ltd, PO Box 911387, Mail Service Centre, Auckland 142 MOVING? Please notify us of your change of address six weeks before you move. ADVERTISING INQUIRIES Hawkhurst Media Services Ltd Phone 09 589 1054 Fax 09 589 1055, E-mail rdadvertising@readersdigest.co.nz MAIL PREFERENCE Occasionally, we make our mailing list available to carefully screened companies whose products we believe may be of interest to you. IF you prefer not to receive these mailings, please write to: Privacy Officer, Reader's Digest (Australia) Pty Ltd, PO Box 90489, Auckland 1030. Reader's Digest, asa member of the Magazine Publishers Association, has adopted the Privacy Standards of the ‘Australian Press Council, HrprooucrioneshnorTes0s saotsneauen sovcesT Qusteais)OwITE Editor’s Letter Back when we began planning thisissue to celebrate our goth anniversary, we neededastrategy for pickingstories. After all, we were looking at more than 1000 issues in our archives and maybe 20,000 published features. Adaunting task? Very quickly it turned into the most wonderful project of discovery. Some of us hada head start: we could shortlist favourite stories from our own tenure on RD. Beyond that we could only delve into the stacks at random; take home stories to read inany or every spare moment; and then try to limit the sticky notes flagging top recommends. The hardest part: narrowing the field down to fewer than 2o stories for this issue. We hope you enjoy our picks. Every one of us was changed and charged up by the experience of rediscovering writing that captivated millions of loyal readers. If, like us, you love rediscovering great reading that only improves with age, look out for further Classics in the magazine in the comingyear. Be assured. There’s plenty more where these camefrom. Enjoy! —~ PEFC Reader's gests printed o anassurarcethatthe papel produced iromsustarabiy manogestoreseand fomaledsourcen, | THE READER'S DIGEST Howa little magazine went around the world Bringing together stories large and small, The Digest has a huge impact on people’s lives BY THE EDITORS her hus- rica she saw uldn’t speak band brought ”s Digest. Using her Bulgarian/English dictionary she began translating the magazine “word by word, sentence by sentence, article after article”. Month after month she learned “not only the language but also about the American customs, traditions, history, problems, meals and to understand more the American people and the way they look at life.” She calls The Digest “my American life-style teacher, my English language textbook, my friend”. We like that. And especially those last two words. Get past the statistics [in 2012, 50 editions in 20 languages] and the real essence of who we are, the real fun of being Reader’s Digest, is the friends we have made. As we’ve grown, we've evolved and we keep making new friends. Funny thing is, we make new friends by remaining what we have always been - a magazine that connects with its readers. That was part of the genius of our founder, DeWitt Wallace (see page 140). The breathtaking growth of what he called his “Little Magazine” came about precisely because he never saw readers as some vast mass, but as distinct individuals with whom he wished to build a strong bond. 12 That’s why the apostrophe is before the “s” in our name. Whether in Huntsville or Hammer- fest, Keokuk or Kathmandu, we aim to turn readers into friends. They take us along with them wherever they go. You'll find us dog-eared in the doctor's office, grease-stained at the lunch counter, tucked in the fisherman’s tackle box, the soldier’s duffel, the businesswoman’s briefcase. We jog their minds, tickle their funny bones, warn them against dangers and even save their lives. David Weiss was just 29 years old when he awoke with pains in his chest, arm and shoulder. He went toa local emergency room. An EKG revealed nothing abnormal. But he was still feeling the pains the next day when his cousin, who had just read our article “Little-Known Signs of a Heart Attack” (May 1993), said his symptoms sounded like those listed in The Digest. David’s brother drove him to the hospital again, where he was found to be in the midst of a heart attack. The article “saved my son’s life,” wrote Vivian Weiss. We have received thousands of such letters over the years as the result of articles on heart disease, skin cancer, little-known health dangers and important discoveries in science and medicine presented in clear, concise language. “Reader’s Digest has to be the most popular magazine on the planet. We have never seen such a response,” says Dr Irwin Goldstein, professor of urology at Boston University readersdigest.co.nz Classic reads 2012 School of Medicine, reacting to more than a thousand enquiries about an article we published on male sexual dysfunction. Navy Commander George Farrar was stationed in Ireland when he called his wife, who told him about their 12-year-old daughter, Sarah. She had been bitten by something in their yard. Mrs Farrar took her to the doctor, who diagnosed “an infected fleabite”. Now Sarah’s leg was swelling. As it happened, Farrar had read a Reader's Digest article about the highly poisonous brown recluse spider. “Get the magazine and read the article,” he said. She did. “As soon as Tread it, I knew that a spider had bitten Sarah.” Mrs Farrar took her to the hospi- tal and took our arti- cle along to show the doctors. Sarah was hospitalised for six days but escaped any serious perma- nent damage. Says Mrs Farrar, “I just can’t tell you how much I appreciate Reader's Digest coming to the rescue.” Sometimes our effect on people’s health and wellbeing is more long- range. Dr Maria Compte wrote from New York to say we inspired her to become a doctor. She was 15 years old when she read an article in The Digest about Dr Tom Dooley’s pioneering work among poor villagers in Southeast Asia. “Today, Reacha level of acceptance and youre in fora lot of ribbing. Actually, we enjoy the jokes almost exactly 20 years after that summer day, I am writing these lines while sitting at a desk at Dooley Foundation-Intermed.” When GeorgiaAnn Camara’s husband went to sea as an engineer aboard a nuclear submarine, he would be unreachable for 90 days or more. But he took something very special with him. It was a journal his wife prepared so that they could “visit” with each other every day they were apart. Attached to each day’s entry from her was an item from our magazine. “I attach a story, a quote or a point to each day and I share with him what these words have meant to me,” says Mrs Camara. When her husband returned from a voyage, he gave her the journal filled out with his daily thoughts on each of his wife’s entries and attachments. “You have helped give me the gift of conversation with my husband though he is thousands of kilometres away.” When Mad magazine published its parody of “Reader’s Disgust” (the table of contents promised a two-page condensation of the Encyclopaedia Britannica) it really began to dawn on us that we weren't just any magazine. Reach a certain level of acceptance and you're in for a lot of ribbing. Actually, we enjoy the jokes - 13 whether it’s a parody from National Lampoon, or that episode of The Simpsons where Homer gets so head-over-heels smitten with the “Reading Digest”. The droll cartoonist Guindon once drew a young couple, back from vacation, explaining to their mailman that “we were at one of those cabins up north where Reader’s Digests go when they die.” J.J. Bushnell, from Oregon, actually stumbled upon one of “those cabins” when he was lost and injured in the Canadian woods near Vancouver. The man and his wife who lived there gave him food and shelter and helped him recover from his ankle injury. To entertain him they loaned him “an old single copy of Reader’s Digest”, which he devoured from cover to cover. Bushnell was hooked. Once back home he became a lifelong reader. So you see, copies of Reader's Digest never die. Sometimes, how- ever, they’re pressed into service in odd ways. We don’t mind being used to level a tilting desk, insulate a wall (it’s been done) or keep two water pipes from knocking (folding it lengthwise provides just enough tension and usually does the trick). Roy Valitchka was on a hike with his oldest son, Scott, in the Porcupine 4 We believe in solutions. We believe in the capacity of human beings to overcome Mountains of Michigan. Scott had the latest Reader’s Digest in his backpack for lunchtime reading. When Roy injured his knee, that copy of The Digest “was just the right length, width and rigidity necessary to immobilise the knee joint. A length of surgical tape held the magazine in place at the pivot point and two bandannas secured the top and bottom.” At the end of the 28km trek, Scott praised his dad for toughing out the final miles but insisted that he buy a new copy of The Digest to replace the “disfigured, sweat-soaked copy that saved the day”. We have even become a kind of underground cur- rency in Africa. “T once mortgaged 20 Digests to a ‘Digestophile’ just to raise enough transport fare to visit my sick uncle,” writes Muktar Ali, from Chad. He tells us that copies of the magazine are so precious they are “purchased and sold, repurchased, read and resold or borrowed and reborrowed continuously” and are “exchanged for a variety of items or favours”. Over the years we have sometimes been chided for being too optimistic. We stand guilty as charged. We believe in solutions. We believe in the capacity of human beings to overcome. When Nelson Mandela readersdigest.co.nz Classic reads 2012 THE STORY: WALES TENOR STS - Ens a SLO) a CaN NB SKS a ” ni v BBC presenter Huw Edwards takes us on an epic journey, br CARON TM i te TN eee Un RUT Sy to the Information Age this is the story of the Der ere Ce Coes ene U OR a RRR on een ©) le) « -Leeo PUeCet CO reC Tae was in prison in South Africa, he gained resolve and inspiration from Reader’s Digest articles “showing people overcoming great odds and difficult challenges”. In his autobiography, the late Egyptian President Anwar Sadat remembered that when he was serving time in a British prison, our magazine provided a turning point for him. “It was thanks to an article contributed by an American psychologist to the Reader’s Digest that I succeeded in getting over my troubles.” He writes that the article helped him renew his faith in God and in himself. “My relations with the entire universe began to be reshaped.” The world continues to change and we do too. We're publishing in places from Thailand to the Czech Republic. Now people are getting to know us through our websites [and via digital platforms such as iPad, Kindle and other e-readers]. Wherever you find us, we'll still be, as one subscriber recently called us, “a friend maker, a keep-you-up-to-dater”. One of our longtime readers, Frank Mara, New Jersey, wrote to tell us about his father, James, who had graduated from high school at the height of the Depression, served in the navy during World War II, then worked as a truck driver until his retirement. “He instilled in us the desire to read and to never stop learning. He used The Digest as his chief tool. There was always The Digest, every month, year inand year out, and always discussions or arguments about one article or another.” Asthe kids grew up he kept sending them gift subscriptions. “It’s been good for me,” he explained, “and I haven't done too bad for a broken- down truck driver.” When James Mara died at the age of 77 he left behind his wife and four children (a teacher, a surveyor/architect, a navy senior chief petty officer and an engineer), 13 grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren. His son writes: “I was not aware of the impact of my dad and his love for The Digest until last month, when I saw my ten- year-old son reading the last issue of Dad’s last gift.” Mara thought about his dad’s words, “It’s been good for me.” So he sent us a cheque for his subscription and asked that we “please say a prayer that I can do as well as that broken-down truck driver for my kids.” That explains as well as anything what we mean by making new item .. and keeping old ones. APPALL MALL If you believe that the population is getting older, you’ve never beentoa shopping mall ona weekend. 6 Doug Larson, United FeatureSyndicate from Reader’s Digest, April 1994 readersdigest.co.nz Classic reads 2012 FREE Readers Digest Download the new READER’S DIGEST iPad App NOW! Discover fresh new stories, laughs, puzzles, tips and special iPad-only extras Reader’s Digest Plus brings you anew and exciting selection of articles chosen by the editors of the world’s favourite magazine. ~~ extended reads, slide shows, video, interactive quizzes, reader contests and your chance to submit stories that could be read by our worldwide audience of millions! Free issue sampler out now. Magazine subscribers get free full access. RD fan Sle aaa 1929 Beautiful mb When Warner Brothers announceda proposed film of Noah’s Ark, they were surprised to learn that within an hour’s ride of Hollywood they could obtain a pair of each and every animal that survived the Deluge STORY BY ROB WAGNER ILLUSTRATED BY THOMAS SIMPSON 18 readersdigest.co.nz Classic reads 2012 iting one of the animal- 1 farms one day when the le Studio called up. “We want igeons and two vultures to work King of Kings. How about it?” ‘on the pigeons, but we're fresh vultures,” replied modern Noah. [ow will turkey buzzards do? The fans will never know the difference.” Later another studio called and was told it could have grasshoppers - out of season - for $2 a dozen. Marianna, a well-trained goose, draws a $35-a-day ticket, and she is worth it. For such a “dangerous and undignified” stunt as being gently tossed through a window she must have a double. The actual stars among the animals are pampered pets, living lives of glorious ease, with doubles to make their more strenuous scenes. Arriving at the studios in their own automobiles, their names shame- lessly emblazoned on the sides, they pause at the entrance while their publicity departments shoot a few stills and then pass through, to the “ohs!” of the assembled pop-eyed peasantry. But how about the poor directors who handle these animals? The other day I heard a terrific quacking on Stage 4, and wandered over to commiserate with the director who had to work with a flock of ducks. To my surprise I found but one bird, while the perspiring director and seven assistants were all quacking in a vain endeavour to make the edible actor respond. A moment later a smart prop boy placed an elastic band round the duck’s neck, causing it to pantomime a movement that was at least photographically a quack. Chickens are the stupidest animals in the whole celluloid zoo, and next to them cats are hardest to handle. They can sometimes be shot doing “cute little things”, but they absolutely refuse to take direction. The one ambition of every cat brought to us is to get home just as quickly as possible. By far the most ubiquitous animal in the pictures is the horse. Ordinary extras, or crowd horses, can be rented for $2.50 a day per head. “Foreground” horses bring $5, and saddle horses supplied to the leads cost from $10 to $29 a day. The big star horses have their private chariots, upholstered and padded. As animals go, horses are very limited in their acting technique. For instance, jumping horses become too excitedly “crazy” for the quieter stunts. Bucking horses don’t do tricks, and trick horses don’t buck. Consequently when you see a featured horse doing all these things you may be pretty sure you are applauding a syndicate. In other words every great star horse, such as Tony, Silver King, or Tarzan, each has five or six “ghosts” contributing particular stunts. These horses are trimmed, groomed, and painted from CONDENSED FROM COLLIER’S, THE NATIONAL WEEKLY (DECEMBER 22,1928) 20 readersdigest.co.nz Classic reads 2012 forehead to hocks in exact counter- feit of the high-salaried model when they take his place. Probably the greatest scene ever enacted by high-priced horses was the chariot race in Ben Hur. Notwith- standing the excessive risks in that classic event, the race was run by seven four-horse teams of thorough- breds. And to make sure it was a REAL race a prize of $250 was offered to the winner. Betting among the extras working in that great Coliseum set would have made the original Roman populace look like pikers. The dramatic spill at the turn, where five teams piled up ina tangled, plunging and kicking heap, was not in the script and fortu- nately resulted in no human loss and the fatal injury of only two horses. There has been but one horse in the history of the screen that has starred in his own right, Rex! This black Morgan stal- lion was an outlaw from birth, and was bought for $150. In Black Cyclone alone he grossed $350,000 for his producer. The star’s success was entirely due to his cameraman and director, Fred Jackman. He frankly says that Rex has no particular intelligence, that he is mean and undependable, but, like all animals, he responds to certain Chickens are the stupidest animals in the whole celluloid zoo. Cats are hardest to handle objectives. Jackman merely makes him appear to be doing something that is not in his mind at all. If Jackman wishes the horse to register sudden purpose and leave hurriedly in a certain direction, he will merely unmask another stallion at the objective point, and Rex will instantly start for his enemy to bite his head off. On the screen he will probably be seen arriving at the hero’s side in time to rescue him from the Indians. But of all animals the dog is far and away the most popular. Strongheart was the first dog ever starred. He had distinguished himself as the best- trained Red Cross dog in Germany during the war, and in Hollywood he quickly mastered the training in a new language and performed the most incredible stunts. Furthermore, so conscious was he that he was merely play-acting that never once did he draw blood from his “enemy”. When he retired his success brought down upon Hollywood a perfect deluge of dogs. Among them was Rin Tin Tin. Lee Duncan, his trainer, insisted to sceptical producers that his dog was nota trick dog, but an educated dog. Jack Warner was finally persuaded to give him a test - and immediately signed him up for five years. 2 The other day I watched him work in a Mounted Police story. The scene was an exterior of the Hudson’s Bay Company’s store. When everything was set Duncan called the dog. “Rin, go up there and sit beside the door. That’s it, but back up a little; you are too close to the camera angle. The heavy is coming out of that door, so while you are waiting, scratch yourself. No, not with your left leg. That’s it. “Now the door is opening; turn your head very slowly. You see, it’s the heavy, so jump to your feet and give him a nasty look. That’s it! Now, as he reaches for his hat on that chair go for him! That’s it! Drive him inside! Now go over to the chair and watch that hat!” Amazing as it may seem, Rin Tin Tin went through the scene in every One has a chow that can stand on its head; anothera seal able to sing Save the King” particular exactly as he was directed. Do you wonder that he draws $1000 a week and a share in the profits? Just a word to the million or more hopeful animal trainers who are putting in years of hard work educating cats, dogs, horses, geese, goats, fleas and pogsnoggles in the firm belief that they will land in Hollywood with $1000-a-week contracts. Don’t come. There are already a million rivals here ahead of you. One has a chow that can stand on its head; another a trained seal able to sing “God Save the King”; another a monkey that blows smoke rings; and still another has a cat that can throw the farthest fits in the world. And, as] said before, we have at least two of every animal that survived the Deluge. a “God PEARLS BEFORE WINE Associated Press dispatch from the grand old town of Norfolk: Last year the Four County Fair Association, which annually holds a county fair at Suffolk, Virginia, hada hog-calling contest. This year the association is arranging a husband-calling contest and enquiries indicate the announcements creating wide interest. The contest is to be open toall married women and the decision of the judges will be based on the persuasive qualities of the call, the language in which itis couched, and the amount of endearment or command put i it. from Reader’s Digest, September 1929 22 readersdigest.co.nz Classic reads 2012 Light! Bright! Easy to cleag Wonderful, Wonderfuls ‘ALKATHENE The finest houseware is made from ‘Alkathene’, the I® Brand of Polythene. Available in a wide range? colours, ‘Alkathene’ houseware has that “nice to f finish —and it’s so hygienic, too. ‘Alkathe® can't chip or crack . . . it is light and easy handle and so silent in use. Go go. modern with wonderful, wonderp Alkathene’. <> ase eM Meee LD ee Advertisement from our December 1959 issue CASE OF THE PAINT-SPOT MURDERS Detectives were baffled by the savage killings. Then they found tiny specks of grey STORY BY DAVID MOLLER ILLUSTRATED BY KATE BANAZI 24 readersdigest.co.nz Classic reads 2012 Mddddd YYVVVIRN bad A ANUltidddd4 deep DD DDD) ry PITTING ANAT? vv" PYyFIN Vea Nees VvVVvvi" VV PNTETVATSN Raa hhb 444 dd ddd Serer INUIT? yvyyyyrrrni WYYUC EY VQ yy rrr Prryyyr ? TT Tale Ww AN y 144 " a IN was slumped in his chair, head tilted to one ast three deep wounds 1 of Fred Maltby, 75, ran tres from his hairline to f his head. ctive Superintendent Stuart rveyed the farmhouse living noted that blood had soaked high-backed chair and splat- e wall to one side of it. Prob- m the back swing of the weapon used to kill him, he thought. The top left-hand pocket of Maltby’s overalls was open. A cushion on the sofa bore the outline, in blood, of an axe-like instrument. But the 47-year- old detective, a veteran of 40 murder cases, could see no other clues. There was no sign of forced entry, nothing to indicate a struggle or a search, no scattered objects that might yield fingerprints. Just a quick, neat killing. At 12.45pm that Wednesday, October 2, 1991, Detective Chief Inspector Gordon Reedman had summoned Clifton to 292 Brant Road in Lincoln, acity in the eastern part of England. “We've a body here,” he had said. “Looks like a murder.” Reedman, also 47, had worked with Clifton on many cases in the previous 20 years. The two men scarcely needed to exchange words as they moved around the murder scene. In the kitchen Clifton nodded at a couple of teacups on the sink drain- board. “Seems like Maltby might have had a visitor,” he said. Upstairs, there were indications the old man lived 26 just above subsistence level. Frayed carpet. An unmade bed. At the end of their tour, Clifton commented, “I would say this one’s going to be a long-runner.” He dispatched one team of detectives to question nearby residents, and another to search the land behind the farmhouse for the murder weapon. By the next day, officers at Lincolnshire police headquarters had learned that Maltby had once farmed some 40 acres on the southern out- skirts of Lincoln. With advancing age, he had given up farming and let out the land for grazing, but he still sold fruit, vegetables and kindling from his farm. He had few friends and no known enemies. “So who could have wanted him dead?” Clifton mused. “Probably someone who knew him,” Reedman suggested. “Neighbours said he always kept the front door locked, and there's no back way in.” As far as they could establish, the only thing missing was the wallet Maltby kept in a breast pocket of his overalls. But those who knew him said he never had more than a few pounds in it. “So what was the motive?” Clifton asked his detectives. All they could suggest was that someone was after the £500,000 that Maltby had supposedly made from the sale of some land several years before. In fact the deal had fallen through, but rumours persisted that Maltby was rich and might have money stashed away at home. The murder weapon was another readersdigest.co.nz Classic reads 2012 loose end. Ona workbench in the back of the farmhouse lay a jumble of old tools, but no axe. Yet Maltby would have needed one to cut up the wood he sold. What’s more, a tree stump in the garden bore the indentations of an axe, “The same maniac” Appeals to the public for further information brought a flood of calls. Clifton and Reedman worked 16 hours a day, ploughing through the material. But by Christmas 1991, every lead had come to nothing. Then on January 29, 1992, Clifton got a call from Reed- man. “A body was found in a book- maker’s shop,” he said. Alan Rylatt, 60, lay sprawled on his back in the rear office. His head bore the same deep wounds that Maltby’s had - at least eight. The door of the office safe was open, and Rylatt’s keys were in the lock. There was no sign of forced entry and no murder weapon. “Looks like it’s the same maniac who did in Maltby,” Reedman said. A post-mortem indicated that Rylatt had been killed by an axe-like instrument. “Both Maltby and Rylatt,” Clifton told his officers, “were elderly men who lived on their own in the southern part of the city. Both were The His head bore the same deep wounds that Maltby’s had. the office safe was open people whom the public might have thought had a certain amount of wealth. Both were killed on a Tuesday evening - we think between 9 and 10pm.” All the evidence suggested that Rylatt, like Maltby, had known his attacker and had let him onto the premises. When Rylatt’s son Edward, 23, had arrived for work the next morning, the front door to the betting office was still locked. The killer had come and gone by the back door sometimes used by Rylatt’s staff. Edward helped police establish that £3658 was missing from his father’s safe. But there was just under £800 left in the safe and about £13,000 in Rylatt’s apartment above the shop. “In both murders,” Clifton said, “there was no determined search for money or valuables.” The two mur- ders were similar, but the victims could hardly have been more different. In contrast to the reclusive Maltby, Rylatt was a sunny, outgoing bookmaker who ran two betting shops, loaned money and rented out a half-dozen apartments. Divorced, he wined, dined and pursued women - one of them married. “Rylatt had many friends and associates - and maybe a few enemies,” Clifton said. oor of 27 Detectives pieced together a list of Rylatt’s debtors from his IOUs and uncashed cheques. They came up with 30 names, including an accountant with a drinking problem, an electrician whose van-load of tools had recently been stolen, and a brass maker from a radiator factory near Maltby’s home. All had alibis for the night of Rylatt’s murder. Telltale specks With widespread publicity given to the second mur- der, police soon hada mass of leads to follow up. But again, not one checked out. By the end of Febru- ary, just one line of enquiry still seemed open. During the post- mortem on Rylatt, the pathologist had found small specks of grey paint deep in one of the wounds on his skull and a slightly larger spot on his left hand. Presumably, they were from the axe- like instrument with which he’d been killed. If both Rylatt and Maltby had been killed by the same weapon, Clifton wondered, had it been painted between the two murders? Forensic studies revealed that the paint was at least 90% zinc. This suggested industrial primer. But the 28 If both Rylatt and Maltby had been killed by the same weapon, had it been painted between the two murders? amount recovered was so small, few tests could be done. Then on April 3, 1992, a police officer in the south of the city phoned Clifton. “Four young men just handed me an axe,” he said. The teenagers had been boating on a lake about 2km from Rylatt’s betting shop when they found the tool in the undergrowth on an island. “It looks like the axe has blood on it,” the officer said. Examining it later, Clifton could see the blood quite clearly on one side of the axe head, near the shaft. The other side had presumably been washed clean by snow and rain. He also noted that the axe head had been painted with a zinc-type point. It was an impres- sively neat job - not a speck of paint had strayed from the axe head onto the shaft. Possibly done by someone trained to work with his hands, Clifton thought. Forensic tests established that the blood on the axe head matched that of Rylatt. They also confirmed that the axe marks in the skulls of both murdered men were similar, and that the paint on the axe was identical to the paint on Rylatt’s skull and hand. What’s more, the axe head conformed precisely to the outline of blood readersdigest.co.nz Classic reads 2012 found on the cushion in Maltby’s home, and its indentations matched those found on the chopping block in Maltby’s garden. Familiar name In June 1992 Reedman took samples of the paint found on Rylatt’s body to the Paint Research Association, a paint- industry organisation in Teddington, west of London. There, tests established that the zinc had been recycled and that the binder - the ingredient that makes paint stick to surfaces - was unusual: Epoxyester D4. Clifton’s team learned that just two companies made grey paint containing both recycled zinc and Epoxyester D4. Only one exported its products to Britain - Rustoleum, a Dutch firm that made a grey, zinc-rich spray-on paint called Rustoleum 2185. Tests proved Rustoleum 2185 was the paint found on the axe and on Rylatt’s body. Rustoleum had one British ware- house in West Bromwich, near Birmingham. From there, police followed the trail back to a Lincoln engineering tool merchant, Hykeham Forum Supplies, which had bought 36 cans of Rustoleum 2185. Of these, two dozen had gone to a nearby radiator manufacturer, Specialist Heat Exchangers. “If necessary, we'll interview every single person in that company,” Clifton declared. But as he scanned the list of the 172 employees, one name seemed familiar: Dennis Granville Smalley. From police computer records, Clifton soon discovered why. His detectives had interviewed Smalley five months earlier as someone who owed money to Rylatt. Smalley had told police that on the night of Rylatt’s murder, he had been at home in North Hykeham on the outskirts of Lincoln. He was looking after his two children while his wife, Gillian, was out at her cleaning job. But had he been telling the truth? Clifton now wondered. “Find out everything you can about Smalley,” he told his detectives. They soon learned that Smalley, 47, had been a brass maker at Specialist Heat Exchangers since 1977. But after a serious car accident in 1987, he had missed nine months of work. Over the next three years, he had fallen heavily into debt and had begun borrowing money. More important, Smalley had connections to both murder victims. Not only had he borrowed money from Rylatt recently, but as a teenager he had worked part-time for Maltby. “1 stayed home” On the morning of July 28, 1992, police arrested Smalley. A hulking man of 1.9m with short, greying hair, Smalley seemed unperturbed. At the police station he politely answered all questions. As to his whereabouts on the night of Rylatt’s murder, he stuck to his original story: he had been at home looking after his two young- sters, Andrew, nine, and Claire, ten. Challenged on this, Smalley insisted, “I stayed home all evening. I never leave my children alone.” Gillian couldn’t confirm his alibi, as 29 she had been at her job. And on the night of Maltby’s murder? Smalley had been at home then, too, while his wife worked. Smalley admitted know- ing Maltby, but said he hadn’t seen him in 30 years. Police then learned that within two weeks of Rylatt’s murder, Smalley had been able to repay £2500 of his debts to loan companies. How? Calmly, Smalley explained that he had saved the money from his earnings. For the moment, police could do nothing to disprove that. Detectives also discovered, how- ever, that on ll different occasions between January and October 1991, Smalley had cashed his pay cheques with Rylatt. Why? “I sometimes worked overtime and would miss the bank's late night on Thursday.” He explained. A more likely explanation, police thought, was that Smalley owed his bank so much money that, had he presented a pay cheque, the money would have been seized to help pay off his debt. Smalley doggedly denied having any large outstanding debt with Rylatt. Yet the visitors’ book at Specialist Heat Exchangers showed that Rylatt had been there to see Smalley three times in the month before his murder - the last time the day before he was killed. Why would Rylatt have bothered to go four miles out of town to chase a small sum? Smalley shrugged. “He told me he had some other business on Doddington Road,” he said, “so he just popped in.” Meanwhile, another clue had 30 turned up. In an outhouse at Smalley’s home, detectives had found three tins of Rustoleum 2185. When asked about it, Smalley admitted he had stolen the paint from his employer - but so had others. For many, it was a perk of the job. As four separate interviews went over the same issues again and again, Smalley still never betrayed the least sign of exasperation, nor the least hint of confession. There was not enough evidence to charge him, and so he was released. Crucial lead In the next few days, letters and bank statements seized in Smalley’s home revealed that he owed nearly £27,000 to eight different banks and financial institutions. Meanwhile, detectives questioning Smalley’s neighbours produced another crucial lead. In the house almost opposite Smalley’s, they spoke with Diane May, who worked with Gillian four evenings a week, from Wednesday to Saturday. She told them she had been worried about the way Dennis left the children on their own when he was supposed to be babysitting. She had wondered whether to tell Gillian. How about on the night of Tuesday, January 28? “Yes, Dennis went out that night,” she said. May remembered because that night she had been sitting on her front porch, speaking to her mother on the phone. She saw Smalley leave at about 8.10pm and remarked to her mother about it. Angry at his behaviour, she had kept watch - and readersdigest.co.nz Classic reads 2012 then called her mother back to report his return home at 9.50pm. Her mother confirmed the story. Next, Clifton had evidence that Smalley had lied about his last contact with Maltby. Though Smalley had insisted he hadn’t seen Maltby for 30 years, detec- tives found that Smalley’s applica- tion for a shotgun licence had been countersigned by Maltby just ten years earlier. At last, Clifton could feel the pieces of the jig- saw puzzle falling into place. Still, Reedman was concerned. “We've only got circumstantial evidence against Smalley - nothing direct,” he said. “No footprints, no fingerprints, no hairs, no clothing fibres, no other forensic evidence to link him to the murders.” Even so, Clifton argued, they could assemble a compelling case. “Smalley had the motive for murder: lack of funds. The opportunity: leaving his children when he should have been at home babysitting,” he told Reedman. First, however, Clifton would have to test Smalley’s claim that he’d saved the £2500 with which he had repaid some of his debts in the two weeks following Rylatt’s death. Clifton asked an accountant to Smalley owed his bank so much money that, had he presented a pay cheque, the money would have been seized analyse Smalley’s financial situation. Smalley and his wife earned a total of about £1500 a month. Both had given police detailed statements about their expenditures. Was it possible for Smalley to have saved £2500? Without signifi- cant funds from another source, the accountant reported, it couldn’t be done. On January 7, 1993, police arrested Smalley and charged him with the murders of Maltby and Rylatt. His trial began in June 1994 and lasted four weeks. Reedman watched as Smal- ley struggled to explain, in a slow, even voice, where he’d been on the night of Rylatt’s murder and how he’d suddenly been able to repay substantial chunks of his debts. Then, after over six hours of deliberation, the jury found Smalley guilty of both murders. Sentencing Smalley to two life terms, the judge told him, “In each case the victims were alone and given no chance of self-defence. Each man was known to you and had no reason to expect anything other than your affection and gratitude. My own and the public’s reaction can only be one of revulsion.” Smalley listened to the sentences without protest or apparent remorse. . 31 RD fan le 7A 1970 “IGET ALOT MORE THAN | [GIVE The legendary Bob Hope recalls some of his most humorous and poignant memories of entertaining US soldiers, sailors, marines and airmen STORY BY BOB HOPE ILLUSTRATED BY NIGEL BUCHANAN 32 readersdigest.co.nz Classic reads 2012 OUR HUGE C-130 droned high over the jungle. The scenery below looked much like Oregon: towering mountains and lush green valleys, the picture of tranquillity, We were snapped back to reality when our project officer stood up to make an announcement. “If there is a mortar attack on the show site, lie down flat to reduce the target,” he said. “If your hotel is under attack, lie down on the floor and cover your face and eyes. Do not go toa window. The greatest danger is from flying glass. Your best protection would be to cover yourself with your mattress.” The major’s matter-of-fact words brought home to us that we were landing once again in Vietnam. And though we’re there as entertain- ers doing a Christmas show, it isn’t all jokes and pretty girls. People ask if don’t mind leaving my family at Christmas to fly halfway around the world to be with the troops. My answer is: I get a lot more than I give! Some say it’s an unpopular war we're carrying on in South Vietnam. But, as far as ’'m concerned, we have 500,000 of the most popular Ameri- cans I know fighting there. And the satisfaction that comes from bringing a few hours of laughter and home to these men living such hard, dangerous lives is difficult to express. I don’t care how often you've seen the war on TV or read about it, you have no idea what it’s really like until you've felt the heat, tasted the dust, sloshed through the mud and talked to the men, especially the wounded. 34 Yet their morale is unbelievable; it gives you a lift just to be with them. YOU LOOK OUT over an audience of laughing, applauding GIs, snapping pictures and wolf-whistling at the pretty girls, and you know that a lot of them aren't going to make it home. It tears you up inside. And there are the wounded who will make it back but never be the same again. Visiting our casualties in hospitals, as I’ve been doing for three wars now, never gets any easier. The first time it really hit me hard was on Espiritu Santo in the South Pacific in World War II. I stopped by the bedside of a badly wounded boy who was getting a blood transfusion. “see where they’re giving you a little pick-me-up,” I said. “It’s only rasp- berry soda,” the boy said, “but it feels pretty good.” Then he died. I thought about how in his last moments he’d smiled and tried to say something light, and I couldn’t stand it. I had to go outside and pull myself together. Now it’s the wounded from Vietnam, and visiting them and talking with them is just as tough. But you can’t let it show through, or it destroys the purpose of your visit - to try to bring them a moment of cheer. They don’t want sympathy. They want to exchange laughs, and if they can top you, they love it. I try to breeze into a hospital ward, brash and bouncy, saying something like, “All right, get the dice and let’s get going”, or, “What happened to you? Were you driving on the Hollywood Freeway?” readersdigest.co.nz Classic reads 2012 The men’s faces may be bathed in sweat, their eyes glazed with pain or sedation, but they almost always manage a smile when I shake hands. Their courage is inspiring. WE MADE our first Christmas trip to Vietnam in 1964. Ten minutes before we arrived at our Saigon hotel, the Vietcong bombed Brink’s Hotel, about a block away. Two Americans were killed, and 50 Americans and 15 Vietnamese were wounded in the blast. US Ambassa- dor Maxwell Taylor asked if we’d mind going over to the Naval Hospital to see if we could cheer up the casualties. The hospital was chaotic, with operating rooms and corridors overflowing. I met a good-looking captain whose head and right arm had just been bandaged. “I’m really embarrassed to meet you here, Mr Hope,” he said with a grin. “Twas supposed to be in charge of your security - and look at me!” IF THERE’S ANYTHING that gives our Gls a lift it’s the sight of a pretty girl, so I always take plenty along. Exuber- ant singer Kaye Stevens is particularly good at cheering up casualties. Her approach is to run down the aisles between the beds, saying to each boy, They dont want pathy. They want to exchange laughs, and if they can top you, they love it “Hiyah! Wow! Hey, how about a kiss for Christmas?” Then she plants a big smack on him. Yet even Kaye some- times runs into a boy so badly wounded and disconsolate that he virtually defies cheering up. On one trip, as we walked through the wards of the Third Field Hospital near Saigon, she came to a boy called “Frenchy”, who'd had an arm and ear blasted off. “Merry Christmas!” Kaye greeted him, with her usual ebullience. “What’s there to be merry about?” the boy asked bitterly, with some reason. “You're alive, aren’t you, stu- pid?” Kaye persisted. “Merry Christmas!” Frenchy didn’t respond, and Kaye turned away, crushed. That encounter haunted her. “Those sad eyes,” she said, “just staring at me.” On the way home, we visited the hospi- tal at Clark Field in the Philippines. Kaye was walking through a ward when one of the boys called out, “Hey, Merry Christmas, stupid!” It was Frenchy, still all swathed in bandages. “How come you're so cheerful now?” Kaye asked as her face lighted up. “I wasn’t feeling too good the last time,” Frenchy said. “But afterward I got to thinking about it, and you were right. I’m still alive. Can I have my Christmas kiss now?” 35 Kaye gave him a resounding one, and he was all smiles as we left. THEY SAY there’s a healing power in laughter, so I always go well supplied with jokes. And I’ve discovered that our men are pretty quick with the jokes themselves. I found this out in New Guinea in World War II. Our troupe was playing to a group of 5000 lonely, battle-weary men at Hollandia. Frances Langford came out and began singing, “I'm in the mood for love...” Some sailor yelled, “You've come to the right place, honey”, getting the biggest laugh I ever heard in a jungle. In US hospitals in Vietnam, I’ve found signs reading, “Wel- come, Bing”, and, “We love you, Bing”. In one ward, Ist Lt John J. Fannelli of Brooklyn, a victim of shrapnel wounds in the leg and chest, had a sign on his bed which read, “Quiet: Bone Growing”. In another ward for orthopaedic patients they had a sign: “Welcome, Bob Hope, We'd stand and salute - but at the moment we're all hung up.” The most poignant sign read simply: “Forever is a day in Vietnam”. Talk about humour. I was doing a show on one trip for the “Jolly Green 36 Lan be gford n singing, ’min the mood for love...” A sailor yelled “You’ve'come to the right place, oney” Giants” (air rescue operation) at Nakhon Phanom. We had an audience of several thousand men, when suddenly our sound system conked out and left me talking to myself. “There’s no hot water, either!” some- one yelled, getting one of the biggest laughs of the day. At each show I’m introduced by an enlisted man, and some of them are pretty darn sharp. Last year at Long Binh, I was intro- duced by SP/5 Bruce D. Gaub, of Seattle. “Bob’s clothes are very unusual,” he said. “He has a flak jacket tailored into every suit. His clothes are done by Hart, Schaffner and US Steel.” During that same trip, I talked to Sgt Bob Stuckey of Richmond, Indiana, one of the “River Rats” who comb the Mekong Delta for the Vietcong. In addition to the ever-present danger, operating a small boat in choppy water means that Stuckey is wet and uncomfortable most of the time. I asked him how he was chosen for the job. “I knew some- one in Washington,” he cracked. The best GI joke I heard last year was told to me by SP/5 Steve Ramsey, of Denver, Colorado: A hard-boiled old sergeant was giving a new recruit a tough time, riding him unmercifully. readersdigest.co.nz Classic reads 2012 “I know your type,” he told the recruit. “You're the kind that’s going to wait around for me to die and then spit on my grave.” “No, sir, Sarge,” the recruit protested. “When I get out of the Army, Tain’t never gonna stand in line again.” LEAVING VIETNAM is always a wrench, for though we’re going back to comfort and safety, the thousands of men we have entertained are trudging back to the danger, dirt and heat of a bloody war. This was especially brought home to me last year at Chu Lai, a sprawling, sandy base where about 15,000 men saw our show. The weather was beautiful, and it was hard to believe that just a few miles away men were being killed and wounded. The audience was a good one, laugh- ing and whistling and cheering for Ann- Margret and the other pretty girls. When we finished, we drove in a jeep convoy along dusty red beach roads to the air strip. Believe me, it was the lone- liest sight in the world, the thousands of men streaming back to their posts, carrying their rifles. They seemed weary. The brief respite from their drab and dangerous lives was over. Yet they waved goodbye and called out, “Merry Christmas!” as we passed. The most poignant moment of our trips is always Christmas Eve, when our cast joins with the Gls in singing “Silent Night”. One reason it is especially touching is that this is when attendants begin carrying the litter patients back to the hospitals. One year at An Khe, Dianna Lynn Batts, “Miss USA”, cried unabashedly during the song. Afterward she asked Jerry Colonna, a veteran of several of our trips, how it was possible to sing “Silent Night” with the men without breaking down. “Just look over their heads,” Jerry said. “If you look into those faces, you’ve had it.” They are great faces and great men. The best we have. And no matter how bad things are, the men manage to keep their sense of humour. Last year, as I walked off at the end of a show at Chu Lai, a Marine sergeant yelled, “You look tired, Bob. Next year why don’t you just send for us?” : COCKTAIL CHATTER THAT MATTERS The French embassy in Moscow hasa cage made of thick glass which canaccommodate 12 people. It is the only place in the embassy where conversation can take place without being overheard by the Soviet Secret Service, which has concealed microphones in the building’s telephones, lamps, etc. Asan additional refinement, loudspeakers fixed to the cage’s walls broadcast the sound ofa cocktail party with women laughing and glasses clinking. Several other embassies in Moscow have followed the French example. ParisMatch from Reader’s Digest, October 1971 TRAPPED 4 VOLCANO Scrambling from the downed chopper, the three stunned survivors confronted vents of hissing steam and a boiling lava pit. Sulphurous fumes made them gasp. If there’sa hell, one thought, it’s definitely like this STORY BY PER OLA AND EMILY D’AULAIRE ILLUSTRATED BY DIEGO PORTINO 38 readersdigest.co.nz Classic reads 2012 en raining for a week in Volcanoes National Park, Hollywood film crew had tle of the volcano they had shoot. On Saturday morning, uldn’t wait any longer. “Let’s lichael Benson announced. son, 49, was in Hawaii to film ‘round footage for the thriller r. He was accompanied by era technician Chris Duddy, 31, helicopter pilot Craig Hosking, 34. They planned to fly low over the volcano and zoom in on the crater floor with a special camera. The site chosen was the smoking Pu’u O’o vent of Kilauea, the world’s most active volcano. In ten years, its oozing lava had devoured villages and added hundreds of acres to the island as it hissed into the sea and solidified. Now, during a quieter period, the crater floor, larger than three football fields, was covered with a thin layer of hardened lava. As they prepared to film that November 21, 1992, Benson decided to buy a little insurance. He knew some islanders believed in the powers of a volcano goddess called Madame Pele. They pictured her with fiery eyes, lava-black hair and a fondness for gin. So Benson - with a flair for the dramatic - decided to drop a bottle of gin into the crater. “We need only a few minutes of good weather,” he explained. “Maybe with a little persuasion, Madam Pele will cooperate.” As Hosking circled the chopper above the steaming cone, Duddy 40 tossed out the offering. He missed the opening, however, and the bottle exploded on the volcano’s rim. “Close enough,” Benson said. “She'll get the idea.” Hosking now hovered over the smoking caldera while Benson filmed the crater floor. “We got some good footage,” Benson said. “But to be sure, let’s do one more take.” This “shoot” was the kind of cine- matic challenge that Benson, a veteran of such hits as Terminator II and Patriot Games, thrived on. Tall, lean, with brown hair and blue eyes, Benson knew he had a tough, winning team. With a craggy face and prematurely white hair, Duddy already had over 40 films to his credit. The gangling Hosking was known as one of the film industry's best helicopter pilots. At 11.25am they passed 90m above the crater’s rim - right over the spot where Duddy had tossed the bottle. Suddenly, a warning light appeared on the instrument panel. “We've lost power,” Hosking said. “We're going down.” They were descending to the left of a red-hot lava pond at 100km/h. Clearly they were going down inside the volcano. There was no chance of clearing the rim and returning to the outside for an emergency landing. Frantically, Hosking peered through breaks in the clouds, looking for a flat place to set the chopper down. Fortunately, he was steering away from the 1370°C lava pool. As he flared the nose slightly upward for a controlled landing, the readersdigest.co.nz Classic reads 2012 main rotor hit a large boulder, causing the craft to drop the last few metres like a stone. The chopper’s tail section broke off, and its batteries were smashed. The radio was dead. Scrambling from the cabin, the three men fought for air in the sulphurous fumes. “We've got to get out of here before we suffocate,” Benson said, gasping. Steam hissed angrily from the ground. Nearby, the lava pond boiled ominously, and the heat beneath the thin rock warmed their feet. If there’s a hell, Duddy thought, it’s definitely like this. With visibility less than 6m, they knew no-one could spot them from the air. Indeed, no-one would even be looking for them for another hour, when they were due back. “We'll have to hike out,” Hosking said. With Duddy in the lead, they picked their way toward a rock-strewn slope that angled sharply to the rim 90m above. In 15 minutes, they hiked about halfway up the crater wall. Scrambling through layers of ash and crumbling rock, they sank to their knees, slipping backward with almost each step. As the slope increased to 45 degrees they had to crawl. “Keep three points of contact with the rock,” Hosking said, recalling his climbing lava Steam hissed angrily from the ground. Nearby, the boiled ominously experience in the Rocky Mountains. “Two legs and one arm, or two arms and one leg.” Finally, Duddy clambered onto a ledge. Above him, an overhanging rock face blocked his route. “I can’t go any farther!” he yelled to the others, 15m below. “Don’t come this way!” Benson and Hosking crouched on another narrow ledge. “Hang on tight,” Hosking told Benson. “I'll work my way back. Maybe I can get the chopper radio working.” “You'll suffocate down there,” Benson argued. “If we stay here, we'll either fall or choke to death,” Hosking replied. “My going down is our only hope.” And he disappeared into swirling steam below. Reaching the crater floor, Hosking was engulfed by foul-smelling hydro- gen sulphide and sulphur dioxide. He tore off his shirt and wrapped it around his nose and mouth to filter the fumes. Hosking removed the battery from the movie camera. If I could rig a connection, he thought, maybe that would power the radio too. But he had to fight against blacking out. Again and again, he would crawl 15m up the slope where the air was less noxious, take a few deep breaths, then return to splicing the stripped wires to the camera battery. ond 41 Finally, after an hour, a spark signalled that the circuit was working. “This is Hilo Bay Three,” Hosking announced. “Any aircraft in the vicinity of the vent? We’re in the crater.” “You're in the crater?” responded the pilot of their backup helicopter. “Roger. Aircraft not flyable, no injuries, but we can’t climb out.” “We've notified Search and Rescue,” the pilot replied. “A chopper’s on the way.” Hosking shouted up to his friends: “I got through! They’re sending help!” but Benson and Duddy could not hear him over the lava’s grumbling, nor could they see him through the thick smoke. At 1.30pm, Don Shearer, a contract helicopter pilot on the neighbouring island of Maui, received an urgent call from a dispatcher. “A heli- copter’s crashed in the Pu’u O’o crater. There are survivors.” Shearer had worked with park rangers on plane crashes, lost hikers, downed sightseeing helicopters - but never anything in an active volcano. He quickly fuelled up and headed for the island. As his Hughes-500 chopper approached the crater an hour after receiving the call, the radio picked 42 “can’t take it anymore he called down to Benson.

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