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Author: Subject: The day Duane died, the facts the papers never heard

World Class Peach



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  posted on 12/25/2006 at 11:02 AM
quote:
I am actually unclear why his company settled with Duane's estate except it is another example of deep pockets being reached without negligence really being proven, what we lawyers call a kind of strict liability. However the story is told, one thing has always been clear, Duane was speeding and the accident was his fault and certainly not anyone else's. Thanks for sharing your story.

Doug


Doug, In the State of Georgia if you make a left hand turn across traffic you are the "responsible party" for anything that occurs.
For example, if you are making the turn and someone comes out of a street on that side of the road and strikes you while you are making the turn, it's your fault.
Several years ago, my son was making a left hand turn and was struck by another vehicle.
The vehicle was reported by other drivers who stopped at the scene as speeding, no headlights (11 pm), and weaving between the lanes. My son was charged with the accident because he was in the process of making a left hand turn across the lane the other vehicle was in. When I brought up the statements by the other drivers I was told that it wouldn't matter if he had been going over 100 mph, the accident was still going to be charged against him since he was making a left turn across oncoming traffic.

 

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  posted on 12/25/2006 at 01:25 PM
quote:
And his sonic tapestries drew from the past and celebrated the present and became timeless.


...that should be etched in stone somewhere.

 

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  posted on 12/25/2006 at 03:36 PM
quote:
quote:
And his sonic tapestries drew from the past and celebrated the present and became timeless.


...that should be etched in stone somewhere.


. . or in wood, Asa ?

 

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  posted on 12/25/2006 at 07:02 PM
Guys, my son has found us.

He called me this morning to tell me about assorted things he'd found on the net. (re. his dad)
Then he mentioned "oh yeah, and I found the place ya'll are talking about Dad at........"

He said he read all the postings, but didn't make a log-in to be able to post himself because, even though he was there, sorta, it wasn't like he was gonna really 'hear' anything, to be aable to contribute.....
(wry grin)

Oh, but remember what I'd posted in my very first posting, about Chuck's fear of having a pit caving in on him ?
,
Seems S. found something about that, and his dad.
Seems that there was some sort of investigation going on, in Nov. '76 while his dad was still with us. having to do with 'the city' having dug a pit, that was intended to have Chuck's boring rig set down in it, but Chuck had insisted there be adjustments on the pit, to level the bottom better, before he would be willing to climb down in there to work.

I'd never thought about that, before.
i.e. that if the bottom, where the boring rig sat to work, if it wasn't absolutely level, the rig's strong motor working, would cause it to rock to some degree, and vibrate the pit walls, encouraging a cave in. Seems the investigation, though, had something to do with the pit walls not being shored up, for safety. Chuck had come back, the next day, to inspect the pit for his approval. (Since S. was relating all this to me, I'm a bit confused as to the sequences of this incident, and the other details, so keep this in mind....)

Anyway, alas, the work had apparently stopped. (on Nov. 10, 1976), while answers were sought, but, in the meantime, Nov. 11, the very next day, Chuck was killed on his way to Dublin, with his boss, carrying a truck load of dry concrete to the (or a) job site. ...This same concrete that came forward, during the collission, trapping him in the middle.......So Chuck was un-available to contribute his side of things to the problem.

Somehow, this sounds all too familiar......

Ya know I Still haven't had a chance to type in what I planned to, today.
Now that S. has found us, I won't have to send him a copy
Windsinger

 

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  posted on 12/25/2006 at 08:29 PM
quote:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----
And his sonic tapestries drew from the past and celebrated the present and became timeless.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----



...that should be etched in stone somewhere.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----



. . or in wood, Asa ?

**************************************************************

YEAH !!!!!!!!!!!
I agree with ya 100 % Homeboy !!!!!
BEAUTIFUL !!!!!!

BTW.
It being Christmas, we had to go to Waffle House to eat, today.
Before we left, an instrumental started playing on the 'juke' box.
H. looks across the table at me "i'm not positive, but I think that's an ABB song playing...."
He got up, to check, for sure "YEP, and the next one you'll Definately recognize..."
(he informs me)

Whoa !!!!!
A week ago, I was 'Positive' I didn't know Any of their work, and now I'm finding out differently.
(Ramblin Man, was the one H. had (complained) of having heard me "singing" )

Okay.
I give up.
They don't play the kind of stuff I'd been so sure they sang.

In the 70's my favorite kind of music was 'folk' (Judy Collins,.... Peter, Paul, and Mary,..
Michael Murphy......John Fogelburg....... etc.) and a fan of John Denver and other really soft rock folks. I LOVED 'ballad-iers!' Serious sing-a-long music
and I loved Classical ......okay, yeah, I KNOW those guys were 'long-hairs'
I have got Zero problem with the idea of long-haired men...

In fact, as a re-inactor, while up to 50 % of our ladies often have hair, shoulder-length or longer ( I know at least 3 lady's who's silky locks go to the back of their knees ! ) (My own is almost to the top of my thighs) But most are thriving for at least waist length as the ideal. Most of our folks are loners/individualist/non-conformists. We're gonna do certain things in our lives 'our way'.......

Well, most of our guys Wish they could wear their hair 'historically' longer, but mundane jobs won't allow it (like my re-placement husband's job, with the power Co/i.e.G.P.....very strict hair-length code....) we also have a lot of military guys, who also have no choice. (But a long-time friend of mine, just retired as an Aero-space engineer up at Huntsville,..........and his hair is near waist-length,....perfect for historical playing in)
And some of our guys wear tights.
Thank goodness, this is the exception, rather than the norm........we have some pretty hefty guys who play with us, and there are few things scarier than a 300# man in tights and ANY length of tunic !!! <<>>>to make it worse, they're often seen with the biggest (full) drinking vessel they could find, guzzeling beer.......

But a nice-built guy, in a cool tunic, soft flannel pants, knee-length leather boots, with hair to his shoulders.........OH !!!! Be still my pounding heart !!!!.....and the even cooler thing......Flirting !!!!! It's considered an 'art-form' and those who do it, compete with each other to charm the ladies with it........My son's buddy, is new to our world, but he Clearly has that 'flirting' thing down pat.........I understand he has his eye on My Environmentalist wood-carving student......lovely lass, Very 'Nordic' heritage clearly showing, their age, maybe 2 or 3 years older.........my approval is based on his future intentions......S. has already passed on the word to his buddy, that I'll send my husband after him with a long bow,....barring That (H. is kinda funny about hunting and shooting anything that may protest....) I have male friends who will hunt the guy down and not leave much for the wolves. My apprentice is safe, now. <<<>>>>>
Windsinger

 

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  posted on 12/29/2006 at 12:16 PM
John Fogelberg....is he any kin to Dan Fogelberg?

 

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  posted on 12/29/2006 at 12:45 PM
Thankyou Dave !!!!!!

I KNEW that wasn't sounding right, somehow !!!!!!
GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNN NNNN

Yeah !!
DAN!!!!!!!
LOVE HIS MUSIC !!!!!!!!!!

(even if I can't remember his name, his songs are my favorites to be singing while i work out in my woods) I have albums,.......but they don't travel well to my woods work.
Soooooooooooooooooooo I guess it's high time I acquire some portable CDs......
Amazon, here I come......
GGriNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN
Wind.

 

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  posted on 12/29/2006 at 02:37 PM
I saw Dan in concert a time or two. I dig acoustic music too. Matter of fact, I had the DJ play "Longer" for my wife when we got married.

 

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  posted on 12/29/2006 at 02:41 PM
Saw Dan open up for the Dickey Betts Highway Call Tour in KC....both acts were super great.

quote:
I had the DJ play "Longer" for my wife when we got married.


Dave, I played and my bud sang that song at Jess' mom and pop's wedding...along wiith "Heaven Can Be Anywhere" by Charlie.

 

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  posted on 12/29/2006 at 02:43 PM
COOL! GMTA

 

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  posted on 12/29/2006 at 02:46 PM
quote:
GMTA


Get Me To Atlanta ?

 

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  posted on 12/29/2006 at 03:01 PM
Heh heh heh....That too!

GMTA = Great Minds Think Alike

 

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  posted on 1/1/2007 at 10:32 PM
I just spent the last 3 nights in warm rooms with soft beds.
Now I'm home, in Pennyhut, freezing once more.... (we (today) bought two new electric heaters, for the new place, but that place has no electricity, and Pennyhut has electricity, but no room for the heater(s).........jeeeez.......can't win........

We stayed in a motel for 2 of the nights (it was raining) a small party to go to, Sat. and a huge wonderful one last night, where were were offered crash space in the dungeon.

Too early for bed, here, so here I am.

Last week I'd posted this :
*********************************************************
We'd been given the land, (half an acre) to build on, someday, if we could ever find ourselves able to. He and I had come up here to walk over it, about a year or two before his accident. We'd stepped down a wet-weather-creek-made 'path', just past the tallest wild blueberry bush I'd ever seen, growing into the terrace, and when we'd turned back, to look at the terrace from that direction, we had both been struck by how wildly beautiful it looked, with the roots of a maple tree hugging the stones in one place, and a wild cherry in another. He'd made an intake of breath......and said something like "That would be Sooo beautiful....planted with Sweet Violets.........(that was the first I'd ever heard that he loved them)
***************************************************************

I wanted to add something cool about that.

I never could find the Sweet Violets to plant here.
Birdfoot violets grow wild in the area, but Chuck had, specifically said "sweet"

None of the nurserys between here and Atlanta seemed to have any sweet ones, so, in time, I gave up looking/asking.

3 or 4 years after the kids and I had seattled in on the land, I walked out my back door (next to my BR door) one April morning, to find the entire area, from just beyond the door, all the way to the outter corner of my bedroom, ablaze with a purple and green carpet of blooming sweet violets,.......there were, at least, HUNDREDS of blooms !!!

I was Stunnned !!!!!!
I double checked in one of my gardening books, to make sure.
That's what they were !

Each and every year/April, since that day, the violets are there, ever more plentiful than the year before. These days they number in the countless Thousands.

They are/have ever been, thought of, as a love gift from Chuck.
I never found any to plant.
But since that time, I've shared the plants with friends and family.

There's an herbal nursery in Oregon that I eventually discovered, and it seemed they had EVERYTHING..........but.......
Sweet Violets.
I wrote and asked would they like to have some ?.....i.e. both seed and plants ?
They wote back that they'd be delighted.
I sent them about 5 plants and numerous seeds.
They now offer the violets..........offsprings of the one's Chuck gave me in such a lovely way.
The place is : http://www.thymegarden.com/site/561124/
(the violets are here)(I couldn't locate them on a general search of the site, so had to do a page-by-page one)
http://www.storesonline.com/site/561124/product/S1933.

Funny.
He taught me a love of growing things.

I was a military brat. USAF ( Robin's Air Base is just South of Macon) raised, so I'd never really ever been able to plant anything and be there, a year later, to enjoy it's growth and beauty. But Chuck took our deep and narrow city lot and turned it into a mini-farm, reflecting his Illinois farmboy roots. The property's pear tree had sold Him on the lot. already, the beginning of an orchard !!! In time, we planted another pear tree.
When I moved from Macon, I dug up that smaller tree, and put it, too, in the U-Haul truck.

It was first planted, about 2 miles from here, where we lived until I built a modest house on the land we'd been given. Then it was dug up, again, and moved here, where it's thrived ever since.

Anyway, Chuck had bought a rototiller and plowed up most of the back yard (in Macon) and taught me how to grow tomatoes and potatoes and all kinds of other farm veggies.
I drew the line at planting rubarb.....a staple of his old life in Illinois. (I don't think it grows well in our hot climate, anyway)
He built a chicken pen, and bought chicks in a rustic farm supply store I was surprised Macon even had.
But my husband knew me, all too well,.......
"Don't you DARE give them names....then cry when I get ready to wring their necks for the soup pot !!!!" (to my pouting, a sympathetic store owner took pity on me and nudged me, suggesting "We have baby ducks........"
I brightened up, and looked hopefully toward Chuck.......
"Alright.....go pick out one baby duck. Give it a name (PUDDLES!!!).....and love it ...but so help me,...Do NOT name these chickens !!!! I Mean it ! they're going in the pot !!!"

So, there in the city, I had two pear trees, a plowed up back yard garden of veggies, and a chicken pen. The country had come to the city.
He bought me a pressure cooker for canning (I still have it) and taught me that, too.

He taught me a love of the land, I'd never had a chance to learn on my own.
So
after he was gone, I moved here, and sunk roots so deep in this land, I never want to leave it. His ashes are below the terrace out back.
The sweet violets grow between the old house and the terrace, but, oddly enough, they refuse to actually grow on the area where I spread his ashes, where he'd thougth they'd be pretty. I don't understand it. They grow in every pot and nich between the two, and over an about 100 feet wide area (x about 30 feet)
I've transplanted ones there, but they've failed to survive. (yet they have No trouble surviving anywhere else) Last year, my lady mother brought some Back to me, that I'd given her. So, I gave them to my neighbor across the street. and I told her their story. a week, or so, later, she came over and demanded to see everything.......the violets all behind the house, and the place where Chuck and I had gone down the wet-weather creek, by the blueberry bush, and she wanted to see the maple tree who's roots were growing over the terrace stones.

Satisfied, she drug me back to her husband, proudly announcing everything was Exactly as I'd described in the story.

Now.
It's cold in here, and hard as that board shelf we call a bed, is, I'm gonna go find some warmth under the down comforter and blankets we pile high on it.....
Oh, and it's the new year, ain't it ????

Well, Georgia's old one went out with heavy rains and a touch of warmth, but today came in crisp and sunny.....our local group of history buffs ended up in 3 camps in the house. The kids all scampered about, from level to level with more energy than I can barely remember ever having. The die-hard Facon fans parked themselves all over the dungeon....uh...basement rooms with a big-sceen TV and a well-stocked bar......and I, and the Non-fans, contented ourselves to watching "Tristan & Isolde" "Much-ado-about-Nothing-" and the old 70s version of "Jesus Christ Super Star" while trying to ignore the hooting and hollering and squeels of delight and disappointment, a floor below us.

Now they're talking about a 'Superbowl' party......? When is That likely to be ?
(I Honestly don't know)......I just wanna know if I have time to order a bunch of blow-up monkeys to scatter around the room while they're watching the game.......I'm Serious.
It sounded like a Zoo down there !!!!! They totally scared the resident feline half to death with all the enthusiasm....
I'll go to the party.
I just won't stay in the room with the game on.
Haapppy New Year...!!!!!
(I'' gonna start calling electricians, tomarrow....wanna get moved where there can be some warm....)
Wind.

 

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  posted on 1/2/2007 at 11:24 AM
Windsinger, I believe you are going to enjoy meeting our friend Carol McDonald at some point. I sense kindred spirits.
 
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  posted on 1/3/2007 at 08:47 AM
..............scraps...........................

I still haven't heard from Mimi's brother (Scott Freeman) so yesterday I had the local library locate a copy of Scott's book, to be sent, for me, to the local branch.

i.e. I'd told my friend I'd wait at least a week, or two, before checking out her brother's book, and now it's been 3 weeks, so it was time.

................... * ............................

I found a posting (around here) of a copy of what The Macon Telegraph had written.

I saw a number of in-accuracies. While we, including myself, would like to believe that the news is always factual, and a good source when we research, I know, all too well, too often, that's simply not the case (small example : My son's picture was once in the Telegraph with his pet, for having won the city-wide Pet Contest event they hold annually.

I had given the reporter (who got the photo) the simple information asked for.
Yet, when the picture appeared in the paper the caption read "Mike Wertz's gypsy snake admires her own trophy"

The information I'd given the reporter was that my son's name was 'Michael' (he didn't want to go by 'Mike')
And his HOGNOSE snake's name was 'Gypsy'

Is it any wonder that something so complicated as reporting on a fatal accident was going to get facts twisted and filled in with guesses ?

The Only reporter we (I, if Chuck talked to one, elsewhere, I never knew) ever heard from was this way : : : : :

We never really 'heard' but from one person re. 'our side'

A reporter, from the Macon Telegraph, (a man.) called my home at around 7 am the following morning

I answered the phone

He asked to speak to 'Charles' (or 'Mr Wertz' he may have said)

Anyway, I said he wasn't there.
The man clearly didn't believe me.
So I repeated my statement....

He said something to the effect of
"May I please ask where he IS?"

I said he was at work.

The man made it clear he didn't believe that, either.

I insisted that's where he was !

To which, and I quote, the man said to me, in obvious disgust :

"You mean to try and tell me, that yesterday, your husband KILLS a man ...!......and To DAY he just goes into work like nothing has happend !!!!!!! Ohhhh, Come....On !!!!"

I burst into tears and hung up on him.

and no, no-one ever tried, again, to hear 'our' side of things.
........................................................................... ........................

At the time, I was just greatful for the respite (sp) but because of my pregnancy complications, I was seeing the Dr. once or twice a week, every week, so on my next appt. I asked my Dr. for some sort of tranquilizers.......

(not knowing there wouldn't be more reporters calling, but already dealing with Dixie's (?) lawsuit, my husband's bosse's upsetting calls (the man was scared, of the possibility of losing the long-run family business
because of this whole thing, and he was looking for someone to lay guilt and blame upon, so he kept calling, venting frustrations and fears) Chuck's beginning sleeping nightmares, not to mention his personality having abruptly changed from it's usual playfulness to sober worry, and fears of some sort of reprisals from fans believing my husband was at fault for the loss of their idol....we, both, were scared.

So, I had to explain to the Dr. why I wanted the prescription, adding that I was afraid to be taking ANY meds, but at this point, I didn't know how much worse things were likely to get, and I just wanted Something (safe) to have around, in case things got So bad, that the baby would be in even more danger from that. So, he prescibed me something. But I never filled the prescription.......fear of the drug, wound up being stronger, than my in-ability to deal with things the way they moved along. With no more reporters calling, the bosse's calls tapering off, no charges being filed against Chuck, no fans doing anything our way (Thank God !!!) and Chuck's concerns for mine and the babie's health in the middle of all this, clearly occupying more of his thoughts as time toward the baby's birth grew nearer.......and his own good nature returning to try and keep me cheered up and re-assured that all was going to be well.....I just never got the prescription filled.

After the baby came, and my Dr. came in to check on me
He asked me how all that other had gone ? Had the prescription he'd given me helped ?
When I confessed I'd never taken any. He became concerned, demanding why not ?
I explained my fear of the drug hurting the baby........
Then he was clearly upset.
Told me he would Never have prescribed something that would hurt my baby !!!
Didn't I understand that my own stress with the situation, could have done Far more harm, by throwing me into a too early labor ????? !!!!!! a situation the drug could have avoided happening ?
But I assured him that if things had gotten beyond my ability to deal with them, I would have gotten/taken the meds, but nervously.......but that just hadn't happened (i.e. our worst scene scenario)(he volunteered that he was glad to hear that)
.............................. *......................................
One more scrap.
Chuck and I talked quite a bit, in the days following the accident. As things often do, in later relating to anyone, the assorted chronologies of what got said, exactly when, often blur, even with my well-recorded story histories...and let's face it, it's been 35 years.
Couple of days ago, I realized his mention of the blood(etc.) he saw, was voiced on a different day than the evening he came in with his bad news.........the evening of the accident he said he saw the bike, first, "racing like crazy" and he'd reached over and turned it off, "then I saw the kid" (and he said 'he'd' (D.) lost his helmet and made some mention of his helmet laying somewhere I don't remember) and said that before he could ".....do anything else, this car comes over the hill" and the girl coming at him crying and screaming about him about her husband. The gist of it's all the same, he just didn't mention the long hair and blood until a day or so later, when the initial shock had started to wear off and he was needing to talk about what he'd seen.

I got a 4 am start on this day,...now I've gotten all this off my mind, I can go try and grab some more ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZs

Oh, one More 'scrap'

DAVE !!!!!
I know where I got the 'John' from with the Fogelberg.....
When I was at the library, yesterday, arranging to get S. Freeman's book, I glanced over at some guy looking through some drawers of CDs the library had........and right in front, was the name 'John FOGERTY'.......................soooooooo That's where I'd messed up.
DAN Fogelberg, John fogerty.....love um both...
Windsinger

 

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  posted on 1/3/2007 at 09:10 AM
I guess John Fogerty and Dan Fogelberg would be right close to each other in the record bin, also. Or if they had a love child, it would appropriately be named John Fogelberg.

 

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  posted on 1/7/2007 at 11:52 PM
Just found this site today; spent all evening reading and perusing. Remember well when Duane Allman died. Just want to pass on my prayers to the widow who posted her story.

 

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  posted on 1/8/2007 at 12:16 AM
I've heard that quote before, seen the epitaph, but never seen that letter . . .
Wow. . .
Thanks for posting it.
Where is it from ?

 

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  posted on 1/8/2007 at 05:21 AM
Well, obviously, many many factors led to that fateful crash, and nobody can be fully exonerated, so don't try.
A non-union truck driver/construction worker, in 1971, (?) when unions were probably at their all time strongest, to me is someone to never try to understand. If anything, I blame him for being there, period, useless to the world, part of the problem and not the solution. I well know the popular excuse that he had a wife and kid to support, but that is still an excuse. Join a union at least.
The engineers who designed the road several decades previously are to blame, as they are never the people who have to drive on them.
Last, but not least I blame Duane (and Berry) for not taking up safer hobbies. Even a minor mishap on a motorbike could well render musicians' hands useless, and if they had the talent, for our sake, they would have been taking taxis, or at least in cars with a buckled seatbelt. The closest thing I'd ever come to two wheels, if I were them would be maybe a bicycle.
If you Southerners really want to get gushy and forgiving to some lady for listing a blog, why don't you try forgiving us up North for the Civil War...

 

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  posted on 1/8/2007 at 06:15 AM
wow, do I detect some misplaced, pent up anger? I don't really think that Windsinger is necessarily trying to get our forgiveness, just trying to give out some info that hasn't been heard before. As far as us Southerners forgiving you Yanks, I don't think that is gonna happen anytime soon. Just kidding there. I don't like dwelling in the soooo distant past. Anyway, if you want to blame somebody you have to lay the blame at the feet of a very young, very talanted man who like every other male his age thought he was 10 foot tall and bullet proof. Under 30, riding a powerful bike, receipe for disaster.
 

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  posted on 1/8/2007 at 09:54 AM
Statesboroguy has posted a photo of Duane's New Year's resolution that was on display at the 2004 Jam for Duane. It is owned by Galadrielle Allman, a gift from Johnny Sandlin, and is currently in the possession of Mr. Carl Weaver at 2nd Street Music Hall. He handed it to me one night and walked off. I didn't have a clue until I began reading. Takes your breath when you realize what you're holding in your hands. Later, when the emotion has subsided, you begin to grasp the intellect embodied in Duane Allman.

Note the date--the young man was barely 22 years old. Here is the insight into the man.
His philosophy, his way of doing and being. A profound testimony.

....and while I'm waxing philosophical, this seems a good point to state one of my basic tenets of life, to wit--The only reason we have jerks in the food chain is to keep us from taking good people for granted.

 
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  posted on 1/8/2007 at 10:08 AM
quote:
....and while I'm waxing philosophical, this seems a good point to state one of my basic tenets of life, to wit--The only reason we have jerks in the food chain is to keep us from taking good people for granted.


Right on Bro

 

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  posted on 1/8/2007 at 10:09 AM
quote:
Well, obviously, many many factors led to that fateful crash, and nobody can be fully exonerated, so don't try.
A non-union truck driver/construction worker, in 1971, (?) when unions were probably at their all time strongest, to me is someone to never try to understand. If anything, I blame him for being there, period, useless to the world, part of the problem and not the solution. I well know the popular excuse that he had a wife and kid to support, but that is still an excuse. Join a union at least.
The engineers who designed the road several decades previously are to blame, as they are never the people who have to drive on them.
Last, but not least I blame Duane (and Berry) for not taking up safer hobbies. Even a minor mishap on a motorbike could well render musicians' hands useless, and if they had the talent, for our sake, they would have been taking taxis, or at least in cars with a buckled seatbelt. The closest thing I'd ever come to two wheels, if I were them would be maybe a bicycle.
If you Southerners really want to get gushy and forgiving to some lady for listing a blog, why don't you try forgiving us up North for the Civil War...




Great first post!

 

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  posted on 1/8/2007 at 05:26 PM
Hopefully, it'll be his only post. Apparently, "He don't get it."

 

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  posted on 1/8/2007 at 05:46 PM
Wow !!!
I've just spent the last hour composing a going-way letter, to ya'll and I get in here to post it, and find the below....
****************************************************************
[A non-union truck driver/construction worker, in 1971, (?) when unions were probably at their all time strongest, to me is someone to never try to understand. If anything, I blame him for being there, period, useless to the world, part of the problem and not the solution. I well know the popular excuse that he had a wife and kid to support, but that is still an excuse. Join a union at least.
The engineers who designed the road several decades previously are to blame, as they are never the people who have to drive on them.]
******************************************************************
Unions ?
They may have been strong, up North, back then, but believe me, here in the deep South, they were the exception, not the rule.

My Husband Was-a-Yankee (!!!!!)
Born aand bred, Illinois Farmboy of 2nd Generation German/American heritage.
His mother's-mother, lived in Beaver Dam, Wisc. in a German Community, and never really learned any English.

He first came to the South, GA, to be exact, because the USAF sent him here.
It was during that time he met the man he'd later be working for when D.s accident happened.
But first. Our Gov't would send him to Viet Nam for 18 months.
He left Viet Nam on his BD, his 21 st, I think it was. He crossed the International Dateline, and arrived in the States, 24 hours later,...ON his BD. Chuck thought That was pretty cool. Certain Feb. folks lose their BD ....but he'd actually gained one.

When he was being sent back to the States after his tour of war-duty, he was given 3 choices for his last assignment before his contract with the USAF would expire.
Most guys made their first choice as close to their home towns as they could get. Some chose some exotic , or interesting location they'd never been to. Chuck chose Robin's Air Base, just South of Macon, so he could see, again, the many friends he'd made before he left for Nam. One of his Macon area buddies also served with him, over there, so he and Joe (I forget his last name) had spent their writing-home time during the War, writing (trying to out-charm each other) a pretty girl in Macon named Elaine.....often discussing which of them whould 'wed' her when/if they returned to the States. (I later met her) Chuck finally decided tha Joe was more smitten with her, so he stepped back to allow Joe to court her proper.

When Chuck returned to the States, he got his first choice of assignment, and he was delighted. He'd made a good many friends in the area. He may have been Northern born, but he was 100% Southerner at heart !!! He LOVED Southern ways and manners !!! His goal was to become accepted here, dispite where he'd come from. And he Was !!!! He exemplified everything that was good and honorable in a man of Southern Traditions.

He did make one small exception.
In those days, there was still a Lot of predjudice toward non-white individuals. especilly in the Macon area. Chuck was a work-a-holic who simply could not see 'color' I mean he could see colors, but not in one's skin tone. To him, any man who did a man's job, was his equal and deserving of his respect. Any man, black or white, who had a job, and accepted a wage, but was too lazy to do the work, was 'sorry' as-we-say-in-the-South, and beneath contempt. Chuck's right-hand-man was a 5' nothing black man, around Chuck's age, sleight of build, and as black as it's possible for a skin color to be.

But Aaron, in Chuck's eyes, was 6 feet tall.
(And in mine. Aaron had a good heart. We never socialized with him, as some cultural barriers were just too great to try and cross, but there was an understanding that he was never looked down upon because of his heritage, and he was definately looked up to, because Chuck said Aaron worked every bit as hard as he did on a job.

After Chuck's loss, Aaron, a beemingly happy newlywed, called me frequently wanting to help me and the kids with things Chuck was no-longer there to do for us. But I wouldn't let him come over. It 'wouldn't-look-right' I told him. I trusted him, 100% (which was a whole lot more than I could say for most of the males I heard from, making the same 'offer')(New, young, widows should have their real friends form a protective elephant circle around them, to fend off the skulking hyenas that come around, smelling opportunity and vulnerability.....) But Aaron, I trusted. But I kept our contact to phone conversations, only. He mourned C's loss. He said C. was the "Finest white man I've ever known"

But I digress.
The reason Chuck worked for a non-union company was that, while there Were Unions in the city, there was little, if anything, in the way of a 'Construction Workers Union' (as Crosstownbar, may be able to verify, having worked in the same city, same company as C.)
But when I met C. he was still in the USAF. I was a brand new USO volunteer. (there's a funny love-story about our meeting, I'd planned to place here Christmas morning, for my son's BD present, but I never got around to sharing it.....actually, I just had second thoughts about that, figuring the story wasn't likely near as cute to others, as to me)......................................skipping over that part....................

As a X-Mas gift to the guys who'd just gotten back from Nam. and had less than X-amount of months til they were to be released from the USAF, our Gov't gave them an 'early out'
That ment Chuck had to find a civilian job.

He went straight to AT&T and took their test, and passed it with such flying colors they offered him a job, on-the-spot.
Alas, they had no work for him, in GA, and he wanted to stay put, and buy a home, get married to me. So, they told him to take his test scored to Southern Bell, and apply there. Adding that they gave the "very same test, they just required lower scores to get on" Chuck took the advice, and was hired immediately. (and both these companies are Union run)(at least, as far as I know) But Chuck was laid-back-fun-loving, and enjoyed his job far too much. He tended to be very friendly with his customers (chatty) which bit into his time demands some, so when he left for the next job, he drove with 21 yr old enthusiasm toward the next job.
This resulted in him clipping several parked cars in the city, over the course of several months. Bell. insisted he have his eyes examined, and discovered a sleight vision problem with his depth perception. He was given prescription lenses to correct the problem. He forgot to wear them one day, and clipped another car.
At that point, Bell let him go. They simply could not have such incidences associated with their vehicles, it looked bad for the company. By this time, we were engaged, and in the process of purchasing a modest frame home, in the N.E. corner of the city. Hense, he needed work, and went to work for the man who had become a father-figure to him. The man who had the construction company. We thought it was just going to be a temporary arrangement. It turned out to be a permanent one.

There was a point in time, when Chuck went looking for different work, because we were simply having to struggle too hard to make ends meet.
He applied at a company (Ralston Purina) but they didn't call him back......until.......their union went on strike. THEN they called him. Chuck said, to them, (and I quote) "H___ NO! I ain't crossing that picket line and getting killed -for-NO-body !" Several men had already been shot doing just that. Chuck told me, that IF they had hired him when he'd applied, that he would have been out on strike with the rest, but he drew the line at shooting at anyone.....but since they didn't call him til months later, after trouble had started, that he refused to try and cross that line, to take another man's job, when he already had a job, himself, even if it was a scratch dirt one, at least he was keeping a roof over our heads.

So, you are somehow finding fault with him for working a non-union job ? What does That have to do with D.'s accident, OR Chuck's ????
D's accident would have happened, at that intersection, whether C's truck had been non-union, or union. Chuck's own loss, would have happened if he had worked for a Union company....or I may be wrong there.......Perhaps a union company would have required the truck full of dry concrete bags to be transported (secured better) in a transfer truck, to the work site, by a non-sleepy boss at some other time than 3 pm on a Thursday. I don't mean to sound sarcastic, but I just don't understand what the one thing has to do with the others. I really have no pre-conceived ideas about Unions. I understand they're there to protect the workers. That's fine. If Chuck's death had been the result of a cave-in on a job site because the company he worked for was non-union and didn't require shoring up the walls of the pit......THAT could/WOULD have been the fault of non-union regulated working conditions. But it was a Traffic accident, for C----t's sake !!!! Both his loss, and D. A.s.......'The Union' couldn't have prevented either accident from happening. I have a dear friend who's some sort of fancy Union something or another, up in Cleveland. (OHIO) I love him dearly, and mighty near married the man 17 years ago. I can Hardly be said to have any prejudice against Unions, or Yankees, except, as most of us, here, still do............Do You HONESTLY believe we're still 'fighting-the-Civil-War' ?????? IT'S A JOKE !!!!!!!

Albeit, a tongue-in-cheek one, but a joke just the same. We didn't have to fight it. 'We' didn't lose slaves or property or possessions. Maybe our ancestors lost some of the above, but those losses have also been lost from our personal family histories, if we ever had such to lose to begin with. My own father's family history is mostly unknown, because they only remember being Share-croppers. It took my father 10 years to get through the 5th grade, because when the cotton ripened, he and his brothers and sisters had to drop out of school to pick it. To this day, he can only print, and phonetically, at that. He's never read an entire book in his whole life. His Grandfather, via his father, was a country blacksmith. There is a road,(Shell st./rd) in Winston, GA, named after my father's grandfather, because his blacksmith shop was the only place on that road, at the turn of the century. I've been to the road, I Know it exists.
Ugh.
I'm exhausted....defending yourself is something I'm just getting too old to have to be doing.
The man thinks I came here "trying to get forgiveness" ????????
For WHAT ? 'I' didn't 'do' anything.
I didn't come here looking, for pity, either.
I've already explained that, so I won't rehash it.
I just came here, as Oldnslo stated, to supply additional info.
It's that simple.
I'm an artististy creative person, so I just laid out the facts in story-form.
(I am SO envious of people who can 'make-music'....a talent, that has always eluded me....)
I came here barely knowing who D.A. was. I never tried to find out. It somehow seemed morbid, to try, under the circumstances. But, since coming here, I have discovered the kind of people who are fans of his music/talents. I didn't come seeking a place to be welcomed, just heard, once, before I left again. It hasn't worked out that way. I never anticipated what, for the most part, I've ended up finding here.

While you're clearly entitled to your opinion, it doesn't mean all are going to agree with it.

I'll keep that 'going away' letter handy, but it looks like I won't be leaving just yet. -grin-
Wind.

 
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