Nope. Not the prefect of Judea from the New Testament.
It’s an airplane. One I’ve actually flown in, and one that nature photographer Sebastian Arnett ventures forth in my new book, The Mark of the Spider.
I flew in the Porter back during the Viet-Nam War. Back then, it was a favorite short takeoff and landing (STOL) aircraft for the CIA throughout Indochina — as was the snub-nosed Helio Courier.
In Laos, where I spent most of my time in Southeast Asia, the Porter’s missions included “paradropping supplies to troops, passenger transport, psy ops, reconnaissance, prisoner conveyance, airborne radio relay, and other intelligence operations.”
The Porter has a wide wingspan compared to the length of its fuselage (52 feet vs. 36 feet), a distinctive long nose, and a powerful reversible engine that allowed it to land in three airplane lengths (about 110 feet), or two-thirds of the width of a football field. Takeoff required slightly more.
It was quite uncomfortable to fly in as a back seat passenger, quite exciting and far too much like flying in nothing at all, as in there’s nothing under me — or free fall.
And, as Sebastian discovered in The Mark of the Spider, the plane could glide long distances without its engine on.
You can read all about Sebastian’s adventures in trade press print and ebook formats, only from Amazon.
Recently, while zipping west on I-70, I detoured south on U.S. 68 and dropped in on my alma mater, Antioch College, for the first time in more decades than I care to say.
It got me to thinking, as these things will, about life-changing decisions, how we make them and even where we make them. (It’s not like there’s one place that everyone goes, sits down and says, Let’s change the life a bit.)
Ye Olde Trail Tavern, Yellow Springs, Ohio, where life-changing decisions are made.
As I strolled through beautiful downtown Yellow Springs, Ohio (pop. 3,487), I spied Ye Olde Trail Tavern, a place I might have frequented with my favorite professor in my misspent youth. (Any youth that is not misspent is wasted.)
What a change from the last time I saw it, back in the early 1980s. It had a neon sign!
It was here, in 1969, that I decided I go to Viet Nam, albeit not in the U.S. military.
I explained it this way on page 38 of my memoir, HOTEL CONSTELLATION: Notes from America’s Secret War in Laos:
When I started talking about dropping out because the education I chose was not matching the financial sacrifices my family and I were making, Dan came up with a truly radical idea: I should go to Viet Nam to study for a year under the Antioch Education Abroad (AEA) program.
I don’t remember exactly when he presented it as an option. Well, you could do another co-op term, or you could go to Viet Nam, he probably said. Hey, there’s an idea, Dan. I think I’ll go to Viet Nam. I hear it’s quite the spot.
We might have been sitting in a booth at the Olde Trail Tavern, a dive on the main drag through Yellow Springs. Dan and I downed a few pitchers of beer there, he holding court for me, the avid acolyte.
AEA sent a lot of kids to foreign countries, mostly in Europe, a few to South America, and even fewer to places like Kenya, Nigeria, and India. Going to Viet Nam was an intriguing idea, straight out of the “put up or shut up” school of decision making. We noodled over what it would take and how it would work. Paula Spier, a middle-aged, motherly member of the AEA staff, bought into it.
And in August 1970, I flew off for two of the most intriguing years of my life.
It’s all in HOTEL CONSTELLATION, and copies still available from Amazon, Apple, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Scribd, Smashwords and other fine booksellers.
It might even explain how I came to write my new book, The Mark of the Spider, but probably not.
The Antioch College Alumni Magazine just came out with a very nice write-up about my memoir, HOTEL CONSTELLATION: Notes from America’s Secret War in Laos.
The one-page spread includes three photos of mine and that picture of me interviewing Jane Fonda waaaaay back in 1972.
About 40,000 Antioch alumni, including this Class of ’73 grad, received copies of the four-color 58-page magazine. It’s part of the effort to rebuild the mother campus in Yellow Springs, Ohio, after the school had to shut down for lack of funding. (Yeah, colleges do close.)
I’m grateful to writer Michelle Marie Wallace, who listened to me ramble about my experiences, and to Carol Krumbach, who commissioned the piece.