My First Balloon Flight  - a Bill Murtorff Memory

by Glen Moyer, Editor, BALLOONING

It was 1976 – the year of the U.S. Bicentennial Celebration. I was working as a young television news reporter for KFDM-TV, Channel 6 News in my hometown of Beaumont, Texas. Sitting in the newsroom one evening and watching the three network monitors (yes, there were only CBS, ABC, and NBC at the time) a story on NBC caught my eye. There was a hot air balloon festival in Houston!

The TV monitor came to life with wonderful aerial footage of what seemed hundreds of balloons – I’m sure it was a few less than that, and I wanted to be there. As a young boy I had always been fascinated with flight – any kind of flight. I’d grown up reading my Dad’s collection of Dave Dawson War Adventure Series books. They were WWII era pulp fiction about an American teenager – Dave Dawson, and his British buddy, Freddy Farmer, who met on the opening day of the war and go on to become quite simply the greatest fighter pilots alive. I read and reread these books ‘til the covers fell off. (Today I have a full collection of this series including one of only a handful of known to exist copies of the final edition – Dave Dawson at Truk.) In 1976 as a young journalist I used my ‘media’ position to fly in anything I could. I wrangled rides in a Navy P3 subchaser over the Gulf. I flew inverted with the late Art Scholl – killed in the filming of Top Gun. I circled slowly into the sky with the Army Golden Knights parachute team – all the while being briefed on how to exit the aircraft in the event of emergency. Thank Goodness that never happened. A balloon ride? I had to have it!

My boss at KFDM-TV, Larry Beaulieu, is still there. He was a wonderfully tolerant man who allowed all us young reporters to explore any and every opportunity. So without even asking I saddled up with my then best friend and photographer, Harry Kingston, and off we headed to Houston about 3am the next (Sunday) morning in our shiny, official, Channel 6 News chevy cruiser.

I don’t recall how we learned where the festival site was – probably from the NBC story but we found our way there – Houston being about 80 miles west of Beaumont on I-10. When we exited the car the winds were howling. I knew nothing of balloons then or likely never would have left Beaumont that day. I flashed my media badge around to a few folks. Having Harry following me with that (then) big old sound film camera (nothing like the mini-digital things used today) certainly helped me gain access.

Soon we were introduced to a towering figure with a flowing white beard who looked more at home emerging from the Tennessee hills than Houston, Texas. His name was Bill Murtorff.

He lost no time in explaining to me that the winds were not going to allow a flight that day – at least not one that would include a young TV reporter. But he did offer a ride in the future, should I wish to return someday. I returned home disappointed – no story, no flight, but with the promise of a balloon ride in my pocket!!!

I don’t honestly recall how much time passed or what exactly prompted my return to Rainbow’s End Balloonport – except for the promise of that ride. But later that year, I did return, again in the wee hours of the morning. I do recall it was late in the year- November or December… I’ll explain that a bit further on.

The event was just a club flight and it seems 6 or so balloons were to fly. I was to ride with Murtorff’s crew at the start, and get a ride on a second hop. One of my strongest memories of this flight is being told that one of the balloons was brand new and on it’s first flight. This was a red, green and white peppermint spiral Piccard belonging to then strangers – but years later to be counted among my closest friends – the ballooning family of Sam Edwards. ( It may not have been the 1st flight, but that’s what I recall.)

Little else of the flight remains in my memory except that I did get into the balloon. It was a multi-colored, sort of a patchwork patterned Piccard named “Bilbo’s Bag.” The choice could not have been better for the young lady I was dating at the time had introduced me to the works of J.R.R. Tolkein – I was  hobbit in heaven!

I do remember we lost touch with the chase crew because we crossed some river or stream or creek and they had to backtrack to find a way to cross. Meanwhile Bill and I landed atop a pile of rebar at the end of street in a neighborhood under construction. Bill kept the balloon inflated as a means of helping the crew find us. Now here’s why I remember it being late in the year – the holiday season…

As we waited for the chase crew a young boy and girl appeared from the house across the street. Still clad in pajamas they sheepishly approached us, never leaving the safety of their front yard and their eyes were as wide as saucers. Now I can’t be sure they’d ever seen a balloon before, but I’d bet my now cherished pilot certificate they’d never seen Santa Claus land one in front of their house!

Afterwards it was breakfast at an IHOP. I met a lot of people that day and I was struck by the bond they all seemed to share. I knew then, though it would take a few more years, that this was the sport for me.

In addition to the film I shot that morning – now long destroyed, I took a number of still photos. The negatives fell from their protective envelope and were run over at the camera store, tiny pebbles in the asphalt damaging them forever. I was able to salvage one and make a nice 8x10 print of “Bilbo’s Bag” that hung on the wall of my apartment in San Antonio where I would find myself working in radio and TV a few years later in 1979. Through the years, even that photo has been lost – my only keepsake of the flight today beyond my failing memories, is a 3x5 snapshot of that San Antonio apartment – my first away from home – and on the wall in that photo is the photo of “Bilbo’s Bag.”

Now, 30 plus years on, I’ve told this story many times, usually over the PA at a balloon event where I was announcing, but never committed it to print. Over those many years Bill Murtorff and Sam Edwards both became very good friends. I’ve asked both repeatedly to search their logbooks for any entry that might help me rediscover the date of that flight, but with no success.  In his last years Bill would often chide me off stage with, “Have you told that story about me taking you on your first flight?” In the overall scheme or things, the date is not that important but it is troubling, that as I grow older, the memory of that day has begun to fade. It was a day, that quite simply, changed my life. 

 

Bill Murtorff
Balloon Life photo 

 

Does anyone have any photos of Bill they could send me?
Lloyd