Loss
My cousin, Delwin Johnson was always a quiet man…at least he was every time I was around him. Nevertheless, he was a sweet man, and it makes me sad that he has left us. I’m sure that he wasn’t quite so quiet around his family. In fact, he loved teasing his nephew, Ethan Stanko when he kept asking his mom, JeanAnn Stanko to explain the game of football to him on Thanksgiving, but then Ethan was just too busy to listen to his mom teach him about the game. It’s a typical kid thing, but funny, nevertheless. As for Del’s brother, Elmer…well, they were very close, and there will always be a hole in Elmer’s life where his little brother once was. That makes me so sad, because I know Elmer missed Del so much. 
Delwin, wasn’t a clumsy sort, but he did have a “little mishap” one time while he was out hunting with his sister, Darla Stanko. His niece, JeanAnn Stanko tells me, “He was with mom (his sister, Darla Stanko). They stopped because they saw a deer and he accidentally shot through the floorboards, hitting the transmission cooling lines. As you know transmission fluid is red, so it looked like the car was bleeding.” I can see the shock on their faces now, and then, I can almost hear Delwin saying, “Oops, I shot the car!!” Then, the shock would most likely turn to hysterical laughter…until it came time to figure out how to get home…and how to get the car fixed.
Ashley McCollum calls Delwin, Uncle Del, not because he is her biological uncle, but because her dad and Del were friends before Ashley was born. Ashley grew up around Del, and she said that Del had a profound impact on her life. When Ashley was in 7th grade, she was living with Del in a little house on Durbin Street in Casper, and their favorite thing to do was to take turns playing Zelda on Del’s Super Nintendo. They 
loved to take their fishing trips. He also helped Ashley and her dad when they needed a new roof on their house. And there was the time Del fed Angel (who I assume was a dog) the last of his pizza. Ashley says you would just have to be to understand, and that she will forever miss her Uncle Del.
Rachel Johnson, Del’s daughter-in-law recalls the trips she and his son, Jason took to see Del, over the 4th of July. Del’s grandson, JJ had such a wonderful time. He and Grandpa Delwin loved playing with the Nerf guns. Every time JJ managed to hit Del in the chest, Del acted the part of a man who had been shot. JJ loved it!! He laughed and laughed. JJ loved his grandpa so much, and after they had visited, he asked to go see Grandpa Delwin for weeks and weeks. Del loved being a grandpa, and the grandkids and step grandkids were his pride and joy. They are the blessing you get from being a parent. Delwin passed away in exactly the way he wanted to…peacefully in his sleep. We will all miss him very much. Rest in peace Del…until we all meet again.
My aunt, Ruth Wolfe was my dad, Allen Spencer’s younger sister. She had three older siblings, Laura Fredrick, William Spencer, and my dad; as well as two older half siblings, Dorothy (died when she was six months) and Norman Spencer. To my knowledge, the kids might have met Norman a few times, but not very much for sure. That makes me sad, because from what I have learned of Norman, he was a wonderful man. I wish they all could have known him better. Life as a child was good for Aunt Ruth, even though money was never abundant. Aunt Ruth learned to be resourceful, and she really excelled at it.
Aunt Ruth had a softer side. She could play almost any musical instrument by simply picking it up and playing. I’m not saying that she was a world class musician, but she could make music, and that is far more than I could do with an instrument. Aunt Ruth could “spin a yarn” too. Sometimes I wasn’t sure if her stories were true or fiction, but I think they were likely a mix of both. She knew a lot about weather patterns, which she demonstrated once in our kitchen, when she noticed that the wind (which is almost never still in Casper), had stopped. She jumped up and went to the window, proclaiming that there was a tornado or funnel cloud nearby. We later learned that there had been a funnel cloud…and I was shocked.
Aunt Ruth was also quite self-sufficient. She gardened and canned, and she could build things too. All these things led later to the family’s ability to be “off the grid,” when living “off the grid” was not a known word or a “thing” at all. While living “off the grid” was really unusual in her lifetime, Aunt Ruth, her husband, Uncle Jim Wolfe, and their family chose that lifestyle in the 1980s. She was one of those people who could make a meal 
out of what most of us would view as nothing. Dinnertime was simply “different” by today’s standards, but them these days, anything that isn’t a hamburger is considered unusual…ok, maybe not exactly, but you get the picture. I’m not saying that Aunt Ruth ate “possum grits” or squirrel, but I can’t say she didn’t either. I suppose in some places, those things might be considered a delicacy, but I’ll pass. Nevertheless, at Aunt Ruth’s place, you might get mustard and onion sandwiches (that might have been invented by Uncle Jim and maybe my dad helped), but you might get it at Aunt Ruth’s table…probably not my cup of tea either, but I’m not a huge onion fan. Nevertheless, Aunt Ruth could fix just about any meal and make it taste great. Today would have been Aunt Ruth’s 98th birthday. Happy birthday in Heaven, Aunt Ruth. We love and miss you very much.
My aunt, Evelyn Hushman was the oldest sibling of my grandparents, George and Hattie Byer. While she and my mom were eight years between Aunt Evelyn and my mom, Collene Spencer were good friends, as well as being sisters. When my mom and dad, Allen Spencer were dating, they sometimes double dated with Aunt Evelyn and her husband, George Hushman, who were married six years before my parents. They were all good friends and remained good friends for the rest of their lives. Probably the strangest double date was the one where a train, with no lights, blowing no whistle, at a dark uncontrolled crossing, hit their car. If Uncle George hadn’t caught it out of the corner of his eye and yelled at my dad; and had my dad not responded quickly turning with the train and causing only damage to the vehicle, the collision could have been disastrous. Both couples walked away unhurt…the car, not so much!!
The couples also attended the military ball, and later they bowled on the same league together. They just enjoyed spending time together. While Aunt Evelyn and Uncle George’s five kids were older that my sisters and me, (my cousin Greg Hushman is just a month older that my oldest sister, Cheryl Masterson), we all got along well, and our parents made sure we got lots of playtime together. I’m sure that they also figured that with so many kids, it was getter to just get us together and maybe we would entertain each other. We did, but I can’t say that we never got into trouble either…not any real trouble anyway.
Their weekly “double dates” ended when they quit bowling, and the was probably a rather sad time for all of 
them…like the end of an era. I suppose that all things must come to an end, but that doesn’t mean we have to like it too. Aunt Evelyn bowled for quite some time after that, and I bowled on her team as a sub sometimes, but she was the only one of the four that continued to bowl for a time. Now, all four of them are together in Heaven again. I wonder if they still get together for outings and dinners. Maybe they even go bowling, who knows. I like to think of them that way. Today would have been Aunt Evelyn’s 95th birthday. Happy birthday in Heaven, Aunt Evelyn. We love and miss you very much.
My husband, Bob’s uncle, Eddie Hein was a sweet man who was an encouragement to many people. His children were his pride and joy, and he would do anything in his power to make their lives better. When Larry wanted to open a mechanics shop, Eddie was totally onboard. Eddie always loved mechanics, and seeing Larry start a career in that field was pleasing to him. Eddie loved vintage cars and would have loved to spend hours working to restore them. Of course, that wasn’t feasible, so watching his same work on cars sometimes filled the mechanics gap, in his life…at least the one that existed in his latter years.
His daughter, Kim Arani had very different goals and dreams than her dad, which makes sense. Most women don’t dream of becoming a mechanic. Kim chose later to move to Texas, because she absolutely hates the Montana winters, and I can’t say as I blame her. Even though Kim lived far away know, Eddie and Pearl were very supportive of her dreams, and were very excited to attend her wedding and give the bride away. It was a dream wedding, and while Eddie had suffered a stroke prior to the wedding, he was able to make the trip and walk his daughter down the aisle…on the beach.
While Eddie was dedicated to his children, Larry and Kim, he was most dedicated to his loving wife, Pearl. When they were off work, they were together. They gardened together and worked on the house together. Their lives 
were intertwined. When Eddie had his stroke, Pearl really stepped up to make sure Eddie had everything he needed. She drove him lots of miles to do his therapy. She took care of him at home. She nursed him back to health, and Eddie was grateful. He knew he loved her from the very start, and she proved to be the best thing that ever happened to him. Today would have been Eddie’s 80th birthday. Happy birthday in Heaven, Eddie!! We love and miss you very much!!
My husband, Bob Schulenberg’s uncle, Bernard Eugene “Butch” Hein was a well-known rancher is Forsyth, Montana. He was born June 28, 1945, in Miles City, Montana, to Walt and Vina Hein of Forsyth, Montana. Butch was the youngest of his mother’s five children (two of them, Marion and Walt Schulenberg) from a previous marriage. He also had a sister, Esther Hein and a brother, Eddie Hein. The family lived on a ranch outside of Forsyth. It was there that Butch first learned about ranching and knew that this would be his life’s work. While Butch would spend his childhood years helping on the ranch, there would be other life events that would have to take place before he finally settled into ranching. Butch graduated from Forsyth high school in 1964. The Vietnam war was in full swing, and Butch was drafted to the Navy in 1966. In all the years I have known Butch, he, like most other veterans never talked about his time during that war. I don’t know where he spent his service years, but I know that he was one of the men blessed to have made it home.
After returning home for his time in the service, Butch married Bonnie Wertz on April 13, 1968. Bonnie was the love of his life, and they began to build a life together. Their son, Scott Michael was born on November 5, 1969, and they were happy with their little family. Unfortunately, while they were preparing to expand their family, 
Bonnie was diagnosed with cancer. She delayed treatment in order to give their daughter a chance at life. Crista Dawn was born on October 26, 1973, but passed away on November 2, 1973. Bonnie continued to weaken and passed away on April 27, 1974. Butch was devastated. He felt like his life was over, but he had a son who needed him, so Butch pulled himself together, and raised his son as a single dad. Scott was his greatest achievement, and they were not only father and son, but later business partners and best friends. That friendship continued right up to Butch’s passing.
On October 13, 2023, a 78-year-old Butch, who was still very vibrant and full of life, got in his car and entered the interstate at his life-long hometown, Forsyth, Montana. Much of the rest is unknown at this time, but in the end, Butch was hit broadside by a semi-truck, and killed instantly. For his family, and all who knew him, this was a devastating loss. Butch was a friend to many, and certainly most of the town of Forsyth. He was also Grandpa to Scott’s three children with his wife Terri (née Wiederrick) Hein…Laura (Sean) Dailey, Carson Hein, and Lindsey Hein. Butch was so proud of his family, and one of the recent highlights of his life was being able to attend his granddaughter, Laura’s wedding on September 30, 2023. His grandchildren were his pride and joy. 
Laura is a junior high school teacher in Chester, Montana; Carson works at the ranch with his dad and grandpa; and Lindsey is in college at Montana State University, having received a basketball scholarship. Butch was an amazing dad to Scott, and a blessing to Terri and the kids as well. His life’s work might have been ranching, but his family was his legacy. He will be forever loved and missed very much.
What could make a nation go through an earthquake and refuse help from another nation, like the United States? It seems like a strange question, but it is valid. On October 6, 1948, a magnitude 7.3 earthquake leveled Ashgabat, the capital of the Turkmen Soviet Socialist Republic—now Turkmenistan. The quake killed between 70,000 and 100,000 people. The true number will never be known. In fact, most information of the scope of the disaster remained unknown outside Central Asia until 1973, when archival records were finally unsealed by local officials. So…why seal the records…of an earthquake??
The town of Ashgabat lies at the foot of the Kopet-Dag Mountain range near the border with Iran. The area is geologically unstable and earthquake prone. That said, why should a large earthquake in an earthquake-prone area need to be hidden? Ashgabat was originally a czarist outpost, founded in 1881. The town grew quickly during World War II, due to evacuees from the war zone. The population grew to an estimated 150,000 people. With a huge influx of people came the need for a lot of new housing, so single-story houses of unreinforced brick and stone, with heavy roofs of packed clay were quickly built, without regard for the need for earthquake proofing. I suppose that was the reason that the authorities didn’t want anyone to come in to help or to know the details of the catastrophe or the number of victims. The schools, hospitals, and other public buildings were built in the same shoddy way. It was wartime, so it may have been that supplies were scarce, or that proper time was not spent on the construction. Of course, less was known about how earthquakes affect buildings too, and even though there were existing seismic standards, they were seldom met. The builders greatly underestimated the earthquake danger, and that was a fact. A 1929 quake had already caused significant property damage, but strangely, the fault zone had been unusually inactive. I suppose this could have been a warning sign. When it is overdue, it may be a sign of an impending catastrophe.
In this case, that was exactly what happened. On October 6, 1948, at 1:17am, with few people awake. Suddenly, they an ominous rumbling from the mountains, followed immediately by violent vertical shaking. It was actually two strong shocks seconds apart, and just as suddenly, Ashgabat was reduced to rubble. There was no escape…there was no time for escape. The buildings were standing one second and collapsed the next. The thing that is the most shocking was that many of the survivors, who had been conditioned by propaganda in the acute early phase of the Cold War, thought that the city had been hit by an American atomic bomb. And the government did nothing to correct their misguided thinking. So, the country did not seek help from the United States.
As suddenly as it had occurred, the quake severed all communications with the outside world. There were no emergency centers, because hospitals, clinics, and pharmacies lay in ruins. The few remaining uninjured rescue workers, members of the city’s emergency services struggled in the darkness to help the injured. Doctors, many of whom had served in the war, pulled equipment from the ruins to set up an emergency station in Karl Marx Square. Finally, by the afternoon, reinforcements and supplies began to arrive from Tashkent and Baku. Nevertheless, the number of casualties, and the inherent difficulty of evacuating gravely wounded people, meant that help came too late for many. It was estimated that half of an estimated thirty thousand people who 
had life-threatening injuries died from lack of early treatment…many people died before they could even be pulled from the rubble.
While the city workers immediately ran to the damaged central headquarters of the Communist Party, where they were told by the party’s first secretary, S Batirova to take an undamaged automobile and head northward to a functioning telephone line, and soldiers stationed at the airport used an aircraft radio to contact Baku and Sverdlovsk, it was still many hours before any details reached areas from which aid could be dispatched.Unfortunately, that wasn’t much help either, because the railway station was in ruins, tracks were blocked, the airport control tower was destroyed, and the airport and roads could not handle heavy traffic. It would take hours and even days, to get the much-needed rescue support the city needed.
Of course, because of the misguided concept that the Americans were somehow involved, the precise death toll will never be known for sure. Estimates range from a shockingly low number of 400, suggested by Nature magazine in 1948, to a more likely number of 110,000. The dead were buried in mass graves. They were not counted or identified, adding to the confusion. There were roughly 50,000 survivors in a city that had previously had a population of approximately 150,000. That suggests that a death toll of 80,000 to 100,000, or about two-thirds of the population is a more accurate number.
The death toll was enormous, and that could have also accounted for the lack of emergency workers. It’s highly likely that many of them were among the dead or injured…not to mention the fact that there may have been a gross shortage of qualified rescue workers in the poorest part of a country, which was just still recovering from long years of war, but the poor response from the rest of the Soviet Union became more and more unconscionable. On October 7, Pravda printed a brief article stating only that “geologists at the Russian Academy of Sciences had detected a strong earthquake.” The article also reported that there were supply shipments and of the evacuation of the wounded, but no mention of the scope of devastation or the number of casualties. Of course, the international press used Pravda’s limited and incorrect reportage about the quake as the source for their own news reports.
To make matters worse, a conspiracy of silence followed the destruction of Ashgabat. Most history books and almanacs of natural disasters actually omit the quake entirely!! In the typical Soviet propaganda style of the 1950’s, they actually praised the severely lacking reconstruction efforts that completely ignored seismological standards. One Soviet journalist who visited the city in 1953, later described being “forbidden to photograph the omnipresent ruins or to report a march of weeping survivors to the mass graves on the outskirts of the city.” Little was known about the devastating earthquake until 1973. Only on the twenty-fifth anniversary of the event, did officials in Turkmenistan begin to open sealed archives and acknowledge the terrible calamity. Why was this? It was largely because of the Cold War, when both sides were eager not to expose their strategic vulnerabilities. That still doesn’t make sense, however, because the destruction of Ashgabat neither compromised the Soviet Union’s defense system nor revealed grave internal weaknesses. The forced silence did nothing to improve domestic morale in Russia, and it created widespread resentment in Central Asia. 
Internationally the Soviet Union could have gained propaganda points by publicizing the disaster and then criticizing the lack of response from the West, but for some reason, they didn’t so that either. Of course, the people in the Soviet Union lived in fear of Joseph Stalins sweeping purges and force silence and timidity. They didn’t dare speak of any kind of vulnerability. Until Stalin’s death in 1953, even referencing the event was considered a dangerous move. Financial aid was still desperately needed decades after the disaster, yet it still didn’t really come. Silence translated into slow reconstruction. Substantial portions of the city remain in ruins, and a significant portion of the population still lives in temporary, or inadequate and unsafe, dwellings to this day.
The loss of a loved one is one of the hardest of life events, and when it is a child, be it a young child or an adult child, it is even worse. For my uncle, Lester “Jim” Wolfe and my aunt, Ruth Wolfe, the loss of their adult son, Larry Wolfe in an explosion on May 16, 1976, was a devastation. They, like any parent, had a really hard time coping with the loss. They were living in Vallejo, California at the time, but after their loss, they could no longer stay there. They had to get out of California. It was then that a move to Washington state seemed their best option. I don’t know if Washington had been on their radar prior to Larry’s passing at 26 years old, or not, but they moved the entire family to the mountains outside Newport, in eastern Washington state. They purchased basically the entire mountain top, and built three cabins, where they would live out their lives.
They lived a good life on the mountain top. They were completely off the grid, something that is common these 
days, but not so much back then. Nevertheless, they craved total isolation, and the mountain top provided just that. Still, while they wanted to be left alone, they still enjoyed traveling, and they came out to see our family several times after that. Aunt Ruth was my dad, Allen Spencer’s sister, after all. Uncle Jim lost Aunt Ruth to cancer, on May 11, 1992, when she was just 66 years old. I’m sure he quickly learned to dread the coming of May. After that, we lost touch with them unto shortly before Uncle Jim passed away on January 30, 2013. We had reconnected with his daughter, my cousin Shirley Cameron in 2011, but by that time Uncle Jim was already in a nursing home with Dementia. We were always sad about that, but for the most part Uncle Jim was happy. His favorite things to do were strolling down the halls in his wheelchair singing and flirting with the nurses that worked there. They all loved him and thought his flirting was cute, and knowing my uncle like I did, I’m sure he was also a great jokester. He always had been, so playing pranks on the nurses came naturally. He once tried hiding in the nurses’ station but got caught. I’m not sure if his plan was to scare them or to catch one around the waist when she wasn’t looking. I wouldn’t put either choice past him. Uncle Jim was always a lighthearted person and great fun to be around. He loved to take his family camping, and maybe that was a big part of the reason the family moved to the mountains of Washington in the first place.
It was with heavy hearts that we attended the funeral of our uncle. My mom, Collene Spencer, sister, Cheryl 
Masterson, and I all made the trip to Washington. It was a bittersweet trip. We were happy to see their family again. We had not seen my cousin, Terry Wolfe, Shirley’s brother in many years either, although we had texted back and forth a little. We just wished that the reason for the trip had not been my Uncle Jim’s funeral. While it would have been hard, we would much rather have been able to visit him at the nursing home just once before his passing. Today would have been Uncle Jim’s 102nd birthday had he still been with us. Happy birthday in Heaven, Uncle Jim. We love and miss you very much.
Many people have heard about the 1970 plane crash that killed the Marshall University football team, but what many people may not know is that the Marshall University crash was not the only crash that year, or even the first crash involving a football team. The first one involved the Wichita Stake Shockers football team. On Friday, October 2, 1970, at 1:14pm, in clear and calm weather, with amazing visibility, the Wichita State chartered 4-0-4 airliner crashed into a mountain peak just eight miles west of Silver Plume in Colorado. The plane, operated by Golden Eagle Aviation, the twin-engined propliner carried 37 passengers and a crew of three. Of those onboard, 29 were killed at the scene and two later died of their injuries at the hospital.
The plane was one of two 4-0-4 airliners flying the team to Logan, Utah. Three months earlier Wichita State had contracted Golden Eagle Aviation to supply a Douglas DC-6B, to fly the team to away games for the 1970 season. The four-engined DC-6 was a large, powerful aircraft that could accommodate the entire team in one plane. At the time of the contract, Golden Eagle Aviation did not own the DC-6. Nevertheless, they had made an arrangement with the Jack Richards Aircraft Company to use theirs. Unfortunately, after the agreements were made, the Jack Richards Aircraft Company DC-6 was damaged in a windstorm, so at the last minute it was unavailable for use. The two Martin 4-0-4s, hadn’t flown since 1967, so thy were quickly re-certified for flight. While it might seem like that could have been the cause of the crash, it was not. On October 2, 1970, the two 4-0-4s were ferried from the Jack Richards Aircraft Company facilities in Oklahoma City to Wichita, instead of the expected DC-6. The 4-0-4s were smaller planes, and so the team had to be split into two groups. Upon arrival in Wichita, the two aircraft were loaded with luggage and the passengers were boarded. The planes then headed west to a refueling stopover in Denver at Stapleton Airport. From Denver, they would continue to Logan Airport in northern Utah. The two planes were dubbed “Gold” and “Black” after the school colors. “Gold” was the aircraft that later crashed. It carried the starting players, head coach, and athletic director, as well as their wives, other administrators, boosters, and family. The “Black” plane transported the reserve players, assistant coaches, and other support personnel, and it took the normal route from Denver to Logan, going by way of the original flight plan and took a more northerly route, heading north from Denver to southern Wyoming then west, using a designated airway. This was less scenic, but this route allowed more time to gain altitude for the climb over the Rocky Mountains. The “Black” plane arrived safely in Utah.
The plane dubbed “Gold” took a more scenic route. The President of Golden Eagle Aviation, 37-year-old Ronald G Skipper, was the pilot flying the “Gold” plane. Normally, he would have been the pilot, but he was not rated for the 4-0-4, so he was acting as the first officer. During the flight to Denver, he visited passengers in the cabin, telling them of his plans to take a more scenic route, near Loveland Ski Area and Mount Sniktau, the proposed alpine skiing venues for the 1976 Winter Olympics, recently awarded to Denver in May. The captain of the “Gold” aircraft was 27-year-old Danny E Crocker, who occupied the right seat. While the aircraft was being refueled and serviced in Denver, First Officer Skipper purchased aeronautical sectional charts for the contemplated scenic route. The National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) investigation report stated the First Officer testified that he intended to use the charts to help point out landmarks and objects of interest to the passengers. Unfortunately, this last-minute decision didn’t allow time to review the maps to make sure that they were traveling on a safe route, and that they were high enough to make it over the mountains.
Shortly before the crash, several witnesses described seeing an aircraft flying unusually low towards the 
Continental Divide, which is, of course, quite high in altitude. Some witnesses who were located on higher mountainside locations, such as Loveland Pass at 11,990 feet, reported seeing it flying below them…into the mountains!! It is difficult for me to understand, how the pilots could no have seen this as a serious problem. Crash survivor Rick Stephens was a senior guard and stated in 2013, “…as we flew along over I-70, that there were old mines and old vehicles above us. I noticed we were quite a bit below the top of the mountains. I got up to go to the cockpit, which wasn’t unusual to do, and I could tell we were in trouble, looking out the window and seeing nothing but green in front of us.”
The other problem the plane had was that it was overloaded. Sadly, no one double checked the weight to make sure they were within safe limits. As the plane neared Loveland Pass, it flew up Clear Creek Valley, where it became trapped in a box canyon and was unable to climb above the mountain ridges surrounding it on three sides. It was also unable to complete a reversal turn away from the sharply rising terrain. At 1:14pm MDT, the “Gold” plane struck trees on the east slope of Mount Trelease, 1,600 feet below its summit, and crashed. The NTSB report stated that quite likely many of the passengers on board actually survived the initial impact. This was based on the testimony of survivors and rescuers. The load of fuel on board did not explode immediately. This allowed some of the survivors to escape the wreckage. Then, the passenger cabin exploded and trapped the people who were still alive. They had no way of escape. Of the 40 people on board, the death count at the scene was 29, which included 27 passengers, the captain, and flight attendant. One of the deceased passengers was an off-duty flight attendant who was assisting. Two of the initial 11 survivors later died of their injuries to bring the total dead to 31, 14 of whom were Wichita State football players. First to arrive at the crash scene were construction workers from the nearby Eisenhower Tunnel project and motorists on U.S. 6 (I-70). The first officer (company president) survived.
The National Transportation Safety Board report states that the weather did not play a role in the accident, but rather lists the probable cause to be that the pilot made improper decisions in-flight or in planning. The overloading probably played a part too, in that they couldn’t climb as fast as if they had not been overloaded. The report said that the cause was, “the intentional operation of the aircraft over a mountain valley route at an altitude from which the aircraft could neither climb over the obstructing terrain ahead, nor execute a successful course reversal, while other significant factors were the overloaded condition of the aircraft, the virtual absence of flight planning for the chosen route of flight from Denver to Logan, as well as a lack of understanding on the part of the crew of the performance capabilities and limitations of the aircraft, and the lack of operational management to monitor and appropriately control the actions of the flight crew.” It was a recipe for disaster. What I don’t understand is how the plane could have crashed less than a mile from an interstate highway that was straight and level in that area…the perfect place for an emergency landing. Why didn’t they use it?
Of course, the game was canceled, as were classes at Wichita State University. Utah State University’s football team held a memorial in the stadium where the game was to have been played…placing a wreath on the 50-yard line. Wichita State University officials and family members of the survivors were flown to Denver on an aircraft made available by Robert Docking, the Governor of Kansas. A memorial service was held on Monday, October 5th at Cessna Stadium in Wichita. The remaining members of the Wichita State team, with the NCAA and Missouri Valley Conference allowing freshman players to fill out the squad, decided to continue the 1970 season in honor of those lost. It was later designated the “Second Season.” Wichita State and Utah State had played in five of the previous six seasons, but never met again in football. Unable to fully recover from its loss, 
Wichita State discontinued varsity football after the 1986 season. Roadside memorial in Colorado on Interstate 70, milepost 217 Wichita State University built a memorial for those who died from the crash called Memorial ’70. Every year on October 2 at 9 a.m., a wreath is placed at this memorial. A roadside memorial plaque listing the names of the victims is located near the Colorado crash site, adjacent to westbound Interstate 70, at Dry Gulch at milepost 217, about two miles east of the Eisenhower Tunnel. A trail to the wreck site via Dry Gulch is 0.4 miles past the memorial off exit 216.
When I first met, my husband, Bob Schulenberg’s aunt, Pearl Hein, I liked her immediately. She felt like my own aunt, even before we were married, and she became my aunt too. It was just the natural transition of it. Pearl was so welcoming and easy to get along with. I honestly don’t know anyone who didn’t love her. Bob and I used to go to Forsyth, Montana where his grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins lived…most of them anyway. Those who don’t live there, started out in that area. So, we tried to keep our girls, Corrie Petersen and Amy Royce, connected with that part of the family. Pearl and Uncle Eddie were a big part of those visits.
In those days, Pearl was working at the IGA (a grocery store) and honestly, I think the place would have fallen apart without her. For many years she was a fixture in the place, but now she is retired and gets to spend her 
time doing the things she wants to do. It hasn’t been exactly what she had expected or hoped, because of the loss of her husband, Eddie and then three months later, her son, Larry, but she is slowly coming back to feeling more like herself. These days, she spends some of her time visiting her daughter, Kim Arani and son-in-law, Michael Arani in Texas, and she enjoys that. Sometimes a change of scenery is just what is needed to perk a person up, and mother/daughter time is nice too.
Pearl has always had a heart for people. She tries to keep in touch with those closest to her, either by phone or text, and it is always appreciated. We are all busy in life, and so just a periodic text can be an uplifting text can be a bright spot in the day. Pearl still has family in the Forsyth area, and she enjoys getting together with them when she can. She and her sister, Rosalie 
Steinbach were always close. They helped each other with the care of their parents, and I know their parents were grateful. Caregiving is a tough job, and Pearl knows that better than most people. Pearl is such a loving and caring person, and I’m sure that is why I felt drawn to her so much. She never thinks of herself, always others. She wants to make sure that everyone has what they need to feel comfortable and happy. That is just her nature. Everyone else, above self. That’s Pearl. Today is Pearl’s 74th birthday. Happy birthday Pearl!! Have a great day!! We love you!!
